( a hurricane might have been less chaotic, but wei wuxian is the kind of maelstrom lan wangji is used to. the kind that leaves you drenched to the bone, but instead of drowning, you rise, caught in the sunlit afterglow. and lan wangji is terribly warm.
he watches him half-stunned, fully poised, a few strands of hair plastered to his forehead. in his hurry, wei wuxian most likely didnβt notice the absence of his clanβs ribbon, or the way his hair falls free down his back, over his shoulders. he probably failed to note his overall attire, one layer instead of three, cheeks flushed and skin slick. granted, itβs a bit dark inside, save for the flames, which wei wuxian immediately goes to like he has a death wish. how is he not hot? lan wangji can practically hear his teeth chatter over the litany of complaints, cold beyond measure, and the way he gets so close to the fire nearly leaves him dizzy.
he was on his way to snuff it out. wei wuxian knocked, an icy mess, and itβs almost funny, how they both feel the opposite of what they exude. lan wangji barely hesitates. wei ying looks pitiful and his chest constricts the same way that it always does, when heβs anything less than fine. he walks up to him, drops to a crouch. his hands are deliciously glacial between his own when he gently grabs them, lightly rubbing despite the warmth that makes his breath a little shorter. he frowns, patiently searches his gaze. ) Tell me of the curse. ( and maybe theyβll figure out how to break this one. )
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he watches him half-stunned, fully poised, a few strands of hair plastered to his forehead. in his hurry, wei wuxian most likely didnβt notice the absence of his clanβs ribbon, or the way his hair falls free down his back, over his shoulders. he probably failed to note his overall attire, one layer instead of three, cheeks flushed and skin slick. granted, itβs a bit dark inside, save for the flames, which wei wuxian immediately goes to like he has a death wish. how is he not hot? lan wangji can practically hear his teeth chatter over the litany of complaints, cold beyond measure, and the way he gets so close to the fire nearly leaves him dizzy.
he was on his way to snuff it out. wei wuxian knocked, an icy mess, and itβs almost funny, how they both feel the opposite of what they exude. lan wangji barely hesitates. wei ying looks pitiful and his chest constricts the same way that it always does, when heβs anything less than fine. he walks up to him, drops to a crouch. his hands are deliciously glacial between his own when he gently grabs them, lightly rubbing despite the warmth that makes his breath a little shorter. he frowns, patiently searches his gaze. ) Tell me of the curse. ( and maybe theyβll figure out how to break this one. )