Wangji managed to pull his scarf down so he didn’t have to breathe coffee-tainted air, then just lay on his side in the snow, willing the world to stop spinning, his gut to stop roiling, and his balls to stop throbbing. He didn’t know how long he lay like that, but with another groan, he managed to push himself to sitting… to find a vision sitting opposite him. Oh…
Cross-legged, hands firmly fisted in his lap, snowflakes fluttered around the man like a lace veil, catching on dark lashes that framed lustrous silver eyes, and landing like little kisses against bow-shaped lips still red despite the chill. And oh, Wangji was most definitely fucked.
An absolutely epic tattoo artist / small town AU, which so many feels I cried a few times – but also some absolutely hilarious moments, and more found family than you can shake a stick at. Oh, and smut. 😉