#i hate mxtx for making me love every single one of her characters/hj

[nc-vb]

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡; 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭, 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐟𝐲

I was so close to just turning this thing into an original character story. So, so close. Eh, I still could. If I do, it’ll certainly be with a male reader. Poly. The good stuff. ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ഒ

pairing → wèi wuxian x gn!reader

warnings → gn!reader; sfw, slightly suggestive & fluff; description of injury & blood mention.

notes → post-resurrection wwx; ftl with lwj/wwx implications; reader uses healing cultivation techniques. → title is based on the Chinese proverb, “Yǒuqíng yǐnshuǐ bǎo, wúqíng shí fàn jī”.

wc -> 1.8k

masterlist | taglist

“Hm… hm, hm, hm…”

Hand on your chin and another on your hip, you’re bent over, scrutinizing the bemoaned man sitting on the ground before you. Still, he accosts you through his bangs, at first silently questioning you before opting to speak.

“… what is it?” Your lips purse, registering the hollow tone of his voice.

“I’m just wondering why you felt the need to try to hide your injuries when you returned today,” you say, dipping down into a bend that levels your eyes together. Wei Wuxian blinks once before averting his gaze to his lap. “After all, you’ve always been a terrible liar, gēge. There’s no way I wouldn’t find out.”

“Not that I find any pride in it, but I am not a terrible liar,” he huffs. “What injuries?” Between his bangs and upon his cheeks, you spot rouge, and frown.

“There’s a chance you’re coming down with a fever, Xian-xian,” you explain, raising a hand to rest against his forehead. “You’re very warm.” Quickly, while his attention is elsewhere, your eyes scan across him, head to toe, examining his body language for where it might be, supposing he might not appreciate being stripped down to the point of indecency. “Also— you have not been on the receiving end of your Mò Xuányǔ act, so I’ll hear nothing more about it.” Even still…

His shoulders? Gently, but still firmly enough to test turbulent waters, you squeeze from their muscular tops, down, down, down past his biceps, elbows, forearms, your fingers gliding from his wrists to twist his palms face up toward you— all whilst ignoring his flustered complaints. Nothing, or at least, he has no pained reaction to your touch here.

You move on, kneeling before him, quick to be patting up from his padded ankles and calves and up to his knees, and in spite of his squirming, across the expanse of the corded musculature of his clothed thighs— them, you desperately try to not think too much about, even when he finally swats your hands away as you near the juncture where his legs and hips meet.

Unfortunately — for who, exactly? — you’ll have to remove the upper layer of his robes, and upon finding nothing on his lower extremities, you stand back up to do so. Eyes wide as your hands pass through either breast of his hanfu, Wei Wuxian is quick to grab your wrists and hold them away midair, teeth gritted and paling skin flushed in his apparent panic.

“Wei Wuxian!” you snap, voice hardened; he flinches upon feeling your musculature do the same. “Why on earth are you so guarded right now?”

“B-Because!” he accidentally stammers, instantly accosting himself in his mind for the blunder, only to do it again. “Because you’re… you’re trying to strip a grown man of his clothing! H-How indecent of you!”

Your cheeks warm. “Indecent?! What?! Me?” This time, the one corner of his lips rise, at you. “Wei Yīng!”

“Well, aren’t you?” Your exasperation shows itself through a sigh.

“The fact that you have a new body changes absolutely nothing about your old personality!” you remind him, whacking his apparently non-injured arm. “Why must you always turn a situation into something so suggestive!? I’m worried for you!”

“And so you would caress me like a lover would, just to see for my injuries?” he teases, raising his arms in faux protection of himself with a pout. Your face ignites with heat, and if it’s from anger, concern, or purely from the effects of his use of the word “lover”, you would refuse to address it, and instead rest a hand on his knee.

“If it means to find them, then yes,” you answer through clenched teeth. “I would.” If only slightly, Wei Wuxian’s arms drop at your words, eyebrows flying upward and in the opposite direction of his falling jaw. **

“Eh?” You would?

“So please, just… just let me see you; let me heal you. Don’t make me worry for you more than I already do.”

If you’re surprised by his sudden complacency, you don’t show it. Not when he lets you place his hands into his lap, not when he lets you unwrap the dadai securing his zhongyi shut, and barely when he lets you slide your hands beneath his breast of his hanfu and along the prominence of his collarbones to his shoulders— just how are you being so… so normal about this?! he wonders, pulse racing.

Two hands fly up between you to pause you once more. You sigh, hands now braced against him when you’d lurched forward.

“Xian-xian, you…”

“Sorry, I— I’m not trying to stop you exactly, I just…” Gently, he clears his throat. “You’re just—”

You sputter out a chuckle after finally meeting his lowered, lidded gaze. No, it wouldn’t be surprise that you were feeling.

“The shameless, smooth-talking Wèi Wuxian, flustered after a little skin-on-skin, hm?” Satisfaction, perhaps. Especially when you’ve managed to turn him the same shade of red as his belt. “Who’s the indecent one now?”

It’s true that your only motive for pressing the matter had been to treat his injury, one that you’d finally discovered upon pulling the left side of his hanfu down to reveal a set of long, jagged scrapes and slices leading from beneath his pectoral muscle and down to his waist; it’d even already started bruising around the worst affected areas, the scraping, itself, having caused bloody spotting from end to end. It’s why you’d been so lightheartedly offended when he’d called you indecent. Now, it’s only so obvious that it’d just been him being the pot to call the kettle “black”.

You’d never seen him blush so terribly before— not in the presence of the same girls he’d once teased with his ways over a decade ago (he wouldn’t dare now, not in the body of a so-called “lunatic” lest he be slapped for it), and perhaps only subtly in front of Lán Wàngjī (unless you count the times the two of them had been together that Hánguāng-jūn found himself dipping a little too deeply into the liquid courage). All his actions and words have been so calculated and controlled, such as his initial acts upon returning to life with Mò Xuányǔ’s visage, that you often think it comical when you find yourself able to catch him off-guard.

The sleeves of his under robe slip off his shoulders almost teasingly slow, through no fault of your own, but you don’t complain. Yes, despite the pounding in your chest that you know not only does is it from seeing your dear friend half nude, but from the overwhelming concern over the fact that this is the third time in eight days that Wèi Wuxian has returned to you scathed.

It’s absentmindedly done, when a nimble finger dips into the dredge of his belt’s knot to loosen it. You watch it collapse around his waist, half hanging onto the fabric pooled along his lap, before reaching to part his zhongyi and robes. It… exposes too much, your already muddled thoughts muddle on.

You bite back a sigh, and your fingers drag down to his abdomen almost fretfully. With the suddenly abysmal tone your voice takes on, it is barely a distraction from you for Wèi Wuxian. “This world has taken so much from you, and yet… you never tire to give back to it. The second time around, you ought to take better care of yourself, xīngān…”

Until now, that is.

If it weren’t for how stiff the man before you has become, you might not have even noticed you’d said the word in the first place. Xīngān?! More absentmindedness!! You curse yourself, dreading the look that might be awaiting you on Wèi Wuxian’s face, but you look up to him anyhow.

It’s insufferable. He’s insufferable, just like you’d figured he would be. His expression is a tell-all— as hard as he’d fight the fact, he truly is a terrible liar, and the truth shines through in this look of his: though pale likely from the pain of his injury, the tips of his nose and ears, as well as the highest peaks of his high cheekbones, blazed with rouge, and accompany the quirking of the corners of his lips, as if unsure whether to smile or to smirk.

Though, what’s certainly more intolerable is the back and forth your thoughts pull you along with in deciding whether you’re simply embarrassed that the endearing term slipped out, or, if you wished he might bother to do something about it.

“X-Xīngān, huh?” Slow and shy, Wèi Wuxian laughs, his gaze softening when yours meet. “You care that much for me, hm?”

“D… Don’t get a big head; it just slipped out.” You abruptly straighten, prompting Wèi Wuxian to do the same to avoid being hit in the chin. He leans back on his hands, knees splitting apart to balance his weight.

“Well, if someone called you their xīngān, maybe you’d react the same way.”

“Maybe,” you agree, and once more, your flesh burns— their xīngān, you realize he’d said. My… xīngān.

“Hehe.” Wèi Wuxian suddenly grins at you, eyes shut and smile bright— cheeky man.

“My xīngān,” you muse aloud, stepping forward and in between his parted legs. Upon feeling your clothed thighs brush against his, Wèi Wuxian’s eyes snap open, his lips dividing in shock as he stammers out your name. Your own satisfied purse of your lips — in fact, coupled with your one hand rising to cradle the left of his face while the other presses into his opposite shoulder for balance, he only becomes further mute, unable to stammer out even a single consonant. “My xīngān.”

It’s instinctive when Wèi Wuxian’s hand curls around the back of your thigh, the other keeping him propped upward, because despite his inability to speak, he wants nothing more than to show you just how much enjoys the sound of this. Across the expanse of it, his fingers dance, ruffling your own hanfu and ku beneath them and pulling you deeper into him.

“My xīngān,” he echoes. Your bottom lip wrinkles beneath the teeth that bite down on it, eyes shimmering with something he’d yet to see for himself on you. Upwards, his hands slide, over the curve of your rear that has you gasping sharply, and up to your waist— Wèi Wuxian leans forward and buries himself into your chest with no warning, arms wrapped around your middle and face hidden in the folds of your robes.

Hands poised once more on his shoulders to push him away, you pause when you feel him wince against you, and realize that your leg must be touching his wounds. “W-Wèi Wuxian, come on, let me heal you now—”

“Not yet,” he murmurs, his hold only tightening. You find yourself glad he can’t see your face right now. “This is healing enough.”

I just wanted something cute about him here... dats all...

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