#wick writes

[thewickling]

I um... wrote a SHL ficlet if anyone is interested.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Wen Kexing woke up tied up.

[thewickling]

I’m thinking about calling my Wangxian Werewolf AU Winding Moonrise because this is 100% going to be a long trip. Aye or nay? Heads up, I just write and post this. If there’s interest, I’ll do light proofreading pass for the previous ones and post them to my dreamwidth. Anyway here we go:

Wei Wuxian circles Lan Wangji’s room. It took him a hot minute to realize that was what it was. In his defense, the prim and proper Lan family would have guest rooms so pristine they look like high-class hotel rooms.

A bed takes up far side of the wall, sitting below a window. A few steps away is a low table. Along with the shelves that lean on two thirds of the walls with calligraphy hanging above them, the room looks exactly what you would expect from a man who looks like polished jade.

Wei Wuxian glances at the door. Tiptoeing, he opens a book, checking to see if the sleeves match the interiors. He skims long lines from books on proper instrument care, ancient poetry, or classics Wei Wuxian always fell asleep reading when his teachers assigned them. 

Chuckling, he thinks, He’s still so stiff. 

A tiny of fraction of him savors how nice that is. That Lan Wangji can always be trusted to always remain a gentleman in the trust sense of the world even if he’s so uptight his expression reminds Wei Wuxian of a stoic widow in mourning.

He flicks another page with a sigh. His finger traces along the page. The grainy texture of paper fades.

He freezes, smiling. He picks up a tidy candy wrapper folded into a turtle. How delightful and surprising. He never expects Lan Wangji to do something as scandalous as use a candy wrapper as a bookmark.

A shout knocks the calm out of him. He runs. His steps echo in the silence. Sliding down the polished floors, he skates to a stop.

He stops in front of a pile of teens, more like a heap of them. Each one pushes up against Lan Sizhui as if they need to touch him immediately. One of the six climbs Sizhui, forcing the mild-mannered seventeen year old to carry him. 

Sizhui smiles, helplessly. He offers a helping hand. He opens his arm out for his other cousins. Whether or not he understands their need to scent him the attention is nice. All the concern they offer him when usually he’s the one coaxing them. 

“No running,” a teen gasps, staring at Wei Wuxian wide-eyed.

The others take notice of Wei Wuxian. Their chatter dies. They freeze like a deer in headlights. 

Only the one on Sizhui’s back remains boisterous, Jingyi rubs his cheek on his best friend. His nose twitches at how faintly Sizhui smells of pack, of home. He whines that he can never take his eye off Sizhui again. 

The others separate, eying Wei Wuxian. One tugs Jingyi and mouths a warning.

Lan Sizhui blinks at parting wave. “Mister Wei. Sorry. We were noisy, weren’t we?”

“You call that noisy?” He laughs, thinking of all the times he’s screamed across the Jiang residence for Jiang Cheng.

“You saved Sizhui?” Jingyi asks, hanging like a monkey.  

He nods. 

“Cool. I’m Lan Jingyi, the one usually in charge of keeping Sizhui out of trouble,” he chatters a kilometer a second. 

At that, Lan Liqin protests, “Zhui-ge always keeps you out of trouble.” 

The others shake their heads in unison. 

Ignoring it, Jingyi continues, “You’re a hunter right? Have you killed people before? Do all hunters smell like death? How did you beat the vampires? Did you ki—”

“Lan Jingyi,” Wangji warns. “30—”

“30 times all the rules?” he wails.

Shaking his head, he finishes, “300 lines.”

“Oh.” He releases Sizhui. Landing, he rubs his neck and bows to Lan Wangji with the rest of his cousins. He thanks the heavens it wasn’t Lan Qiren who caught him. Copying the four thousand principles that guide their pack once would be a kindness in his grand-uncle’s book. 

But his mouth always gets the better of him. He adds, “It’s not an insult! You kind of smell like an altar.”

Lan Wangji inhales. Less of the utter relief of finding his moon alive in his veins, he notes the difference Jingyi mentions with concern. The hint of incense and burnt paper infuses Wei Wuxian’s naturally cool, salt water scent. What happened in the last thirteen years to stain him with ash?

Sizhui straightforwardly covers Jingyi’s face. He apologizes, nudging Jingyi behind him and away from Lan Wangji. 

“Oh.” Wei Wuxian tilts his head, wondering what to do with that information. He’s never wondered how he smelled to supernats before. He asks, “Lan Zhan what do I smell like?”

It’s a passing curiosity. Why would Lan Wangji actually answer?

“Like.” He pauses. Words escape him. How can you capture the essence of an lake’s breeze warming your skin, a splash of water that revitalizes you,  or a hint of something unexplainable that fills you with emotions you haven’t been able to name in the last decade and a half? Love barely begins to cover it. He settles, “Like Lotus Pier.”

“Oh.” He grins, inching closer. “Lan Zhan? Every time I invited you, who rejected me? So how do you know what Lotus Pier smells like?”

Pointing his finger, he says, “It’s as a nice I described it right?”

“Mnn.” He averts his gaze. There’s too much of his moon in front of him. He yearns to drink in the easy affection Wei Wuxian gives, but he can’t. 

Not when he has no right to hold on to it. Not when all he wants to do is soak in the warmth of his moon`s light. Not when all he wants to do is see if he can taste the sea on Wei Wuxian’s skin. 

He bites his cheek. “Dinner will be at five.”

Wei Wuxian tries, he does his best not to judge, but the Lan family meal leave his taste buds yearning for salt and spice and flavor. Most would call the spread of vegetarian dishes, lightly seasoned meat, and clear soup refreshing and light but for his tastes shaped by Yunmeng and Lotus Pier it is truly an ascetic meal. He wants pepper to numb his tongue. For a bite to delight him with lemon and salt and a dozen other flavors that mingle with the sweetness of fish.

He swallows a sigh. He can endure one night to bask in the glow of a family. 

Lan Qiren ignores him, yes, but Xichen offers light, considerate smiles. They do not speak, but they show their familiarity in other ways. When Lan Qiren isn’t looking the children shuffle dishes. Jingyi hands his sprouts to Liqin who pushes over his coriander. Only Sizhui cleans his plate like the good and proper teen he is, taking on the bits and pieces of his cousins’ plates without complaint. The elders avert their gaze but laugh in their hearts at the shenanigans. 

Peeking at Lan Wangji’s handsome profile, he thinks, Lan Zhan, you’re so good. Thank you. 

This isn’t the Jiang residence, but Lan’s home has its pros. Now he knows that behind their clean, immortal like calm they are a fussy family like any other. The Lans have their own an uptight elder and mischievous children just in a different tone. 

Thank you, he praises again, enjoying the aura of kinship. 

This isn’t Lotus Pier, but he feels transported back over a decade. The feeling of comradery, of kinship, of care warms him to his bones. He didn’t know he needed this.

[thewickling]

Winding Moonrise - Bedtime Preparation

Wei Wuxian trails behind Lan Wangji. The pristine and reverent halls of the Lan residence form a stark contrast to the noisy and item riddled Jiang residence of his memory. The scrolls that line the walls and handcrafted ceramics that decorate the path combine with the silence to establish a tone like a museum. The kind of museum where breathing too loudly is considered blasphemy and asking if one can take a picture would be tantamount to sin. 

Lan Wangji fits right in; Wei Wuxian feels as if he is about to be lectured for walking wrong. He chuckles to himself. So this is where Lan Zhan was raised.

He can just picture it: a tiny A-Zhan, who despite his young age looks every bit as uptight as he does now, sitting at a low table practicing his guqin. His clothes must have been spotless. Even then, he must have looked like polished jade only fresher and whiter. 

He covers his mouth. Glancing around, he isn’t surprised not to find pictures on the walls, but he is disappointed he can’t confirm his hypothesis. He ponders if he had ever looked that sweet and innocent even as a child. Even now Lan Wangji looked of jade in his proper posture, his black hair is akin silk, and his skin is white as freshly fallen snow.

Meanwhile, Lan Wangji questions if he has a right to offer Wei Wuxian his room. Isn’t it selfish? Is he not taking advantage of Wei Wuxian? 

Yet he can’t ask that without prompting Wei Wuxian’s curiosity. He can’t phrase the question without revealing his motivation for asking. He frowns. He is indeed selfish. What wolf would not want their moon’s scent to spread through their den. He closes his eyes and can’t inhale deeply.

He does anyway. 

The salt tickles his throat. The refreshing, nature air winds itself through Lan Wangji’s core. He wonders how it will mingle with his own scent. He pictures as he did a decade of mountains and lakes forming the scent-scape of their home. 

By the time he gains enough control to open his eyes, they already stand outside his room. He decides, I will sleep elsewhere. 

He gestures. 

Wei Wuxian quirks his head. His eyes widen. Tapping his chin, he hums with understanding. “Right, we couldn’t catch up over dinner. Your uncle is so fussy. No discussion? Is this a library?”

Lan Wangji blinks.

“You first.” He gestures as if this was his home not Lan Wangji’s.

He freezes. His ears yearn for more of his moon’s voice. But he has no right to Wei Wuxian’s time when he can’t even spend it without imposing on Wei Wuxian’s kindness. It isn’t Wei Wuxian’s fault. He can’t know how Lan Wangji longs for his scent and touch and lips. 

“You are mistaken,” he says, pushing past. “You may rest here tonight.” 

“What?” Wei Wuxian glances around for a camera because he couldn’t have heard right. There’s no way a residence like this doesn’t have guest rooms, that his presence would force Lan Wangji out of a bed. 

He twirls. Grabbing Lan Wangji’s wrist, he asks, “Where are you going?”

Lan Wangji locks in place. The heat that diffuses from Wei Wuxian’s fingertips through Lan Wangji’s wrist sends his mind reeling. His skin dreams of more. His hands itch to grab and hold. His fingers to drink in the firmness of collar down toward his—

“Ah, is Lan Zhan getting a pillow? Are we having a sleepover?” Wei Wuxian nods to himself. He’s a little old for  that but it’s been so long since he’s had a chance to talk to old friends. Sharing a room means he won’t have to stumble to a guest room bleary-eyed later. 

Lan Wangji stares at Wei Wuxian. He wonders, How did Wei Ying come to that conclusion? I can barely hold myself from scent-marking him and he wants to share a bed? 

He smiles back.

This is the scene that Lan Xichen walks in on. The question he has dies on the tip of his tongue. He doesn’t need the conflicted medley of his didi’s scent to tell him that Lan Wangji has absolutely not informed Wei Wuxian that they are mates. He understands the moment he sees Lan Wangji unable to move. Lan Wangji muscles locked in place as the intent to move them conflicts with his desire to remain near his soulmate.  

He sighs.

“Xichen-ge,” Wei Wuxian chirps. “Hello. Are we standing in your way?” 

Lan Wangji implores his xiong with his eyes. They widen with panic. He pleads for a way out.  

“Wei-gongzi,” he says, recalling the words he just overheard. “No. I wanted to check that you had enough to share for the night. Lan Wangji told me how excited he was for the two of you to talk.”

A tiny part of him feels terrible about the betrayal that shines in Lan Wangji’s eyes. He rationalizes, Even if Wei-gongzi may reject him, if didi never tells him that they are fated, then he will never find happiness. 

“He was just about to get them!” Wei Wuxian tugs Lan Wangji’s arm. 

Gesturing, Lan Xichen offers, “I am heading this way. I’ll send some your way. You should catch up.”

“Great! Thanks!” 

Wei Wuxian drags Lan Wangji, who can’t bring himself to properly be reluctant, into the room.

“Inside or outside?” Wei Wuxian asks, appraising the bed. It’s a little tight for two grown men but it isn’t like they will be packed like sardines. The bed isn’t a twin after all.

Staring at his bed and Wei Wuxian’s curious gaze, he swallows. Boyhood dreams of boxing Wei Wuxian in flit up his memory. Lan Wangji at last says, “You take the bed.” 

“I can’t steal your bed.” He scratches his neck. “I’ll take the floor. I’m used to roughing it.”

“No.” What kind of mate would Lan Wangji be if he allowed that? 

“No? Should I find a g—”

“Stay here.” His mouth moves before his brain. His instincts scream, Wei Ying is in our den. We have to keep him here.

Wei Wuxian steps back, giving Lan Wangji a once-over. Did he misunderstand? Lan Wangji has always been concise but did he misunderstand something. He repeats, “Inside or outside?”

Lan Wangji knows this is selfish but Wei Wuxian isn’t leaving him much choice. If he changes his word, that will create suspicion. He can endure a night though it will be a test of his will. He doubts he will sleep much. “Outside.”

“So! Anything interesting gossip?” Wei Wuxian flops down, making a mess of the neatly tucked sheets. The dark wash of his clothes contrast with the white of Lan Wangji’s sheets. He haphazardly spread limbs expose a few centimeters of belly.

Tearing his gaze away Wei Wuxian’s happy trail, he shakes his head. “The pack prohibits gossip.”

“The pack or Lan Qiren-laoshi,” he mutters but it makes sense. If you pry into other people’s business, they are bound to pry into yours. He asks, “Any interesting news? That doesn’t break your finicky rules does it?”

Lan Wangji thinks, turning over the last decade or so. His memory is filled with many events but he doubts most would interest Wei Wuxian. Events such as weddings, deaths, and births would have already reached Wei Wuxian’s ears.

Wei Wuxian smiles, leaning forward. Resting his weight on his knees, he says, “You don’t have to take it so seriously. Just say something.”

“You likely have more news than me.”

He stretches. His clothes crinkle. Flakes of brown and red drift off him. The color is a shock of color on the sheets.

A whiff of earth and copper scratch Lan Wangji’s nose. The scent is too old for him to place but that he suspects at all that it is blood makes his wolf pace. He instinctively steps forward.

“Sorry. Sorry.” He claps his hands together and bows. Suddenly it hits him, he rubs his nose. “Ah, Lan Zhan, can I borrow your clothes?”

Lan Wangji turns from stone to plasma. The words he hates claw his ears, followed by something his brain can’t quite process. He thinks, Wei Ying in my clothes, wrapped in my scent. 

It isn’t as good as scent-marking him but it is the closest action Lan Wangji has any right to do. He blinks.

“Ah, if that’s weird I can just—” He wonders if Lan Wangji is myopic. The Lans have always been excessively neat but did he offend Lan Wangji by shedding cinnabar, blood, and paste onto his sheets.

“No. If you don’t mind it, I can lend them to you.” He walks over to his dresser. He removes two pairs of matching pajamas.

Wei Wuxian is somehow both surprised and underwhelmed. Of course Lan Wangji wears pajama sets instead of a random assortment of shorts, sweats, pants, and t-shirts. It fits Lan Wangji to a tee.

“We should shower.”

Together? Lan Wangji exclaims in his heart, but his face remains expressionless.

He glances over Lan Wangji. “What’s that look? Ah, are you a morning shower person?” 

“But you just ran through the woods.” He wrinkles his nose. “Or does the transformation just magick away the dirt?”

Before he can begin to understand how Wei Wuxian reached that conclusion, a shallow knock at the door tells Lan Wangji how distracted he was. His ears should have noticed the footsteps long before the knock. 

“Enter.”

“Father,” Lan Sizhui says, closing the door behind him. “Xi-bo sent me.”

He carries in two pillows. Crossing the room, he peers at Wei Wuxian. He questions, Why is bobo acting weird and father and granduncle?

A second later, he realizes there’s only one bed and there’s nothing to form a second bed with. Lan Sizhui would never describe Lan Wangji as distant but of all their pack he rarely sees Lan Wangji sharing skin contact with other pack members of his generation or older. If he hadn’t crawled into Lan Wangji’s bed as a child, he suspects he would be among those who consider his father cold. He notes this. Pieces of a puzzle line up in front of him and he’s short of full work.

He stops short of Lan Wangji who stares at his hands pointedly.

“Is something wrong?” He hands over the pillows.

Lan Wangji shakes his head. Nothing of Lan Sizhui’s scent or heart beat suggests ulterior motives. He wonders if xiong intentionally picked the only person in their pack who could not tell if he was hiding something. He pushes down his complaints and gives his thanks.

“Oh! A-Zhui can show me the bathroom.” Wei Wuxian hops up. Throwing his arm over Lan Sizhui’s neck, he gestures.

Lan Sizhui furrows his brow. “Is that father’s clothes?”

Waving them, Wei Wuxian jokes, “Hm… Did you want me to share a bed with your baba in the—”

“Wei Ying!” Lan Wangji scolds and tries to ignore the fantasy those words conjure up and how he itches to make them more than a reality.

Lan Sizhui flushes.

“My bad. My bad. Lead the way A-Zhui.” Wei Wuxian waves. “I’ll be back soon. So think up a good story.”  

When both leave his sight, Lan Wangji finds a clear patch of wall. He flips onto his hands. Gravity forces all the blood that flowed south to return north. A part of him dreams of entering the shower after— 

Keeping an ear out for Wei Wuxian, he recites the packs’ thousands of rules. He mustn’t impose himself on his moon. His mind still manages to wonder.

It conjures images of Wei Wuxian slick with water. Steam masks the parts of Lan Wangji never seen in detail. The happy trail he only glimpsed tempts him to picture what is lower.

He rocks. Shifting his weight to one arm, he increases the difficulty of his exercise. If shifting skins wouldn’t scare Wei Wuxian, he would pace his room. Even in wolf form, he knows that no part of him would dare leave this room when he knows his moon plans to return here.

He layers on the difficulty. He recalls the rules in a second tongue. He mustn’t allow his body another moment to consider how Wei Wuxian’s fresh scent will infuse his clothes or how Wei Wuxian will smell of the shampoo he uses. He lifts a foot from the wall.

[thewickling]

@trensu This is originally your idea why would I complain if you continue. I was honestly going to pile on more sad (writing how Wei Wuxian came in care for A-Yuan and the breakdown of Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian's relationship. Oh an maybe Yunmeng siblings reuniting and separating again). Instead I wrote this? I wouldn't call it happy, it's a continuation of your scene so somewhere between hopeful and angsty.

Lan Wangji heart thrums. The blood racing through his veins sends him nearly dizzy. He can’t faint. If he closes his eyes, what if he opens them and this moment is a dream.

Wei Wuxian’s scent coats his nose, making his soul sing. His moon is well and alive. He can touch Wei Wuxian. He does what he wishes he did thirteen years ago.

“Lan Zhan?!” he shouts, pounding Lan Wangji’s shoulder. His fist tapped light, not at all forceful. His protests tinges with surprise. 

If he were in his right mind, Lan Wangji would stop. His human skin feels too slow. He can’t move fast enough but he makes do. He marches.

“Father?” Lan Sizhui’s voice chases them, uncertain.

He wants to speak but all those words he howled to the moon stick in his throat. All he can do is move. His every cell urging to bring his moon somewhere safe.

“Wait, father?” Wei Wuxian gasps. He hangs like a noodle as if he hasn’t a care in the world. Werewolves are strong but of course the amazing Jade of Lan would have heaven defying power. He isn’t escaping unless he stabs Lan Wangji but why would he ever do that?

The more pressing matter is when did Lan Wangji marry? Why didn’t he hear about it? Even as hidden away as he was, news like that spreads like wildfire.

At least he understands why he finds A-zhui so pleasant now. His mannerisms mirror his father, combined with his much sweeter face, his entire demeanor is comforting and considerate. He is exactly the other child parents compare their children to.

“Mister, do you know my father?” he asks. He trails behind. Concern mars his expression. He’s only ever seen his father this franic once — the day he was found. 

“Moon carried your scent to me.”

The childhood tale he loved bubbles up in his memory. It overlaps with the whispers from his Xi-bo about the fated mate his father lost and how the moon provided him a fated son in its place.

Wei Wuxian hums, “We’re the closest. Don’t you see it yourself?”

He winks. 

“Why didn’t you invite me to your wedding?” he says, slapping Lan Wangji’s shoulder like how a drunk man slams his hand on a table to demand more booze.

Lan Sizhui picks up pace. A part of him wonders if his father truly ever associated with someone so frivolous before. A part of him questions if he should stop his father. Granduncle has always been strict about who enters their lands. Yet he can’t bear to.

“I’m not married.” Lan Wangji’s tone lands somewhere between pained and outraged. He forces the ridiculous phrase from his mouth. He thinks, I searched for you everyday since you left. How could I marry? 

Wei Wuxian’s jaw drops. For perhaps the third time in his life, he is rendered speechless. Bewildered, he wonders, What kind of woman would dare to run off on a perfect gentlemen like the Jade of Lan, Lan Zhan?

Lan Sizhui watches his father scurrying home, moving at a pace he can barely keep up with, at a pace that certainly breaks the thousands of regulations their pack has. He is astonished. His father has only broken the rules once — that was to bring him home.

His faith shines. For his father to react like this, he can't be blamed for looking the other way. Even if granduncle punishes him, he’ll always be on his father’s side.

Except if he was asked if that was his reasoning, he wouldn’t be able to answer with certainty that it wasn’t simply because he liked Wei Wuxian. And if you asked him why he liked this man, he wouldn’t be able to explain it. He just felt like someone he should like.

He breaks into a jog. The boundary of their land is just ahead. If he’s too slow, his father’s jade pendant won’t cover him. 

“Oh, wow. How did I never realized this was here?” Wei Wuxian asks, whistling. “Lan Zhan, you kept a lot from me.”

Lan Wanji freezes. Those words touch an unpleasant memory, shocking his senses back to him. Lowering Wei Wuxian, he confesses, “I am a werewolf.”

“I can see that.” Wei Wuxian smiles.

This should feel familiar, he thinks, but it doesn’t. It isn’t that the light doesn’t reach Wei Wuxian’s eyes because it does or that the tone isn’t right. He can’t place the difference.

“Lan Zhan?” He waves his hand in front of Lan Wangji’s face.

He whispers, “Wei Ying.”

“That’s me,” he says, helplessly. Tilting his head, a spike of concern worms it way through Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji has never behaved like this before. 

“You are alive.”

“I am.”

The dam remains strong in Lan Wangji’s throat. A thousand lamentations, wishes, and prayers mingle on the tip of his tongue. A thread that encases him is the desire, the need, to keep Wei Wuxian on their lands.

Ice rises in his heart. Millions of warnings his uncle gave ring in his ears. The scandal of his father’s actions still scars their pack.

“Stay here, please.” He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Wei Wuxian refuses.

“I’m not going to run into any—” Wei Wuxian mimes claws and fangs, but the acidic undertone of fear sullies his scent.

He still won’t love me. The recollection slams into him, but barely takes ground against the relief pulsing through his veins. He promises himself, Wei Ying is alive. That is enough for me. 

“No. You won’t.” It’s too close to the border and their pack knows better than to take that risk.

Clapping, he says, “Then, I’ll impose on Lan Zhan for the night. We have a lot to catch up on. Like you have a son? What blind dame left you?”

“No one.” Lan Sizhui interrupts. Standing a distance from them, he rocks as if he isn’t sure if he has the right to intrude. “Mister, I’m adopted.”

It feels important to clear this up. Something nagging him that if he doesn’t something bad will happen. Call it a gut feeling.

“Oh! Of course, Lan Zhan is a good Samaritan.” He nods. Grinning to himself, he gestures for Lan Wangji to lead the way.

Lan Wangji places it. The smile comes from a different place. It isn’t as easy and doesn’t linger as long. More than anything he wants to know why that’s changed. He has a night and hopefully more. He can’t impose his feelings on Wei Wuxian but perhaps he can convince him to socialize for a few days or a week. 

[thewickling]

Winding Moonrise - 9 to 1

“No fun,” Wei Wuxian whines, staring at Lan Wangji’s sleeping profile. Exactly at nine, the little chatter he managed to coax out of Lan Wangji stopped. Poking the suspiciously smooth cheek, he is surprised to find it hot rather than the chilling touch of ice that Lan Wangji carved from.

Rolling to his side, he stares at the ceiling. Like how the Lan residence falls and rises at five and nine like clockwork, he can’t sleep a wink before one. If anyone asked, he would blame his career. After you can’t hunt what goes bump in the night without being awake at night.

Jiang Cheng would call bullshit on that if he heard this thought of Wei Wuxian’s. Long before either of them were allowed to train, Wei Wuxian already had his habit ingrained in his soul. 

‘Who cares? It’s not like anyone does anything important before nine’ had always been Wei Wuxian’s reply. That was true — for university and adulthood but from k to 12…

“Wei Ying,” Jiang Cheng bellowed. Kicking the mattress, he slung Wei Wuxian’s pack over his shoulder. He stomped again punctuating his phrase. “Wake up.”

Wei Wuxian grumbled. Rubbing his side, he wrapped his blankets protectively around his organs and returned back into slumbers sweet and tempting embrace. Whoever set school to start before ten was a sadist.

Rolling his eyes, he grabbed the duvet with both hands and yanked. The tension built up from Wei Wuxian’s resistance was futile. He wretched the blanket, dragging Wei Wuxian out with it. 

Thump. 

The chill of the ground seeped into his bones but Wei Wuxian wiggled back into a warm spot for more rest.

“A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli said from the door, “The driver is here and mom is…”

She didn’t need to say the rest of the warning. With a heavy sigh, he handed his and Wei Wuxian’s bags to Jiang Yanli. Tearing the blanket away, he tossed his older brother over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

The trio rushed down stairs before the Jiang family matriarch could lecture them into submission. In the back of the car, Jiang Cheng gestured for the driver to pull up the window. Jiang Yanli helpful passed over Wei Wuxian’s clothes.

Wei Wuxian cracked half a eye, sparing only enough consciousness to sit upright. His brain swam with lingering dreams. Jiang Cheng’s shouts rang in his ears.

He remained awake just long enough to see his jie cover her eyes as Jiang Cheng ripped his shirt off. He mumbled, “Be gentle. No wonder no girl wants you.”

“Oi!” he smacked the seat beside Wei Wuxian’s head. With begrudgingly practiced hands, he dressed Wei Wuxian in the back of a car as their jie coaxed him to be kinder.

Wei Wuxian always woke part way through the second period with a sparse breakfast hidden in his desk. Whispering his appreciation to his perpetual deskmate, brother, and best friend, he snuck in a meal behind his textbooks. 

That was their morning routine til the day Jiang Yanli headed for university then it repeated with just two until university. 

Wei Wuxian smiles. Rubbing his face, he wonders if Jiang Cheng remembers their past this fondly. His mouth flattens out. 

Rolling over, he thinks, How strange. I would have never imagined going to sleep beside Lan Zhan. 

It wasn’t as if he tried. Every time he invited Lan Wangji to hang out during their college days, if the event lasted overnight, he was always politely declined. Well, he was eventually politely declined. Originally…

“Lan Wangji!” he shouted down the hall.Cupping his hands over his mouth, he shot off. “Lan-ge! Ji-ge! Lan Zhan!”

The fellow first year froze. He turned ever so slowly. His voice carried like the hint of frost in a winter morning’s breeze.“Excessive noise is prohibited within the dorms.”

Bouncing over, he complained, “What? You didn’t respond when I called you.”

Lan Wangji’s expression could not be called angry rather his aura was like a cold front. It sent most people indoors and towards fire. Yet Wei Wuxian could never help himself and always ran towards the frosty teen.

“Anyway, now that I have Lan Zhan’s attention, Jiang Cheng, Nie Huaisang, and some of us are going heading to a resort for the break.” As he spoke, he crept closer and closer to Lan Wangji. Slinging his arm over Lan Wangji’s neck, he continued, “Come with us! We have two rooms, four beds. We’ll stay two nights and play for three days.”

Wei Wuxian fumbled in the air. The absence of a body to rest his weight on put him off balance. Righting himself, he stared at Lan Wangji walking away.

His figure slowed. Shaking his head ever so slightly, he rejected Wei Wuxian reluctantly as if his manners kept from being as standoffish as he wished. He marched off immediately after.

Wei Wuxian chuckled into his sleeve. That was perhaps the nicest reaction he gained from Lan Wangji in the month that they knew each other. At this rate, they should be good friends by the time next semester ends.  

Twisting, he stretches out like a cat that hasn’t played enough. He flexes muscles, trying to rid himself of his excessive energy. He drums on his thigh, pondering what he can do while Lan Wangji sleeps. 

“Stay still,” Lan Wangji orders. The words rise from his lips with strange clarity for a man who is still asleep as if the pack’s rules have ceased to just be guiding principles but rather have been written into his very being.

Poking the ice-like cheek, Wei Wuxian taunts, “How will you punish me if I don’t?”

To make a point, Wei Wuxian shifts. He throws his leg over Lan Wangji’s, punches his arm toward the wall, and pokes the supple cheek again. 

Smack. 

Lan Wangji’s hand is a snare and Wei Wuxian’s is the prey that landed in it. He tugs Wei Wuxian closer, pinning the misbehaving limbs under his own. 

The world spins. Wei Wuxian’s brain flashes with confusion. The world moves too quickly for even reflex to kick in. He finds himself atop Lan Wangji who has readjusted so that he is back to his proper sleeping posture except rather than resting his arms at his sides, his arms lock Wei Wuxian in place.

“Lan Zhan. When were you so domineering?” he asks. He wiggles and squirms but every movement just encourages Lan Wangji to hold him more tightly. After several minutes  of pointless struggling, he whines, “How can you have a good dream after being so cruel?”

He freezes when he notices his words seem to be true.

Lan Wangji’s expression is carved like a doll’s from his phoenix eyes, to his straight bridge, to the slight curve of his lips that is absent when he is awake. The delicateness of his features remind Wei Wuxian of porcelain yet it is set against sharp cheeks and a strong jaw that create an overall effect that is hard to describe. It hovers between pretty and handsome in a way that would make models envious.

You'd be number one if you smiled more, Wei Wuxian thinks. In their group of young masters, it was only Lan Wangji’s cold demeanor that kept from number one. He adds, You wouldn’t look like you’re always in mourning. 

[thewickling]

Chapter 2: Teammates

[Image ID: A light blue banner with white handwritten style text. Off center is a white footprint. To the left of that reads "At Comfort" in large text. In much smaller text on the lower right, it reads "A TypeNo Friends to Lovers Fic". /ID End

Relationship: Type Thiwat Phawattakun/Techno

Tags: Romance, Friends to Lovers, Semi-established relationship, Slice of Life, Gay Type Thiwat Phawattakun, POV Alternating, Questioning Techno (Love by Chance), excessive use of metaphors, Minor Can/Tin Medthanan, Canon Compliant to Love by Chance Season 1, Bad Ending for TinCan, No Tharn Thara Kirigun, Intentionally Awkward Sexual Contental, so smut, Light Drama, Mentioned Champ (Love by Chance), Mentioned Can (Love by Chance)

Summary:

Some romances are sprints; others are marathons. Type and Techno’s moves at its own pace. These long-time friends try to nagivate this fresh relationship alongside classes, clubs, and the chaos of life. Sometimes they stop and stumble. Sometimes they gallop and glide. Not a love by chance, theirs is an everyday love.

Chapter Excerpt:

Nonplused, Bow bounced from Type’s uninterested side. Landing in Champ’s empty seat, she peered up at Techno. She smiled.

“How about Phi’s type?”

Ae pinched his nose bridge. Glaring at Pond and Ping, he looked like he wanted different friends.

“Ai Bow,” he warned, Ladies shouldn't act like this.”

“Old-fashioned,” she teased, sticking out her tongue. At his disapproval, she tacked on, “You don’t answer if you want.”

Ping sniggered, “Quit while you’re ahead.”

(AO3 Link)

[thewickling]

Winding Moonrise - hard truths

Time to remind everyone Winding Moonrise is my wilful blindness and so I may jump around in the timeline. Also here is the Winding Moonrise masterpost

[Set: Sometime in the future of the story toward the end of the investigation.]

His figure under a peach blossom tree seems almost picturesque. If only branches were not bare and withered; his clothes were not in such disorder; and the moon was not a shallow mark in the sky, the painting might be named 'Taking shelter under a peach tree a scholar reflects in the moonlight' or some other literary title that suggested welcomed introspection. While his posture would match such a image, his inner turmoil mirrors tying a calligraphy brush to headless chicken and calling the final result art.

Lan Xichen and Jiang Yanli stumble across his lonely silhouette. From a glance, Lan Xichen recognizes his didi's distress as it brings back memories of thirteen years ago. While Jiang Yanli pauses with confusion, her gaze naturally circles Lan Wangji. The slight hill he stands on, the space around it, and the branches of the dead tree are devoid of her own didi.

"Hello, Second Master Lan, where is A-Xian?" The words carry forward easily as if it was only logical the two would be near another. A hint of concern accompanies a lilt in her tone.

"He is his room."

Biting his cheek, Lan Xichen wonders, Did you confess? Did Wei-gongzi reject you? How can I ask without...

He flickers to her.

"His room?" She peeks behind her. "Weren't you two sharing a room?"

Her sight is far-reaching but she is only mortal so the lack of light keeps her from noting much more than dull outlines. She most certainly cannot divine if Wei Wuxian is at the residence they took over in the aftermath. Her maternal instincts tingle once more.

"Did you fight?"

His manners kick in and Lan Wangji steps down. His ears do not struggle to understand her but it is rude to have a conversation at such a distance. When he reaches a few steps from them, he takes in the shallow cuts on her brow and the light bruises at her collar.

Shame washes over him. During such a situation, he not only chases his own earthly desires and upset Wei Wuxian but he turned his mind from the heavy matters at hand. He answers, "He wanted his own bed."

"Did you?" Lan Xichen leaves the rest unspoken.

He shakes his head.

Bouncing her attention between the two brothers, she inclines her head. The polite action would be to retreat and allow them to discuss in peace. A skill any lady from a powerful learns is when to be quiet and when to speak.

"Then why did you quarrel?" Lan Xichen folds his arms. If his brother never mentioned their fated bond, why is he acting almost as dejected as he had when he was rejected thirteen years ago.

His voice dips low as if afraid to voice it. "I overstepped boundaries. I angered him."

"Pardon me, Second Master Lan," she interjects. "That doesn't sound at all like A-Xian."

Wei Wuxian's receding back flickers behind his eyes. Clenching his fists, melachony marks him from head to toe if one knows how to read him. He insists that it is true with his silence.

"Is that what he said?" she counters. As Lan Xichen knows Lan Wangji, she knows her brothers. When it comes to those he holds dear, Wei Wuxian rarely takes any negativity to heart not that he takes to mind the ill-intent of others easily either.

When they were young, shortly after Wei Wuxian was brought into their home, a younger cousin of theirs who played with Jiang Cheng from birth became jealous of how close his da-ge was with Wei Wuxian. All of their family knew that her father gave away their pets and what the reason was.

Back then, at nine or ten Wei Wuxian rarely disobeyed the will of any in the Jiang family so when si-di coaxed him to play he followed along. The court yard was vast and one could easily lose themselves for hours. Two small children were easily missed from a banquet.

Si-di chattered about a toy room and directed Wei Wuxian into a smaller courtyard. As soon as Wei Wuxian entered, the gate was locked behind him. Si-di ampified his voice with cupped hands, calling for the four guard dogs his family kept.

Wei Wuxian's agonizing screams drew Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng toward him an half hour later. He plead to the heavens as if his life depended on it and so the two ran towards the noise with all of their energy. Her weak disposition meant Jiang Cheng left her in the dust. By the time she arrived Wei Wuxian trembled behind Jiang Cheng.

Scolding him while he carried Wei Wuxian on his back, his pants were torn. Waving at her, the two of them gestured for her to lead the way back to the banquet. As they talked, they came across si-di returning from the banquet with the keys.

She had to stop Jiang Cheng from beating si-di black and blue yet two weeks later the three were cheerfully wrecking havock as if they had always been a merry trio.

Lan Wangji says, "It was clear from his actions."

She blinks, bobbing her head. Again that sounds little like her brother. Her sisterly instincts kick in. "What exactly did he do?"

"He left."

"In the middle of an argument?"

Lan Wangji swallows. His throat burns. He cannot state the context from which Wei Wuxian left in polite company.

It dawns on Lan Xichen with the help of a particularly well-timed breeze. One could not blame him. The pack forbids the use of one's endowments to gain an advantage upon another or to intrude on another's inner state. Not to mention that the scents of Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are so interwined that most others would already believe that they are mated. It is only the strange undertone of musk that clues him in.

He coughs. His face heats up. His mind spins like a car with its wheels stuck in the mud to help Lan Wangji come up with an excuse.

"No?"

Her gaze sharpens. Another aspect any lady of note must have are a good head and steady shoulders. Even if she held neither, from Lan Wangji's behavior and the Lan packs' antsiness, even the dullest person would have suspicions. So when she catches the self-supressed conflict on Lan Xichen's brow, she sighs.

"I apologize for overstepping. Did A-Xian reject your mate..." her words trail off as the term escapes her. The Jiang records are quite robust but her ancestors cared more for subduing werewolves than understanding them especially with the few numbers that existed in their homeland.

"Mnn." He averts his eyes. The piercing throb in chest is blinding. He inhales, balling his fist harder to avoid shifting. His skin is restless. His bones ache to escape the confines of his human form. This body is too small for all of emotions whirlpooling in him. Not that these emotions would die in his wolf-skin but could run or hunt or trick himself into thinking he was not just a man who was rejected by the love of his existence.

Lan Xichen taps Jiang Yanli's shoulder, directing her away. The implications stab him when things click for him. All of modesty slowed his burn. Shock rockets down his spine. He thinks, Wangji slept with Wei-gongzi without confessing?!

He never knew Lan Wangji was so bold and foolish.

"Wait," she pries because while she is not surprised Wei Wuxian might react strangely to that epiphany he would take it so lightly he would automatically reject a person. "Earlier, you said you didn't tell him, right?"

When Lan Wangji doesn't answer, she peers at Lan Xichen who nods.

"You're mistaken. He couldn't have rejected you for that," As she continues to speak, the Lan brothers see a family resemblence. "He can't answer a question he was never asked. So please tell me or ask me to leave but do not blame A-Xian for something he hasn't done."

She bares her metaphorical fangs. People call her weak. Her strength may be less than others but that does not mean she does not know how to weld it. It is as if they forget who supported the Jiang family in the years Jiang Cheng was absent or judge her for only being human with no skill in magic.

Lan Xichen blocks her. Her brother's heart endured a rejection nonetheless and so they should give him room.

After much thought, Lan Wangji selects his words more meticuliously than he usually does. "I blame him for nothing. I have no right to impose our bond on him."

She opens her mouth.

"Jin-furen, our family situation is complicated." Lan Xichen starts mediating. Conflict brews in stomach. He thinks of their parents and how he should have sheltered his brother better.

Everyone knows that their father married an unknown woman and was forced to refuse his inheritance. As she was very ill, Lan-furen never showed her face at events and Lan Qiren's brother secluded himself from the company to avoid creating conflict. From a young age, Jiang Yanli heard these rumors. Of course the gossip that Lan-furen was disfigured or that the pair did not have a joyous marriage reached her. She concludes from Lan Xichen's behavior that the their ill-fated relationship had a connection with mate bonds.

Her expression softens. Her maternal instinct stroked, but she has the experience of raising a spoiled child and thus the instinct for when it is appropriate to coax and coddle versus push and encourage.

"Telling him isn't an imposition," she considers. "I don't know your situation or what your father did. And I can't promise A-Xian will answer as you want, but not telling him, refusing to tell him takes away his right to choose signficantly more than informing him of your mate-bond would. You can't decide for him that you don't belong together."

Lan Wangji's heart drops at the implication that he has become his father through a different method. He opens and closes his mouth, speechless. He often chooses not to speak but this time words escape him.

"We should give him space." This time Lan Xichen is firm. Devastion is written on Lan Wangji's face. He thanks Jiang Yanli in his heart for being upfront with something their family should have addressed earlier.

She nods. "I won't him."

They don't make it more than a few feet when a new bombsheel drops.

Jin Ling runs from the east as if demons on his heels. He shouts, "Da-jiujiu disappeared!"

[thewickling]

Winding Moonrise - 7 to 9

I got around to making a Winding Moonrise masterpost to make finding parts easier.

As five arrives, Lan Wangji comes to himself, uniquely refreshed. Never had he slept in a day in his life, but this cloud-like sensation of zen is what he imagines it feels like from all the stories he’s heard. His chest swells with calm. His arms warm with peace. His mind shines with tranquility.

Opening his eyes, understanding washes over him. Wei Wuxian’s billowing fringe blocks his face but undoubtedly this is his moon sleeping in his embrace. His breath catches in his throat.

His limbs lock. His heart speeds up. Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum. Each beat grows heavy.

His ears protest reaching for sound he hasn't quite registered that lulled him into the best sleep of his existence. The phrases of their hearts beating not in sync but in accompaniment of each other lingers in his mind as his galloping pulse sullies what little remains of the melody they improvised throughout the night until it separates to pieces that can no longer be recognized as one. This subconscious duet diverted to different tempos, where one played at pleasure and the other speeding up into an uncoordinated gallop, in the twilight summoned an overwhelming sense of lost in him. The grief gutted deep for something barely realized he ever had. Even as he slowed his own pace and adjusted his placement, he could not recapture that easy, effortless work any more than a child experiencing the beauty of moon could chase moonlight and bottle it.

That is what Lan Wangji would think if he were capable of thought. All he did was stare at Wei Wuxian. With an indescrible feeling in his chest, he regretted how that song was gone yet he if continued to sleep he would have never realized it was playing.

Cough.

Reaching out with his ears, he catches Lan Xichen's familiar voice.

Did he appreciate that he was saved from this situation or regret he could not appreciate Wei Wuxian for longer? Then again, now that he was awake, he no longer had any right to impose his proximity on Wei Wuxian. He exhales.

Untangling himself from Wei Wuxian's sticky limbs, he tucks the other in. He inhales more carefully than he needs to, drawing all of their mingled scents into his lungs. The smile that graces his lips is bittersweet.

As he steps out the door, Wei Wuxian kicks his leg out.

His xiong glides through the hall as soon as he steps out. Lan Wangji automatically falls into place beside him. Their direction tells him exactly where they are heading: his uncle's study.

He's taken this path thousands of times. He lost count how many times quietly entered and stopped at the entrance for confirmation of his presence before taking a seat in one of the two lacquered wooden seats. Lan Xichen circles to stand by Lan Qiren's right.

Lan Qiren sits at his desk. Despite the morning, stacks of papers dominate his in box. Without looking up, he asks, "Have you told him?"

Lan Wangji shakes his head.

Observing his youngest nephew, he dictates, "Tell him."

"No."

Folding his fingers together, he repeats, "No?"

Lan Qiren considers himself just, but when it comes to his nephew and that Wei Ying his calm is more akin to a calm before a storm. That one sound takes all of his patience.

"Mnn." Lan Wangji stares. His back remains unyielding. His shoulders firmly set.

"You!" He grinds his teeth. A part of him hates that he's encouraging Lan Wangji to fraternize with Wei Wuxian, but the rest of him has responsibilities to the pack. "You already brought him back. Tell him."

"Is that an order?" he asks, looking beyond Lan Qiren to Lan Xichen who took over the pack several years ago.

He smiles helplessly. "Lan Zhan, uncle worries about you. Wei-gongzi should know."

How Lan Wangji lamented to the moon the last dozen of years hangs unspoken. Perhaps another wolf may live well after rejecting one's mate, but Lan Xichen thinks that is not the nature of their pack. From their ancestor Lan An to his own father to his didi, the death of their mate weakened their will. Lan An secluded himself as did their father. Lan Wangji barely found himself again after Lan Sizhui arrived. So this refusal confounds him.

"I refuse." His gaze relays his determination. He understands that finding a mate is a blessing; losing a mate is a curse. Few ever have the opportunty to discover a second. That Lan Wangji did not past from heart-sickness was deemed a miracle by their pack. Now that his mate lives, rejecting spits in the face of the moon. Yet Wei Wuxian still fears dogs, after he asked if their pack walks in wolf skins around their lands, so he won't impose that unfair choice on Wei Wuxian.

"Tell me. Why refuse your mate?" The last word twists on Lan Qiren's tongue. Despite the origins of their pack, since his xiong's stupidity, he holds no fondness for fated mates. "You fought so hard for him to be accepted. Why is he unworthy now?"

He isn't, I am, he thinks. Sharing that they are mates, with all that he should as a hunter, with the goodness that composes Wei Wuxian, would he reject Lan Wangji? He can't force Wei Wuxian into a fate-bond. This is the only path for them. He simply repeats, "I refuse."

"You argued for him to be accepted. Now it isn't worthy?" Lan Qiren prods. "He knows about our pack.He's a danger."

"Do you plan to hold him?" Lan Wangji recites, "The pack prohibits imprisoning one's mate-"

"Lan Zhan," he shouts. His face bursts red. He trembles with fury at the implication that he is behaving like his older brother, Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji's biological father.

Lan Xichen steps between them both. "Perhaps, we should discuss this later. He only just found that Wei-gongzi is alive. We should give him more time. Let's discuss this again later."

He bows as he exits the study.

Knock. Knock.

Wei Wuxian rolls over, cracking open one eye. He shouts, "Why is someone making noise so early?"

The door opens a tad. Lan Sizhui warns, "Excessive noise is not allowed."

"Can we enter?" he adds a second later.

"It's your place."

Lan Sizhui enters swiftly followed by Lan Jingyi. Two or three others hover at the doorway uncertain. Only Lan Sizhui had been sent with Wei Wuxian's garments, tagging along most certainly broke a rule or two. At the very least, it was impolite to crowd Lan Wangji's guest but in the end they were curious teenagers.

As the air circulates, a pleasant aroma hits them. The room most certainly smells of Lan Wangji's clean and pure scent. If words had to placed to it, picture a forest with a lake in the center that draws in water from the sea.

"What are you doing?" Lan Jingyi asks, staring at Wei Wuxian's still prone figure.

Pushing half-up, he rubs his back. He jokes, "I can't move. Your uncle is quite aggressive."

"Don't speak nonsense."

Lan Jingyi barely manages to swallow a curse. The other Lans back up. Everyone of their pack knows that Lan Wangji's mate died. None of them would ever dare to imagine Lan Wangji as frivilous enough to indulge in a single night of pleasure.

"Fine, fine. I'm wrong." Shaking his head, he points at Lan Sizhui. "Is that for me?"

He nods. "We had your clothes washed. If that isn-"

"Great!" He stands. His limbs protest. Sleeping atop another person is not the best for a weary body. He stretches. "I can head out."

"Leave," Lan Sizhui asks.

He nods. Thinking of the vampire he left behind in the mountains, his stomach grumbles. He rolls the knots out of his shoulders.

"You'll need an escort." Lan Sizhui says.

He quirks his head, questioningly.

"To enter and exit, you need permission or the wards alert the pack elders," Lan Sizhui explains.

"Ah."

Lan Jingyi interjects, "I'll take you."

His motives are written on his face. He wants to mess around off pack lands. What would be more interesting than following a hunter around?

A deep voice clears itself.

Lan Jingyi jumps like pup. Stepping to the side, he eyes Lan Wangji sheepishly. He inches behind Lan Sizhui.

"Uncle." They all greet in unision as if there was an invisible conductor guiding them.

Lan Wangji nods. "You plan to leave."

Wei Wuxian answers, "Yup. There's a tied up vamp to interrogate."

He angles his head.

"Don't worry. He's inside an array and I left a guard behind. I'll figure out why he took Xiao Zhui." He salutes.

Biting his cheek, he asks, "Would it impede you if I accompanied you?"

His normal protests die on his lips. A werewolf can handle themselves near vampires and of course a father wants to question the criminal who took his son. Grinning, he says, "Ah, don't you have work?"

"I took a Sabbitical."

Lan Zhan would drop everything for his son, he thinks. Glancing behind Lan Wangji, he wonders how the perfect gentlemen will respond to the magic he trends toward. He might as well join up with Lan Wangji if both of them are investigating anyway.

"Sure."

It surprises everyone when it is Lan Sizhui, not Lan Jingyi who asks, "Can I come?"

"Sizhui was there! He might remember something important. I'll go to guard him. It'd be a good experience for us to go," Lan Jingyi start off his support.

Scanning the eager and curious expression of the younger generation, Wei Wuxian rubs his neck. A tiny part of him overlays the memory of his own youth looking up to his seniors with admiration. He always went along if Lady Yu did not stop him.

"Ask your uncle," he says, offsetting their hopes onto someone else.

Lan Wangji shakes his head. "It isn't safe."

The trio at the door drops their head, disappointed.

"Sizhui and I are older," Lan Jingyi whines.

"Lan Jingyi." Lan Wangji only states the name and Lan Jingyi seals his lips.

Lan Sizhui frowns. Staring at the ground, he acquiesences. Somehow his quiet accceptance projects more disappointment than Lan Jingyi's loud protest and the others' lowered posture combined.

"Let's ago!" Wei Wuxian averts his gaze. Somehow their downcasted aura makes him want to sneak them along. The sensation creeps up on him like a vestigal instinct after all when it came to his own youth he lead Jiang Cheng and all of their cousins on tons of adventures aganist their elders's suggestion.