pawpiefawn

[pawpiefawn]

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[pawpiefawn]

𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮, 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓬𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓪 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

❤︎ capitano x femi 0.7k words a non-canon au of capitano seeing @femivi for the first time, within the gentle gardens filled with wildflowers. ptichka means little bird.

between a busy life of fulfilling the wishes of the tsaritsa, and travelling to and fro the places on his never-ending checklist, the first of the eleven harbingers barely found time for pleasantries. a hopeful spring passes, then a cheersome summer, the leaves on the trees changing from greens to golds with time and spirit – and yet he always found himself back in mondstadt’s gardens at the start of every spring. his shoulders sagged, he was tired and perhaps even the tiniest bit... lonely.

capitano sighs to himself, his gaze falling on a single daisy – bright and lovely, standing strong in the gusts of wind that crowned mondstadt. the gardens were nothing like the land of cryo, he thought. snezhnaya’s winters were cold, brutal and long, and the delightful scent of fresh wildflowers signalled the coming of spring and of a more hopeful day.

“excuse me...” a soft voice breaks the captain out of his inner monologue.

in front of him knelt a woman, no taller than a few feet and with a stature akin to a dainty fawn. her hair, beautifully tied into a bun with curled bangs – and a cecilia in her hair. the cecilia was mondstadt’s precious flower– oh, just one look at her sweet little self; you could almost assume she was mondstadt’s flower. she looked almost familiar, even.

“may i help you?”

“i don’t mean to disturb you, sir. i’d like to take that daisy. if you don’t mind, of course–,” she points at the flower.

she wanted that daisy? that wasn’t a problem, she could take it – he’d take it for her, perhaps. there was nothing like rewarding a beauteous sincerity and eagerness. perhaps, capitano mused, he was even the slightest bit curious to see a hint of a smile on her face.

“here you go.” the man plucks the daisy from the ground, albeit harshly, dirt and roots saying their goodbyes to the earth – but alas, strength takes no hold of his thoughts as he watches her face crumple, to his dismay.

( the girl’s disappointment was from the sheer force at which he picked it up with, but he didn’t know that. )

“i...”

“is something the matter? i apologise.”

“please be careful with the flowers, mr capitano!” she blurts, immediately squeaking and covering her mouth. ah, he wasn’t supposed to know just yet...

“...you know my name?” the captain halts.

“i do. i belong to the tsaritsa’s kingdom, sir. i work within the quarters of the fatui, you.. you may be rarely there, but high praise of you reaches all within.”

familiarity behests a nostalgia for a place he wishes he didn’t have to call home – yet there she was, clear as day. capitano remembers now. she was the kind girl who sought out the loveliest flowers to revitalise the icy palace, and she was the wearer of that gentle smile she always wore through the dreariest days of winter. that smile – it could melt even the most stoic of hearts, capitano reminisces.

femi was her name. it was befitting for a sweet fawn, or a gentle songbird that softly cooes a parent’s lullaby.

femi.

“femi.” capitano repeats out loud, the slightest hint of a smile breaking through even his mask.

“you know my name?”

“i do. i have seen you in my homeland. everyone talks highly of this sweet girl they meet, wearing a cecilia in her hair that never seems to wilt.” “walk with me, ptichka.” he adds.

heat rising in her cheeks at the nickname, femi looks up from the daisy to look at him strolling through the gardens. there was something about the captain – his presence commanding respect and authority – yet there was something soft, hidden beneath the layers he wore to keep himself warm.

capitano, she whispers to herself as she got up to follow him. his name slipped off her tongue easily, naturally; it was as if it was the only word she knew.

o flora, witnesses to a love unfolding yet once more and a heart defrosting, touch by touch. love was truly that simple, wasn’t it? especially when it was found melting within the crevices of a long-forgotten heart.

[pawpiefawn]

𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓱𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

❤︎ alhaitham x gn!reader 1.1k words alhaitham cooks you a dish from his childhood.

in the apartment you shared with alhaitham, there was no explosive rage or hurtful yelling – there were no plates thrown or doors slammed or chairs hurled against walls that had seen more than they should have.

no, home was quiet and healing. it was ivy-crawled bricks, breezy curtains and ambient lighting that was a testimony to the soft-lipped love he spoke to you, words he learnt passed down from his gentle grandmother.

alhaitham would keep you safe; he promised himself the moment his eyes met yours.

love was gently knocking on the door to tell you that dinner's ready. love did not rage or come home angry – it did not yell at you over something trivial. love was patient and whole and kind. home was love, love forgave and repented and knelt to ask for forgiveness; love forgave, without a second thought, because love was home.

home was love, alhaitham was home, alhaitham was love.

between you and love, you usually cooked – it wasn’t that alhaitham didn’t want to cook, or that he couldn’t; well . . you were just better. better in the sense that dinner’s vegetables just seemed to slice and arrange themselves neatly in obedience to the ruler of the kitchen. somehow, you measuring seasoning with your tender heart always made it taste better despite his countless accurate measurements.

cooking in the kitchen was also where love was found.

it was in the sweet, soft light that entered through your kitchen window, perfect rays broken up through the trees outside – and of course, it was found in alhaitham; his built frame leaning against the kitchen countertop, admiring you and feeling a slight twinge of envy at your proficiency in the kitchen. dishes were cooked with ease and you just had so much fun, twirling around with your wooden spatula. you gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek before turning back to stir your pot of stew.

“ah, it’s going to burn–”

“don’t be silly, it’ll be fine!” the only thing he felt in the kitchen, with you at its helm, was happiness.

perhaps he could try once again? perhaps he could– no, he would. he would make some of that happiness with his own hands, laden into porcelain bowls to share with you.

the next time alhaitham walked into the kitchen, it was with aching arms heavy with brown bags chockfull of dinner ingredients. vibrant padisarah petals, marbled chunks of beef, plastic bags filled to the brim with rice grains and aromatic spices that left its mark on your kitchen. he knew exactly what he wanted to share with you tonight.

“you’re cooking?” he hears your footsteps as you bound into the kitchen, pattering against the cool marble excitedly.

“yes, i am. dinner should be ready in a few hours.” alhaitham lets a faint smile grace his features. you wrap your arms tenderly around his waist, burying your face into his back. he couldn’t see your sweet grin this way, but that was alright. your joy practically radiated off your warm frame.

“thanks for cooking tonight.”

he lets his hands work their magic – some sort of magic he still faintly believed in. it had been some time since he cooked something like this, after all; and much less a dish he last tasted in his last remnants of childhood.

in went the beautiful cuts of meat, sizzling over hot oil, browned then mixed with all the nostalgic spices his tastebuds yearned to remember. fresh limes, red tomatoes, sweet onions, everything tasty and good were then added to the mix. white pearly grains of rice were cooked and added to the pot.

almost done, now.

all that was left was to wait for everything to meld in perfect harmony. alhaitham found himself staring at his work. the rice was a blank canvas for the myriad of spices, with familiar love and nostalgia that this dish brought together in a pot. empty dishes and cutting boards stained with effort littered the kitchen counter, and he sighed in fervent exhaustion just at the thought of cleaning up.

“oh! don’t worry about the dishes tonight, i’ve got them~” you chirped eagerly, tiptoeing to catch a glimpse of whatever was making your kitchen smell absolutely heavenly.

“you’re sure?” alhaitham raises an eyebrow. “i can do it, it’s not a problem.”

“no, i’m sure – you put in so much work for tonight! think of it as a thank you!”

always so sweet, offering to lend a hand no matter how tiresome or bothersome it was. did you know how much of an angel you were? alhaitham lets another smile slip past his weary face. thank you.

he hears the timer ding! and immediately turns to the stove, his masterful work steaming and ready – it looked incredible. warm gravy coated every grain, beef chunks tender and pulling apart at the force of a dinner fork. it smelt incredible. it was warm, spicy, fragrant with every hint of nostalgia he added.

it smelt like home.

kind, inviting, warm, hopeful, home.

“it’s done!” alhaitham lets out a quiet laugh as you wrap your hands around his waist again, peeking at the food hungrily.

“it smells so good.”

“this one’s for you.” he nods, setting down your bowl after ladling steaming hot biryani into it. he finishes it off with a few padisarah petals, turning the bowl towards you.

“alright, chef. you wanna introduce your dish?” you tease, giggling softly and pushing some rice aside to reveal the chunks of spiced beef. you spoon a portion of the biryani into your mouth, chewing thoughtfully and savouring every bit of effort he put into tonight’s dinner.

“well, i wanted you to try something i grew up eating. my grandmother made this for me in my childhood years.”

you hear your spoon clink against your bowl as you set it down to rest, staring at him.

“you made me something your grandmother used to make for you?” there is a slight quiver in your voice as you comprehend his sweet words.

this wasn’t just any dinner, then. it was a part of himself that he wished to share with you. it was young alhaitham seated at the dinner table, waiting for the food every night made by his loving grandmother. it was when three wooden chairs were swapped for two new ones, when only a good plate of homemade food could make him push aside any grief. it was his grandmother’s love in a dish –constant, reliable, and never failing to bring a hint of a wistful smile to his face.

“i did. i thought you would enjoy it.” alhaitham smiles, looking up from his bowl to see you wear a sombre, yet grateful expression; but there was no denying that you were enjoying it.

you were loving every bite, immensely – it tasted just a touch heavier on your tongue after he shared – and it was beautiful. nostalgia was the most powerful ingredient one could add, and time only told the truth – everything tasted better, when made with all the love and care and conscience in the world.

“thank you, alhaitham.”

[pawpiefawn]

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮'𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓼 . . . 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ༉‧₊˚.

.☘︎ ݁˖ jasmine blooms ノ writing posts ♡

.☘︎ ݁˖ jasmine buds ノ wip sneak peeks ♡

.☘︎ ݁˖ jasmine's blessing ノ regular talk posts ♡

.☘︎ ݁˖ jasmine's beloveds ノ selfship posts ♡

. . . 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝒶𝒹𝒹𝑒𝒹 ♡

[pawpiefawn]

𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓱𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

❤︎ alhaitham x gn!reader 1.1k words alhaitham cooks you a dish from his childhood.

in the apartment you shared with alhaitham, there was no explosive rage or hurtful yelling – there were no plates thrown or doors slammed or chairs hurled against walls that had seen more than they should have.

no, home was quiet and healing. it was ivy-crawled bricks, breezy curtains and ambient lighting that was a testimony to the soft-lipped love he spoke to you, words he learnt passed down from his gentle grandmother.

alhaitham would keep you safe; he promised himself the moment his eyes met yours.

love was gently knocking on the door to tell you that dinner's ready. love did not rage or come home angry – it did not yell at you over something trivial. love was patient and whole and kind. home was love, love forgave and repented and knelt to ask for forgiveness; love forgave, without a second thought, because love was home.

home was love, alhaitham was home, alhaitham was love.

between you and love, you usually cooked – it wasn’t that alhaitham didn’t want to cook, or that he couldn’t; well . . you were just better. better in the sense that dinner’s vegetables just seemed to slice and arrange themselves neatly in obedience to the ruler of the kitchen. somehow, you measuring seasoning with your tender heart always made it taste better despite his countless accurate measurements.

cooking in the kitchen was also where love was found.

it was in the sweet, soft light that entered through your kitchen window, perfect rays broken up through the trees outside – and of course, it was found in alhaitham; his built frame leaning against the kitchen countertop, admiring you and feeling a slight twinge of envy at your proficiency in the kitchen. dishes were cooked with ease and you just had so much fun, twirling around with your wooden spatula. you gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek before turning back to stir your pot of stew.

“ah, it’s going to burn–”

“don’t be silly, it’ll be fine!” the only thing he felt in the kitchen, with you at its helm, was happiness.

perhaps he could try once again? perhaps he could– no, he would. he would make some of that happiness with his own hands, laden into porcelain bowls to share with you.

the next time alhaitham walked into the kitchen, it was with aching arms heavy with brown bags chockfull of dinner ingredients. vibrant padisarah petals, marbled chunks of beef, plastic bags filled to the brim with rice grains and aromatic spices that left its mark on your kitchen. he knew exactly what he wanted to share with you tonight.

“you’re cooking?” he hears your footsteps as you bound into the kitchen, pattering against the cool marble excitedly.

“yes, i am. dinner should be ready in a few hours.” alhaitham lets a faint smile grace his features. you wrap your arms tenderly around his waist, burying your face into his back. he couldn’t see your sweet grin this way, but that was alright. your joy practically radiated off your warm frame.

“thanks for cooking tonight.”

he lets his hands work their magic – some sort of magic he still faintly believed in. it had been some time since he cooked something like this, after all; and much less a dish he last tasted in his last remnants of childhood.

in went the beautiful cuts of meat, sizzling over hot oil, browned then mixed with all the nostalgic spices his tastebuds yearned to remember. fresh limes, red tomatoes, sweet onions, everything tasty and good were then added to the mix. white pearly grains of rice were cooked and added to the pot.

almost done, now.

all that was left was to wait for everything to meld in perfect harmony. alhaitham found himself staring at his work. the rice was a blank canvas for the myriad of spices, with familiar love and nostalgia that this dish brought together in a pot. empty dishes and cutting boards stained with effort littered the kitchen counter, and he sighed in fervent exhaustion just at the thought of cleaning up.

“oh! don’t worry about the dishes tonight, i’ve got them~” you chirped eagerly, tiptoeing to catch a glimpse of whatever was making your kitchen smell absolutely heavenly.

“you’re sure?” alhaitham raises an eyebrow. “i can do it, it’s not a problem.”

“no, i’m sure – you put in so much work for tonight! think of it as a thank you!”

always so sweet, offering to lend a hand no matter how tiresome or bothersome it was. did you know how much of an angel you were? alhaitham lets another smile slip past his weary face. thank you.

he hears the timer ding! and immediately turns to the stove, his masterful work steaming and ready – it looked incredible. warm gravy coated every grain, beef chunks tender and pulling apart at the force of a dinner fork. it smelt incredible. it was warm, spicy, fragrant with every hint of nostalgia he added.

it smelt like home.

kind, inviting, warm, hopeful, home.

“it’s done!” alhaitham lets out a quiet laugh as you wrap your hands around his waist again, peeking at the food hungrily.

“it smells so good.”

“this one’s for you.” he nods, setting down your bowl after ladling steaming hot biryani into it. he finishes it off with a few padisarah petals, turning the bowl towards you.

“alright, chef. you wanna introduce your dish?” you tease, giggling softly and pushing some rice aside to reveal the chunks of spiced beef. you spoon a portion of the biryani into your mouth, chewing thoughtfully and savouring every bit of effort he put into tonight’s dinner.

“well, i wanted you to try something i grew up eating. my grandmother made this for me in my childhood years.”

you hear your spoon clink against your bowl as you set it down to rest, staring at him.

“you made me something your grandmother used to make for you?” there is a slight quiver in your voice as you comprehend his sweet words.

this wasn’t just any dinner, then. it was a part of himself that he wished to share with you. it was young alhaitham seated at the dinner table, waiting for the food every night made by his loving grandmother. it was when three wooden chairs were swapped for two new ones, when only a good plate of homemade food could make him push aside any grief. it was his grandmother’s love in a dish –constant, reliable, and never failing to bring a hint of a wistful smile to his face.

“i did. i thought you would enjoy it.” alhaitham smiles, looking up from his bowl to see you wear a sombre, yet grateful expression; but there was no denying that you were enjoying it.

you were loving every bite, immensely – it tasted just a touch heavier on your tongue after he shared – and it was beautiful. nostalgia was the most powerful ingredient one could add, and time only told the truth – everything tasted better, when made with all the love and care and conscience in the world.

“thank you, alhaitham.”

[pawpiefawn]

new writing out tonight perhaps ♡

[pawpiefawn]

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮'𝓼 𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼 . . . 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ༉‧₊˚.

── beneath the peach blossoms.

sitting beneath the peach blossoms with wriothesley ; spending time with him is always something nice, something lovely, always and forevermore. ꒰ wriothesley x gn!reader ꒱

── a sweet sunday's marginalia of love.

sunday is always farmer's market day with wriothesley ; this week, he finds a little trinket he believes you'd adore. ꒰ wriothesley x gn!reader ꒱

── this home and love.

alhaitham rarely steps into the kitchen – but when he does, he cooks you something dear to his heart. ꒰ alhaitham x gn!reader ꒱

── something simple, within the crevices of a heart.

a non-canonical au of femitano, for @/femivi – where they meet for the first (?) time, within the gardens filled with wildflowers. ꒰ capitano x femi ꒱

[pawpiefawn]

just wanted to stop by and say ur writing is sooo cute! i loved ur latest wriothesley ficlet. it made me feel so warm and fuzzy inside and i just absolutely adore the way you write! it’s hard to put into words but ur writing makes me feel so comforted and kinda nostalgic of my favorite things? it’s hard for me to put my thoughts into words but it’s kinda the feeling happiness you get from a bright summer day! something that always makes me so happy and feel so warm 🥹🥹

hi love thank you SO much for this sweet sweet ask !!!!

the way i literally gasped when i read through this – oh, u are too good to me. thank you for taking the time to stop by and deliver this heartfelt message ♡ this is such a wonderful bunch of compliments and i'm so glad that my writing can convey all these beautiful feelings to you !!! comfort and nostalgia are the two best ingredients i could ever have in my writing ; thank you so, so much :") i hope you're having a day as incredible as yourself ♡

[pawpiefawn]

hehe haii lovely 💗

hi sweetie raefawn !!! ♡ love u hope your day is going well – how has your week been !!! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

[pawpiefawn]

A WARM WELCOME . .ᐟ — kinich.

—✩ content: established relationship, reader is gender-neutral, reader is introduced to kachina and mualani, the natlan trio as a found family trope.

—✩ author’s note: here's something i wrote at work to celebrate kinich's banner release for tomorrow! may all kinich wanters be kinich havers!!! @kazuhaiku

“Say, is it me or has Kinich been… happier for the past few days?” Kachina whispered to Mualani. 

The two girls were hanging out together as always and the shorter girl was the first to bring the topic up. Mualani hums, lazily swinging her feet back and forth in the air. They sat by the edge of the edge, their feet grazing against the cooling surface of the small pool located in the People of the Springs. The pools proved to be an effective way to help the members of the tribe to cool down. 

“Hm? What do you mean, Kachina?” Mualani asked her friend, despite already knowing the reason for the male’s change of behavior. 

“Well, the two-! Wait, look over there!” Kachina was about to explain herself when she spotted two very familiar figures from a distance. She wasted no time in pointing them out, startling the nearby people from her sudden outburst as they recovered themselves and continued on their way. 

“Hm?” 

Mualani followed the direction of where she was pointing. The sight of Kinich walking together with someone nearly made her blow her cover. But she was an incredible actress; well, that’s what she hoped she was. Grinning from ear to ear, the girl wrapped her arm around Kachina’s shoulders and giggled. 

“Kachina, isn’t it obvious why Kinich is happier these days?” 

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Kachina asked, innocently blinking her eyes at her. 

“Kachina Kachina, when someone falls in love, of course they will be in a good mood! Well, it’s still too young for you to understand,” she explained, playfully ruffling the other’s hair. 

“I-In love!?” Kachina squeaked, ears turning red as if she was embarrassed by the thought of it. 

“Haha, why are you embarrassed! Come on, we should say hi to them and maybe Kinich can introduce his partner to us,” she laughed, dragging her poor friend along before she could voice her own thoughts. 

~ 

“Are those your friends? It looks like they are coming over,” you inquired, pointing ahead of you and before your boyfriend could reply, the two girls came to a stop before you. 

You had to hold back a chuckle when you saw how the shorter hid herself behind her friend, using her as protection. The sight was adorable when she snuck a peek at you, her hands gripping onto the back of the other’s clothes. Kinich on the other hand, was not amused with the unwanted interruption. He sighed, crossing his arms and arched an eyebrow. 

“What is it now?” He deadpanned, earning a light kick to his feet for his rather rude tone. 

“We were wondering who your partner is and thought we could introduce ourselves to them! You know, so we could be friends,” the girl with blue and white hair beamed, reaching her hand out for a handshake towards you. 

“Hi there, I’m Mualani! Nice to meet you, thanks for taking care of Kinich on our behalf. It’s great that he has someone as amazing as you.” 

Her compliment made you flushed slightly as you accepted her handshake. “Nice to meet you too, I’m (Name) and really, the same could be said to you too. I think Kinich is a great guy, although he could be more expressive.” 

“I’m right here, you know,” his remark was ignored by everyone. 

“And this is Kachina! Don’t mind her, she’s a little shy,” Mualani looked over to the girl who goes by Kachina, gently nudging her forward so she could properly introduce herself. 

You bent down so you were eye-level with her, not wanting to intimidate her with your taller figure. You gave her a gentle and reassuring smile. “Hi Kachina, it’s great to meet you.” 

“H-Hello (Name), it’s great to meet you too,” she stuttered over the first word but managed to regain herself, shyly smiling at you. It took all of your will to resist the tempting urge to squish her cheeks together; the sight beyond adorable for your poor heart to handle. 

“How did the two of you meet?” Mualani asked, choosing to stop beating around the bush as curiosity had gotten the better of her. 

“I had to save them when they accidentally slipped and if it weren’t for me, they would have fell to their death,” Kinich briefly explained, much to your utter horror and disbelief. 

“Kinich! Can you at least say you saved me from Saurains or something!” You whined, your response making your partner roll his eyes, sighing in exasperation. 

“Oh, was it love at first sight for you two?” Maulani teased, playfully wiggling her eyebrows. 

“I-”

“Alright, that’s enough. We have somewhere else to be, so if you excuse us, we will be taking our leave,” Kinich interrupted, pulling you away from his friends as he grabbed your hand; interlocking your fingers together. 

You managed to bid them farewell before they eventually vanished from your sight. Once they were gone, you turned to your boyfriend and couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the sight of his red ears and flushed cheeks. 

“What’s so funny?” He shot you a light-hearted glare, and you choose not to tease him. 

“Nothing, I just think you’re cute, that’s all,” you chuckled, moving closer to press a chaste kiss on his cheek. 

“Well, I think you’re ugly.”

“Hey!”

[pawpiefawn]

𝓪 𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓼𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓪𝔂'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓪 𝓸𝓯 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

❤︎ wriothesley x gn!reader 0.7k words farmer's market day with wriothesley. reader gets a necklace, but this is gn.

market days with wriothesley were a highly anticipated day within the household – they were sunny days spent at bustling stalls, whenc shopkeepers haggled their prices at haughty customers who walked away with their smiles until they got the price they wanted, their grocery lists scratched out.

you loved the sights of it all, too – cats nipping at fishermen’s boots for sardines, and pigeons longing for their chance at some breadcrumbs from a clumsy child chasing after mama.

stalls stretched out in rows to the end of the market. they were full of the freshest vegetables, stacked full with rows of yellow corn and the brightest of carrots. even the locals beekeepers brought their stocks of the sweetest, golden honey – which were rare to find nowadays.

and of course, you took great pleasure in teaching wriothesley how to choose the best of the best; he adored simply listening to you ramble on and on about recipes you wanted to make that week; it just made market days even more exciting.

“keep up, sweetheart!” you squeal, ducking behind a grocery-seller’s stall – while raking your gaze over the assortment of sweet potatoes and broccoli for the week. you gave one a poke of good luck.

“you are cheeky today, aren’t you?” wriothesley catches your sides, panting quietly and catching his breath. you could only giggle in response and press an apologetic kiss to his cheek. apology kisses, of course, were always forgiven.

alright, market days were great and all, but what you could truly spend all your afternoons doing was walking up and down the aisles of the next lane’s craft market. hundreds of artists and creators flocking to tents to share their handcrafted goodness with the city – what was there not to like? some days there were adorable prints, other days beaded jewellery and bags and everything under the sun you could possibly think of.

perhaps a resplendent trinket from one of the jewellers would catch your eye, making you stop in your tracks.

well, maybe not yours this time – but it certainly caught wriothesley’s attention.

“love, look at this,” he holds up a necklace with all the care he could muster – oh, how beautiful. it was a simple necklace; translucent string with three white pearls and a small black bead between each one. every pearl reminded you of him ; a beautiful opalescent cream, bearing a gift from the sea and a homage to the ruler of the waters.

“that’s beautiful, wriothesley.” you hear yourself gasp softly, your hands reaching out to cradle the pearls. it was stunning, truly. you find yourself offering the crafter a small smile in gratitude.

“it is, isn’t it?” wriothesley smiles and beckons you over with a simple gesture; you find yourself standing in front of him.

“turn around,” he instructs – you follow suit. there was something so lovely about the shared proximity in public; even after all these years, your lover still never failed to tease the butterflies that nestled in your tummy.

you feel wriothesley touch the back of your neck as he brings the necklace up ; you instinctively freeze up, a soft giggle escaping your lips.

“i’m sorry, dearest.” wriothesley chuckles, fastening the clasp behind your neck. you feel the weight of the necklace press against your skin comfortably – it was perfect. almost as if it was carved and put together just for you.

the man presses a soft and gentle kiss to your nape for good measure. it felt warm and supple – oh, the butterflies were certainly awake now.

“it’s beautiful.” you touch the pearls once more, staring at yourself in the mirror with a smirking wriothesley behind it.

“my taste never lies.”

“it truly doesn’t. impeccable taste, my love.” you thumb his lips and pull him closer for a quick kiss, feeling a warmth between your ribs.

“i think we’ll take this one.” wriothesley pulls apart, slightly delirious with a grin and giving the jeweller a small nod.

you laugh and bury your head into his chest, leaning against his frame. oh, how warm and lovely market days were. you would spend every day in this little bubble of yours, this sweet marginalia of love in a footnote of your adoration for him.

“i think i like this one very much.” a soft giggle slips past your lips. wriothesley pokes your chest gently, smoothing your hair back to kiss your forehead.

“i think i like this one very much, too.”

[pawpiefawn]

𝓪 𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓼𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓪𝔂'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓪 𝓸𝓯 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

❤︎ wriothesley x gn!reader 0.7k words farmer's market day with wriothesley. reader gets a necklace, but this is gn.

market days with wriothesley were a highly anticipated day within the household – they were sunny days spent at bustling stalls, whenc shopkeepers haggled their prices at haughty customers who walked away with their smiles until they got the price they wanted, their grocery lists scratched out.

you loved the sights of it all, too – cats nipping at fishermen’s boots for sardines, and pigeons longing for their chance at some breadcrumbs from a clumsy child chasing after mama.

stalls stretched out in rows to the end of the market. they were full of the freshest vegetables, stacked full with rows of yellow corn and the brightest of carrots. even the locals beekeepers brought their stocks of the sweetest, golden honey – which were rare to find nowadays.

and of course, you took great pleasure in teaching wriothesley how to choose the best of the best; he adored simply listening to you ramble on and on about recipes you wanted to make that week; it just made market days even more exciting.

“keep up, sweetheart!” you squeal, ducking behind a grocery-seller’s stall – while raking your gaze over the assortment of sweet potatoes and broccoli for the week. you gave one a poke of good luck.

“you are cheeky today, aren’t you?” wriothesley catches your sides, panting quietly and catching his breath. you could only giggle in response and press an apologetic kiss to his cheek. apology kisses, of course, were always forgiven.

alright, market days were great and all, but what you could truly spend all your afternoons doing was walking up and down the aisles of the next lane’s craft market. hundreds of artists and creators flocking to tents to share their handcrafted goodness with the city – what was there not to like? some days there were adorable prints, other days beaded jewellery and bags and everything under the sun you could possibly think of.

perhaps a resplendent trinket from one of the jewellers would catch your eye, making you stop in your tracks.

well, maybe not yours this time – but it certainly caught wriothesley’s attention.

“love, look at this,” he holds up a necklace with all the care he could muster – oh, how beautiful. it was a simple necklace; translucent string with three white pearls and a small black bead between each one. every pearl reminded you of him ; a beautiful opalescent cream, bearing a gift from the sea and a homage to the ruler of the waters.

“that’s beautiful, wriothesley.” you hear yourself gasp softly, your hands reaching out to cradle the pearls. it was stunning, truly. you find yourself offering the crafter a small smile in gratitude.

“it is, isn’t it?” wriothesley smiles and beckons you over with a simple gesture; you find yourself standing in front of him.

“turn around,” he instructs – you follow suit. there was something so lovely about the shared proximity in public; even after all these years, your lover still never failed to tease the butterflies that nestled in your tummy.

you feel wriothesley touch the back of your neck as he brings the necklace up ; you instinctively freeze up, a soft giggle escaping your lips.

“i’m sorry, dearest.” wriothesley chuckles, fastening the clasp behind your neck. you feel the weight of the necklace press against your skin comfortably – it was perfect. almost as if it was carved and put together just for you.

the man presses a soft and gentle kiss to your nape for good measure. it felt warm and supple – oh, the butterflies were certainly awake now.

“it’s beautiful.” you touch the pearls once more, staring at yourself in the mirror with a smirking wriothesley behind it.

“my taste never lies.”

“it truly doesn’t. impeccable taste, my love.” you thumb his lips and pull him closer for a quick kiss, feeling a warmth between your ribs.

“i think we’ll take this one.” wriothesley pulls apart, slightly delirious with a grin and giving the jeweller a small nod.

you laugh and bury your head into his chest, leaning against his frame. oh, how warm and lovely market days were. you would spend every day in this little bubble of yours, this sweet marginalia of love in a footnote of your adoration for him.

“i think i like this one very much.” a soft giggle slips past your lips. wriothesley pokes your chest gently, smoothing your hair back to kiss your forehead.

“i think i like this one very much, too.”

[pawpiefawn]

hope yall are REEAADDYYY cuz the next wrio ficlet comes out tonight ♡

[pawpiefawn]

𝓫𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓼 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

❤︎ wriothesley x gn!reader 0.5k words sitting beneath the peach blossoms with wriothesley. for my sweetest @sleepyqinfei.

peach blossoms – there was something just so lovely about them to wriothesley.

perhaps it was the fragility of the delicate blooms and how they reminded him of yourself ; or how he found its soft, paradoxically energetic colours pleasureful to his weary eyes. or perhaps it was the significance of its blooming in spring – beautifully welcoming him back from the cold, his unworthy witness to the beauty and celebration of a new beginning.

when he finds himself laying down beneath the peach blossoms with you that very spring, wriothesley contemplates shutting his eyes ;

rest doesn’t come easy to a tired man. he will admit it – he’s exhausted, stretched beyond his means like a tense rubber band waiting to snap. how could wriothesley breathe, with hundreds waiting on him, looking up at his pedestal?

“are you alright?” he looks back up to the sound of your voice – you, in all your sweetness – breaking him from his stupor.

“hm?” wriothesley can only blink.

“are you alright?” you repeat your question, a soft blush dusting your face as you peer down at the dozing man. he looks so peaceful ; well, almost peaceful. you see his forehead tense and his brows wrinkle in quiet frustration.

( said dozing man sits upright, leaning his back against the tree trunk. he figures he should at least attempt to look you in the eye at least once – get it together, wriothesley. )

“i’m alright, i promise.” wriothesley smiles, linking your pinky with his in a childish display of affection. there was something so comforting about your touch; warm, loving, kind, everything he wished for in a person. you.

wriothesley feels you cling onto that pinky promise a little while longer before releasing him from your grasp. you know that something is off, awkward – but pushing him for an answer would only make it worse. you'd ask another time.

“okay then!” you exhale softly, looking back up at the peach blossoms. one particular one catches your eye – a beautiful shade of baby pink, almost toeing the line of cream white – you simply couldn’t take your eyes off it. bless you, dendro archon, your work beholds all splendour.

you spend the next few moments in quiet reverence of greater lord rukkhadevata’s work ; there was not a flora or fauna that graced this planet that didn’t take your breath away. nature was a testament to the ebb and flow of love that graced the earth’s veins, pulsing and pulsing in love and gratitude and everything that you believed humankind should be known for.

wriothesley picks up a fallen peach blossom and holds it up to your ear.

“hold still, won’t you?” your lover lets out a quiet chuckle, gentle hands tucking loose strands of hair away behind your ear. you can feel the stem slide into the groove of your ear, tucked beside your temple.

“it’s beautiful, wriothesley.” you gasp softly, feeling the delicate petals. “thank you.”

he doesn’t say anything – you see a hint of a smile on wriothesley’s face instead, your gaze meeting his in tender agreement.

“you are beautiful,” wriothesley kisses your temple delicately. “please don’t forget that.”

and suddenly, everything is all right in the world again – for to wriothesley, you were as beautiful as the first peach blossoms of spring. kind, delicate, tender, warm ; everything, beneath the peach blossoms.

[pawpiefawn]

EVERYBADY CHEER I SHOW UP IN THE TAGS NOW ٩( ˃▿˂ )۶〜

[pawpiefawn]

𝓫𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓼 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

❤︎ wriothesley x gn!reader 0.5k words sitting beneath the peach blossoms with wriothesley. for my sweetest @sleepyqinfei.

peach blossoms – there was something just so lovely about them to wriothesley.

perhaps it was the fragility of the delicate blooms and how they reminded him of yourself ; or how he found its soft, paradoxically energetic colours pleasureful to his weary eyes. or perhaps it was the significance of its blooming in spring – beautifully welcoming him back from the cold, his unworthy witness to the beauty and celebration of a new beginning.

when he finds himself laying down beneath the peach blossoms with you that very spring, wriothesley contemplates shutting his eyes ;

rest doesn’t come easy to a tired man. he will admit it – he’s exhausted, stretched beyond his means like a tense rubber band waiting to snap. how could wriothesley breathe, with hundreds waiting on him, looking up at his pedestal?

“are you alright?” he looks back up to the sound of your voice – you, in all your sweetness – breaking him from his stupor.

“hm?” wriothesley can only blink.

“are you alright?” you repeat your question, a soft blush dusting your face as you peer down at the dozing man. he looks so peaceful ; well, almost peaceful. you see his forehead tense and his brows wrinkle in quiet frustration.

( said dozing man sits upright, leaning his back against the tree trunk. he figures he should at least attempt to look you in the eye at least once – get it together, wriothesley. )

“i’m alright, i promise.” wriothesley smiles, linking your pinky with his in a childish display of affection. there was something so comforting about your touch; warm, loving, kind, everything he wished for in a person. you.

wriothesley feels you cling onto that pinky promise a little while longer before releasing him from your grasp. you know that something is off, awkward – but pushing him for an answer would only make it worse. you'd ask another time.

“okay then!” you exhale softly, looking back up at the peach blossoms. one particular one catches your eye – a beautiful shade of baby pink, almost toeing the line of cream white – you simply couldn’t take your eyes off it. bless you, dendro archon, your work beholds all splendour.

you spend the next few moments in quiet reverence of greater lord rukkhadevata’s work ; there was not a flora or fauna that graced this planet that didn’t take your breath away. nature was a testament to the ebb and flow of love that graced the earth’s veins, pulsing and pulsing in love and gratitude and everything that you believed humankind should be known for.

wriothesley picks up a fallen peach blossom and holds it up to your ear.

“hold still, won’t you?” your lover lets out a quiet chuckle, gentle hands tucking loose strands of hair away behind your ear. you can feel the stem slide into the groove of your ear, tucked beside your temple.

“it’s beautiful, wriothesley.” you gasp softly, feeling the delicate petals. “thank you.”

he doesn’t say anything – you see a hint of a smile on wriothesley’s face instead, your gaze meeting his in tender agreement.

“you are beautiful,” wriothesley kisses your temple delicately. “please don’t forget that.”

and suddenly, everything is all right in the world again – for to wriothesley, you were as beautiful as the first peach blossoms of spring. kind, delicate, tender, warm ; everything, beneath the peach blossoms.

[pawpiefawn]

saw your wrio fic on my fyp and GAHDAMN I love your writing!!!! Your blog is so aesthetic and I’m looking forward to see more of your stuff!! <33

btw wrio and alhaitham are my favs too 🤭🤭

hi thank u SO MUCH !!! ♡ what a sweet ask thank you so so so much !!! if you’d like to see more of my writing, you can check out @.xianyoon ( unofficially archived ) and i have a huuge wrio fic in the works EEEKS thank u thank u thank u i appreciate you !!! sending all my love, have a wonderful week ♡