#stuff tippy wrote

“Jack. Isn’t this dangerous?”

Bitty angles his head to the side. Above him, Jack snaps another picture.

“I’m not going to put them online,” Jack says. “I’ll keep them on the camera, then delete them after.” After what? Bitty wants to ask, but he also kind of knows the answer.

He feels gorgeous, lying here nude against the blue sheets. Above him, Jack’s in jeans and socks and nothing else, the strap of the camera lying against his bare chest. Bitty wants him down here, but he also wants to keep feeling this way, like he’s a piece of art to be admired, even worshipped. Jack tilts his head, makes an approving noise, and snaps two or three shots. The camera’s click is like a touch, Like each time, Jack’s putting those big callused hands on him and saying don’t move, i want you just like this.

But Bitty can’t not move. He slides around on the sheets, finding different ways to drape his arms over the sheets and his stomach, turning his head to catch the radiant sunlight. Jack follows him with every move, kneeling over his legs, sometimes scrambling to the side or off the bed to get a shot. “Bits,” he says, and his voice is thick with want.

“Put the camera down,” Bitty coaxes, “and come here, sweetheart.” He knows what that tone of voice does to Jack, can see the evidence of it in the tent of his jeans. Jack breathes harder behind the camera, but he keeps shooting, as Bitty turns to his side and arches his back and stretches like a lazy cat.

He spreads his legs, and Jack takes the invitation, kneeling between them. He holds the camera in one hand, and places his other hand flat against Bitty’s stomach. The contact burns Bitty like a brand, and he arches up into it, letting out a little impatient sigh.  Jack captures the sigh, looks at the image on his camera, and nods. “Make more noises like that,” he says.

“Make me make more noise,” Bitty challenges.

Jack grins, a wide, eager smile. He slides his hand down Bitty’s stomach and teases at the head of his cock.

An involuntary “ooh” comes out of Bitty’s mouth, and Jack snaps at that moment, making a throaty noise that’s half-pleased, half-yearning. “You should see these, Bits,” he says. “The way you look–”

“Jack…” Bitty thrusts his hips up. “Too much talking.” He shoots Jack a look that says, you know what to do.

And Jack does. His hand comes down to encircle Bitty’s cock, so much heat all of a sudden so much there and Bitty arches up as the sensation seizes him. His jaw opens, and he breathes heavy exhales as Jack snaps and snaps. Jack strokes him, one deep stroke from root to tip, and Bitty shudders, the pleasure zinging through his blood. He blinks up at Jack with big, pleading eyes.

Jack slides his hand down to Bitty’s balls and  teases him there; Bitty keens at the intense sensation. Snap, snap sounds from somewhere above as Bitty tangles his hands in the sheets and balls up the fabric into fists. “J– Jack,” he starts, breath coming faster.

Snap. Snap. Jack’s hand back on his cock, stroking faster, the sounds of the camera echoing in Bitty’s ears. He pulls himself together and lifts a hand to Jack’s upper arm. “Jack,” he pants, “if you do not get down here within five seconds, I cannot guarantee the safety of that fancy camera of yours.”

And at last, at last, Jack sets the camera down on the bedside table and leans down to meet him.

“Lan Zhan.” The name drips with honey, and Lan Wangji lifts his head upon hearing it.

He’s by his master’s side in an instant. Wei Ying is in the bathtub, and as Lan Wangji approaches, he gestures to the soap on the small table. “Wash my hair,” he orders, and Lan Wangji obediently picks up the soap and starts to work up a lather between his hands.

Wei Ying makes ecstatic noises as Lan Wangji runs his fingers through the long sheaf of his hair. “Scratch my head a little,” he half-moans, and Lan Wangji complies, raking his nails over Wei Ying’s scalp.

“Too hard?” he inquires, his voice low and modest. Servile.

“Just right, ah, Lan Zhan, I do love this game of ours. Rub my shoulders now, my slave.”

It’s Wei Ying’s game – he came up with it, as he usually does. Lan Wangji hadn’t known what to expect at first. He certainly didn’t expect to feel his mind go blissfully blank, his limbs feel light and his his cock to go full at the very idea of tending to Wei Ying’s every need. Now, he relishes the chance. Fingertips tingling, he lowers his hands to Wei Ying’s shoulders, kneading the corded muscle there. Wei Ying gives a blissful groan, and Lan Wangji stifles the answering moan that’s building in his throat.

“Now your mouth,” Wei Ying instructs. Lan Wangji lowers his hands to the joints of Wei Ying’s shoulders and presses his mouth to the side of Wei Ying’s throat. Wei Ying twitches. The scent of the bathwater and soap filters up through Lan Wangji’s nostrils. He inhales, licks the line of Wei Ying’s neck, breathes hot breath on his ear. Wei Ying’s skin is sweet and warm beneath his mouth, and Lan Wangji has the urge to pull him out of the tub now and take him to bed. But he knows he’ll get there in the end. It’s his reward for serving his master well.

As if hearing his thoughts, Wei Ying murmurs, “After this I think I’ll have you take me over to the bed. Massage my legs first and then we’ll see what happens.”

Lan Wangji’s hands tighten on Wei Ying’s shoulders at the thought of working his hands on those smooth thighs. His imagination stirs, and in his mind he can hear Wei Ying panting on the bed, carefully and breathlessly instructing Lan Wangji how to open him up and take him. Let go, he’ll breathe. Fuck me until you’re satisfied. Leave bruises on me, my beautiful slave. I want to hurt tomorrow.

But that will come in time. For now, he yields when Wei Ying turns in the bath to capture his lips in a kiss. “How do you feel about me?” Wei Ying asks, a grin draping across his face crookedly.

“I love you, master,” Lan Wangji says with fervor.

Wei Ying giggles. “Very good, my slave, I love you too. Now bring me my robe and take me to our bed.”

Dean/Gabriel requested by @breakaway71. You can nominatea pairing for another day of Kinktober if you like!

“I’m gonna guess,” Dean says lazily, “that this is supposed to be a prank, right? Dean Winchester wakes up wearing women’s underwear?”

“Not just the underwear, sport,” Gabriel says, sounding insulted. “The whole ensemble was carefully picked out. You should see yourself.”

Deancan see himself, at least from the chest down: gauzy, translucent teddy with silk ribbons, in bright red; soft satiny panties at his hips; garter tantalizingly placed at his thigh. His muscles are hard beneath all the softness. He looks incredible, and there’s this high-flying euphoria that’s singing through his system now, the precursor to the ecstatic mindlessness that he can only find here, with this person.

Dean curls an arm around his waist. Gabriel is warm under his fingers, warm where his body presses against the flimsy fabric that he’s conjured up for Dean’s benefit. Dean wants him. He wants Gabriel to take him like this, with silk and gauze whispering against his skin, Gabriel’s hot hands bracing his hips. “Problem is,” he says, kissing the shell of Gabriel’s ear, “I kinda like it.”

“Not surprised,” Gabriel says, turning in toward him. Their chests bump, skin against silk, heat bleeding through. Gabriel reaches out and locks his hands on Dean’s waist. “I like it too.”

Dean bends to kiss him, but Gabriel darts his head to the side. “Pose for me first,” he murmurs, low and throaty. He lets Dean go and motions for him to lie down on the bed. The want is sparkling in his eyes along with the usual amusement and triumph of having Dean at his beck and call like this. Dean drinks in the stare and strikes a pose, long legs stretching out as he relaxes on his side. The teddy drapes over him, the ribbons spilling onto the sheets.

“Do you want to fuck me like this?” he asks, and his own voice is raw with need. Gabriel is hard in his kitschy boxer shorts, and Dean’s body goes hot thinking about that cock in him,  silken panties raked down to his thigh. He switches positions, going to all fours. “Or like this?” He stretches like a lazy cat.

“You stay like that,” Gabriel says with a smirk. “For now.” He approaches, climbs on to the bed, and grabs Dean’s panties in two eager hands. Dean mutters a swear under his breath and lets his mind go blissfully blank, his eyes rolling up into his head. This is why he’s here.

It’s not always bed-creaking, sheet-wrinkling, shouting-out-loud sex. Sometimes it’s the two of them curled up together, kissing lazily, as Lan Zhan’s hand works steadily on Wei Wuxian’s cock, long fingers and warm palm enveloping him. At first, his strokes were harsh, almost brutal, but over the years Wei Wuxian has taught him to be gentle, to draw out the pleasure so they can spend the better part of an afternoon just making each other feel good.

If the position is right, Wei Wuxian will take Lan Zhan in hand too, and together they’ll bear the heat as they let it move slow, like lake water, through their bodies. Lan Zhan is silent for most of it. Wei Wuxian likes to make a little noise, a sigh or a moan muffled by the warmth of Lan Zhan’s lips. Their bodies are comfortable and loose and lazy, and pleasure builds and ebbs and builds again.

At long last, when Wei Wuxian can’t hold it back anymore, he gasps and clutches Lan Zhan’s arm with his free hand. A grip that says more, now. His breath comes short. Lan Zhan’s fingers tighten around him. Now his strokes speed up, and Wei Wuxian mirrors him, hand working fast and desperate on Lan Zhan’s cock.. Lan Zhan fucks his tongue into Wei Wuxian’s mouth, sweet and strong and wet. Wei Wuxian’s moans echo off the walls.

They come like that, almost simultaneously, Wei Wuxian spilling all over Lan Zhan’s fingers and Lan Zhan breaking his silence to groan loud in his throat as he rides through his orgasm. They thread their sticky fingers together and laugh a little, still breathing hard, and share short, soft kisses before they go to wash themselves clean.

22: “You make me so happy.” From this prompt list…

Lan Wangji is not a perfect soul.

He knows his own reputation. To others, he is a lake of glass: unwavering, unmoving, still and perfect against the travails of life. More than anything, he has mastered his own body. His movements, his expressions are precise. Not an eyelash out of place; barely a twitch of his lips, sometimes, when he is stirred by emotion. He is snowfall on a mountaintop: always constant, always undisturbed.

But beneath the snowfall, beneath the glass, turmoil.

Less so today than before: before there was distress, urgency, fear of losing what he’d only so recently regained. Now, for the most part, there is peace and joy. But what remains, still, is doubt.

Wei Ying loves him. That in itself should solve every problem, open every door. He is able to take this man who captured his heart a lifetime ago and hold him, touch him, speak with him every day. Where the frost had seeped into Lan Wangji’s heart, Wei Ying has melted it, and every day now it is springtime: tender, beautiful, full of life and possibility.

But spring is also fleeting, and sometimes Lan Wangji wonders.

Can someone like Wei Ying truly be happy, passing his days in Cloud Recesses?

Can he spend his days in a place of four thousand rules, bound to the same surroundings every day, teaching the same students, bound to the same room, the same man, the same bed? Should Wei Ying be living a freer life than Lan Wangji can give him? Shouldn’t he be running on rainbows to the seven corners of the earth, helping the downtrodden and winning hearts as he goes, turning the legend of the Yiling Patriarch into a story of redemption and heroism? Sometimes it seems a shame, even to Lan Wangji, that he stays here.

But stay here he does, save nighthunts to and fro with the others and occasional jaunts down the mountain just because. He never complains when Lan Wangji joins him. There is no doubt there; Lan Wangji can be sure, at the very least, that Wei Ying truly loves him.

But is loving him enough to keep him happy?

This morning, he fears it is not.

They’re having breakfast. Wei Ying pokes at his rice unhappily, not eating very much, which is always a troubling sign. The never troubled, always glad face of Wei Ying is pinched with some discontent. Perhaps it is as he fears. He fumbles for a way to cheer him. “Wei Ying,” he says, unsure, “Do you want to take a trip?”

Wei Ying shakes his head and stares balefully at the plate of vegetables before him. “No,” he says, “not really.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Nothing,” Wei Ying says automatically, and then sighs. “Maybe I had a bad dream.”

“Maybe?” And maybe that’s all it is, but Lan Wangji can’t see that look on Wei Ying’s face without thinking there’s something more. “What will you do today?”

Wei Ying gestures vaguely to his writing-desk in the corner. “I suppose I’ll probably work some more on the energy map I’ve been developing,” he says. “Then I guess I’ll do some meditation, try to get this weak little core of mine a bit more bulked up. Or maybe I’ll just take the day off.”  He lets out another, resigned sigh. "It’s really useless, Lan Zhan. I’m never going to be what I was.”

“You will, in time,” Lan Wangji starts to say, then falls silent. His words must be so little comfort to Wei Ying, who has been trying to improve on the weakness of Mo Xuanyu’s golden core for months now. Lan Wangji had encouraged him, seeing it as the obvious path to take, trying to cultivate back to his former self. But perhaps it is more frustrating, and less satisfying, than he had anticipated. Perhaps it’s only holding him back.

This place, these Cloud Recesses, are such an ideal place for cultivation. But if cultivation isn’t what Wei Ying desires – if being here isn’t what he desires – Lan Wangji has no right to hold him back.

He coughs softly.

Wei Ying blinks at him. “What?”

“If you want to travel,” Lan Wangji says, carefully as always, “you should travel.”

“What’s with asking me about traveling?” Wei Ying half-smiles. “Are you trying to get rid of me, Lan Zhan?”

“No.” But he must qualify that answer as well; he must make sure Wei Ying feels free. “But if you wish to go…”

“I don’t.” Wei Ying picks up a radish slice with chopsticks and crunches down on it decisively. “I’m not sure why you think I do.”

Lan Wangji is ashamed. He seems to have incurred Wei Ying’s irritation. He’s fouled this up, when his only intention has been to let Wei Ying know he is free to pursue his dreams wherever they may lead him. He is silent, placing his chopsticks down on the table and staring expressionlessly at his meal. He shouldn’t be speaking while eating anyway.

Wei Ying leans back and gazes at him for a long moment. “Lan Zhan,” he says hesitantly, “why are you so sure all of a sudden that I want to go?”

The shame doesn’t show on his face, but Lan Wangji feels it acutely. “I want Wei Ying to be happy,” he says.

“But I’m happy!” Wei Ying laughs, but it’s not the full, open-throated laugh that Lan Wangji is used to. There’s something strained in his smile.

“You did not seem so,” he points out.

The smile fades as quickly as it appears. Wei Ying crosses his arms. “I really did have a bad dream,” he says, the consonants of his speech sharp as he rasps over them. “I’m always going to have bad dreams. It’s the curse of the Yiling Patriarch. I have too many regrets to always sleep soundly. And the cultivation does get me down, I won’t lie. I feel as though you’re still waiting for me to become something I’m not.”

“I’m not,” Lan Wangji speaks as swiftly as he can. “If you no longer wish to cultivate, then stop.”

“I don’t want to stop, necessarily,” Wei Ying says. “I want to live a long life with you. But I can’t say I’m going to be successful at it, even with time. And I don’t want you to settle.”

“I want Wei Ying just as he is.” The words can’t rush from his mouth fast enough, but with them comes regret – are these words binding cords? Do they trap Wei Ying in an existence that is not his ideal? “I fear you are settling.”

Wei Ying looks at him a long time without speaking. Lan Wangji feels that gaze boring into him, like a pike being driven through his chest. Wei Ying’s mind works fast, and in ways Lan Wangji often cannot follow. Who knows what he’s thinking right now.

And then, like a bright rush of sunshine, that laugh. Full-voiced now, sounds flying into the air like a flock of birds, noisy and raucous and everything that is good. “I see,” he says. “I see now. Oh, Lan Zhan, I thought I had the market cornered on self-torture, but you are good at it too, when you are given too much time to think.” He takes one of Lan Wangji’s hands into his own, nimble fingers caressing his skin. A blessed touch. “I’m happy here,” he says. “I’m not sure how you decided otherwise, but I promise I am.”

“Why?” Lan Wangji asks.

“Why what?”

“Why are you happy here?” The question seems to Lan Wangji to be an obvious one, but Wei Ying looks at him as though he’s speaking in an alien tongue. “What about this place makes you happy?”

“What doesn’t?” Wei Ying counters. “The scenery, being close to A-Yuan and the others, a truly insane number of books I can look through in my work, the back hill, the waterfall…”

“The rules?” Lan Wangji asks. “The food?”

“See, now you’re just picking the things you know I’m not fond of.” Wei Ying props his chin up on his free hand and gazes at Lan Wangji across the table. “You’re forgetting something very important.”

Lan Wangji blinks. What has he not accounted for? “Something important?”

Wei Ying sighs. He drops his chopsticks, stands up, and rounds the small table, planting himself awkwardly in Lan Wangji’s lap. The crush of his weight and the sweet smell of him, all of a sudden everywhere, and Lan Wangji’s impulse is to clutch on tightly. He wills his hands to remain still.

“You,” Wei Ying says. “You’re forgetting about you.”

“Me?” It’s not as though Lan Wangji doubted, but he hadn’t considered… he hadn’t thought he was enough to tip the scales.

“You.You make me happy, Lan Zhan. You make me so happy.” Wei Ying kisses his jaw, caresses his face with a hand. “Don’t you know that?”

Lan Wangji is silent. Wei Ying’s words are echoing in his ears. You make me so happy. How could he? He tries, but how could he really when Wei Ying’s heart is big enough to embrace an entire universe?

Wei Ying buries a laugh in Lan Wangji’s shoulder. “Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” he berates, “it’s you who’s settling! Look at me, so weak, determined to keep my wicked ways. You’ll never make a proper cultivator out of me, no matter how long and how hard you try. Aren’t I the very picture of disappointment? It’s a wonder you can keep me around.”

“Stop.” Lan Wangji scowls. “Stop. Don’t say these things.”

“Do they sound ridiculous to you? Do you see now how you sound to me?” Wei Ying winds his arms around Lan Wangji’s neck. “I’m not leaving you, Lan Zhan. You couldn’t kick me out with a whole army of little Lans behind you. So you might as well stop trying.”

Lan Wangji is a little embarrassed. He had been so worried about Wei Ying’s ill temper and so lost in his own imaginings that he’d concocted a whole universe of discontent. He lifts a hand and tangles it in Wei Ying’s hair, savoring the feel of soft silk against his fingers. “Wei Ying makes me happy, too,” he says.  "So very happy.“

Wei Ying leans in and dots a kiss onto his lips, small and perfect. "So you’ll give up then on telling me to go away?”

“Mn.” For the first time this morning, he feels tethered again, sure of himself.

“And if I ever do want to go somewhere,” Wei Ying says, “I want you to come with me.”

“Anywhere Wei Ying wants to go.”

“How about lunch in town, then?” Wei Ying lifts one of Lan Wangji’s chopsticks from the table and pokes at the pile of withered vegetables. “Because as happy as I am, breakfast is not one of Cloud Recesses’ high points.”

“Mn. Lunch.” There it is, that sense of sureness, that gentle delight that he’s so used to feeling in Wei Ying’s presence. He’d lost sight of it, somehow, but it’s back and Wei Ying loves him and Wei Ying wants to stay with him and he needs nothing else in the entire universe. “Wherever you like.”

“And I still intend to cultivate,” Wei Ying says. “But perhaps, just this once, I’ll take a day off.” Lan Wangji nods. “Maybe I can convince you to dally with me a few hours in town? Unless you have terribly important lessons to impart and terribly important papers to grade.”

“Nothing terribly important.”  He lets his lips turn up in just that way that only Wei Ying gets to see.

“Good, then I’m skipping the rest of breakfast.”

Lan Wangji frowns. “Don’t waste food.”

Wei Ying claps his hands. “Oh, thereyou are, Lan Zhan! I had thought you’d gone missing for  second.”

He crawls out of Lan Wangji’s lap and back onto his side of the table. They finish breakfast in pleasant silence, sunlight streaming in through the window. It’s the perfect time to take a day off.

@jaune-chat​ requested:

AU.

“You can go.”

The words are difficult for Lan Wangji to say. But they must be said, and more importantly, not saying them is even more unbearable.

“I … what?” Wei Ying is a few steps behind him, too close still. Lan Wangji wants to put an ocean between them.

“You can go,” he repeats, glad his voice is always cold, glad no one save his brother can read his emotions. “We’ve achieved the purpose of this arrangement. There is no need for you to pretend further.”

It’s the logical step. Their aim was to repel the advances of a certain persistent sect leader’s equally persistent daughter, and at last she has left Cloud Recesses in a storm of anger and informed her father that no, she very well will not be marrying that. Lan Wangji regrets not being able to reject her through more conventional means, but she really was quite persistent.

Thus, there is no reason why Wei Ying should stay. He’s complained often of staying in Cloud Recesses, so this release will be a great comfort to him. Lan Wangji focuses on that as much as he can manage. It keeps his mind off the painful twinge in his chest and the feeling that he’s sending the sunlight away.

“So what, just like that? It’s over?” Wei Ying’s voice is strained with incredulity. It must be the suddenness of it all that shocks him. “I’ve done you the favor, so now scram back to Yunmeng?”

So he’s decided to make this as difficult for Lan Wangji as possible. This is not entirely surprising. “I did not say ‘scram,’” he clarifies. “I thank you for your help, but it is no longer needed, so please feel free to return home.”

He can’t turn to face him. It takes restraint just to stand here and say the words. If he turns, he fears what he might do.

“Oh, I see.” Wei Ying’s voice is loud behind him, frustration behind the words. “I’m no longer needed, huh? Well, that’s just fine with me. I’ll head home then. See if I ever come back here again.”

“Why are you angry?” Lan Wangji asks.

“No reason! I have no reason to be angry! I’m going home like you told me to.” Wei Ying pauses. “Seriously, you are so sick of me that you can’t even look at me, Lan Zhan? I thought we were at least friends. Has it been that intolerable, then, standing close to me, putting your arms around me? Do I have terrible breath, that you can’t even look at me and say goodbye?”

It hasn’t been intolerable. Not in the slightest.

Lan Wangji shuts his eyes tight, mustering up the last of his courage. He turns.

Wei Ying’s face is illuminated by the faraway sunset. Dark shadows and golden edges. His hair dances in the mountain breeze. Lan Wangji wants him so badly it’s hard to breathe. “Is this better?” he manages to say.

Wei Ying frowns. “I suppose,” he says coldly. “Well, I’ll go get my things and head out, then.” He turns on his heel and stomps away several paces. Lan Wangji watches him go and feels the world grow cold.

No more, he thinks as Wei Ying retreats. No more of a lanky arm interlinked with his, no more of the sunny smile aimed at him. No more embracing Wei Ying and feeling all that warmth seep into him like a sunrise. And the kiss that Lan Wangji had to remind himself over and over was intended for one woman’s eyes, but that had felt real in every possible way – he will never have that again.

He lifts his hand. Wei Ying’s name starts to rise in his throat.

Wei Ying turns before he can say anything.

“You know what, Lan Zhan? I’m not done with you,” Wei Ying declares, stomping back to him with determination etched on his face. “I know the face you put on, you know. I know how you try to be ice-cold. But you don’t fool me one bit.”

He closes the gap between them, points a finger, and pokes Lan Wangji in the chest. “You had fun,” he declares. “You were having the time of your life, parading me around like your favorite trophy of war. Putting your arms around me. You liked that. Even if it was just because you were getting away with fooling someone, you had a good time.”

Lan Wangji’s reflex is to say, ridiculous. He can say no such thing now. He stares, holding himself stiffly to keep from doing something he’ll surely regret.

Wei Ying’s face is still shadowed from the backlight, but Lan Wangji can see the rose tint rise in his cheeks. “You at least owe me a drink. And an explanation.”

“Explanation of what?” He can barely spit out the words. His hands itch to clench into fists.

Wei Ying hesitates, just for a moment, and he averts his eyes. Lan Wangji watches the resolution build in his features. When he turns back, his glare is sharper than a blade.

“Explain,” he says in a low, measured voice, “why it didn’t feel like you were pretending.”

He might as well have impaled Lan Wangji on the point of a sword. He had prepared for every contingency, but it never occurred to him that Wei Ying would be able to read him so well. He takes in a sharp breath.

“You felt something,” Wei Ying goes on. “You felt something when you held me. When you kissed me, Lan Zhan! I was there. I know what I felt.” He searches Lan Wangji’s face. “You have feelings for me. I know you do.” The determination on his face fades, almost imperceptibly, but Lan Wangji is conscious of every minuscule movement of his face.  "You have to.“

His face, in the shifting shadows, is pleading. There’s uncertainty in his eyes. Lan Wangji watches them waver, still frozen to the spot. He doesn’t dare believe the implications of what he’s hearing.

Wei Ying averts his eyes. "Or maybe I just made a huge fool of myself,” he mumbles. “Lan Zhan, it’s getting late. Can I stay one more night before I set out? I won’t be a bother.”

The doubt on his face crushes Lan Wangji’s resolve. Even if Wei Ying isn’t saying what he hopes he’s saying, he can’t stand still a moment longer. His entire body rebels against him, and he’s leaning forward before he can think to stop it. His hands rise of their own accord. He has no control of them, watching like a voyeur as they reach out and settle firmly on Wei Ying’s jaw and the nape of his neck, cradling him, tilting his head upward.

Wei Ying blinks. Lan Wangji can see his own name forming on Wei Ying’s lips. A question, in Wei Ying’s eyes. Lan Wangji is powerless not to answer.

Hand tightening on the back of Wei Ying’s neck, he pulls sharply and crushes their mouths together.

A second of confusion, a moment of dread in Lan Wangji’s wildly spinning mind, and then he hears a groan in Wei Ying’s voice, registers the feel of his fingers clutching at Lan Wangji’s arms. Wei Ying is kissing back – oh, how well he’s kissing back – and if Lan Wangji is to believe his senses, he means it. Joy diffuses through him like mist, all at once in his every cell, in his blood and skin and everywhere.

Wei Ying’s lips leave his too quickly. Lan Wangji chases them, but Wei Ying is too fast, pulling away and staring up at him with an effervescent grin.

“I knew it,” he says.

“Wei Ying is very perceptive.” Lan Wangji recognizes a softness in his own voice. He’s used this tone for purposes of the ruse, but this time, it’s just for Wei Ying.

“I knew it!” Wei Ying repeats. He throws his arms around Lan Wangji, hugging him tight. He’s strong. Lan Wangji will feel a pain in his ribs tomorrow. He doesn’t mind in the slightest. “Lan Zhan, you’re a sly bastard. You pretend to be all cool and reserved, but I knew you felt something. Oh, I’m so damn glad I didn’t imagine it.” He sighs melodramatically and squeezes Lan Wangji again.

He steps back. “So I suppose I don’t have to go back to Yunmeng quite yet?”

“No.” Lan Wangji finds one of Wei Ying’s hands, clasps it in his own. “Stay.”

Wei Ying’s smile is incandescent.

They walk back through the walkways and gardens hand in hand, Wei Ying keeping up a constant litany of chatter as they go. Through the gate, past the garden, up the steps and inside, every step like a dream with Wei Ying next to him. When the doors are at last closed, Lan Wangji draws him close again, and this time he doesn’t let Wei Ying pull away. Wei Ying will stay with him, and nothing they do for each other will be a ruse anymore.

@hellokyochan​ requested:

The bed had at least been big, which was a consolation to Wei Wuxian when he realized there was only the one. Lan Zhan of course offered to sleep on the floor, but that was a waste of a perfectly good mattress. It’s only a couple of nights for a dumb professional conference, and when your company won’t pay for your hotel (seriously, screw Wen Enterprises), you make do with a roommate. And Lan Zhan’s an easy roommate: he’s neat, he doesn’t get drunk, he doesn’t hit on women and then drag them back to the hotel room and leave a condescending note on the door. He’s really the ideal partner for situations like this.

What Wei Wuxian hadn’t counted on, though he really thought he had exhausted every possibility, was the way Lan Zhan looks when he’s asleep.

It’s morning, rays of sunlight drifting over the bed, and Wei Wuxian is lying on his side, utterly fascinated. They’ve drifted closer in their sleep, Lan Zhan all of a sudden so near to him, and Wei Wuxian is marveling at the shape of his lips, the way his eyebrows have relaxed from their usual scowl. The soft noises he makes, half-asleep, a puff of breath and a murmur.

He’s gorgeous.

He’s handsome awake – anyone with working eyes can see that – but asleep, with his guard down, he’s the most beautiful thing Wei Wuxian has seen in years. His hair is a waterfall of shining black, illuminated with the sun’s rays, and his eyelashes are delicate splashes of the same dark water. His skin is pale with only a hint of rose. He’s like a painting. But he’s real, and he’s here and oh so defenseless. Wei Wuxian is overwhelmed by the desire to touch.

He lifts his hand and inches, slow, toward Lan Zhan’s chin. The heat radiates into his fingers. So close – two fingers just shy of the line of his jaw –

– and Lan Zhan stirs. Wei Wuxian snatches his hand back, clamps it tightly at his side. He should probably look away, too, but he can’t quite tear his eyes from Lan Zhan’s lips as they purse, then part – just barely part, as though dreaming of a kiss.

Bleary golden eyes open, then blink. His pupils grow, then shrink, trying to find focus.

“Wei… Ying?” he says. His brows narrow into a frown.

Damn, he’s been caught looking. Wei Wuxian gives his most innocent smile. “Hi.”

“Am I … dreaming?” Lan Zhan’s voice is hesitant and hoarse. It almost doesn’t sound like him. He still can’t quite focus on Wei Wuxian’s face. His confusion is almost pitiful-looking, and Wei Wuxian wants to laugh.

He almost says no, but a wicked idea flashes through him. “Yes,” he says, “this is a dream.”

He expects Lan Zhan to maybe say “oh,” and fall back asleep, or scowl and tell him he knows he’s awake, but that’s not what happens.

Instead, the corners of Lan Zhan’s mouth turn up, and he reaches out.

“Good dream,” he says, and pulls Wei Wuxian into his arms.

All of a sudden Wei Wuxian’s face is pressed into Lan Zhan’s shoulder and his heart is drumming wildly. He can’t even struggle. What is happening? Lan Zhan is … holding him?

Lan Zhan is holding him. In strong arms, warm arms, and Wei Wuxian’s brain is humming with so many possibilities all at once. Is Lan Zhan thinking he’s someone else? Does he just get hug-happy in his dreams? Does he think he’s having one of those weird dreams where you’re with someone you don’t like in real life?  Is he still really asleep?

Or does he really dream about Wei Wuxian?

“Lan Zhan,” he starts to say, but can Lan Zhan even hear him? His head is buried in Lan Zhan’s shoulder, and he’s being held too tightly to pull away. He really needs to struggle. He should struggle. He should find some damn willpower and pull himself out of Lan Zhan’s arms and pretend the whole thing was just a joke.

Then he feels the press of lips against his hair. “Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan murmurs. The low sound rumbles right into Wei Wuxian’s bones. God, even his bones are warm right now, all of him is warm and wanting, and his hands still itch to touch Lan Zhan’s skin.

“Lan Zhan,” he tries again, “Lan Zhan, wake up, this isn’t a dream…”

“My Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, a louder voice now, like he’s protecting Wei Wuxian against a horde of admirers, like he’s claiming his territory. His lips touch Wei Wuxian’s hairline. Now his temple. Now the patch of skin next to his ear. Lan Zhan’s hands are tight on his back, unyielding.

Lan Zhan whispers next to his ear. “Don’t wake me up.”

His breaths are glancing against Wei Wuxian’s face now, soft and warm, and Wei Wuxian has never in his life wanted to be kissed the way he wants Lan Zhan to kiss him now. His hands ball into fists, clutching the folds of Lan Zhan’s T-shirt, and he lifts his head, yearning.

“This is a dream?” Lan Zhan asks again, in a voice that says he’s coming to. He lowers his head so their foreheads touch, eyes only half-open. Wei Wuxian looks at him, looks at the inscrutable emotion in those half-lidded eyes, and all of his control melts into nothingness.

“Yes,” he whispers halfway to Lan Zhan’s lips, “you’re dreaming.”

Lan Zhan’s lips are achingly soft against his.

Lan Zhan is trembling, shoulders wracked with shudders, and Wei Wuxian can’t believe it. This is Lan Zhan? This is the man whose very existence is all about control? He’s shaking against Wei Wuxian’s hands, breathing short, and – and – and kissing him back, oh so slow and sweet, kisses like honey and champagne that make Wei Wuxian dizzy.

They kiss, and they stop and breathe, and they kiss again. Heat is curling in Wei Wuxian’s core, but it’s lazy heat, and he’s content to just feel it. One of Lan Zhan’s hands rises to touch his face, a gentle palm, and it’s grounding. The sureness of it. The steadiness of Lan Zhan that keeps them both in the dream.

And then, all at once, it’s over.

Lan Zhan pulls away, blinks twice. His eyes widen. He pulls backward on the bed, then bolts up to sit, one hand clapped over his mouth.

Wei Wuxian props himself up on one elbow. He’s still getting his bearings after being kissed half to death. “Ah, Lan Zhan,” he complains, wanting that warmth back.

Lan Zhan takes in the sight of him, lifts his eyes to where the sunlight is streaming in the window, looks away. He forces his hand down to his side. “I’m sorry,” he says, the words short and clipped.

“No, no, it was my fault,” Wei Wuxian says. “I told you you were dreaming.”

Lan Zhan is unmoving and unspeaking. There’s a rose tint at his ear, but his face is deathly pale.

Wei Wuxian sits up to meet him face-to-face. “Lan Zhan,” he says, suddenly gripped by shame for what he’s done, “please don’t worry about it. I was just having some fun. I won’t tell anyone.”

His answer is a shake of the head and a deeper flush on the shell of Lan Zhan’s ear. He’s really upset, and Wei Wuxian’s spitballing now, just trying to find the right words that will lift the anchor of awkwardness that’s holding them both down. “Look,” he says, “look, we’ll just pretend nothing happened. Like it never happened.”

More stony silence.

“Ummm…. help me out here, Lan Zhan, I’m running out of ideas.” Wei Wuxian throws up his hands. “Would it help if I said I liked it?”

Lan Zhan turns, abruptly, and stares at him with wide eyes.

A reaction, thank goodness! Wei Wuxian smiles, but it’s a shaky smile, and he can’t keep it steady. “You either like that idea or you really hate it. Lan Zhan, please say something, because I’m not sure if you’re going to kiss me again or challenge me to a duel.”

“You…” When Lan Zhan speaks, it’s always poetry – straightforward, unwavering, truth. But he’s tripping over his own words now, like his tongue’s made of lead. Seeing him like this makes Wei Wuxian’s heart flutter in his throat. “You liked it?”

“Well, of course,” Wei Wuxian says. He knows he sounds carefree and light, but he feels the weight of the words as they come out. “I’m bi as hell, and you’re hot as hell, in what universe would I not enjoy kissing you?”

Lan Zhan keeps looking at him with that incredulous stare that might equally be horror and excitement. “You’d enjoy…?”

“Okay, Lan Zhan, I get that you’re still groggy or whatever, but get with the program here,” Wei Wuxian chides him. “Number one: you’re hot. Number two: I liked kissing you. You get to tell me what number three is.”

They’re sitting up in bed side by side and Lan Zhan is staring at him and Wei Wuxian is grinning because that’s his go-to expression when he has no idea what’s going on (which is right now), and Wei Wuxian is a little afraid they’re going to be frozen like this for a solid half-hour before either of them can think of anything else coherent to say.

Frozen, and then without a single breath of warning Lan Zhan’s hands are on his face and Lan Zhan’s lips are on his again.

This time it’s hot, and it’s possessive, and Wei Wuxian’s gasping against Lan Zhan’s mouth, breathless and wrecked. How long has Lan Zhan felt this way about him? The question flickers in his mind, then sputters out and all he can do is hang on for dear life as Lan Zhan kisses him deep and rough, like he’s been dying for it. Lan Zhan’s tongue strokes his and it’s all Wei Wuxian can do not to go up in flames right there.

Lan Zhan tries to shift, to push him down onto the bed, but Wei Wuxian breaks free, laughing, and resists. “Please, Lan Zhan. Let’s at least go on a date first. Okay?”

Lan Zhan tries to slow his breathing. “Okay.”  

Wei Wuxian smiles and darts in to peck him on the lips. “Let’s start with breakfast?” he says.

“Breakfast,” Lan Zhan echoes. He seems to be slowly pulling himself together. “Yes.”

They dress and head down the hall side by side toward the elevators. As they descend to the lobby, Lan Zhan slips his hand into Wei Wuxian’s. When Wei Wuxian looks at him, he sees soft eyes and the barest hint of a smile. His heart stutters.

Maybehe’s the one who’s dreaming.

Prompts 40 and 42 from this list! I’m still taking prompts, from this list or otherwise!

it’d be so easy to write this with the roles reversed, but I wanted to show an affectionate Lan Wangji, so here you have it.

Lan Wangji goes to bed at nine o'clock. He always has, and he thought for a long time he always would. He didn’t figure on a husband who stays up until all hours and laughs at the concept of routine. Not that Lan Wangji would have it any other way.

But tonight it’s late, very late, and Wei Ying has just lit another candle to keep him company as he works on his manuscripts. Lan Wangji is sleepy, his eyes a little bleary. He watches from the far side of the room as Wei Ying throws several pages to the side, pulls out another blank page, and begins writing earnestly on it.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji starts.

Wei Ying holds up one finger – wait one minute – and keeps writing.

Lan Wangji waits, but that one minute comes and goes. Wei Ying doesn’t look up. For another minute, Lan Wangji just watches. The candlelight flickers, casting Wei Ying’s face into bright planes and deep shadows. His profile, the soft bow of his lips, all golden on the edges, like burning paper. Lan Wangji is struck – again, for the thousandth time – by the fact that this beauty, this elusive creature of laughter and magic, lives in his room and sleeps in his bed. There are days he’s scared to touch Wei Ying for fear he’ll dissolve into thin air and disappear. Other days, Wei Ying seems like a bird who yearns for the sky; those days, Lan Wangji wants only to hold him close and keep him tethered to the ground lest he fly away. Tonight, he only wants that intense gaze to turn and see him waiting there.

He crosses the room. “Wei Ying. You should come to bed.”

“You’re in my light,” Wei Ying complains, though the candle burns on the desk below him.

Lan Wangji sits down behind him, then shifts just so, curling around him like  smoke. His hands alight on Wei Ying’s waist. “Come to bed,” he says, soft against Wei Ying’s ear.

“You’re being annoying,” Wei Ying murmurs, but he lets himself lean backward into Lan Wangji’s embrace, shoulders relaxing, head tipping back. He takes a breath. “I’ll come to bed when I’m ready.”

Lan Wangji presses his mouth to Wei Ying’s ear, nips the skin of his neck just below. “Come now.”

“Until the candle burns out,” Wei Ying protests, “give me that much time, just until the candle burns out.” But he isn’t looking back down at his pages; instead, he’s tilting his head, exposing the full line of his neck and the top of his shoulder. In the candlelight, his skin is dipped in gold.

Lan Wangji lifts a hand from Wei Ying’s waist and places it on his arm, stroking gently. He doesn’t say a thing. Wei Ying makes an effort to lean over the desk again, but Lan Wangji leans with him, breathing on his bare shoulder, feeling Wei Ying’s goosebumps ripple up under his fingers. He lowers his mouth to that shoulder and kisses it, flicking his tongue over Wei Ying’s skin to taste him.

Wei Ying takes in a sharp breath, lets it out in a shudder. “Lan Zhan,” he says, voice low in the quiet room. He cocks his head to the side, as though turning to face him. Lan Wangji kisses along the curve of his jaw. Wei Ying turns further. His mouth is just close enough, and Lan Wangji darts in to place a soft kiss on those gold-rose lips.

“You’re hopeless,” Wei Ying says, shaking his head, and turns fully into Lan Wangji’s embrace.

Wei Ying kisses him gently, one hand on his face, and Lan Wangji fully intends to keep it gentle. He clasps Wei Ying by the arms, a loose grip, but something about the hour and the light and the person is seeping into his senses and eroding his control. His hands tighten despite his best intentions, and he holds Wei Ying in place as he kisses him – decisively, hotly, a kiss that demands: be mine. Belong to me.

“Greedy,” Wei Ying grins against his mouth. He drops his pen – he’d still been clutching it – and wraps his hand around the nape of Lan Wangji’s neck. Ink is probably spilling from the pen onto the floorboards. The desk rattles as Wei Ying climbs into Lan Wangji’s lap. The candle flickers dangerously. But all Lan Wangji knows in that moment is Wei Ying – his heat, his scent, the shape of his body. The jingshi could be burning down and he wouldn’t care. Here in his arms is everything he wants.

He licks at Wei Ying’s lips, parts them. Wei Ying’s tongue meets his, eager. So thrilling, this sensation, every time, and Lan Wangji is vibrating with want, pulling Wei Ying closer with greedy hands. He can’t get enough. Wei Ying’s skin. His breath. His sweet, yielding lips.

Wei Ying tips his head back. Lan Wangji kisses his neck, wet presses of mouth to skin. Wei Ying shudders. A yes flies from his mouth, the word incandescent in the dim room, echoing in Lan Wangji’s ears. He kisses the hollow of Wei Ying’s throat, chasing more yeses. Wei Ying obliges, fingernails biting into Lan Wangji’s skin, drawing a groan from him.

“Come to bed,” he insists one more time, and stands, pulling Wei Ying up with him.

“All right,” Wei Ying whispers against his mouth. “You win.” He lets Lan Wangji lead him across the room and onto the bed.

Sometime in the middle of what comes next, the candle burns down and sputters out. Neither of them notices.

22 from this list! Still open to prompts!

This is decidedly book continuity, and for about seven words Wei Wuxian does pay lip service to his dubcon kink, so if that’s a squick for you, skip number 3.

1) Lan Sizhui

It was after curfew and Sizhui shouldn’t have been wandering around the buildings at night. That’s the explanation Wei Wuxian will go with, if he’s called to account for this little misunderstanding. He doubts it will happen, though; Sizhui’s far too kind-hearted to go running to the sect leader or Lan Qiren with evidence of what he’s seen.

What happened was this: Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji had been researching various topics in the library pavillion as the sun went down, and lost track of time. Most notably, Lan Wangji had been exhaustively researching the curve of Wei Wuxian’s neck, the jut of his collarbone, and Wei Wuxian was deep in study of the coolness of the floors contrasted with the heat of Lan Wangji’s body on his. Lan Wangji had just been shifting his area of focus from neck to jaw to lips when there was a sudden noise by the door. He immediately moved off of Wei Wuxian and stood, but it was too late; Sizhui was already standing in the doorway, his face red.

“I was just – locking up – I’ll just go – since you’re busy,” he stammered, then very carefully pulled the door closed and disappeared.

Lan Wangji looked down at a still very horizontal Wei Wuxian. “We should go back.”

“What?” Wei Wuxian whined. “We were in the middle of something.”

“If Sizhui’s locking up, it’s time to go,” Lan Wangji repeated, and Wei Wuxian grumpily got to his feet and obeyed.

They got back into it in the Jingshi, but it just wasn’t the same.

2) Lan Qiren

This time is on purpose. And probably justified.

It’s very quiet at Cloud Recesses, which (occasionally) irks the hell out of Wei Wuxian. Still, he goes along with it, most of the time, if only because he doesn’t want to get kicked out by certain angry uncles. But there are times when it’s just plain impossible.

One of those times is when Lan Wangji is sucking on his earlobe, hands under his robes, teasingly brushing over certain places where Wei Wuxian is aching for a firmer touch. Wei Wuxian thinks he’s going to go out of his mind with sensation. The only thing he can do is clutch at Lan Wangji’s shoulders, try to encourage those too-patient hands, and moan “Lan er-gege, please, more” in a voice unrestrained by the foolish rules of the Lan Clan.

Lan Wangji stiffens at the name, then drowns Wei Wuxian in a kiss so fierce and deep that Wei Wuxian shouts against it, his whole body flooding with want.

A moment later, there are footsteps and a knock on the door.

Lan Wangji has very attuned senses. “It’s Uncle,” he says, and draws back.

“Uncle? What is your uncle doing here when we’re busy!”

As if in answer, outside the doors, the barking voice of Lan Qiren: “Wangji, please remind your guest about the noise restrictions of the Cloud Recesses. Thank you.” And that’s it, he retreats.

Wei Wuxian laughs and tries to pull Lan Wangji back toward him, but Lan Wangji is still staring at the door, and he won’t budge.

“Lan Zhan,” he prods, poking at Lan Wangji’s arm.

Lan Wangji remains unmoving.

“Lan er-gege.” Wei Wuxian crawls toward him and slides a hand up his arm, grinning.

“We should be more careful,” Lan Wangji says. His voice is devoid of the roughness that comes when he’s being passionate.

“Oh, come on.” Wei Wuxian sighs. “You’re not in the mood anymore?”

Lan Wangji’s ears turn pink. “It was my uncle,” he says, as though that explains everything.

“Lan Zhaaaan.” Wei Wuxian groans the name. “You said every day, remember?”

“Later,” Lan Wangji says. “And quietly.”

3) Nie Huaisang

The Discussion Conference that year is held in Qinghe, and while Lan Wangji doesn’t tend to show up for these things, Nie Huaisang sends so many letters begging him to attend that he eventually relents. When they arrive, Clan Leader Nie is in a state, begging for their help in this matter and that. Won’t they help him figure out how he’s to handle a particularly picky sect leader who’s unhappy with his room, and how can he avoid seating these two together when they hate each other Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji do their best to be of use, but the minute Nie Huaisang leaves them alone, they hurry down the corridor and out of the building for some much-needed fresh air.

They find themselves in a secluded courtyard, shaded by a pair of gnarled trees. Wei Wuxian collapses against one of the trees. “I didn’t realize we’d end up planning half the conference.”

“That was … difficult,” Lan Wangji agrees.

Wei Wuxian leans against the tree, folding his arms behind his head. “Well, at least we can have thirty seconds of quiet now … what’s that look for?”

Because Lan Wangji is looking at him with a dropped jaw and pink ears.

“This reminds me,” he says, and then stops.

“Hmm?” Wei Wuxian tilts his head.

Lan Wangji takes a step toward him. “Baifeng Mountain,” he says in a low voice.

“Baifen… oh.” Wei Wuxian grins. “Is this what I looked like? Leaning against the tree?”

Lan Wangji’s silence and the tint to the tips of his ears are the only confirmation he needs. His grin widens. “Do you want to try it again? No punching trees this time afterward, but I promise to close my eyes and…” It’s the last thing he’s able to get out before Lan Wangji is on him, pressing him against the tree and kissing him deeply.

Wei Wuxian grins into the kiss, wraps a hand around Lan Wangji’s neck to haul him closer. “Yes, it was like this, wasn’t it?” he murmurs when Lan Wangji breaks the kiss for air. “I was so alone and vulnerable in the forest, and you came and held me down and kissed me.” Lan Wangji moves to silence him with another kiss, but Wei Wuxian wiggles away and whispers in his ear. “You could have done other things with me too … I wouldn’t resist… well, maybe I’d resist a *little*–” and that’s as far as he gets. Lan Wangji thrusts a thigh between his legs and all Wei Wuxian can do is whimper as they kiss again, this time hotter and messier.

“Wei-xiong! Hanguang Jun!”

The voice sounds as if from far away. They aren’t about to stop kissing for distant voices, not right now, when the heat is so delicious between them. But then there are footsteps, echoing down the corridor they came from, and Lan Wangji at least has enough presence of mind to step back.

Nie Huaisang appears at the entrance to the courtyard, breathing hard as though he’s just run a mile. “Oh, thank goodness I’ve found you two! I need your help. Sect Leader Han is having an argument with Fan Xun over some business with a night hunt that I can’t figure out, and it’s making a scene! Please come help me settle them down!” And he grabs both Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji by the sleeve and pulls them, with uncharacteristic strength, down the corridor again.

To his credit, Nie Huaisang doesn’t make any mention of what he saw or what they were doing. But they spend the remainder of the conference far, far from Baifeng Mountain.

4) Jin Ling

There’s a peculiar sort of monster prowling the woods outside Lanling:
a boar spirit, with tusks that can uproot a tree and a taste for travelers who go astray. From all accounts, it doesn’t seem to be the smartest of beasts, so the best approach is to lead it into a trap. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji set the trap meticulously, create a trail of meaty temptations to entice it in, and retreat behind a copse of trees to wait.

As they wait, Wei Wuxian’s increasingly aware of Lan Wangji’s heat and presence next to him. They’re both still sweaty from the exertion of setting the trap. A bead of perspiration lingers at the base of Lan Wangji’s neck, and Wei Wuxian is compelled to lift a finger and wipe it clean. Lan Wangji shudders, and his hands come forward automatically to grip Wei Wuxian’s waist.

“So sensitive today,” Wei Wuxian murmurs, and leans in to kiss the spot he’d touched. Lan Wangji’s hands tighten on his waist.

All at once this routine night-hunt is instead a thrilling tryst in the midst of danger. Wei Wuxian pushes closer. Lan Wangji captures his lips with a soft sigh. They kiss long and lingering in the quiet woods, the moonlight filtering through the leaves to lay a silver sheen on white skin.

“You could lay me down right here,” Wei Wuxian whispers against Lan Wangji’s ear. “Have me in the middle of the woods, late at night.”

“I’m considering it,” Lan Wangji half-growls, and kisses him again.

The kiss tastes stronger than just “considering it.” Wei Wuxian goes a little dizzy as Lan Wangji tips him back, as Lan Wangji’s hands move to the small of his back, hot and firm. He murmurs encouragement, lets his body go limp so Lan Wangji can lower him down bit by bit onto the forest floor, being kissed into oblivion all the while…

“Oh my god, ewwwww.”

They turn. Jin Ling is standing at the other side of the grove, his face twisted. “I mean, I knew it, everybody knows it, but I didn’t think I’d ever have to *see* it.”

“Jin Ling, what are you doing here?” There’s a crisp annoyance in Wei Wuxian’s tone as he gets back to his feet, Lan Wangji soundlessly doing the same behind him.

“I was looking for the boar beast, of course!” Jin Ling grips the sheath of his sword like he’s ready for combat. “Are you the ones who set the trap? What am I talking about, of course you set the trap. Why aren’t you watching it?”

Wei Wuxian can’t help a crooked smile. “We figure it’ll have something to say when it gets itself trapped,” he says. “Are you here with your uncle?”

“No.” Jin Ling puffs up proudly. “I don’t need my uncle to go night-hunting.”

“Good, good.” Wei Wuxian moves toward him, smiling entreatingly. “How about we don’t tell your uncle what you just saw, okay?”

Jin Ling shivers. “Like I could even say it out loud!”

“You’re such a good kid.” Wei Wuxian pats him on the shoulder. Jin Ling jerks away. “Isn’t he a good kid, Lan Zhan?”

Before Lan Wangji can answer, there’s a terrible roar from nearby in the forest. The boar has walked into the trap. Wei Wuxian shoots a plaintive look at Lan Wangji, but that’s all he can do – it’s time to get back to business.

5) Jiang Cheng

At Lan Wangji’s urging, Wei Wuxian sends Lotus Pier an “informational letter” letting Jiang Cheng know that the two of them plan on visiting Yunmeng for a week in the summer. “We will stay in a local inn,” he writes, but when Jiang Cheng sends back a missive to Cloud Recesses, he says, “You might as well stay here.” Wei Wuxian can practically *hear* the huff in his voice.

So Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji show up at Lotus Pier at summer’s edge, when the flowering shrubs are in the height of their bloom, and an unsmiling Jiang Cheng gives them a cursory bow and leads them to two rooms in a far corner of the compound. “Of course I can’t tell you what to do,” he says, “but … still.” Not one of the three has any illusions about how many rooms will get used.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t smile the whole time, but he at least invites the two of them to meals when they’re home, and makes sure they have what they need. Wei Wuxian shrinks a little when he’s around, not wanting to start anything that will disturb the fragile peace. But when he’s not, Wei Wuxian cheerfully leads Lan Wangji down the outdoor walkways that zigzag toward the river’s edge. At the far end is a small pavillion with a place to sit and look out over the water. It’s sunset and the water is bright like flame, reflecting the orange bulb of the sun lowering itself behind the faraway trees.

“I used to see sunsets like this every day, all the time,” Wei Wuxian says.

“Do you miss them?” Lan Wangji asks, glancing at him.

“No, it’s not that I miss them, exactly. And Cloud Recesses is so nice, your thousands of rules notwithstanding, and there’s lots of beautiful things up there.” Wei Wuxian smiles. “But it’s nice to come back and see this once in a while.”

“We’ll visit often, then.” Lan Wangji speaks with sureness.

“I don’t know how often Jiang Cheng will let us stay here,” Wei Wuxian says, “but we can come to Yunmeng now and then. There are other places to see the sunset.”

“But none quite like this one?”

“Exactly.” Wei Wuxian sighs.

“We can talk to your brother.”

“No, no, it’s all right, leave him alone.” Wei Wuxian leans on Lan Wangji’s shoulder. “I’ll just enjoy this now.”

And so they sit together and watch the sun dip below the treeline, quietly, aware of the passage of each moment disappearing along with the daylight. When the sun is gone, Wei Wuxian lets out a little sigh. It’s not that he’s sad, so much. He’s just feeling heavy with the knowledge that he might not see the sun from this vantage point for a very long time.

Lan Wangji squeezes his shoulder and lowers his head to brush a kiss against Wei Wuxian’s hair. It’s just a momentary thing, but somehow it fills Wei Wuxian with happiness. That’s right – it will never be the same as when he was a child, but when he was a child he didn’t have *this*. He lifts his chin to face Lan Wangji, to say something, he doesn’t know what, but Lan Wangji leans in and kisses him before he can.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes flutter closed. He doesn’t need a thing other than this, just a soft, lingering kiss like the last rays of sun on the water. He’s content to feel the touch of Lan Wangji’s lips, the gentle sureness of his hands. For once, he doesn’t crave more.

The kiss ends. Wei Wuxian opens his eyes. “Lan Zhan,” he says, his voice soft, “I really love you so much.”

Lan Wangji’s eyes widen, and there’s a flash of steel in his gaze. He tugs on the back of Wei Wuxian’s neck and pulls him into a very different kind of kiss.

This kiss has purpose, deepening quickly and sending flushes of heat through Wei Wuxian’s body. He sits on Lan Wangji’s lap, straddling his waist, and they kiss again. Lan Wangji’s hands move feverishly on Wei Wuxian’s skin, and Wei Wuxian gets the feeling he’s about ten seconds away from laying him out on the wooden slats of the pavillion and having him right there. 

“AUGH!”

Wei Wuxian jumps to his feet. Lan Wangji turns. Jiang Cheng is standing on the walkway several feet from the pavillion, and his face is buried in his hands.

“Jiang Cheng…!” Wei Wuxian has no idea what to say.

“I came … to tell you dinner … but … oh, god, my EYES!” And Jiang Cheng turns tail and runs all the way back toward the main buildings.

Lan Wangji looks back at Wei Wuxian. “Dinner?” he says, and there’s a touch of amusement in his voice.

“Let’s give him a few minutes to calm down first,” Wei Wuxian says with a laugh. “Then, yes, dinner.”

It’s a very awkward dinner.

and
1) Wen Ning

They return to Cloud Recesses a few days later. As they return to the Jingshi, stepping through the gate into the small courtyard, Wei Wuxian snuggles against Lan Wangji’s side, full of fondness and a surprising sense of delight at being back home after time away. Yunmeng was wonderful and full of memories, but this is his and Lan Wangji’s space, their small palace in the mountains. Here, they can move without restraint; every stepping stone and blade of grass is familiar. It’s like a vise on his heart has been loosened.

Lan Wangji looks down at him with gentle affection in his eyes. When Wei Wuxian darts upward to take a soft kiss from those lips, Lan Wangji winds his arms around him and holds him there. They kiss in the low light, shadows falling all around them, keeping them safe.

“We should continue this inside,” Wei Wuxian whispers. Lan Wangji responds with a “Mn” and a nod. They turn toward the front stoop of the Jingshi.

“Wei-gongzi.”

Wei Wuxian jumps. Wen Ning is just outside the courtyard gate, fingers on the slats. He’s smiling.

“Wen Ning, what the hell are you doing here? How did you get in?”

Wen Ning proudly holds up a jade token of passage. “A-Yuan gave it to me.”

“Oh.” Wei Wuxian heaves a sigh of resignation. “And? What did you come for?”

A corpse can’t blush, but between Wen Ning’s unsteady pose and the way he gazes at Wei Wuxian through upturned eyes, it’s easy to see he’s a little nervous. “I know that you and Hanguang-Jun have had trouble getting … some time alone. So I thought I’d maybe wait outside this gate and keep people away for you. So you can …” He looks away. “Sorry, maybe this is too much, I’ll just go.”

“Wait. Wen Ning.”

Wei Wuxian is hit by a wave of affection. Wen Ning tries so hard, and he wants so badly to help. Wei Wuxian is a little concerned that he’s taken up the habit of following them around again, but they can discuss that another day.

He walks up to the gate. “That would be very helpful, Wen Ning. Thank you.” He shoots a look at Lan Wangji, who is carefully holding back a smile. “We’ll just go inside, and you can keep watch until you don’t feel like it anymore. Okay?”

“Yes!” Wen Ning nods vigorously. “You can count on me.” He turns and assumes a pose outside the gate like he’s guarding a castle.

Wei Wuxian wanders back to where Lan Wangji waits, biting back his own laughter. “You hear that, Lan Zhan?” he says. “No interruptions, guaranteed.”

“It’s a very kind offer,” Lan Wangji says. “We should take advantage of it.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Wei Wuxian takes his hand. They step inside and shut the door against the outside world. Tonight, they won’t stop for anything.

@notenoughgatorade prompted me with #33 from this list! I’m still taking prompts!

Set in CQL/TV The Untamed universe.

The urge is just too unbearable. And today is a ridiculously good day, the sky bright and the breeze crisp, and Wei Wuxian’s in a sunny mood. He’s about to run off with the juniors to Caiyi Town for lunch, leaving Lan Zhan to tend to his own matters for a while. Nothing he hasn’t done before, nothing he won’t do again. And the urge is nothing new, either. Lan Zhan stands at the screen door to see him off, and every time, Wei Wuxian feels the persistent and annoying need to peck him on the lips before he goes.

It’s just an odd urge that occurs to him once in a while. Who knows why.

And today his heart is humming and he feels like nothing can go wrong. So just as he’s saying his goodbyes, promising to be back before sundown and all, he suddenly darts in and presses a quick kiss to Lan Zhan’s mouth. “Behave,” he says. “I’m going now.”

And he walks casually out of the doorway and through the courtyard and away. Like nothing happened.

But now that he’s done it, his pulse is jumping and he’s terrified of the consequences. The moment he is out of Lan Zhan’s immediate line of sight, he ducks behind a tree and peeks back toward the jingshi.

Lan Zhan’s hand is on his mouth. His eyes are blown open wide. He’s standing stock still.

Oh, no. He’s made a huge mistake, hasn’t he?

Well, nothing for it now. He’ll just have to apologize when he gets back. He doubts Lan Zhan will kick him out or anything for the imposition – they’ve been living comfortably in the same building for a month since Wei Wuxian returned from his travels.

He goes to collect the juniors and set out for lunch and inevitable shenanigans. They’ll keep his mind off it.

–

It’s midafternoon when they return. Wei Wuxian has successfully distracted himself via spicy food and animated conversations among the juniors. He’s rather proud of Sizhui and Jingyi, who spent the majority of their walk back arguing over whether a talisman should include a certain stroke or not (Sizhui thought it was reckless; Jingyi said that’s the only way it’s effective). Others talked about the girls they saw in town; one shyly confessed to having a crush on one of the female disciples, and was roundly teased for it. All in all, Wei Wuxian was able to keep his mind off his reckless action this morning. Mostly.

That all fades the moment they passed through the gate to Cloud Recesses. Wei Wuxian is suddenly terribly nervous.

What will Lan Zhan say? he wonders. What will he do? Will I get a scolding? Or maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe he’s already forgotten all about it. That’s meant to be a comfort, but it isn’t – partly because Wei Wuxian doubts it’s true, and partly because a piece of him doesn’t want Lan Zhan to forget about it.

Which is odd, it was a mistake, Lan Zhan usually lets his mistakes go, why should Wei Wuxian want him to remember it?

He sneaks back behind the same tree where he hid before, peers through the brush at the jingshi.

Lan Zhan is still standing at the door. His hand is still on his mouth. It looks like he hasn’t moved a muscle the whole time Wei Wuxian was gone.

Looks like he hasn’t forgotten about it at all.

Wei Wuxian pauses in trepidation outside the gate to the courtyard and summons up all his cheerfulness, pasting a big smile on his face. Maybe he can talk his way out of this.

“Lan Zhan!” he calls with a big wave as he enters. “You missed a fun trip! I hope what you were doing wasn’t too boring, but who am I kidding, it was probably boring.” He saunters up the steps to the Jingshi. “It’s hard to believe how much A-Yuan has grown in the months I’ve been away. I’ve mentioned it before, but today–”

An arm blocks his way. Lan Zhan is blocking his access to the Jingshi. His jaw is clenched.

Shit.

Wei Wuxian summons up his boldness and puts a hand on that outstretched arm. “Lan Zhan. Don’t tell me you are still hung up on that little joke I played on you this morning. It was just for fun! I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Lan Zhan lowers his arm slowly. His eyes narrow. “It was a joke?” he asks, as though he hadn’t even pondered the possibility.

“Well, what else could it be? No, you know what, don’t answer that question, it’s too embarrassing. Anyway, tell me about your afternoon–”

“Don’t do it,” Lan Zhan says, a trace of coldness in his voice, “if you don’t mean anything by it.”

There’s some implication there that Wei Wuxian is scared to examine. He saunters into the room and stretches, extending his arms as wide as he can. “That reminds me of something you told me a long time ago. In the cave. You were so upset about my flirting, do you remember? I said at the time you probably liked Mianmian. You got so angry.” Why is he still talking about this? He has the vague feeling he’s making things worse.

“I didn’t,” Lan Zhan says. “Like her.”

“It’s all ancient history anyway,” Wei Wuxian says, sitting down. “Who cares who you liked? We were kids. Do we have fresh tea? The spicy peppers are still sticking with me. I’m afraid I may have some bad breath. You probably don’t want to come near me.”

And Lan Zhan certainly doesn’t seem eager to come near. He’s still standing at the doorway, watching Wei Wuxian with some interest. “I’ll get tea,” he says, and descends down the steps and away.

With him goes an ominous atmosphere; the air feels visibly lighter when he’s out of the courtyard. Wei Wuxian sighs. What was that reaction about? Lan Zhan wasn’t angry; neither has he forgotten it. More than that, what about Wei Wuxian’s own reaction? Why does he care so much, anyway?

He leans back and folds his arms behind his head, looking up at the ceiling.

It was just this odd urge he felt once in a while. Now that he’s done it, that should be the end, right? But there’s something unresolved in all this. Something unsettling. Like this isn’t, or shouldn’t be, the last time.

That’s the issue, isn’t it? Wei Wuxian wants to do it again.

I want to kiss Lan Zhan.

He thinks the words methodically, one at a time, then tries them out loud. They sound less absurd than he’d expected. But he doesn’t have those tendencies, does he? Granted, if he did, Lan Zhan would definitely be the guy he’d go for. He’s handsome and genteel and, more than that, sweet and affectionate in the moments Wei Wuxian steals for himself, the ones no one else gets to see. There are times when he looks at Wei Wuxian and it makes him melt inside. Nobody else has ever looked at him like that.

Lan Zhan looks at him like that. Like he’s the only person in the world.

And Wei Wuxian wants to kiss him.

Oh.

The realization knocks the wind out of him. He has to remind himself to start breathing again.

It’s an eternity until Lan Zhan returns with the tea. He’s expressionless as he pours one cup for Wei Wuxian, one for himself, then sits neatly at the table across from him.

Wei Wuxian stares at him without saying a word. Now that he knows, he wants. The line of Lan Zhan’s jaw, the broadness of his shoulders, the feel of him in the room. The curve of his hands around the teacup. Everything about him is staggeringly beautiful. Wei Wuxian has to wonder why it took himself so long to come to this epiphany. Who wouldn’t fall in love with this man? He’s everything anyone could ever want.

He’s everything Wei Wuxian wants. He always has been.

“Will you drink?” Lan Zhan asks, breaking the silence.

“Ah– of– of course.” Wei Wuxian forces a short laugh. “I got distracted.”

Even so, Lan Zhan doesn’t let him take more than a sip. “Wei Ying.”

“Y-yes.”

“Please … think of the consequences of your actions.” Lan Zhan’s brow is furrowed, and his gaze is downward, as though he’s unsure of what he’s saying.

Wei Wuxian sighs. “You say that, Lan Zhan, but how am I to know what those consequences are? A talking-to and then we get tea? I’m thinking if I did it tomorrow, that wouldn’t be your only response.” Lan Zhan’s eyes widen in sudden panic.

Wei Wuxian waves him down. “I won’t do it tomorrow, don’t worry.” He tries to keep the smile off his face, but it’s hard.

“Oh.” Lan Zhan’s gaze wavers. “Then there’s no need to discuss it.”

“I think there is a need,” Wei Wuxian says, and he scoots himself around the table to take a seat next to Lan Zhan. “I think you really need to make clear what the consequences are of doing it again. In fact, I think it’s so important, I’m willing to do it again just to find out.”

The panic returns to Lan Zhan’s eyes. “Wei Ying…”

Wei Wuxian leans forward. “Go on, then,” he says, “show me what my punishment is.” And he closes the gap between them and kisses Lan Zhan’s soft lips. A little longer this time. Just a second or two, then over, and Wei Wuxian smiles. “What are you going to do to me?”

Lan Zhan grabs the back of his head and pulls him back in.

–

It’s two hours later, and the sun is fast disappearing beyond the horizon. The rays shine slanted on the bed, and a golden sheen appears on Lan Zhan’s bare side. Wei Wuxian touches his skin with two fingers, strokes. Lan Zhan murmurs approval.

“Why didn’t we do this a long time ago?” Wei Wuxian wonders aloud.

“Many reasons.” Lan Zhan says, touching Wei Wuxian’s face with a gentle hand. “Mostly, I didn’t know how you felt.”

“That makes two of us,” Wei Wuxian says ruefully. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it.”

“It’s fine.” Lan Zhan’s traces the shape of Wei Wuxian’s lips with a finger. Simple, light contact, but Wei Wuxian can’t resist trying to purse his lips and press kisses to that earnest fingertip. “Don’t say sorry.”

“Well, I have to say something.” Wei Wuxian thinks for a moment. “How about this?” And he whispers something soft and low that makes Lan Zhan look at him with those wonderful, shining eyes.

“And,” he adds, “I’m absolutely doing this again tomorrow. Now that I know the consequences.”

Lan Zhan kisses him. “Please do.”

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.

Pairings:Wangxian, past Lan Xichen/???

Rating:E for two fairly vanilla sex scenes

Words:69,094 (nice!)

Summary:

Jiang Fashions has finally scored its first high-level booking: supermodel Lan Wangji. He has a reputation as the golden boy, and his image is squeaky clean. Enter stylist Wei Wuxian.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25112653/chapters/60840226

Read from the beginning at AO3 >>

The morning of the runway show, it starts to snow in Lanling, wet ivory flakes the size of marbles. The whole town feels quieter somehow, as though time has stopped and everyone is just waiting for it to start again.

Wen Ning wishes he could sit by the window and watch it snow all day long. But time has not stopped here in the studio, where Sister is taking a few last-minute snaps of outfits for the Jin collection. It’s early, and everyone in the studio needs coffee, so Wen Ning is running back and forth between the coffeemaker and the hair and makeup area. He doesn’t spill so much today, which is a nice change. Usually there’s a trail of coffee on the floor behind him. Sometimes he slips on it.

That executive is back in the studio today, alone this time, and he’s pacing back and forth nervously. Today he’s not smiling. Wen Ning watches him and doesn’t like him much. He didn’t like the pinched-eyebrows man, either. Sister would probably scold him if he said so. “Paying customers are paying customers, A-Ning,” she would say. “It doesn’t matter how we feel about them.”

But this is a really, really bad feeling. It makes Wen Ning’s stomach roil.

One of the models calls for a bottle of water. Wen Ning shouts “Okay!” and goes to the fridge to get one. When he comes back, the model who asked for the water is waiting for him, wearing a very pretty dress. The dress is black, and all over it are hand-embroidered details of gold and silver chains.

Wen Ning nearly drops the bottle of water.

Read more on AO3->

Read it from the beginning on AO3!

BreathlessFashion.cn
Is Wei Wuxian the Most Hated Man in Fashion?

The name Wei Wuxian has been on the lips of everyone in fashion lately. The most influential stylists in the world have all given their two cents about the Lan Wangji debacle, and their take on Wei Wuxian’s dramatic transformation of the supermodel has split New York, Paris, and Lanling down the middle. Rachel Zoe declares it “a disaster” and a “failure of branding,” while Law Roach calls the new look “progressive” and “a bold statement.”  Even though Lan Wangji is rumored to be stepping away from Jiang Fashions and Wei Wuxian’s dramatic styling, the name still echoes in the air at cocktail parties and runway shows worldwide. Surely there hasn’t been this polarizing a figure in modern fashion since Kanye West’s last collection debuted.  

  Perhaps all we can do is look to the model himself for a final judgment as to whether Wei Wuxian should be loved or hated. Lan Wangji has posted public statements of support for the stylist, but confirmation that he will be walking for Jin in their spring show may speak louder than any paragraph published on Weibo. The model has been off the grid in recent days, surrounded by security and seen only on his shoots. We have no choice but to wait for him to speak to the press again. The Lan agency did not respond to our request for comment.

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