For @4unit-panda, @squidspawn, @gixininja, @withcharmtospare, @bloody-bee-tea for replying to my poll on part three haha
Kinda fluffy? Kinda pining? A tiny dash of sads?
part one | part two | part three
Wei Wuxian is by no means shy. He does not lack self-confidence (a most unfortunate affliction, Madame Yu would say with disdain), he is aware of how his charms (obnoxious flirting, according to Jiang Cheng) affect people of all genders, and he isn’t above using them to his advantage when necessary. Cultivation is as easy as breathing and he takes to it like duck to water, to Jiang Fengmian’s delight and Lan Qiren’s chagrin (although, that may be more about squandering potential over trivial pursuits). He is, after all, the fourth most eligible male cultivator in their generation.
But he also knows that, next to Lan Wangji’s carefully sculpted perfection, he is ordinary. Common. He’d known from the moment he’d first laid eyes on him at the gates to the Cloud Recesses, pristine white robes billowing in the breeze as if he were walking through the clouds themselves. Even now, when he gets to see him every single day, Wei Wuxian’s heart still stutters when Lan Wangji walks into the room — just, somewhere along the way, this has morphed into want, into longing, into desire.
And now, standing here with his hands clasped firmly, gently, in Lan Wangji’s own, his stomach churns. He watches the thumb brushing gently over the back of his hand and his mouth runs dry.
“Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji squeezes his hand; Wei Wuxian snaps out of his reverie.
He chuckles, weak and disbelieving. “Sorry, Lan Zhan, I thought I heard you say—what do you mean…responsibility? For what? We’re both men — not to mention we were both drunk — you really don’t need to take it so seriously.”
Lan Wangji frowns. “Do not—do not put so little value on yourself.”
Wei Wuxian’s heart skips, falters, again for the umpteenth time that day. He ducks his head to hide the way his face burns. For a long moment all he can hear is the sound of his heart hammering; he’s surprised it hasn’t already burst through his ribcage with the way his chest constricts, as if something is squeezing him tighter and tighter—
“Wei Ying.”
He squeezes his eyes shut and fights the urge to flinch when Lan Wangji’s fingers brush against his cheek. He hears his name again, a gentle sigh that lingers in the space between them. The fingers trace along his jaw, curling around until Lan Wangji’s hand is cupping his jaw, tilting his face towards him. He opens his eyes.
There is an odd expression on Lan Wangji’s face, a strange light in his eyes, a softness in the way his lips shape his name carefully, silently. The tips of his ears are red.
“This is a serious matter,” he says, and sighs. “You do not want me to take responsibility. But I do.”
His eyes are prickling, burning; when Wei Wuxian next exhales, it leaves his lips in small, stuttering breaths, forcing the air through the lump in his throat threatening to choke him. Lan Wangji continues to watch him, the darkening blush on his ears belying his steadfast, unwavering gaze.
“You do not think yourself important,” he continues. “But I do.”
“Lan Zhan…”
Wei Wuxian’s vision clouds over as the burning behind his eyes intensifies; Lan Wangji’s thumb brushes the tears away.
“Wei Ying.”
Wei Wuxian chuckles. “And you said I was shameless.”
Lan Wangji hums in response. “You are.”
A rush of affection bubbles up inside Wei Wuxian’s chest for this beautiful, wonderful, sweet boy standing before him, looking at him with wonder in his eyes. He turns his head and presses his lips to the palm of Lan Wangji’s hand and smiles against the skin when it twitches. Laughter bubbles up inside his throat, carrying with it the heavy weight on his chest. He can breathe again.
“I don’t know if your three thousand sect rules will be able to contain such shamelessness.” He grins. “Your Uncle Qiren will have an apoplectic fit if he sees you like this, with me.”
They both stare at each other as a cold shiver creeps its way up Wei Wuxian’s spine. He doubts that it is from the cold springs.
“Ah.” Lan Wangji clears his throat. “We will have to inform Uncle.”
