#a bit of grieving dad!wangji for your soft angsty needs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eleanorfenyxwrites · 3 years

Text

((~2.4K of a much larger fic that I’ll keep posting snippets of!))

(Part 1)

———

“Father?”

“A-Yuan,” he replies as he cleans his brush and turns his head, the sharp, raw edges of his grief softening as he watches A-Yuan rub sleepily at his eyes in the soft candlelight warming the Jingshi. “What’s wrong?”

He sits still as A-Yuan crosses the room to clamber into his lap, sitting himself squarely in the hollow of his crossed legs facing him, and Wangji wraps his arms around him automatically, a concerned frown on his lips as A-Yuan collapses forward to nuzzle into his chest.

“A-Yuan?”

“I’m sad,” he replies softly and Wangji’s own grief is immediately shoved aside in favor of his son’s.

“Why? What happened?” he asks, his voice as neutral as it can be when he’s already burning inside with the desire to protect his and Wei Ying’s son from any and all harm.

“I don’t know,” A-Yuan replies and then he’s sniffling and Wangji realizes that he’s crying and he immediately curls around him, shielding him with his arms and shoulders, his unbound hair falling around them in a dark curtain. He ducks down to gently kiss A-Yuan’s bare forehead where his headband sits during the day and he strokes a hand slowly over his hair, brushing it back from his face as he lets the boy cry uninterrupted. His child will never have to mourn in lonely silence like he did, even if what he’s mourning may be trivial by an adult’s standards.

Wangji holds his crying son and lets a tear or two slip as well, his heart too fragile and raw today to stay stoic while his child hurts.

“What’s wrong A-Yuan?” he finally asks softly when the boy’s crying has subsided and he keeps stroking his hair back from his face for him even as he turns around to sit forward and face the table holding the guqin, his back and head resting on Wangji’s chest.

“I don’t know,” A-Yuan repeats, audibly pouting, and Wangji panics a bit. How can he fix it if A-Yuan can’t tell him what to fix? “I tried to sleep, but then I got sad and I wanted to cry.”

Wangji knows that the fever A-Yuan was fighting when he found him in the Burial Mounds has, perhaps in an act of divine mercy, kept him from remembering his life before he woke up properly in Cloud Recesses. But sometimes Wangji wonders if those memories are still there somewhere in his mind, and if sometimes he misses his first family, the village that raised a happy child in the midst of war and death.

“I am sad tonight as well,” Wangji confesses quietly, his barriers nonexistent around the person in his life who loves him unconditionally with the sweet trust of a child. “It is alright to be sad, even if you do not know why,” he adds as he reaches out to rest his hands on his guqin. A-Yuan immediately stretches his arms out to rest his little hands on top of Wangji’s and he relaxes just a little, thinking to himself that it’s nearly time to begin helping A-Yuan choose the instrument he’ll wish to learn for his musical cultivation.

“Close your eyes, A-Yuan. It’s time to rest,” he instructs gently and then he starts to play.

Memories of Wei Ying come flooding in as he plays the song he wrote for him. As he plays he can almost imagine the sound of a flute accompanying the strings and he sucks in a deep breath, his entire being - the very essence of himself - longing for Wei Ying.

A-Yuan dozes in his lap, his hands going limp where they still cover his own, and once he’s sure that the boy is unlikely to wake again Wangji closes his eyes and begins to channel the familiar flow of his energy. He stills the strings with his palms and then begins to pluck them delicately, listening hard.

‘Wei Ying?’ Wangji knows that it’s unlikely to work. He has to try anyway.

When there’s no answer, he pours more spiritual force into the question, sends it out further.

‘Wei Ying?’ He lifts his hands from the strings and stares at them, willing them to play Wei Ying’s response.

Nothing.

Wangji lingers for a while longer until his last glimmer of hope that Wei Ying will come to him tonight fades into nothing. A-Yuan is fast asleep in his arms so Wangji stands carefully and returns him to his bed, tucking the covers tightly around him to make sure he feels safe and warm. He extinguishes the candles in the main room with a wave of his hand and then he retires to his own bed, feeling numb. Tomorrow he will do it again, and nothing will change.

By unspoken agreement in the days following, A-Yuan begins to attend as well when Wangji practices his guqin in the evening.

It began the following night, and has continued every night since, with A-Yuan leaving the toy he was playing with to climb into his lap and rest his little hands on top of his again. Wangji can’t help but feel pleased that it seems the boy is going to want to choose to follow in his footsteps.

When he puts A-Yuan to bed after their practice has relaxed him, Wangji continues to return to the instrument and ask for Wei Ying. He knows that it’s fruitless, that there have been five years of nothing now and it’s unlikely that he remains. Even his body can’t be found, and Wangji knows that it’s entirely too possible that the resentful energies he held were too powerful to leave even a corpse or a shred of spiritual cognition once the spirits had him in their grasp.

He can’t stop searching.

Three weeks have passed since he sent his last search party out before one of the other pairs returns. He’s walking with A-Yuan around the training yard and observing the swordsmanship lesson when the husband/wife cultivation partnership he’d sent out towards Lanling approaches. He freezes in place and feels A-Yuan look up at him in confusion, but now is not the time or place to answer his questions. Wangji glances at the disciples practicing their sword forms, spots one he recognizes quickly, and he signals her to approach.

“Please take A-Yuan to play with his friends in the Children’s Hall, either myself or his uncle will retrieve him in a few hours,” he instructs.

“Hanguang Jun,” she replies with a bow and then she holds a hand out to A-Yuan and Wangji gives him a nod to reassure him as he glances back at him over his shoulder on his way around the courtyard with his new escort.

“Hanguang Jun,” the pair greets as he turns his attention to them and he returns their bow with his heart in his throat. Thankfully these are cultivators who know him reasonably well (as well as anyone outside his very small family circle can) so they know he has no interest in pleasantries.

“We flew the perimeter of Lanling, as instructed,” the husband of the pair begins. “We sensed nothing unusual and began landing in towns and cities to ask about strange occurrences, night hunting where necessary but always deferring to our fellows in the Jin Sect where possible.” Wangji is growing impatient so he’s relieved when the woman rests her hand on her husband’s arm to stop his full report.

“We see no sign of him, Hanguang Jun. Not even a whisper of the Yiling Patriarch except for idle gossip that flows like water from the mountain. We apologize for our shortcomings.” Wangji watches as the pair sketch another bow, discomfited by their nervousness to approach someone they saw as such an imposing figure with bad news.

“Do not apologize,” he replies simply around the tightness in his throat. “Rest today and return to your regular duties in the morning.” He begins to bow and then quietly murmurs, “Thank you.”

He watches them as they leave, walking almost close enough to touch and in perfect synchronicity with each other, and he aches.

For the next few weeks things go much the same way. One by one the search parties return, and one by one his hopes for news are dashed. By the time the last pair he’d sent out have returned from Yiling itself with empty hands, he’s too exhausted to continue asking others to search for Wei Ying. The waiting, the hope, and the inevitable disappointment have become too much to stomach. He wants to go himself, continue the search when he can be in control of it.

But he’s got A-Yuan to think of, and bringing him along is out of the question. The places he wants to search are dangerous and certainly no place for children, especially since Wangji wants to go by himself. He hasn’t hunted with another partner since Wei Ying and quite frankly he doesn’t ever want to, and he can’t singlehandedly fight and protect his son at the same time. But the idea of leaving A-Yuan behind now that they’ve become so bonded and such an important part of each other’s lives makes him feel physically ill.

The only thing that makes him feel worse is not looking for Wei Ying.

After his period of isolation but before he had officially taken over raising A-Yuan, Wangji had gone searching for him. He’d heard the news from Xichen that Sect Leader Jiang had been unable to find any trace of Wei Ying’s whereabouts, but he’d refused to let that discourage him. As soon as he was able, he’d gone to Nightless City to begin the search for him, only returning to Cloud Recesses when he had exhausted the potential of every possible ravine, every crevice, every dungeon, every rock. It was only the thought of A-Yuan and Wei Ying’s overwhelming love for the boy that had convinced him to return home to his duties. It’s been two years since the end of that search and the parts of him that ache for Wei Ying are yearning to return to it.

Playing the spirit communion pieces on his guqin helps curb his desire to go flying off without a word to keep looking.

‘Wei Ying?’ he asks for what feels like the thousandth time. As long as he receives no answer, he’ll never tire of sending those notes into the air. He takes comfort in them, really. In the music that communicates his soulmate’s name.

Wei Ying?

“Wangji.” The voice at the door startles him, his surprise evident only in the way his fingers twitch on the strings.

"Uncle," he greets stiffly in return. He makes no move to stand and he knows it's disrespectful but he can't quite bring himself to care. It's late and he'd expected to be alone. He wants to be alone.

"Enough of this, Wangji," Lan Qiren says with no other preamble and Wangji doesn't even deign to look up at him. He'd always hated Wei Ying, and the longer Wangji’s mourning goes on the less inclined he is to forgive the people who feel such negative things for the other. "Do you think people don't notice that you search for Wei Wuxian endlessly? Do you think they don't wonder at the reason?"

"Gossip is forbidden in Cloud Recesses," he recites dutifully, voice edging a little sharper. A warning, if Lan Qiren is willing to hear it.

"That doesn't mean they don't notice, Wangji," he retorts and only then does Wangji raise his eyes to meet the older man's. His face is as impassive as his Uncle's is twisted in anger.

Wangji meets his Uncle's glare levelly and, without breaking eye contact, gently plucks the strings again.

Wei Ying?

"WANGJI!"

"Shouting is prohibited in Cloud Recesses," Wangji replies and then adds, as an afterthought, "And in my home. A-Yuan is sleeping."

"You have duties here, Wangji," Lan Qiren replies tightly, though he's at least lowered his voice so Wangji can stop worrying that he's going to wake the boy sleeping just one room away. "You're distracted."

"Does my work displease? Xichen says nothing."

Lan Qiren is silent and Wangji stands slowly, tucking one hand behind his back and facing his uncle straight on. He used to fear him, the impact he had, the influence. He used to be so, so afraid.

His fear of the judgement of others died with Wei Ying.

"Uncle. I will continue to do my duty to my family and sect. Wei Ying is my familial duty as well. I will continue to search," he says quietly and he's fascinated to watch some unnameable emotion pass over Lan Qiren's features.

"It will only hurt."

"Even so," he murmurs, practically soundless, as he nods and keeps his eyes trained low. "I have a duty to him."

"Why?"

Wangji doesn't even dignify that question with a response. It had been asked of him before in various ways, and he is tired of answering when it seemes like it should be so obvious. Why would he stand with him? Side with him? Fight with him? Heal him? Care for him? Do his best to find him not once but twice now? Why? Why? Why?

He can't believe people are still asking him. He hates himself a little for not making his thoughts and intentions clearer, because clearly he didn't if everyone still feels the need to question his motives like this.

"Wangji. Eventually you'll have to stop."

"When I find him, I will stop."

His words are met with nothing but a long-suffering sigh and Wangji knows already that he's won this particular argument. The feeling is..almost novel, to win an argument against Lan Qiren.

"Nothing will dissuade you?"

"Nothing."

"Go, then."

Trust uncle to still find a way to surprise him and make him feel like he's on his back foot.

"Go?"

"Search for him. Xichen and I will watch Lan Yuan for you. Go find him."

Wangji freezes and thinks about the implications of his uncle offering this to him. No time limits, no rules, just an offer to care for their son so that Wangji can go find Wei Ying and bring him home. He's struck momentarily speechless and he's grateful that Lan Qiren lets him have this silence, letting him think it over in his usual ponderous way.

"I will leave in the morning after I deliver A-Yuan to the Children's Hall," he decides. It's fast, but he's been anxious to leave and search for weeks now. He feels guilt surge through his chest at the thought of leaving his son, but he knows that he, at least, will be safe and loved in Cloud Recesses, and it's Wangji who will be aching more for his own bed and his family.

"See to it. Goodnight Wangji."

"Goodnight Uncle."

#the untamed fanfic #Lan Wangji #Lan Sizhui #Lan Qiren #Wangxian #cql fanfic #a bit of grieving dad!wangji for your soft angsty needs

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 3 years

Text

((~1K words of a much larger fic that I’ll keep posting snippets of!))

———

“Yes Hanguang Jun. We go at once.”

Wangji watches the pair in front of him bow and take their leave with his expression set in his perpetual mask of indifference.

When he had come out of his isolation two years ago, he had expected to have to earn the respect of the disciples again. After all, he’d been whipped, punished, and imprisoned. Why should they respect him?

Instead, he’d found his reputation had become even more formidable, and though no one had ever disrespected him before they now give him a level of deference akin to what they show Lan Qiren and Xichen.

It is, somehow, even lonelier than he’d been in Cloud Recesses prior to his isolation. Prior to Wei Ying.

Even remembering the name is so painful that he’s relieved to be alone for the moment. He spares himself a handful of aching heartbeats in which to let his mask crack and a couple of tears make their tracks down his cheeks. He wipes them away and composes himself quickly enough - he’s had lots of practice in the privacy of the back hill.

Once he’s composed he stands and tidies up the desk he’s been sitting at - not that he made much of a mess - and heads to the door. Xichen knows his schedule better now than ever so he’s unsurprised to find him just coming down the path.

“Wangji. Another search party? I passed them on their way to the Caiyi Town road,” he says in greeting and Wangji can only stare first at him, and then pointedly at A-Yuan in his arms. Xichen passes him his son with a sigh and Wangji gathers him to his chest and feels at least some of the ice in his chest melt as A-Yuan’s arms wrap gently around his neck.

“I can’t go myself,” is what he finally says in explanation and though Xichen won’t say it, Wangji knows his thoughts anyway. He’s uninterested in the silent lecture Xichen is glaring at him, so he turns his attention to his son and rests his cheek against the side of his head. “Dinner, A-Yuan?” Some of the tension at the corners of his mouth and eyes relaxes as the boy nods and buries his face in the crook of his neck.

“Hungry, Father,” A-Yuan responds and Wangji can’t resist rubbing his back gently and offering a quiet, “Mn,” of understanding to soothe him. He neatly sidesteps Xichen and begins walking home, gently prompting A-Yuan to talk about his day and letting the idle chatter fill the silence around him in much the same way that Wei Ying’s once had. It helps ease the ache in his chest by fractions to listen to their son (A-Yuan will always be theirs in his eyes) talk about the life he lives in Cloud Recesses. Safe and warm and fed and so, so loved. He likes to think Wei Ying would be overjoyed if he knew.

About halfway there A-Yuan stops him with a gentle tug on his hair to ask to be let down and Wangji immediately stoops down to do so, doing his best not to think about the fact that A-Yuan is getting old and big enough to neither want nor need to be carried in his arms all the time. They need to find Wei Ying soon or he’s never going to get to carry his son like this again, and the thought makes Wangji’s breath catch in his throat. He reaches out to take A-Yuan’s hand as they walk, and within a few more minutes they’re stepping through the arch into the Bamboo Pavilion. Wangji releases A-Yuan’s hand to gently nudge him forward with a hand on the middle of his back.

“Go wash,” he instructs and he follows at a more sedate pace as A-Yuan runs into the house. It’s been one of the hardest rules to make stick in A-Yuan’s mind, but then again Wangji will admit that he’s not nearly as strict about some rules as he could be. The thought of his and Wei Ying’s son growing up as rigidly controlled and disciplined as Wangji’s childhood had been is just too nauseating for him to discipline him too harshly. And A-Yuan is incredibly well-behaved while still maintaining all the mischief and charm of childhood. Wangji wouldn’t change a single thing about him.

He takes a moment to look around the courtyard and make sure their wards are still sound before he retreats into the Jingshi as well, heading immediately to the hearth to begin preparing dinner for himself and A-Yuan.

When A-Yuan is fed, bathed, and happily tucked into his bed after a lullaby, Wangji retires to the opposite end of the house to quietly practice his guqin. He’s in the middle of annotating a heavily edited copy of sheet music when a butterfly message flutters through the open window and he frowns just a touch. None of the search teams he’s sent out should be close enough to send a butterfly, and other than them the only one who could get something past the wards would be Xichen or Lan Qiren.

Before he can wonder at it too long, the butterfly alights on his outstretched hand to disappear and be replaced by his brother’s soft voice in his ear.

“Ignoring me won’t work forever, Wangji. We can’t keep sparing pairs of cultivators to search. Uncle will allow you one pair to keep searching, everyone else will have to stay when they return.”

Wangji exhales slowly and closes his eyes, nearly missing the next butterfly that flutters through the window and settles near his shoulder before dissipating.

“I’m sorry, Wangji.”

Wangji lifts his fingers off the strings of the guqin and curls them into tight fists on his thighs, his tendons straining under his skin as he fights to keep himself under control. When he feels he can breathe again he opens his eyes and his gaze immediately lands on the song he’s composing for Wei Ying and he reaches out to slowly ink in a new passage, a variation of the leading melody that will add enough melancholy to the piece to maybe begin to represent the gaping hole in his chest.

#the untamed fanfic #cql fanfic #lan Wangji #Lan Sizhui #Lan Xichen #a bit of Grieving Dad!Wangji for your soft angsty needs #Wangxian #if you squint

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 3 years

Text

((2.5k of grieving Dad!Wangji))

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

———

Something's wrong.

He's Wei Ying but he's not. His eyes are red, tear tracks glittering pale on cheeks that are ashen and drawn. He's gaunt, even more than when Wangji had seen him at the Burial Mounds before, when the hunger pangs were just beginning. This wasn't right. They should've been able to grow more food now, they shouldn't be so hungry. Why is Wei Ying so hungry?

He's laughing like he's drowning, and the choking tendrils of resentful energy around him swirl a little closer. They make his robes flutter in a nonexistent wind and his hair lift and curl deceptively delicately around the too-sharp lines of his face. His teeth flash white against blood-red lips and his eyes are dark, full of hatred and bitterness. His sobbing laughter is the cold slice of a knife against Wangji's soul.

"Wei Ying," he says anyway, because no matter how he looks this is /his/ Wei Ying. Whatever's wrong, whatever has happened, they can fix it and he can be whole. He can be his. Those bloodshot eyes search through the nothingness of the spirits that are slowly taking hold of him until they find Wangji there beyond the darkness he's cultivated and something in his expression eases.

"Lan Zhan," he says and his voice sounds a thousand miles away, his lips hesitant to form the words and fresh tears follow the trails the previous tears had blazed. "Lan Zhan," he says again and it still breaks his heart but Wangji knows better this time, knows what will happen if he responds incorrectly. He has the benefit of experience to help him now, and so he carefully stores Bichen and Wangji and he holds his empty hands up in surrender as he takes a step closer, and then another, taking his time as he walks along the narrow center beam of the roof - now is no time to rush. The other cultivators shout and heckle from the courtyard below, but none of them would dare to approach the Yiling Laozu. They're safe for now.

"Wei Ying," he says gently. The sound is no doubt lost in the wind and the screaming of wronged souls in Wei Ying's ears but he sees his eyes track the movement of his lips so he takes another step forward, and another. Tendrils of black energy start to lick at him curiously and he pays them no mind. They can have what they want of him, he's here for Wei Ying only.

He passes through the edge of the angry mass of spirits and he feels cold, his expression slipping out of his careful mask just enough to make Wei Ying reach for him, his eyes suddenly terrified.

"Lan Zhan stop!" he begs and this is the one thing that Wangji can't give him. He can't stop, he won't. Not this time. He takes another step and feels the agony of a thousand souls crushed under the heels of those more powerful than them. He hears them screaming for blood and vengeance in his ears and he takes another step, the cries of the damned and the forgotten growing louder and louder the closer he gets. Wei Ying is crying again and his hands are scrabbling at the flute in his belt but he's weak and shaking and won't take his eyes off of Wangji long enough to look at what he's doing. Wangji will reach him before he can play a note, so he doesn't worry. He just keeps walking though he feels himself burning alive, the resentful energy uncontrollably turned on anyone who gets too close. He'll always want to be too close.

When he reaches Wei Ying, he's alarmed to find that he looks even worse than he had previously thought. He reaches up with trembling hands to cup his jaw and his skin is like ice.

"Wei Ying," he repeats and this time he's close enough to be heard no matter what. He watches something like peace smooth out the pained expression on Wei Ying's ghostly face and despite it all he feels one corner of his mouth lift into the barest hint of a smile. "Wei Ying," he says again and the voices screaming in his ears grow quieter. "Wei Ying."

"Wei Ying."

"Wei Ying!"

Wangji sits straight up in bed and presses one trembling hand to his chest, his breath coming hard and fast as the echoes of the screams in his dream linger persistently in the back of his mind. This is, unfortunately, unfamiliar territory and he begins to walk himself through his usual post-nightmare routine even before his heart and breathing begin to calm.

He drops his head and his unbound hair falls forward to shield him.

He closes his eyes tightly and resolutely refuses to let his imagination continue to run rampant.

He allows his heart to fracture but not to break again completely. He will not survive if it breaks again completely.

"Father."

Wangji takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly, A-Yuan as patient as ever as the boy kneels next to his bed and waits for him to recover.

"I am fine," Wangji finally replies though his voice sounds anything but. A-Yuan is gentle so he says nothing about it, but he's also resolute so he stays kneeling next to the bed to wait in silence for him to tell the truth.

He's so much a product of all of his parenting figures that it makes Wangji ache not only for Wei Ying but for the remnants of the Wen Sect who had raised him as a village. He can see Wen Ning's kindness in his eyes and the fierce loyalty of Wen Qing in the set of his jaw, and he tries not to think too hard about the Wens’ son growing up with only him, a stranger back then at the beginning, for his caretaker.

"Hanguang Jun," A-Yuan tries and that, at least, is enough to make him look. He turns his head and brushes his hair back over his shoulder so he can look his son in the eye and try not to see his past failures reflected back at him.

"Thirteen years," Wangji finally says quietly by way of explanation. He meets A-Yuan's steady gaze and his lips press tightly together lest he give more of a voice to the aching in his chest.

"I can wait for another few weeks to go on my first nighthunt, father," A-Yuan offers immediately, because of course he does.

"No."

"Father."

"No, A-Yuan. You have to go."

"You're unwell." Wangji almost cracks a smile at that. When isn't he unwell? The problem now is that A-Yuan is old enough to see it, and Wangji is still too weak to hide it from him any better than he has been this entire time. "You..You slept late today." Wangji turns his head away again to look through the window to his right and sure enough the quality of the light outside is closer to true sunrise than to dawn.

"As I do this day every year."

A-Yuan makes an aborted noise in the back of his throat before nodding, his eyes downcast. Wangji sighs and finally lifts the covers to turn sideways and put his feet on the floor though he doesn't stand up just yet. "Are you ready to leave? Caiyi town road in an hour," he remarks.

"Yes father," he replies as he finally stands and Wangji stands as well, looking A-Yuan up and down. He's already dressed for travel in the same uniform as his fellow students and Wangji can't help but feel quietly proud of him.

He frowns a bit when he looks up and before he can even ask his question A-Yuan is holding his hand out to him and his expression softens.

"Can you put it on for me?" he asks with a charming smile that is all Wei Ying and how could Wangji ever deny him?

"You are old enough to do this unassisted, A-Yuan," Wangji says softly even as he reaches out to take the ribbon and gesture for A-Yuan to take a seat on the edge of the bed. His son knows that he would never deny him this, after all.

"I know. But this is my first time out of Cloud Recesses or Caiyi Town. I'll have to put it on myself the entire time we're gone, I can want you to do it one more time before I have to leave, right?"

"Mn."

Wangji stays quiet as he carefully positions the ribbon where it's supposed to be, checking to make sure it's perfectly centered in every way before he carefully winds the ends into A-Yuan's hairstyle and secures it into place with a knot. When he's finished he takes a moment to make sure A-Yuan's hairstyle is secure, his hairpiece in place and everything where it should be. It's perfect, of course, but he can't help but to check. A-Yuan is patient and lets him check him over without comment, and when he finally stands again it's with a knowing look in his eye.

"I'll be back in a month, father," he reminds him quietly and Wangji nods. "You did this when you were my age, too. You don't have to worry about me." At that, at the reminder of how much he faced at a young age, he can't even muster up the energy to nod. He absolutely has to worry about A-Yuan, who has courted misfortune everywhere he's gone except for in Cloud Recesses. It's no surprise that A-Yuan can read his silence as the worried disagreement that it is. "Father. You taught me personally for my whole life before I took Uncle's classes with everyone else. I'll be safe, and I won't take unnecessary risks. And Lan Jingyi's father is going to stay close in case something goes wrong and we need help."

"Flares?"

"I have five, and we know how to get more on the road." Wangji sighs and closes his eyes for a moment before nodding and A-Yuan is smiling widely at him when he opens his eyes again.

"Go," Wangji says quietly, and A-Yuan's visible excitement dims ever so slightly.

"I...Father. Do you remember when I promised you I'd never leave?" he asks when Wangji levels him with a questioning stare and Wangji aches a little in his chest to hear it.

"You were young."

"I'm going to come back. This doesn't count as leaving because I'm coming back when we're done."

"Mn."

A-Yuan finally steps away after that to finish preparing the simple breakfast he'd started over on the other side of the house and Wangji gets changed out of his sleeping clothes in silence, mind and heart heavy. He's trying his hardest not to see this as a bad sign, A-Yuan leaving on his first nighthunt on the 13th anniversary of Wei Ying's death at Nightless City. But his heart is determined to be unreasonable today, it seems.

He dresses without much thought for his clothes, only pausing when he's got his own ribbon in his hands. He looks down at it for a few long moments, remembers the time in the mountains when Wei Ying had teasingly asked him for it to use as a blindfold. He smiles slightly at the memory, able to look back now and understand that Wei Ying had been trying to make a statement more than he'd been wanting to actually cover his eyes. He belonged to Wangji, see, everybody?

Wangji sighs softly and closes his eyes as he ties the ribbon into place and - certainly not for the first or last time - he wishes it could be Wei Ying's hands placing it for him.

When he's dressed he steps around the privacy screen to follow the smell of food to the table where A-Yuan is already sitting and waiting for him before beginning to eat. They eat in silence these days now that A-Yuan is more than old enough to understand and follow the sect rules, but it's a companionable and peaceful silence rather than a forced one - the silence of two men choosing to follow rules and find peace in them rather than submitting themselves to blind, unthinking obedience.

"Do not," Wangji says quietly when they're done and A-Yuan begins to clear the table. "I will do it, go get your things."

A-Yuan looks like he wants to protest but he seems to think better of it and simply nods instead, unfolding himself gracefully from the floor to head into his room and fetch his pack. Wangji had been so tempted the night before to search through it and make sure that A-Yuan was taking everything he might need, but he had restrained himself. He trusts A-Yuan to be smart and cautious, and he knows for a fact that he'd been well taught. He would be fine, one way or another.

Wangji clears the table quickly and sets the dishes in a basket to take outside and wash later, A-Yuan returning just as he's placed the last plate on top and shut the basket to place next to the door that leads down to the stream running under the right half of the porch.

"Are you coming to see us off?"

"Mn. You have everything?"

"Yes. I'm ready." Wangji looks up at him then and he takes a moment to just study him and commit the sight to memory.

"Let's go," he says when he's finished and he lets A-Yuan lead the way out of the house to begin heading for the rest of the complex.

As they near the gate down the mountain Wangji can hear the quiet but excited chatter of the group of disciples going out on the hunt, and at the last corner they come into view gathered haphazardly around the entrance to Cloud Recesses just outside the wards at the gate. At the sight of him, they all immediately settle into their proper places in their lines, A-Yuan taking the last few stairs quickly and darting over to his place at the head of one of the lines. As he takes the last step and faces them directly, all of the disciples salute him, A-Yuan included.

"Remember your lessons," he says simply, glancing at all of them and fighting down the dread rising in the pit of his stomach. They're so young. "Do not take unnecessary risks. Be respectful." He looks at each of them again in turn and then says, perhaps a hint more softly, "Take care of each other."

"Yes, Hanguang Jun," they reply in unison and he nods once in acknowledgement. He gives A-Yuan one last look before they all turn and begin heading down the mountain. Wangji watches until every trace of them has disappeared into the forest and only then does he turn to head back up the hill, worry settling into a spot in his chest where he suspects it will stay for the next four weeks.

#wangxian #the untamed fic #a bit of grieving dad!wangji for your soft angsty needs #Wei Wuxian #Lan Wangji #Lan Sizhui

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 3 years

Text

((Just under 2k of grieving Dad!Wangji))

(Part 1) (Part 2)

———

Demon Subdue Palace.

Wangji can't help but feel his features soften as he looks up at the cracked and weather-worn characters carved into the stone above the door. His Wei Ying had so proudly told him the joke behind his continuing to call it such, but even then - and especially now - the words clawed at Wangji's heart. The idea that anyone would think of Wei Ying as a demon is...painful. The fact that they did so, and Wei Ying knew they did so, simply because he'd dared to help innocent people whose survival didn't benefit the shifting politics after the Sunshot Campaign is nearly unbearable.

And he knows he played a part in it.

Wangji takes a deep breath in to steady himself before stepping forward, placing one foot slowly in front of the other until he's inside. He stops again once he's out of the wind and he lets his eyes adjust to the dimmer lighting inside. Everything is as he last saw it, only perhaps with a thicker coating of the ever-present dust that pervades the air now that the Wen remnants no longer tills the field to try to grow their turnips in the harsh soil.

He starts wandering through it slowly, dragging his fingertips along the surfaces of tables and along the foot of Wei Ying's bed, the grass mat covering the stone perhaps a bit moth-eaten and in desperate need of a cleaning but still mostly sound, and precisely how he'd left it. Everything is where it had been left, no animals would ever come this far into the Burial Mounds to search for the remains of any food.

Further inside, Wei Ying's work area is full of half-finished inventions and scraps of paper with half-drawn talismans. More talismans litter the floor and Wangji looks at them for a moment before sinking to his knees in the midst of them. He allows himself precisely five breaths to mourn, and then he settles in with his guqin.

‘Wei Ying?’

The strings stay silent, but that doesn't stop Wangji from feeling Wei Ying's presence everywhere around him. He knows it's not really him, but he can't ever be immune to the ache of seeing the last place Wei Ying had left the marks of his daily life, seeing the touch of his hand in every possible place, the evidence of his presence in all the untidy incidentals of a man who lived alone with nobody to impress.

Once he would've been irritated by the evidences of Wei Ying's carelessness with the parts of his life he deemed unimportant, but now? Wangji feels tears spring to his eyes to see the rocks holding down haphazard stacks of papers, the used bowls scattered over a different table clear of inventions, the beginnings of a wooden toy being carved.

The toy gives him pause and after a moment Wangji reaches out to touch it, lifting it after a moment's debate with reverent hands. It fits snugly into his palm and as he turns it he can see the early shapes of a rounded back and long ears laid back over it, a little tufted tail at the other end...He has to stop and tip his head back to breathe.

Wei Ying was carving a rabbit toy for A-Yuan, and Wangji can't breathe. He gently sets the rabbit down again where he'd found it and he stands after storing his guqin back in the pouch in his sleeve. He means to leave, but the sight of Wei Ying's bed captures his attention and he can't help but wander towards it. He brushes a reverent hand along the worn woven grass, feels the sharp ends of loose straw beneath it that can't quite be softened by the thin mat, both weak attempts to soften the stone slab underneath. The bundle of straw he used as a pillow is still in its place, though now full of dust. The plants hanging haphazardly from the ceiling have grown over the last few years and now wind along the floor and down the walls and Wangji is irrationally angry that they have had a chance to thrive while Wei Ying went to his death.

He sits down on the edge of the bed and after a moment he lays down slowly, stretching himself out on the structure and closing his eyes as he rests on the straw, his hands folded on his chest and Bichen at his side. He breathes slowly and listens to the wind howling through the barren trees outside, the sound dimmed and softened by the stone around him.

After an indeterminate amount of time he opens his eyes again and is surprised to find that the ceiling has gone dark above him, the sun having set behind the mountain. Outside the door the world is bathed in soft lavender twilight and Wangji waves towards the candles piled up in the crevices in the rocks around him to light them all with a flicker of energy, and the light suffuses the room with a warm glow.

It strangely feels less empty like this with the soft firelight and Wangji lies there a while longer, in no hurry to move onto the next disappointment in his search for the man he loves.

As tempting as it is to stay there forever in the hopes that Wei Ying will come back to him, he knows it's not feasible. Fist of all, he's relatively confident that only someone as incredible as Wei Ying could be the one to make the Burial Mounds livable. Second of all, he's already been gone for too long, and coming here was his last-ditch effort for this round. He's been chasing rumors and rumors of rumors for two months now, and he's still no closer to an answer than when he'd begun.

He misses his son. He misses the feeling of A-Yuan in his lap while he plays his guqin or, occasionally, while they eat dinner together. He misses singing to him and holding his hand while they walk down to the field in the back hill full of the rabbits that Wangji will always think of his and Wei Ying's. He wants to go home, he just wishes that he could do so with Wei Ying in tow.

He looks around the cave once more and then stands to head further inside, his footsteps still slow and easy as he looks around at the life Wei Ying left behind. There's not much to it and it certainly couldn't have been comfortable, but Wangji knows that had he been given the option, Wei Ying would've lived like this for the rest of his life if it meant he was going to get to keep the remaining members of the Wen Sect safe and as happy as they could be under the circumstances.

He wanders until the ghosts of his memories are too much to handle and then he retires, and as always he dreams of Wei Ying.

———

"Father!"

Wangji can't help but smile softly as A-Yuan throws himself into his arms, all thoughts of manners forgotten. The Elders watching and educating the children in the Children's Hall are clearly disapproving of the allowance of his poor behavior, but Wangji can't think of a reason to correct him. His son is happy to see him and is responding as children do, there's nothing wrong with that. He glares at them as he holds A-Yuan close and he's relieved when they break first, looking away and returning their attention to the other children to let him greet his son in peace.

"Missed you," he says quietly once he's knelt down to A-Yuan's height and he's rewarded with a beaming smile and a tight hug around his neck.

"Missed you too, father," A-Yuan mumbles and Wangji holds him a little more tightly.

Returning home is bittersweet without Wei Ying, but he knows he won't leave again for a while. Being away from A-Yuan was too difficult, and traveling alone in search of Wei Ying too heartbreaking. He needed a rest, he needed to be home.

"No more lessons today," he says decisively as he scoops A-Yuan into his arms and bows to the Elders watching the children. They know better than to argue, and Wangji stays only long enough for A-Yuan to wave goodbye to little Lan Jingyi and then he's whisking his son out the door and through the expanded complex of buildings out towards the back hill.

A-Yuan is still holding onto him and Wangji can feel his fists curling into his hair and he relaxes - as loathe as he is to feel like he's giving up on his love, he can't deny that this is much more preferable than wandering around chasing down a man who - to the public, at least - is nothing but a rumor of a horror story.

"Where did you go?" A-Yuan eventually asks as Wangji carefully makes his way down into the rabbit field.

"Many places."

"Uncle said you want to find someone."

"Mn."

"Who?"

"Someone important to me." A-Yuan is silent for long enough that they make it to the field and are able to sit down in the soft grass, the rabbits immediately hopping closer to investigate, and Wangji helps A-Yuan sit in his lap so that he can then pass him a rabbit to pet.

"Where did your person go?" A-Yuan asks as he pets his rabbit's soft ears and Wangji stays quiet for a long moment to gather his thoughts.

"I don't know," he finally replies when he's been silent for so long that A-Yuan turns to look up at him as if to make sure he hasn't fallen asleep. "He had to leave, but I didn't want him to."

"Oh. He didn't say where?"

"No."

Lan Wangji sits in silence and watches A-Yuan gently pet the rabbit in his lap as he seems to be thinking hard about that, his little mind turning the problem over and over as he tries his best to comprehend how someone could leave without telling where they were going. Since A-Yuan had woken up from the fever, malnutrition, and exhaustion he'd been suffering from when Wangji brought him home he'd been unable to remember a time before he lived in Cloud Recesses. His time in Gusu has been full of nothing but love and care thanks to Xichen and Wangji - and everyone else, of course, because nobody can resist loving A-Yuan - so the concept of true, genuine loss is foreign to him. Something which Wangji is immensely grateful for, seeing as the child actually has plenty of losses to mourn for if he only knew it.

"Father?"

"A-Yuan."

"I won't ever leave."

Wangji's heart clenches in his chest and he takes a deep breath in before looking down to meet A-Yuan's wide, dark eyes as the boy looks up at him. He smiles softly, just the slightest hints at the corners of his mouth, but A-Yuan is his son and he knows how to read him as well as Xichen or Wei Ying and he offers his own grin in response - the sort of happy, carefree grin that Wangji can't remember ever wearing on his own face, or seeing on the faces of the people he loved as a child.

Things are changing in Cloud Recesses, and despite the pushback from the elders - or perhaps because of it - Wangji is sure that it's for the better.

"Thank you, A-Yuan."

#the untamed fanfic #wangxian #lan sizhui #lan Wangji #a bit of grieving dad!wangji for your soft angsty needs

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