#wind Weaver au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

readychilledwine · 8 months ago

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Pleaseee please could you do obsessive acotar boys who can’t get enough of reader please?

Obsessed

Clingy ACOTAR boys headcanons

Warnings- suggestive themes, mentions of abuse, possessive vibes, death, different ideas I either tossed out or was too insecure to post in short form (including an AU where Feyre doesn't destroy Spring and Tamlin isn't turned into what he's turned into), Beron, abuse, the Weaver, Ianthe, pregnancy

Rhysand

The bond snapped after Feyre freed them from the mountain. You were walking with her, giggling about heading home to Spring.

Of course, his mate was his enemy's little sister, and of course that only further the obsession.

Rhys wanted to free you from under Tamlin's grasp, and it became his mission.

It started with daily letters that you ignored.

Then gifts brought to you by shadows.

Then he'd show up in your room. Smiling as he leaned back against your headboard. "Hello y/n Darling."

You caved after 2 weeks of his nightly visits. Allowing him to plan your "kidnapping"

He rips you from Spring with Feyre. Having convinced Tamlin that if he was so worried about his bride to be, he should send his baby sister as a chaperone.

Once he has you in his home, in your home, those soft touches you two shared at night were no longer enough

His lips were on your body constantly. Your hands, your neck, your own soft lips.

Speaking of hands, I hope you like physical contact, because he has to constantly touch you.

In public, the placement is so respectful. Lower back to the lower side, resting just about your hips, guiding you as you shop and spend his money.

When you finally warm his bed, he cancels all plans the next day to ensure he has proper time to explore your body.

He memorized every freckle, every stretch mark, every scar. He doesn't stop until he knows every ticklish spot, every spot that makes your toes curl.

His love languages are gifts and physical touch, so once you opened that box, you opened a whole can of worms.

You are pulled into unused bedrooms, his office, Azriel and Cassian's offices when they're away, supply closets. He doesn't stop until he's tasted you on every surface and in every room.

I wish you luck during the frenzy. He won't stop until you are throughly spent and bred. How else will he ensure you never leave him?

Cassian

He had admired you while you two were growing up together in Windhaven.

He watched you do your chores and got his ass kicked for it more than he wants to admit.

Even at a young age, Cassian courted you. He didn't care that the flowers he was pulling were weeds. He still turned them into a bouquet or had Rhysand's mother weave them into your hair.

That didn't change as you two grew older together. By 18, it was known you were his, and by that point, everyone knew not to fuck with what's Cassian's.

He wouldn't touch you until your chores were done, wanting to spare you what little pain he could from your father's heavy hand.

Cassian wasn't respectful with his hand placement. The male has always had high sex drive, and he found his match in you.

You and Cassian shamelessly fucked in places that had your dear mother crying. The weapon storage shed. The forest. The mess hall once it was empty.

It was no shock to anyone, especially not you and Cassian, when the bond snapped right as he was leaving for the first war with Hybern.

When he came home to you and took you to Velaris, all bets were off. Rhys settled you two into the House of Wind, Azriel into the Riverhouse, and he took the townhouse.

The two of them never flew to the House of Wind without warning you or Cassian first. To do so had them risking walking in on you riding or Cassian with his head thrown back as you screamed for him.

Cassian can't stop touching you. He can't stop talking about you. He can't stop being in love with you. Even if the only way he knows how to show it is physically.

Not that you're complaining. You didn't need to walk anywhere today.

Azriel

Azriel worshipped you the second Rhysand's mother brought you back to the cabin.

Your voice became salvation, your scent became home, and your hands healed part of him he did not even know was broken.

The bond snapped young for you two. He had just turned 18, and you were still 16. He took his distance then, allowing you to explore the world much to your own protests. You understood why after two years.

It was the most selfless thing anyone had ever done for you. He allowed you to grow without his influence, despite how painful it had to have been watching you with other males.

Your father sees this whole relationship and mateship as a benefit to him alone. He takes you and Azriel to Velaris during the war.

He unknowingly allowed the relationship to go to heights he had already said were off limits to Azriel.

The number of times you had to mask your scent during dinner because a shadow was all too happily playing in your skirts was almost comical.

The relationship between you two is never able to go beyond heated kisses, stolen touches, and lingering glances.

Even in death, Azriel comes to you, speaking to you when he's lost and lonely.

He still obsessed over you, wishing he had more time, wishing he was with you. But the pain lessened.

Being ripped from the Cauldron by Amren was painful and terrifying.

You had a new body, modeled after your old one. You were slightly taller this time, and your face was still able to send males to war.

As much as it pained Azriel, he allowed Rhysand to be the first to you. He allowed your brother to be the one to hold you as you cried, confused and asking where you were. He let Mor go next, then Amren listening as the ancient being told you it was okay and that your purpose was not finished, so she was told to bring you back. Cassian dropped to his knees before you. Holding you as he apologized.

But Azriel waited. He walked beside you in silence as you were taken to the warcamp.

All bets were off once you were in his tent.

You don't know if you rushed to him first or if he came to you, but that reunion kiss was rough. Too much teeth and tongue. Tears falling down both of your faces.

He took things slowly with you. Your first life granted you powers like the world had never seen before, and this time was no different. You could move the stars at will, silence the connect other fae shared with their magic without even having to loosen a breath.

It was final confirmation of what many already knew. Rhysand was high lord due to his cock, not his power, and that sheer fact had Azriel on his knees for you once you were ready.

You are his living goddess, and Azriel is always ready to worship.

Lucien

Eris saved both of you. He had sent you to Spring long before you could be ripped from the market in autumn.

Lucien joined you soon after. Crying to the Mother in gratitude the second you came out from hiding behind Tamlin.

You were a rare breed of lesser fae. Your kind looked similar to the high fae by all means, but your kind had the ability to communicate with every living being.

You knew the names of each tree, of each flower, every critter. You could hear the winds whispers, see the colors he asked you to, and tell them all the meaning.

Your kind had been hunted for years, much like the shadowsingers.

It made Lucien almost unbearable when it came to his protective streak. But so did this new freedom.

Lucien is shamelessly in love with you. As an emissary, he gets to travel places you will never see. But he always brings you something back because you are always on his mind.

He brings you ornaments from Winter, jewelry from Day, sea shells from Summer, clothing from Dawn.

Lucien will speak about you for hours on end. It makes Tamlin crazy at times, but seeing how naturally you two fit together quickly makes the sting of jealousy fade.

Lucien purposes under a willow tree. Your absolute favorite one that you go to for guidance. Even if the bond does not snap, he wants you as his wife.

And boy does being his wife make things interesting.

He is suddenly growling at any male who studies your body for too long. Holding you from behind at all times. Showering you with even more things.

The bond snaps after Amarantha mutilated him. It snapped as you were nursing him back to health. Reminding him his beauty has nothing to do with why you love him, but instead it is his kindness and his soul.

You two become mutually obsessed from that point forward. More often than not, you will send a bird to shit on someone if they harm Lucien in any sense.

You both can not keep your hands to yourself anymore. It was as if that scar actually sealed his place as the most handsome male you had ever laid eyes on.

He sends you away to the forest when the 50 years is coming to a close. Not caring if he dies for it.

You would be his last thought if he did. And during that second trial, you were his only thought.

Everything he had done was for your safety, and if he ever saw you again, he would whisper those one thousand words he wanted to say as he laid between your legs, and he would never let go again.

Eris

Childhood best friends to lovers? Anyone? Anyone?

Well... kind of childhood best friends.

You met Eris when he was 6 and you were 5.

Your parents were one of two shadow hound breeders, and Beron was desperate to get his hands on one of your family's pups specifically.

You had this special talent that you could use from the moment you were able to. You seemed to know which hounds needed to be bred together to create the most powerful litters. And you did it all without inbreeding.

Your family quickly took hold of the other breeder's dogs, and you, your father's pride and joy, made their lives better.

Eris becomes obsessed with you from that day forward, and Beron knows it. Hence why you two are married at the young ages of 18 and 17.

Eris is madly in love and in private is very expressive of that.

He shows his love through praise.

"You look absolutely stunning today, little fox," is a common greeting as he brings you a tray of fresh fruits, eggs, breakfast meat of choice, and toast.

The sap cuts your toast into a heart.

He's a hopeless romantic, and it kills you that no one is able to see how he is with you outside of his mother amd your parents who are waiting for the day they get to go to war for him.

The second you end up pregnant, Eris's love turned into true obsession and not the healthy normal kind between partners.

He becomes possessive and overprotective. Your suddenly moved to one of his private hunting cabins with a guard detail and private healer assigned to you and you only.

He has to have his hands on you at all times. The only exception is when he is at the Forest House.

It is love. You know that deep down, but Gods, you are lonely.

You understand why this is happening, though, when he shows up beaten and bruised, limping into your arms for any sense of comfort.

His obsession is your safety. The safety of the lives you carry.

Once you birth his twins, the game changes. The obsession is now on him not being able to get enough of your new body.

Your mom body lives rent-free in Eris's mind. He's stroked himself in his office to the thought of your fuller breasts and supple hips more times than he'd like to admit.

He loves to squeeze your hips, loving the soft feel of them.

He would have gone to war for you beforehand. He does it now.

He wants to see a crown of leaves and berries on your head, sparkling but failing in comparison to the gem he has in his bed.

He crowns you high lady during his coronation.

You are his, and he is yours, regardless of that bond never snapping. You two do not need the Mother nor the Cauldron to decide you are each other's equal and other halves. You already know.

Tamlin

You knew you were Tamlin's mate long before Amarantha. You were a well kept secret, hidden out of fear of Rhysand coming to take you as well.

You made home in The Middle. Becoming friends with the Weaver was interesting, but you two forged a relationship. You bring her food, she offers protection, so yes. You kept her fed.

Tamlin comes back for the second he allows Rhysand to take Feyre.

You two spend the week she is there in bed, fucking like rabbits until he was content.

It's dead silence when Feyre comes back. He had expected Rhysand to keep her, not hold up his end of the bargain, and he also believed their relationship to be over.

Rhys was an idiot if he thought Tamlin couldn't scent the mating bond. He was willingly handing her over, and the High Lord had to aggressively whisper that to Rhys one night in his office to get it through the other male's thick skull.

It took Tamlin tugging the bond for you for Rhysand to understand.

The Lord of Night was almost disgusted by the love and mutual need you and Tamlin shared. He felt the two of you marked him in the scent of roses and petrichor.

The two of them sat Feyre down 3 days later, and she eagerly went to Night after Tamlin finally got her to understand that while he loves her, he cannot help her and love her the way Rhys will be able to.

That freed you two up, much to Ianthe's anger, to make up for lost time all over again.

He lives between your thighs. No one can change my mind, but Tamlin is a munch, and he cannot get enough of the taste of you.

When you find out Ianthe put her hands on him, on Rhysand, on Lucien you and Feyre become a force. Ianthe selling Feyre's sisters to Hybern had been enough for you and Tamlin to begin the process of banishing her. But much to Tamlin's delight, this made you feral.

Feyre crippled the priestess, and you dragged her by her bleach and tone blonde hair to the Weaver, smiling to Stryga.

"Feyre's apology present for stealing the ring, dear friend." Feyre held a breath, fingers squeezing your wrist as the Weaver moved, scenting Ianthe's fear, blood, and tears.

"And what is this?"

The two of you look at each other, mirrored cruel smiles before speaking in unison, "Dinner."

Tamlin, Lucien, and Rhysand watched from a distance as Feyre retreated to them, and you stayed to ensure the priestess did not somehow escape. "I can see why you love her," Rhysand started slowly. "She's-"

"Everything," Tamlin stated softly. "She is everything."

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mikashisus · 6 months ago

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CONGRATS ON 200!!!🎉🎉🎉 Oh my gosh yay that's so exciting!! I am very nervous to make a rq but I rlly like your writing hehehe...

Could you maybe write something with Kazuha and a fem reader from Mondstadt? I wish I could pull something a little more specific to ask for, but I was so excited I wanted to send something in right away >< . More than anything I just wanna see him a little more in your writing <3

Memory Weaver

summary: amidst the festivities for the annual north winds celebration, kazuha stumbles upon a knight who, although sharing a dance with him, seems to be way more important than she’s leading him to believe.

pairing: kaedehara kazuha x fem!mondstadt!reader

cws: brief mentions of starvation and misogyny.

notes: ANON ILY FOR THIS, i literally write mond mcs sm it’s a crime. i took LOTS of creative liberties with this - namely taking inspo from my current genshin series that u can find here!

i have a kazu fic planned in that au already, so i decided to go with the same au here!! except the mc here is way different from the mc in leaving london. hope u enjoy!!

wc: 3.3k

The ports of Eastern Mondstadt were as lively as ever despite the sheer cold weather that hovered over the land like a blanket.

Through the winding streets lined with vendors and huge crowds, a white haired man kept a firm grip on the sword sheathed at his side. He shivered a little as a biting wind rushed past. He was not used to this weather. Not after being out on the warm, rocky seas for so long.

A group of children nearby shouted in joy as they played together, one of them holding two Mondstadt hashbrowns in their hand. They waved the food around, signaling for the others to gather around so they could all share.

“Look! That kind man gave me these for free since today is the Festival of the North Winds!”

“It’s the whole week, genius!” Another kid retorted before munching down on their piece of a hashbrown.

“Does it matter? Let’s just eat!”

Before the children could fully dig in to their meal, a cheerful voice interrupted them. Kazuha stayed to watch the interaction, pretending to shop for goods at a vendor stall nearby as to not appear suspicious to the knight that had just arrived.

He watched as the knight ruffled the kid’s hair. She sent them all a big, warm smile as they looked up at her in awe and wonder. Their eyes were practically sparkling.

“Make sure you say your prayers first!” You scolded the children, placing your hands on your hips. “If you don’t give the Queen your prayers, then she might be unhappy and curse us!”

One of the kids, a girl smaller than the rest of the group, pointed at you accusingly. “No she won’t! My Mama says that Queen Catalina is a righteous, gentle god! And that she never harms anyone!”

A loud, hearty laugh escaped your mouth as you held your stomach. “Right you are!” Your laughs, which were akin to a melody on the wind, simmered into giggles.

“So we should be grateful for all that we have because of how kind Her Majesty is. That’s why we pray— because we are returning the kindness and love that she so graciously shows us. Do you understand?”

The children were silent for a few moments, mulling over your words, before they all let out gasps of astonishment. Without another moment of hesitation, they were clasping their hands together and quietly saying their prayers to the ever generous Queen of the North Wind.

As soon as they were done, you pulled something out of the bag tied to your belt. It was fresh bread you bought earlier that morning. You split the two long loaves into pieces and gave them to the children, a soft smile playing on your lips as they thanked you eagerly.

“Make sure to share with your families, okay? We need to feed as many mouths as we can this winter.” You told them, watching as they nodded vigorously and ran off, shouting their goodbyes back to you as they did so.

Kazuha smiled before turning away from the scene, tilting his head down to avoid the intense stare tossed in his direction.

He found it quite difficult to navigate through the city because of the current festivities. According to bits and pieces of conversations he picked up from the locals, an annual festival was taking place solely on this side of Mondstadt.

The land was divided between three gods. To the far West laid Decarabian and his sheltered city that was slowly but surely becoming larger by the year. He was rumored to be a tyrannical god, who refused to let his people wander past the wind barriers he created around his territory.

To the North rested the god of blizzards, Andrius— a Wolf King with an extreme temper. Supposedly, the land of Mondstadt was mostly uninhabitable because of him. He was not fond of humans, nor did he get along well with them. He preferred to stay in his patch of land and not cause them any harm, and they did the same by not wandering into his territory. It was a mutual agreement.

And of course, here in the East sat the magnificent Queen of the North Wind. Ruling over this part of Mondstadt for thousands of years, she was incredibly favored and adored by the people. Her kingdom was quite large, taking up almost the entirety of the oceanside and the mountains that separated the East and West sides of the region.

Unlike Decarabian, she was on somewhat good terms with Andrius. Their common enemy being the god of storms was what brought them together as allies. The forming of their peace treaty was what eventually birthed her title of “The Queen of the North Wind.” It was a title that matched Andrius’ “King of the North Wind.”

The Festival of the North Winds was supposedly created more than a hundred years ago in honor of Queen Catalina, Wolf King Andrius, and the Thousand Winds of Time. It is a week-long festival that not only worshipped the three gods, but was made to thank them for their continuous guidance and protection over Mondstadt.

Last year, the festival had to be cancelled due to a small dispute between Morax, a warrior god from Liyue, and Queen Catalina. The dispute, according to rumors, had been resolved pretty quickly, but due to the fear it had invoked in the people, the Queen deemed it necessary that the festival should not continue.

Kazuha noticed that the streets closer to the castle were more lively, and filled with more color. The crowds were bigger, and the city square was packed to the brim.

He remembered Beidou’s words from earlier that morning: “Go have some fun! This festival is only once a year, and who knows when we’ll be back in Mondstadt for another! Make the most of it, kid!”

There was no curfew— he could return to The Alcor whenever he wanted. As he was debating on whether or not he should return early, a great commotion drew him from his thoughts.

A gathering of knights grabbed the attention of the bustling crowds, politely asking everyone to stop and hear the words of their great Queen. A woman with curly teal hair and eyes bright as starlight gracefully descended the stairs, her bronze skin glowing under the sun and her hands clasping together neatly in front of her.

That was her— the infamous Queen of the North Wind, standing on the steps leading up to the castle.

Kazuha stopped in his tracks, his mouth falling open in shock. He was so close, he could make out each of her facial features, even the small mole on her left cheekbone, and he could recognize that the dazzling gem sitting around her neck was a diamond shaped like an eight-pointed star.

He doubted anyone standing where he had been moments ago could see her this well. He watched as she picked up the bottom of her sparkling, white gown and was helped onto a platform by her lover.

Her radiant smile was enough to dispel any worries the townsfolk harbored, and brought hope to those that had none. She cleared her throat, and with a voice as smooth as liquid gold, spoke with a certain eloquence that only a god could possess.

“My children, it is yet another year that the Thousand Winds bless us with their protection. If not for the protection of the goddess of moments, we would not be able to live our lives freely outside the rule of Celestia.”

Her ability to captivate an entire audience was to be admired. They hung onto her every word, and not a single person dared to interrupt her speech.

“Someday, you will live freely from the gods entirely. But until that day comes, I will stand with you, and continue to fight for that freedom and that future! I will continue to record these moments in my memories for future generations, so that they may understand the past to create a brighter future! With that said, we praise the Thousand Winds! Enjoy this festival, my children, and let these Winds endure for all Time!”

As she finished speaking, the crowd erupted into ear-piercing cheers. All around him, the people were celebrating, kicking off the festival with a bang as they downed barrels of alcohol and tossed confetti and cecilias into the air.

Kazuha watched with a newfound intrigue as the Queen stepped down from the platform and joined the festivities. Had he not seen it with his own eyes, he would have never believed that a god would mingle with mortals like this.

His eyes drifted to the knight that accompanied the Queen’s side, and his eyes widened once more as he recognized them as the knight he had seen earlier— the one who had given extra food to the group of overjoyed children.

You helped the Queen down from her platform and smiled graciously. “Amazing as always, Your Highness,” you said, letting her hand go as she placed it on your head. “Would you like me to fetch you a glass of Thousand Wind Wine?”

She shook her head. “Just enjoy the festivities, my dear Dovewing Knight. You work all year long, please just take a break for once. I’ll still be here when you return to the castle tonight.”

With a retort on your tongue, she grabbed your shoulders and walked you down the rest of the stairs, gently pushing you towards the crowds. “Have fun! I have Lowen here to protect me.”

You tossed an uneasy glance to the other three knights waiting eagerly for you with smiles on their faces. Turning back to the look at the Queen, you opened your mouth to protest once more, when your best friend, Yvaine, leapt towards you and grabbed your arm.

“C’mon! This happens once a year, (Name)! The only week we have off!” She yelled over the booming music in the square. “Let’s ditch our armor and go have fun like Her Majesty said!”

“But, we’re her Archangels, we can’t—“

“Let it go!” Hunter chuckled, patting you on the back. The force of his hand hitting your shoulder made you toss a glare at him. He simply laughed. “Like she said, she won’t be going anywhere!”

You watched as your three fellow Archangel Knights removed their armor and handed it off to the Queen, who promised it wouldn’t get stolen during the festivities.

With a final groan of frustration escaping your lips, you did the same and followed your friends into the crowds. Yvaine linked her arm with yours and pointed to a dress shop. She jumped up and down, claiming the two of you needed to wear something fancy for the event.

As you flipped through a variety of handmade Mondstadt dresses, you couldn’t find one that caught your eye. Yvaine was able to find one in just a few minutes of entering the shop.

It was a short, orange dress that complimented her yellow-brown skin and amber colored eyes. The sleeves were billowy, allowing her arms room to breathe, and reached her elbows. She tied her curly, dark brown locks up into a ponytail and helped you pick out your own dress as soon as she paid for hers.

“Why not match the Queen and go for a white dress?” She suggested.

With careful deliberation— and a desire to join the festivities already —you picked out a long white, off shoulder dress and paid for it before leaving the shop.

Yvaine giggled as she dragged you around to all of the food stalls. She was more than happy to pay for your food, even if you scolded her for doing so every time.

You spent most of the first day of the festival with your best friend, who promised you that this year would be the best Festival of the North Winds that Mondstadt had ever thrown. Having only been appointed as the Queen’s elite Archangel Knights two years prior, you weren’t used to having free time like this anymore.

Being able to run around and enjoy the festival like you did in your youth brought back many memories of when you would spend this time of the year with your family. Silently, you thanked the Queen for allowing you to remember those memories, and for letting you have this week off to make the most of the festival.

Nighttime came fast, and with it, came dancing in the city square. The sun was setting over the horizon when the music picked up into a tune that made everyone want to dance.

It started with just a few people clearing the way, laughing and moving as if they were being carried along by the wind. Soon, the Queen and her lover, Lowen, joined in. The crowds cheered and threw out their praises as the two gods took the stage.

It was a magnificent sight— being able to watch the Queen twirl and flow as if she was one with the wind; as if it was guiding her along. After a few songs, she took a seat at a nearby table and ordered a few glasses of wine to enjoy as she laughed merrily and cheered on the other people who continued dancing in her stead.

Yvaine was the next to join the circle, dragging you in along behind her. The two of you, with much dancing experience, weaved your way between a multitude of couples and eventually lost sight of each other as others asked to switch dance partners.

A man with white hair ended up in front of you as the song ended, his face flushed as he panted heavily. The hand on your waist fidgeted before it pulled back slightly. He smiled gently at you, his crimson eyes welcoming and bright as he let go of your hand.

“You’re a wonderful dancer,” he told you as you took a step away from him to create space between you. “Pardon me if this sounds a little odd, but I was watching you before I got pulled in by the crowd myself. It was like watching flowing water in a stream.”

A small chuckle left your lips. “Poetic, though a little bland for my tastes. If you’re looking for compliments, I suggest you familiarize yourself with Mondstadt’s style of poetic charms.”

He raised a brow. “Oh? Is it that obvious I don’t hail from Mondstadt?”

“A little…” you trailed off as another song started, a slower tune this time, and he once again rested a delicate hand to your waist. You glanced down at the sword hanging from his hip. It wasn’t just any sword— it was a special Inazuman forged blade.

“That katana. It’s Inazuman. Handmade, correct?” You pointed out, searching his crimson eyes. He met your gaze with a small, almost fake, smile.

What was that about?

“You are correct. I would ask how you know, but you are a knight, are you not?”

You nodded. “Indeed.” He twirled you under his arm and you sighed blissfully, grabbing onto his hand once more as he pulled you back into his embrace. “I am one of Queen Catalina’s Four Archangels. It’s a pleasure to meet you, samurai of Inazuma.”

His crimson eyes flashed with recognition. He faltered in his steps a little, quickly recovering himself when you steadied him with little effort.

This could go one of two ways, you deduced.

On one hand, he could freak out and blubber his way through some sort of half-baked eloquent greeting and drop to his knees like half the citizens of Mondstadt did whenever you conversed with them. On the other, his brows could furrow with confusion and he’d give you a once over before questioning if your words were true.

No one ever expected someone like you to be one of the Queen’s elite soldiers. Whether it was because you were a woman or because you simply weren’t built like a knight, you didn’t know. You were more inclined to believe that it was the latter.

Though, you did receive a handful of comments from many people when you were first appointed about your gender. Most of them you ignored, because they were so downright stupid that it made you laugh. Others, you had half a mind to throw them in the dingiest cell in the dungeons for their incredibly disrespectful words. If the Queen had known of those insults, you were sure she would have personally sentenced them to death for their arrogance.

None of the two options you often encountered came to fruition. Instead, his reaction was an entirely different one altogether. You were not expecting him to treat you as if you were any other human being.

“You’re one of them? An honor, then, it is to meet you.” He said, his words flowing like honey from his mouth.

A poet was one who could charm their way into others’ hearts using their flowery language. You were more than familiar with poets— more so of the Mondstadt and Liyuean variety. Mondstadt poets oftentimes happened to be bards as well. They used their songs to tell stories of you and your friends’ adventures.

Almost all of them used their talents to charm their way into your good graces so as to avoid the law. However, their use of compliments and fine verses had no effect on you. As a knight, you swore an oath to protect innocents and keep everyone on equal standing in your mind. You could not let anyone get close, for fear of one day being the one to throw them into a cell.

Yvaine and the other two Archangels were special cases, though you knew that if they one day also betrayed the Queen, you would raise your sword against them without hesitation.

Letting go of your hand to take your other, the man watched as your expression soured. “Flattery will not get you anywhere with me, but I thank you for your cordiality nonetheless.”

The song ended, and the man let go of you as you stepped away from him. You sent him a polite smile. “Allow me to buy you some festival specialties. After all, this only happens once a year.”

He returned your smile and nodded. “That’d be wonderful, Miss…?”

“Oh! Right. How could I forget my greeting?” You stood ramrod straight and saluted him, the action coming naturally to you after doing it hundreds of times.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, foreigner to the Northern Winds. I, (Name) the Dovewing Knight and one of the Four Archangels of the god of memories, cordially welcome you to Mondstadt.”

He nodded curtly, bowing slightly as he placed a hand to his chest. “Thank you for the warm welcome, Lady (Name). I am Kaedehara Kazuha, a wandering samurai from Inazuma.”

You sighed softly as you relaxed your form. “Kazuha…” you tested the name on your tongue, finding it easy to flow out of your mouth. You hummed and nodded. “Well, Kazuha. Allow me to be your guide. What say you to spending this week with me?”

As a knight, it was your job to guide those new to Mondstadt and help them settle in. You weren’t sure how long Kazuha would be staying here, but you were determined to show him the joys of what it was like to live in Mondstadt during the festival season.

At least, that was the lie you told yourself to prevent your heart from continuing to race in your chest.

Kazuha’s smile was genuine this time as he visibly relaxed. “If a beautiful knight such as yourself is offering, then who am I to refuse you?”

Maybe it was the trick of the light, the glaring sun beating down on his face from over the horizon, but you could have sworn you saw a hint of red on his cheeks as he took your outstretched hand and stepped into a world completely unknown.

notes: i did not plan for it to be this long… it was going to be longer but i cut it short. if anyone would like a part 2, i’d be happy to make one! you can read more on catalina here! apologies for any errors, i didn’t edit the last half of this 🙏

#— ( 🥂 200 event. mikashisus. )#nereids' realm #dividers: cafekitsune #genshin impact #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha #kazuha x reader #genshin kazuha #kazuha x you #genshin #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha x y/n #kaedehara kazuha x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

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i-might-be-vanny · 2 years ago

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"A town that hates Phantom Thieves? Should I buy property here?"

"... Is what I would have said before I joined you guys. Ha, go team!"

shuake she-ra/catradora au i cant stop thinking about

everytime i see catra i just think "shes so goro-coded wow"

#this is a whole ass au i did not know i needed in my life until i found it #also futaba has to be entrapta #shido as shadow weaver: shido weaver #swift wind would be the monabus #maruki is horde prime and i won't be convinced otherwise

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suzy-queued · 3 months ago

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Rare and unusual tropes/AUs either or game!

Highlight the one you’d like to read or write in bold. Thanks for the tag, @callivich @energievie As a bonus, I've added some recs for stories and art in these under-served genres!

demon au or shapeshifter au My Heart Belongs To You by @sweetbee78 clones or bodyswap Kinktober 2021, day 13 [NSFW] by @psychicskulldamage medieval au or edwardian au My Sanctuary by @depressedstressedlemonzest steampunk au or cyberpunk au More than meets the eyes by @gembu-tortuesouscafeine [cyberpunk] gothic horror au or monster au Oceans of Time by @thevioletjones arranged marriage or rebound romance get the feeling (don't fight it) by @sam-loves-seb reincarnation or immortality Night Life by devovitsuasartes circus au or theatre au I Will Find You Through Time by Bebisue body sharing or telepathy In My Head by RewriteTheStars4 regency au or western au At Liberty by @callivich dreams or psychic visions weaver of fate (to your will i won't fold) by Ravenheart farm au or spaceship au Running against the wind by KeepGoing meeting for the first time later in life or reconnecting later in life The Road Not Taken by mishervellous [reconnecting story] gods au or superheroes au The Guardians by @andthatisnotfake [not quite gods but close!] epistolary or crossover Mickey + Ian's Bullshit Journal by GrandSelfMythology pirate au or spies au Slick back My Hair (You know the Devil's in There) by @wehangout [hitmen, but it's close to being spies!]

#tag game #fic recs #gallavich fics #tropes

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the-whumpening · 5 months ago

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The Pet Tiger, #12 [nsfwhump AU]

Prev | Masterpost | Next

CW: Dehumanization, pet whump, pet training, magic whump, brainwashing/hypnosis, “it” as a demeaning pronoun, reference to previous/future noncon, choking, emotional manipulation, Ozmund is a BULLY

12: Rules

With a tug of Ash’s leash, Ozmund leads him from his study out into the winding halls of the manor. Ash very nearly stands to walk behind him, but some fuzzy part of his brain thinks better of it, instead allowing his sore hands and knees to scurry along the polished wooden floors. Ozmund tuts affectionately at the sight.

“See? You’re already learning. A pet is below its owner, isn’t it? That’s why you walk on all fours, little tiger cub.” He scratches Ash’s hair, the splinters of ice in his spine mingling with the warmth of the fog filling his head. Please, more! (Please, stop!)

But, to Ash’s surprise, even between the warring needs for praise and control battling in his thoughts, the point sticks: he’s learned his first rule.

I am a pet. Pets are meant to crawl.

As Ozmund leads Ash in a tight heel along the corridors, he continues his explanation. “Like I said before, pet, I am a very busy man. I’m sure you’d imagine the life of an accomplished wizard to be leisurely and glamorous, but truthfully, it can be incredibly boring. I can barely squeeze in time for my own research with all the dilettantes and politicians clamoring for my attention. And that’s where we’re headed now: I have an important meeting to attend to this afternoon, and you are going to accompany me.”

At the hesitant tilt of Ash’s head—me? How could I possibly help?—Ozmund laughs. “Not for your keen intellect, naturally! No, no; you’re coming along for entertainment. Just something pretty to look at.”

Just to look at, not to touch? Ash silently sighs in relief. But as his muscles finally start to unclench, Ozmund continues.

“Of course, pets are always a good tool for making connections with an associate. When they’re distracted playing with a pet, it’s quite easy to sway them to do whatever you like. Even after your disastrous performance last night, I’ve already received correspondence from several influential guests approving my requests—and asking to see you again.”

Ozmund stops short of a doorway, the abrupt change pushing Ash back onto his heels. He bends at the waist to lock his eyes on Ash’s once again.

“Some of my visitors will hurt you. Is that understood? Nod for me, pet.” Ash nods, hiding the lump forming in his throat. “It is not a pet’s job to decide who may touch them or how. A good pet will endure anything I permit my guests to do. As you are still healing from last night, I will not allow anyone to harm you today. Instead, you will stay beside me, and I will tell you what to do. Nod if you understand.”

He nods again. Although he’s grateful for the reprieve, Ash can’t help but wonder why Ozmund even cares at all, given that he had no problem causing the injuries in the first place. Is it somehow . . . guilt? Does even Ozmund have a limit to his cruelty? If he does, Ash can’t begin to fathom exactly where that line lies.

Satisfied with their one-sided talk, Ozmund leads Ash into a comfortable sitting room, where a pair of Weavers are already waiting.

“Ah, there you are, Greenthorn,” one says, raising his teacup in greeting. “And who’s this fellow? May I?” The lanky, bald cultist sets down his tea and reaches a hand out as if beckoning a stray cat.

Ash looks to Ozmund for instruction; just like last night, Ozmund’s expression has solidified into a mask of perfect, placid calm. This guest’s impatience has clearly irked him.

“Apologies for the delay,” Ozmund smoothly replies. “Last night’s events have thrown my schedule into disarray; I’m sure you understand.” He snaps and points to the ground—Ash obediently sits back on his haunches—then places the length of Ash’s leash into his mouth. “Take your leash, pet, and go say hello.”

As Ash shakily crawls towards the man’s open hand, Ozmund continues, “This is my latest acquisition. He’s still in training, so please forgive his . . . imperfect habits. Do be gentle with him; he was used quite thoroughly yesterday.”

Though the memory of the night before makes Ash’s stomach turn, his muddy brain sinks deeper into the docile fog. I am a pet, he reminds himself. My Master decides when, how, and by whom my body is used, even if it hurts.

His knees scrubbed tender from the rug, Ash presents himself for the Weaver. He drops his leash into the man’s outstretched hand and ducks his eyes, murmuring a quiet, “Hello, sir.”

Delighted, the man coos, “Oh, look at that! Aren’t you precious?” He scratches Ash’s hair and rubs his ears—not too rough, just the same as petting a cat.

Through the haze of affection, Ash notices the Weaver’s companion. They seem . . . displeased. Disgusted, even. Something about their glare makes his stomach ache; has he done something wrong?

At the man’s continued praise, his companion finally speaks up. “We don’t have time for you to play with that thing, Valen. I don’t know how you can even stand to touch it.” He shudders. “Honestly, Greenthorn—this whole half-breed business is . . . disturbing. This isn’t where our donations go to, is it?”

Valen rolls his eyes and gives Ash his leash back. With a gentle pat on his backside, he ushers Ash to Ozmund once more. “Go on back to Master, little one.”

As Ash returns to Ozmund’s side, he can feel the tension in the air become thicker and thicker. He bites back a whimper as Ozmund strokes his fingers through Ash’s hair—his nails scratch Ash’s scalp with each pass, as if using Ash to relieve his anger.

Ozmund chuckles, but the darkness never leaves his eyes. “Of course not, Mr. Crane. I am perfectly capable of financing my own personal research. Now”—he leans forward, an intimidating aura emanating off him in waves—“do you wish to continue insulting both my integrity and my property, or would you rather discuss our business civilly? I’m sure your Loomer would love to hear about the outcome of this meeting.”

Valen shoots an anxious glance to Crane, who only sputters and huffs in response. Placing a hand on his companion’s shoulder, Valen answers for him. “Excuse my colleague, Mr. Greenthorn; he sometimes speaks without thinking. What he meant to say is that we’re excited to hear about the progress of our project.”

Satisfied, Ozmund relaxes back into his chair, his hand on Ash blissfully loose and gentle. As they settle back into business talk, it doesn’t take long for Ash to tune out the dull conversation, only listening for potential commands.

I am a pet. My job is to be pretty and sit still and do what my Master tells me to.

The meeting drags on for hours. After being so disoriented all day, Ash is surprised to catch pink rays of sunset through the windows—is it that late in the day already? The fog in his head had slowly lifted over the afternoon, but he still feels out of sorts. However, the loud rumbling in his belly confirms it, and Ozmund chuckles at the sound.

“Hungry, little cat?” He glances to the complex, magical timepiece hanging on the wall. “I’m afraid we’ll have to call this meeting finished, gentlemen. I’ll be sure to have someone send along any documents you need as they show you out.”

Without waiting for a reply, Ozmund sees himself out, dragging Ash alongside. After a brief whispered exchange with a servant, he nudges Ash along into the dining room and takes his place at the head of the table. Ash kneels beside him—anxiety grows in his gut as the fog in his head clears—and Ozmund removes his leash.

“That’s a good boy,” Ozmund murmurs, distracted. “You did well, little cat—though much wasn’t asked of you, to be fair. And with that meeting out of the way, we can get back to your routine.” He smirks and pets Ash’s hair teasingly. “It seems your body already knows when to expect dinner, so that’s good. You’ll be having your evening meals with me every night, though you’ll usually have breakfast with Faye. Typically, I host guests at dinner, so your presence may be required. Ah, here we are—”

A small swarm of servants descend upon the table, artfully depositing gorgeous china plates full of fragrant food in front of Ozmund. Ash averts his gaze; he can’t be sure he’ll be allowed anything at all, and the smells are torture enough. But as he ducks his head, the scent only grows. One of the servants has placed a plate in front of him on the floor—shallow and rimmed, like a bowl one would use to feed a cat. The bowl is overflowing with juicy meat and vegetables, all chopped into fine, bite-sized pieces and swimming in a thick broth.

Is this . . . for me? Am I allowed to eat it? Is this a trick? Ash turns the possibilities over in his mind, disturbed at the ease with which he submitted to Ozmund earlier. Of course he lies; of course he sets traps. Why did I think he wouldn’t?

As most of the servants retreat back into the kitchen, Ash braves a glance in Ozmund’s direction.

“Yes, that’s for you, little cat,” Ozmund confirms, smirking knowingly. “If I provide you food, I expect you to eat it without question. I even had the staff cut it up so nicely for you. Isn’t that thoughtful? I imagine it would be difficult to eat from your bowl otherwise.”

Of course there’s a catch. Ash raises an eyebrow; he knows better than to speak out of turn now, especially with food on the line. Ozmund sighs, placing a hand on top of Ash’s head.

“Pets don’t use forks and knives, do they? That’s just silly. And they don’t use their hands like a person, either. So how does a pet eat, darling?” His hand trails to the back of Ash’s neck, brushing his hair behind his ears along the way. “Show your Master how a good pet eats.”

With one firm motion, Ozmund presses Ash’s head down to the bowl, forcing him down onto his belly with his hips in the air. His face lands squarely in his food dish; he sputters and bucks his neck, desperate for air. When Ozmund finally releases him, Ash can’t restrain the baleful, watery glare in his eyes.

Ozmund only laughs.

“Oh, look at you,” he coos, using the cloth napkin from his lap to clean the mess from Ash’s face. “Poor thing. You’ll get the hang of it, my love. It’s in your nature, after all.” Once Ash is clean, Ozmund kisses his forehead and breathes into him, “Go on and eat, kitten. We still have much to discuss.”

Just as before, Ozmund’s saccharine-sweet breath leaves Ash feeling woozy and confused. He returns to his pet bowl, savoring his meal without complaint or hesitance. Absently, he acknowledges how easy it is to eat with the pieces cut so small. Maybe he should be a little grateful . . .

“Now, today has been quite easy,” Ozmund continues, his plate somehow emptying despite never seeming to lift his fork. “Most days will be quite a bit more busy, and you will be expected to keep up. In the morning, Faye will retrieve you for breakfast and grooming. Then you’ll accompany me as you did today until dinner. After dinner is training and readying you for your nightly duties. Faye will typically handle those as well. You will then be delivered back to my quarters—or wherever I should need you—and I shall return you to your bed when you’re dismissed. Do you have any questions?”

Ash’s foggy brain tries its best to keep up with the deluge of information, but something keeps sticking. He can guess well enough what “nightly duties” are expected of him—as much as he loathes the thought—but what does Ozmund mean by “training?” Wary, he raises his head, but he can’t find the strength to speak. Is he even allowed to?

I am a pet. I do not speak unless prompted.

Chuckling, Ozmund pats Ash’s head sympathetically. “You may speak, pet. But remember your manners.”

As if commanded, Ash’s voice returns to him, albeit shaky and weak. “T-Training, Master?”

Ozmund clicks his tongue in disappointment. “Have you forgotten already, love?” His hand glides down Ash’s neck to the golden chain around his throat. It slowly cinches tighter and tighter under Ozmund’s touch, pressing the sides of Ash’s throat until his vision turns fuzzy. “Have I been going too easy on you? Is even this little rest undoing all our hard work? Think back, darling, to your first days here as my pet. Go on.”

All at once, the heavy cloud over Ash’s thoughts dissipates, and he can think clearly again. The memory rushes back—the heavy iron collar squeezing his throat; the foreign, intrusive plug in his ass; the first time he was brought to his knees before Ozmund; the bitter taste of the word “Master” on his lips. Although that same formal “training” had been halted while Ash recovered from his week locked in his cage, he realizes now that Ozmund had never truly let it go. At every opportunity, he gives Ash the same one-word commands as before, and Ash stupidly follows along each time, always promising himself it’ll be the last.

He’s been tricking me—brainwashing me! Is that why I’ve been out of it all day? Is he using a spell to keep me dumb and tame?

“Y-you . . . You-you—!” Ash sputters, scrambling to pull away from Ozmund’s grasp, though some unseen, untenable force seems to stay latched onto his psyche.

“Me? Me?” Ozmund taunts. “’Me’ what, little cat? Is it me that makes you kneel so beautifully when I say sit?”

Without thinking, Ash falls back on his haunches, his bare ass resting on his heels and his chest pushed up and out. He grinds his jaw in shame. It’s a reflex; it’s just a trick. It doesn’t mean anything.

Ozmund doesn’t let up, though. “No, I didn’t think so. Is it me that forces your plump little lips apart when I say open?”

Again, Ash’s body acts against his will. His jaw drops wide, his tongue lolling wet and lustful above his still-bruised lip. He can feel the dulling in his eyes and the slip of his consciousness—his mind is fighting to be anywhere but here.

“Look at you: dumb and obedient, as you should be. It’s in your nature, pet.” Ozmund’s hand cups his cheek, his thumb pressing into Ash’s drooping mouth. “It’s just domestication, love. All these instincts—they’re ingrained deep within you. Everyone can see it; even Evius knew it.”

No. That can’t be true. And yet, Ash can’t help but recall how wild and undignified he was when he and Evius first met; did Evius see through him even then? Did he only think of Ash as a pet, too? Something to be tamed or coddled—not quite a person at all. It’s not true . . . Is it?

“You just need a little push”—Ozmund forces his thumb further into Ash’s mouth, pressing on his tongue—“to perfect those skills, to hone your nature. But don’t worry, that’s why I’m here. I’ll mold you into exactly who you’re meant to be.”

Ash doesn’t know what to believe. His head is too full of fog and conflicting thoughts; he stumbles blindly down each path as he tries to latch onto something, anything. But all he can manage to grasp is the thorny, painful reality:

I am a pet. No, I’m not! I am. I am . . . just an animal.

Taglist: @whumped-by-glitter @lumpofsand @corbytheking @scoundrelwithboba

@tired-human09 @darke-phoenix515

A/N: Idk, I'm not in love with this chapter, but I think it's important to still let go and post it even if it's not perfect. There's definitely important stuff here, but I'm just not in love with how it all shook out. I do have plans for this little mini-arc though, so that'll unfold in the next couple chapters.

#whumpblr #whump writing #whump #writeblr #dnd whump #whump community #tigerverse #rublewriting #the pet tiger #pet whump #magic whump #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #tw choking #emotional whump #tw gaslighting #brainwashing #edit to add read more

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i-lavabean · 4 months ago

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Beta

(from the Wind Weaver au @quiche-draws made)

#my art #art #horizon forbidden west #illustration #hfw beta #wind weaver au #that’s the Far Zenith symbol I just thought it was neat #Wisp the spirit jerboa makes a cameo #lavabean art

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han-ban-bam · 1 year ago

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She’s removing the dust and grit from the hand mechanism, it’s a delicate job

more of @quiche-draws wind weaver au 💖

#quiche draws #wind weaver au #admiral Kotallo #wind weaver aloy #kotaloy au

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setavvo · 1 year ago

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Drew this a while back for @quiche-draws's Wind Weaver AU and now Quiche has posted her very first fic about it huhu it's so magical!

Read it here on AO3 - The Wind Calls

#wind weaver au #wind weaver aloy #admiral kotallo #horizon forbidden west #kotaloy #the sky admiral and the wind weaver #horizon forbidden west au #my art

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zealousfandoms · 6 months ago

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(Spider Simon AU headcanons)

The Rules when visiting the Weaver:

-If you see yourself in the forest and see an abandoned farm with many hanging shiny stuff by a web like spoons, fork, rocks, stones and wind chimes. Chances are your near the barn where the "Weaver" resides.

-Offer up anything near a rock. A torn peice of cloth, a doll, a shiny penny, needles, thread, sewing kit. anything you offer up will do good. maybe the next dayYou'll hear knock on your window and see a gift sent your way. (Animals is also ideal especially birds)

-Simon's webs are black. they also tend to be more stickier than normal webs as Simon is still a Veldigun. Tho Simon manage to make his webs non Velidi-goop when he mends/gifts something back to a human. (its not specified how he managed too)

-Simon hangs up anything shiny with his webs because his partner "The Flock" likes to pick up shiny things. Since Ravens and Crows tend to do that so Simon hangs them up outside and when it's too crowded inside the barn. Then outside will do where it helps place his territory. And a warning to any Veldiguns.

-Simon fixes things. he wasn't called the Weaver for no apparent reason. He would fix up any wounds with his webs. When you are found near his territory. And fixes old dolls like raggedy Ann dolls. Or any peice of Cloth around.

-Flock also gets random stuff and brings it back to Simon. So offer something when you hear the familiar sounds of a flock of Crows near your way. If you don't you'll be promptly chased and shooed away.

-Be careful to not get snared on his traps especially at Night. Unfortunately some of those traps are black webs and goopy so most of the chances are you are at your end. (Unfortunately Simon cannot do anything about this as your far too gone anyway.) Tread carefully when visiting.

-if you manage to get inside the barn congrats you'll see a sign where you can get a free doll for all your troubles in the front porch.

#spider simon au #dreams of an insomniac #doai the flock #doai simon #simon pastra #flock pastra #pastraspec

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hcdragonwrites · 1 year ago

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A Mountain of Sweets

(a @journey-to-the-au fic) Tea Trouble part 1

Ok! This is a part one of two- yes I did it again I wrote something that’s a biiiiit longer then I want to subject y’all to in one post- so I had to split it. ENJOY!

Today would be glorious.

Earth Reaching Willow had to make sure everything went perfect. She had woken early, disentangling herself from her cuddle buddy of Wukong, Pear and several new babies who had begged for a story and had fallen asleep on Willows arms and in her hair. She dressed simply and made her way to the kitchen to help get a head start.

Her sisters were coming to visit.

All six sisters.

Everything had to be perfect, it would go perfect. It would go amazingly well. Willow had already started upon the tea cakes and tarts, picking the best peach jams and stuffings. Willow selected the finest green tea brand. Willow pulled the tea set gifted to her from Guanyin on her Wedding day, a spectacular peace of simple white porcelain laced and decorated in blossoms. She grabbed the finest tray and collected the sweetest teacups. When the teacakes and tarts finished she settled herself into the work going through the cold storages and ice boxes for the best fruits and seeds to fry. A plethora of moon tea cakes, of coconut cakes, and bean cakes was slowly being created. Willow roasted pine nuts, she fried small breads and cut the cold stored fruit into harmonious shapes of lotus blossoms and stars.

All seven sisters were coming to visit Flower Fruit Mountain. Stress strung her tighter then a bow for two reasons. The first of course was to impress. Her sisters would finally see how beautiful the world is here, to see how the Earth was not something to turn their nose up at. It was a paradise that consistently changed, that surprised her with every hand painted dawn and new sketched night. No two days were the same, no two phases of the moon were similar. The world was cast in shades and colors and music that Willow hoped- that she prayed - her sisters would see.

The second reason for her stress was … all six of her sisters were coming to visit.

Summer Turning Flower, her second sister and her mothers daughter. Winter Frosted Grace, with her cold confidence and calculations. Autumn Leaves Falling, who could charm a raging storm with a smile. Wind Over Sea, the swiftest and most eager to please. Weaves The Clouds, who liked to prank and tease. And Little Weaver Girl, the sweetest and youngest of the sisters.

Seven sisters of Heaven and … Willow worried for her sweet family here on the Mountain. Back when the Heavens didn’t corral the daughters in so tightly, on a summer night, they had decided to visit the earth. They had snuck out and taken their fathers best heavenly steeds- both as protection and as a mode of transport- to take a night among the mortals. It was a jaunt and play at rebellion, one Willow and Flower had been in planning for years. They had escaped the court, laughing with the abandon of children. Down to earth the seven sisters upon seven steeds had come a galloping. They had gone to the closest river, the shiniest bend of liquid night, and had slipped from garments to nothing. They had swam with abandon, laughed and splashed. The joy of that night gave Willow a beat of heart sickness. She missed those days when the sisters had laughed and schemed together.

They had been so naive then. So carefree. A taste of that joy was just in her memory, a warm brush against her senses. Like a ghost of a feeling.

“Willow?”

She turned seeing a very sleepy and very tired Wukong blinking at her. His fur was mused. His face still carrying the lines of sleep as he yawned wide and rubbed at his eyes.

“I was wondering where you had gone.” He came walking forward into the kitchen reaching for her hand. Willow stepped forward and took it. Wukongs eyes widened at the counter behind her- the red practically swallowing the polished gold of his pupils. “It is so early still, My Willow Tree.”

Willow felt a bit of her face flame. Just a little, as the Monkey King stepped up to the counter and looked at her mornings work. Wukong tugged her hand.

“Tell me you haven’t been up all night making these.” His faced begged her to counter his assumption. How else could she have accomplished so much in so short a time?

“Only since the first chime of the bell.” Willow sheepishly tucked a stray hair behind her ear, looking to the floor, to the ceiling, everywhere but her sweet friends face.

“The first chime! Willow- that was six Chimes ago!” He admonished and her husband was suddenly larger- leaning into her face and taking away her ability to duck his looks. Drat Wukong. Her friend may be uncomfortable with direct eye contact but he would quickly forget about it when it came to things of this nature. He now used his magic to make it so she could not escape his scrutiny.

“That was the turning of the night Guards! I could have had the chefs start the preparations. You did not have to wear yourself out.” Wukong gently put a finger to her chin, tilting her head up. A thumb ran beneath her eye, shadowing the dark circles that had made nests below.

“… “ Willow was caught. She had nothing to say in her defence. She had just been so nervous- so nervous and wanting to impress the impossible expectations of her sisters. Wukongs eyes softened, the gold going warm , honey melting into warm embers.

“Oh Willow what has you so worried.” He held her face in his hands gently, not caging her in but holding her so she could not deny or run from it. A simple I am here that grounded her.

“I just want everything to be perfect.” Willow sighed. She held one of his hands with her own. Wukong twined his fingers with hers, rubbing the backs with the pad of his thumb. “I want them to love Earth and see how much I love it. How beautiful it is. This whole place- everyone here- I love it so Wukong. I just …”

“Princess,” He kissed her brow, the places beneath her eyes where those shadows nestled. His smile was the soft curve of the moon at night, all soft light and kindness. “Your sisters will love it because you love it. You have nothing to worry for.”

“You say that but…”

“Willow,” he tapped her nose, tucking and tugging her into his arms, “if you wear yourself out before they have even started their decent from Heaven, I will bring Beng in here to scold you for the lack of sleep.”

His breath tickled her ear as he threatened Willow. She gave a mock gasp, looking up from her place beneath his chin.

“Not Beng! He scolds with his face.” Willow scrunched her face in the best Beng impression she had, the one the medicine monkey wore when his patients clearly ignored his advice. Wukongs face broke into laughter, a delightful waterfall of vibration along her back. “He may never say a harsh word but his face speaks enough to make my ears turn red.”

“My point exactly.” Wukong said. He grew a bit larger, setting Willows feet on his own. He started to walk her back, puppeteering her away from the kitchen in the goofiest way. “Now come on…”

“But…” Willow looked at the rice cakes, the bountiful mess and harvest of her labour. Was it enough?

“No one will touch the cakes.” Wukong promised. “No one would think to today of all days to do that. All of the mountain is abuzz and they want today to go off without a hitch.”

“I just … “ want to impress them. Want to impress you. I want there to be harmony between the love of my family in Heaven and the love of my family On Earth. “I want you to be happy with them.” She said out-loud.

Willow didn’t get to see the way the monkeys eyes went from honey to butter at her words. He melted against her, draping her in fur and twining his tail around her waist.

“Oh my Willow Tree.” He said it so softly, eliciting Willow to look up. Just in time, for Wukong had her legs out from under her and had swung her around onto his side. He was carrying her almost like the mothers did to their babes, close but with one hand on the ground. Willow curled into him, seeing the tender admonishment in her friends eyes.

“Come. Back to bed with you. The littles are all upset their Grandmother left without morning kisses and Pear is particularly beside herself.” Before she could say more, Wukong was loping away and back to their room where a barrel of littles came climbing and begging for cuddles and kisses. Wukong worried not for the snacks Willow had made. He more or less worried about the the stores she had burned through in those six chimes.

For Willow, in all her worry, had made a mountain of tarts, a landslide of teacakes, a sea of fried breads and foodstuff, that spilled and took over not one but four of the longest counters in the kitchens.

As he looked down on her, still holding him as she cuddled and cooed to the little monkeys he thought, fondly and with humour, “What am I going to do with you and your habit of baking us under a mountain of sweets?”

It was only a short time later that Ma and Ba crept into the kitchen, tempted by the smells of sweets and baking.

“Just one won’t hurt.” Ba grumbled. He wouldn’t admit it to Willow- but her food had woken him from his tangle with Chestnut and their little Lychee.

“Of course.” Ma said, stepping up to the counters with her tail excitedly flagging. She was still in the dregs of her recent release from postpartum depression. Willow had gently, for weeks, left foodstuffs and sweets outside her and Bengs hut. A kindness and a gesture Ma was so thankful for. Between Pomelo and Mulberry, she was practically spent with energy. She had also smelled the sweets being made and … couldn’t help herself.

“Willow wouldn’t mind one missing…” or two. Or ten.

Neither of the Marshals however, noticed the ice blue eyes open from a perch just above them, a cracked fracture in the wall.

“If you touch a single one of Willows cookies for those Celestials,” the cold voice of Xinshu whipped out like an adder freezing the twins in place “I will personally see your pelts pulled and turned into mud rugs.”

Xinshu fell as silent as a snow cat from her perch. Her teeth were barred in a threat. “I won’t have you two making us look foolish because you ate all of the baked goods.”

Ma and Ba, caught and cowed, scuttled away from the white simian in all her fury. If they had lingered long enough to see, to peek back in, they would have seen Xinshu look at the sweets. Like at a peach tart. And slide it into one of the pockets in her belt

#hcwrites #writing stuff #hcfanfics #for journey to the au #FIRST PART DONE #HERE WE ARE A CUTE LITTLE PRECURSOR TO THE DRAMA ABOUT TO UNFOLD #jttw au #jttw tag #sun wukong #jttw sun wukong #earth reaching willow #Wukong being big fluffy man who likes to walk his wife on the tops of his feets ? yes #am I a sucker for cute actions and romantic things? yes #have I stres baked before? YES #I listened to Hoizers new album with this. but the one that I really liked is “All Things end’#it’s that chorus man it’s like an anthem of the heart.#i love it #this is so fun to write pls #ENJOY IT ALL OF YOU #these monkeys have me in a choke hold but it ain’t bad #it’s so FUN TO WRITE FOR ALL THESE PEOPLE #It helps me also when I write my stuff because I am my OWN worse critic #like if it’s for me I am nitpicking everything and chewing it over #writing for others helps me not be over critical.#BUT ALSO WRITING CUTE LITTLE INTERACTIONS IF FUCKEN FUN PLS #HOW WUKONG COMES IN ALL SLEEPY FOR WILLOW #LIKE imagine home waking up and popping his head out of the cuddle nest and going ????? wife???? wife missing????#He had to leave a double for the littles to snuggle on #WRITING XINSHU BECAUSE HER BEING SNEAKY OVER MA AND BAS SHENANIGANS #ALSO FRUIT TROOP IS COMING

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