Wangxian 'always be my maybe' au but just b/c wwx would be the funniest instagramiest celebrity chef like E-V-E-R
“—No, Wen Ning, I’ll only be here three months, tops,” Wei Wuxian says into the phone balanced haphazardly between his cheek and shoulder. He nudges the shopping trolley forward with one hand as the other fumbles in his bag for his wallet. “Just until the restaurant is up and running.”
“Oh, okay,” Wen Ning says on the other end. “Do you need me to come down there to help?”
“No, no I got it,” Wei Wuxian replies, just as he fishes out his wallet only for his keys to fall on the floor as well. “Just keep the Insta feed updating, yeah? Do we have enough content for three months?”
“I think we should be fine,” Wen Ning says. “We have a backlog of posts saved up that should tide us over until you’re back.”
“Great, let’s do that.” Wei Wuxian shoots an apologetic look to the cashier as he bends down to pick up his keys, only to knock over the magazine rack with his bag. He curses under his breath. “Hey, I gotta call you back. Let me know if you hear anything back from Lanling.”
He hangs up without waiting for a reply, dropping his phone into his bag as he scrambles around for the magazines scattered across the supermarket floor. The store is thankfully quiet at this time of day, but there is still one person behind him in the queue for the lone cashier when the magazine rack goes down. Wei Wuxian turns to apologise to their feet as he reaches for the magazine by their shoe.
“Wei Ying?”
He freezes at the sound of the painfully familiar voice calling his name.
No fucking way.
Of all the people to run into on his first day back in town (and it isn’t even a small town!), it had to be him. As if being back here wasn’t bad enough.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says again. “What are you doing?”
Wei Wuxian jumps to his feet, wincing when the empty magazine rack clatters and threatens to fall over. Lan Wangji reaches over and steadies it without glancing away from him, a curious glint in his eyes. Wei Wuxian laughs sheepishly, his arms full of magazines.
“Hi…Lan Zhan,” he says, shifting awkwardly so the magazines don’t fall again. “I’m, ah…working? Rearranging the shelves? Not that they need arranging, I guess. Just—trying to be useful. Or something…”
The cashier is watching them with unabashed interest, her chin resting on the palm of one hand as she leans on the counter and makes no move to help. Wei Wuxian hurriedly jams the magazines back on the rack and makes a show of shuffling them around before turning back to Lan Wangji with a grin.
“See? Much better.”
Lan Wangji raises an eyebrow. “They’re facing the wrong way.”
Well shit.
He laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “Ah, well. You caught me. I’m just, uh you know—”
“I know.” Lan Wangji nods at the magazines. “I saw.”
Double shit.“Ah.”
They stare at each other awkwardly for a few, agonising seconds. Wei Wuxian vividly remembers the last time he’d seen Lan Wangji, almost thirteen years ago: fresh out of high school, sneaking out of the graduation after party at Jin Zixuan’s parent’s mansion with a bottle of wine hidden under Wei Wuxian’s jacket. He’d been tipsy, flushed with alcohol and giddily leading a somewhat disapproving Lan Wangji back to his place.
Maybe it had been the excitement of the day, or perhaps it had been the wine, but Lan Wangji had been…softer, warmer around the edges of Wei Wuxian’s admittedly hazy memory that night. He recalls the way those lips had softened and parted in a surprised gasp as Wei Wuxian leaned into him; the way his eyes, a shade of hazel so pale it was almost yellow, had darkened to a honey gold as his hands came up to rest on Wei Wuxian’s hips…
Well. That’s not a trip down memory lane he wants to pursue anytime soon.
The cashier finally decides that the awkward silence has stretched on long enough and clears her throat loudly, jarring them both from the staring contest Wei Wuxian is sure he’s losing. He glances back at his shopping trolley with a laugh.
“I should, ah…probably pay for my stuff,” he says. Lan Wangji nods. Wei Wuxian picks up his wallet, which had fallen to the floor during the magazine avalanche, opening it only to find it…empty. He glances at the cashier. “Uh…any chance you’d take card?”
“Sorry, machine’s down,” she says, not sounding sorry at all. “Cash only.”
Just my luck. “Ah, okay. Um…I’ll just—”
“I’ve got it,” Lan Wangji says, stepping forward with the money in hand. He places a bag of carrots on the counter. “How much altogether?”
“Wait, Lan Zhan, you don’t—” Wei Wuxian starts to protest, but Lan Wangji has already handed over the money and the cashier is handing over the shopping bags before he can even finish his sentence. “…Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Lan Wangji hands over the bags when they’re safely outside the store and Wei Wuxian takes them with an embarrassed smile.
“Thanks,” he says again. “I don’t carry much cash on me nowadays. I’ll transfer you the total, so you don’t have to worry about me not paying you back. I swear I have money—”
“I know,” Lan Wangji says. After a pause, he says: “I’ve watched your show.”
“You have?” Well, that wasn’t something he’d expected. “Really?”
“Yes.” He smiles, which does weird things to Wei Wuxian’s already racing heart. “You’re very good. I can see why you’re so popular.”
At this point, Wei Wuxian is sure his face is hot enough to fry an egg. Something deep in his chest unfurls in pleasure. He smiles.
“I love doing it,” he says honestly. “More than the restaurants, I think. There’s something really…amazing about travelling the world and trying all sorts of different foods and sharing them with people.”
Lan Wangji hums in agreement. “You do a wonderful job of it.”
It almost feels like the past thirteen years of silence and no contact hadn’t happened at all, the way Wei Wuxian blossoms under Lan Wangji’s praise. He opens his mouth to ask after Lan Wangji’s current situation when his phone vibrates loudly in his bag.
“Ah shit, sorry.” He fumbles around to check the caller ID. “Shit, I have to take this. Uh…I guess I’ll catch you around?”
His thumb pauses over the answer icon on his phone as he waits for a response. Lan Wangji nods.
I’m finally giving in and posting the only multi-part fic I wrote for my inbox buddy that I’m really okay with. This is for the @dwinboxbuddies event.
I’m just gonna keep it in the structure I sent it in for that ~authentic askbox fic experience~ (and also bc if I reformat it there’s absolutely NO DOUBT my perfectionism will get the better of me and I’d edit it and write more and the cycle will NEVER END)
Ten x Rose
“I’m fine! Stop fussing,” the Doctor whined, trying to pull himself away from Rose’s reach. Rose frowned and just dragged him even closer. “You call this ‘fine’?” she asked, gesturing to the bloody mess that stained his clothes. He had wounds on both his head and his torso, having not left unscathed from their capture. The Doctor sniffed. “I can just fix it myself in the TARDIS,” he said. Rose could only sigh. "Yeah? And where's the TARDIS, then?" (⅕ IBB)
The Doctor paused, avoiding her eyes. "Probably right where we left it," he mumbled. Rose dug a napkin out of her pocket and began dabbing at the blood on his cheek. "You mean before we got chucked in jail, right, Doctor?" she challenged, and he flinched. From her actions or her words, she couldn't tell. "Yeeeaaah... Yep. That's right," he said. "And I'm sure it's not far, so you could just, y'know, let me go and—" "No." "No?" "No." “Not even—” “No.” "Oh.” (⅖ IBB)
“Why won’t you let me help you?” Rose asked, exasperated. "You clearly got the worst of it and it just makes sense, doesn't it? I've even got some bandages." She met his eyes with an imploring look that had him squirming in place, but he didn't answer. After a beat of fruitless silence, she continued, voice softening, "Doctor... I can't just not care. It matters to me when you’re injured. I know you've got 'superior biology' or whatever, but cuts and stuff still hurt, don't they?" (⅗ IBB)
Something in his eyes shifted, and the tension in posture slowly eased away. "Yeah. They do," he admitted. "Sorry, Rose. I was just, well... being an idiot." Rolling up his sleeves and wincing at the friction, the Doctor held himself at her mercy. "Should've known I couldn't hide anything from you. Especially not with all the bleeding," he chuckled. "I thought I'd at least be able to downplay it a bit so you wouldn't worry." Rose shook her head. "You just made me worry more!" (⅘ IBB)
“Thank you,” the Doctor said. Rose looked up at him, witnessing the affection pooling in his eyes. Her heart stuttered and she instinctively smiled at him, pulling a smile from him as well. “You’re welcome, you silly Time Lord.” (5/5 IBB)
Lotor worrying about his mate is something I never thought I needed until now but BOY DO I NEED IT NOW. All the time! I’m so emotional over these babes. They’re gonna be such good parents when Sendak makes his way back to his babe and Lotor murders them for putting his mate through that at this stage. I can’t wait!!!!!!!
Marinette crinkled her nose, quizzically examining the bottom of Adrien’s chin. “What,” she said.
Her boyfriend, in turn, waggled his eyebrows. “Got anything juicy? I’m pretty parched.”
She thumped him in the chest and snickered. “Pssh, you betcha. In fact, I’m really a bespeckled heroine, fighting crime with only a yoyo and my extremely impressive quick wits. I’m joined by my leather-clad companion, Chat Noir, as we leap across rooftops and flirt incessantly. Our arch-nemesis is a middle-aged man who acts like a prepubescent child whenever he doesn’t get his way. Dubbing himself the name Hawk Moth, he possesses the minds of vulnerable hosts as a means to get to our magical jewels called Miraculouses.” She scratched her arm, shifting her position on Adrien’s lap. “Oh, and we have a mentor called Master Fu. I bake him macaroons all the time. We’re super tight.”
Adrien narrowed his eyes, hitting Marinette’s face straight on with a gust of wind from his nose.
“That was all so very…informative,” he strained out, voice waggishly lowering, “but I was thinking of something more on the lines of—” Slinking his hands down to Marinette’s stomach, he grabbed a handful of her shirt and grinned. “—are you ticklish?”
She scoffed, pulling him down by the collar of his shirt. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”
Adrien gulped, but still managed to keep a calm exterior despite the nature of the current situation. He willed his hands to continue their wandering, traveling past the hem of the fabric and onto her skin. “I just might take you up on that offer, Polkadots.”
