fromtheburbs



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    They’re mobbed at the airport.

    What’s worse is they’re mobbed after landing in Gimpo, desperate for lower-body baths and their own pillows. This is not a welcome home, Chan thinks bitterly. This is not love.

    Indignation builds in his chest. Navigating airports would be so much easier if he could just move his kids around like plushies in a claw machine. Or wolf pups in a den. If he could scruff them by the backs of their hoodies, he would. If he could slink away to hide them somewhere secluded and safe, he would. No one would get in their way if he snarled and raised his hackles to say these are mine, leave them alone.

    And—pain explodes in his mouth. Every movement of his tongue feels like firecrackers against his teeth. There’s too much pressure in his sinuses, in his eye sockets. His jaw creaks. His canines pulse. What is happening?

     

    —Or, the shame-hunger-restlessness of idol life catches up to Chan all at once, and the wolf howls itself awake.

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    24 Aug 2026

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    “Cloud Reccesses Apiary,” says a toneless, deep masculine voice, with zero question in it. Wei Ying doesn’t care, because whoever possesses that voice is probably going to come save him from bees like a fucking hero while wearing like, a suit of armor. That’s what you wear to catch bees, right?

    “I have like, so many bees outside my front door right now,” he says, mouth running out ahead of him before he can even begin to think about reining it in. “It’s like a sandstorm of bees out there. There are so many bees. I got out of my car and there were just bees and I don’t want these bees. Do you want these bees? Please tell me you will come get these bees. I can’t leave my house and I have enough food for maybe a week but then I’m gonna have to learn how to cook dry beans and no one wants that, especially not me.” Wei Ying runs out of air, takes a breath, and belatedly adds, “My name is Wei Ying. Hi.”

    Or: The beekeeping AU that no one asked for.

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    23 Aug 2026

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    “Please,” he whispers, swaying forward. Lan Wangji steadies him with one hand on his bound wrists and the other on his jaw, letting Wei Ying settle into the hold before he finally leans in to kiss him. His mouth is ghost-cold, corpse-cold. He tastes like grave-dust and grief, none of it belonging to him and all of it something he took on to help a dead stranger. He’s too good, Lan Zhan’s husband, too willing to carve strips off himself if he thinks someone else needs the flesh more. As though Wei Ying has the flesh to spare, even now. As though it would make Wei Ying a monster to keep something for himself instead of giving, giving, giving. Lan Wangji presses closer, teasing Wei Ying’s mouth open with his tongue. If Wei Ying is always taking himself apart, then at least he’ll always have Lan Wangji here to put him back together.

    Or: Wei Ying has trouble with the aftermath of a night hunt. Lan Wangji helps.

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    23 Aug 2026

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    “Nice,” Drunk Man says, into the crook of his neck, and does nothing else. Wei Ying slowly relaxes, allows himself to pat Drunk Man between the shoulder blades, and sighs.

    “Okay,” he says. “Glad you think so.”

    Drunk Man does not respond. Wei Ying wonders if he went back to sleep, and then takes a further moment to wonder why this always happens to him, why he’s always the one helping a heartbroken twink sober up after a terrible night out or sitting on the curb with a sobbing teenager with a fake ID while they wait for her parents to come pick her up. If only he was as shitty a person as White Mike, he could be home asleep right now and this beautiful man would be passed out in a gutter and probably mugged. Wei Ying looks down at the drunk man on his shoulder, thinks about leaving him to fend for himself, and sighs. Nope. Not on his watch.

    Or: A meet-cute at two in the morning.

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    22 Aug 2026

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    Wei Wuxian didn’t imagine acquiring a cat like this, nor did he imagine acquiring a fluffy white cat that, even covered in dirt and debris and clutched to a four-year-old’s chest like a teddy bear, manages to give the impression it’s judged his entire life and found it deeply wanting.

    “Uh, A’Yuan,” he asks slowly, just in case this is a hallucination. “Who’s this?”

    “A cat,” A’Yuan says proudly, leaning his round cheek against the top of the cat’s head, while the cat continues to look at Wei Wuxian like he’s wearing week-old clothes covered in food stains.

    Or: Wei Wuxian gets a cat, and then a boyfriend, both of which are a surprise.

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    22 Aug 2026