The Full Series: My Little Girl by Tim McGraw
Main Story: Home To Me
Concept Summary: Macaque gets revived much earlier and instead of being able to immediately track down and kill Sun Wukong. He gets side tracked by on a side quest that leads him to adopting a baby. He is in complete denial about being a dad almost the whole time.
Whumpee who just needs to cry and repeatedly ask for reassurance over and over because just because it’s over doesn’t mean they feel it yet. They hate it, hate being weak and needy and pathetic, why couldn’t they just get it through their head-
But Caretaker understands, and holds whumpee in their lap, repeating the same sweet answers for hours. Yes, you’re safe, yes, I love you, yes, no one is upset with you, yes, yes, yes.
POV: The worst person you've ever seen finds your post and completely misunderstands your post and also your fav character and now you got to add some extra trauma to your OC to prove a point
i've been wanting to do this panel redraw since the one year anniversary of drunk shadowpeach shenanigans (Jan. 5th) but then things got in the way and i forgot about it-
well, better late than never :>
The kind of shit he'd pull whenever he's in an argument with Wukong about a decision on something, just to make him feel guilty thus make him agree to Macaque's idea...
A Sun Wukong one-shot for my Au. You should probably read Home To Me before reading this!
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Nearly five hundred years without his staff left Sun Wukong bored. Nothing really to do outside of laze about his home. Wukong picked up hobbies, and just as quickly picking them up he dropped them. He meditated for a solid two hundred years at one point. Before eventually just settling on traveling. Exploring the world in his many transformations to blend in. Glamour himself to interact with humans until he finally found himself back at his mountain, attempting to relax from another hundred or so years of travel- really he lost track a while ago, so swept up in the way civilizations and cultures change with time like sand being shifted by wind.
When he returned he was not surprised by how close- yet always so far -humanity had built a city close to his hidden paradise. He was surprised, however, by the change in energy from it. Something unhuman, celestial or demon he was unsure of. But his best bet was demons, as celestials rarely mingled amongst humans. So, deciding his journey of just doing things was not done. The Great Sage found himself wandering into the city. Following the source as he got closer. Only sensing it grow stronger with every step forward.
Another surprise struck again, when the source seemed to come from a seemingly normal family. A woman with long red hair looking at a stack of zucchinis in the store. Her husband, a tall man with glasses, distracted a small baby in his arms. Wukong was certain his senses were tricking him when honing in on which one was causing such an energy shift. Only to find it was the baby girl in the man's arms. Wide eyes staring at the world with quiet curiosity. Long black hair the same shade as his draping over his arms. Her eyes land on Sun Wukong. Who can’t help but momentarily freeze in place.
She smiled at him, a tiny hand moving in the motion of a wave. He gently waves back, the gears in his mind turning. This seems to catch the attention of the mother. Who had looked up at her daughter at just the right time to follow her line of sight. The woman paled even more. Turning to whisper something to her husband and the two moved towards the checkout.
It doesn’t take his Golden Sight of Truth to easily piece together that the mother was a demon. Most demons sensed him through the glamour he put up. Even if they didn’t see directly through it. Well aware his energy was vastly different from the other creatures that walked the Earth. Still, he uses the power anyways to get just a glimpse of what demons were hiding beneath such disguises.
The mother was a succubus, the long, elegant horns and deep grey skin gave it away. Her long tail wrapped around her waist to keep out of line of strangers. The father was Fen Yang. A demon of the soil or the earth with a sheep-like aspect. A sheep-like being of the earth, sometimes said to be born in wells. Known for invading tombs to eat corpses. But neither were similar in appearance to their daughter.
Their daughter who looked human mostly, outside of the ears and tail that reminded Wukong of a puppy. Decorated in stars and constellations in a purple hue. His eyes narrowed.
None of them were human, sure, that was easy. But what in the world was that girl? He tried to rack his brain of the many demons he’d encountered. To narrow it down to something but none of them fit right. Sun Wukong found himself silently following them. Hidden as he was guided to their home. Mind rotating all the knowledge of demons he knew. Only to fall short.
Nothing fit the description, or the energy she emitted. It made no sense. Wukong’s mind briefly flashed the idea the couple stole her from another demon family. But that only added to the confusion. The question of how, of why, of what only persisted with it.
Demons rarely stole from each other. An unspoken truce to not begin an endless cycle of bloodshed between bloodlines for the most part. Sun Wukong knew from experience that demons and their families held grudges. And even more so, that demons held blood family in high enough regards that stealing one of their own could be considered a death sentence.
“What are you doing?” Wukong asks as soon as the small family enters their home. The father immediately shields the mother and child. Both of them are a mix of fierce protection and fear. Only perplexing the Great Sage more. What were they doing with this child?
The girl herself seemed only enamoured with him, curious as ever as her dark brown eyes stared deeply into his.
The question hung in the air like a drawn blade.
The home was modest, warm, lived-in. Protective charms tucked into corners, sigils worked subtly into the doorframe, the kind that didn’t keep gods out but asked them politely to reconsider. Wukong noticed all of it in the same instant the father did, because the man stiffened, realizing just how far out of his depth he truly was.
The succubus moved first. She straightened, one hand instinctively covering the baby’s back, tail flicking beneath the glamour. Her voice, when she spoke, was steady, but it trembled at the edges. “We’re raising our daughter.”
Wukong blinked.
“…That,” he said slowly, “does not answer my question.” His eyes narrow like he’s caught them in a nefarious act. The Fen Yang swallowed. He shifted, placing himself squarely between Wukong and his family. There was fear there, yes, but also resolve. The kind that came from a creature who had already decided that if things went badly, he would not survive them. Sun Wukong eyed them both carefully.
“She’s ours,” he said. “By choice. By blood. By fate, whatever word you want.” The father spoke with finality, like he was waiting for the blow that would kill him. Tension in the room only rising in the brief silence.
The baby chose that moment to squirm, little tail flicking excitedly. One tiny hand reached past her father’s collar, fingers grasping air in Wukong’s direction. She giggled.
It was… disarming.
Wukong had faced the Jade Emperor without flinching. He had laughed in the face of demon kings and celestial generals alike. He had been buried under mountains, burned in furnaces, erased from the ledgers of Heaven.
Yet here he stood, utterly derailed by a child with star-flecked ears.
“…She sees me,” he murmured.
The succubus’s eyes widened. “You didn’t hide it from her?”
“I did,” Wukong replied. “From everyone.”
The baby’s gaze was unwavering. Not fearful. Not confused. Simply aware. As if she were looking at him the way mountains looked at the sky, recognizing something old and vast, but not threatened by it.
Babies, celestial or demon, could not see past glamour, that was a skill that could be trained. But only when they were older. Yet there she sat in the mothers arms. Staring up at him in wonder of his full self. Not the glamour he set up.
He let his glamour slip, just a fraction.
Golden eyes met dark brown ones, and something answered back. Not demonic hunger. Not celestial authority. Something deeper. Quieter. Ancient in a way that made even Wukong’s spine prickle.
The baby cooed, delighted, and clapped her hands. Wukong inhaled sharply. Fully realizing what was happening as the father shielded her from view. Her mother turned her back as if that was truly another layer of protection.
“That,” he said, voice low now, serious in a way it rarely was, “is not the energy of a demon.”
The Fen Yang nodded grimly. “We know.”
“Nor human.”
Another nod.
“Nor anything I have ever seen walk the Three Realms.”
Silence.
Finally, the succubus spoke, barely above a whisper. “She fell from the sky.”
“…Excuse me?” Wukong’s head snapped up. Confusion only deepened the furrow of his eyebrows.
“Not like a meteor,” she hurried to clarify. “Just, light. Quiet. Like the night itself had opened and placed her there.” Her grip tightened on the child. Who showed no signs of fear, simply a never-ending sense of curiosity. “We found her in the woods behind the city. Wrapped in… stars.”
The baby yawned.
Wukong stared at her tail, the way the constellations along it subtly moved, just like the patterns left in the sky. He felt it now, clearer without the glamour in the way. Not Heaven. Not Hell.
The Void between.
The places even gods didn’t map.
“…You know what happens,” Wukong said slowly, “when Heaven realizes something like this exists.” His voice is filled with caution. With worry as he finally softens ever so subtly.
The Fen Yang’s jaw clenched. “Yes.”
“And you still kept her.”
The succubus lifted her chin, tears burning but unfallen. “She smiled at us.” Wukong laughed then, soft, incredulous, a sound edged with something dangerously close to awe.
“That would do it.” He whispers gently. The baby reached again. This time, Wukong didn’t stop himself. He stepped closer, carefully, and offered one finger. She grabbed it with surprising strength. Yet it somehow made sense with the energy nearly pouring out of her.
Wukong’s grin faded into something thoughtful.
“...You can’t just leave her like this,” Wukong says with a small nod. “Not only will heaven eventually pick up on it. I’m certain other demons have probably begun sniffing around for the source of energy that they feel.” The succubus then nodded.
“A few have attempted already, actually,” she only confirms the thoughts in Wukong’s mind. He nods again, watching the baby play with his hand even more. A soft rumbling noise emitting from her as she does so. The father sighs softly, gently moving to pet his child's head.
“The older she gets, the more obvious it will be…” Wukong trails slightly. Before an idea pops in his mind, it must be obvious on his face from the way the parents eye him warily.
The baby’s fingers tightened around Wukong’s, her delighted rumble hitching into a soft, uncertain sound as the room subtly… shifted. Not violently. Not enough for the parents to notice at first. The candle by the wall dimmed, its flame stretching sideways as if tugged by an unseen current. The shadows beneath the furniture deepened, pooling where they should not, while the air itself felt thin, like silk pulled too tight. Wukong’s breath caught.
This wasn’t an outburst… this was a response. The child’s wide eyes blinked, lower lip trembling, and the world answered her unease without her knowing how. Instinctively, Wukong placed his free hand over hers, golden energy winding low and controlled, not suppressing but steadying. The pressure in the room eased at once. His expression went still with understanding.
“Ah,” he murmured, grave now. “She isn’t leaking power. She’s speaking it.” There’s a lull of silence that falls between them. The Great Sage’s mind runs over everything he’d just learned.
Wukong slowly withdrew his hand, though he stayed close, as if distance alone might provoke the world again. His golden gaze lifted to the parents, no humor left in it now, only the weight of long memory. “I can hide her,” he said, plainly. The succubus stiffened, tail coiling tight, while the Fen Yang’s horns dipped instinctively forward. “Not take her,” Wukong added immediately, sharp enough to cut through their fear. Watching the two relax ever so slightly, but still eyeing him with even more caution than moments before.
“Not bind her spirit or chain her will. But seal what listens too loudly.” He glanced back at the baby, who had already settled, her tiny chest rising and falling in calm, star-flecked tail swaying idly. “The power answers her emotions. Every laugh, every fear, each one is a bell rung across realms that should not be hearing it.” His jaw tightened. “If left as it is, Heaven will catalogue her, demons will hunt her, and the world itself will keep responding until something tears.” He met their eyes again, unflinching. “I can fold her power inward. Knot it. Let it sleep until she is old enough to know what she is saying when she speaks to the universe.”
The two parents share a glance with one another. Then the succubus, with tenderness only a mother could have, gently runs her hand through the baby's hair. Earning the softest coo of happiness from the child.
“...It won’t hurt her, right?”
Sun Wukong shakes his head. “No, she probably won’t even be able to tell that her powers have been sealed at all.” The parents share another look with one another. And Wukong can tell without them needing to speak they’re debating about it all.
“There is a cost,” Wukong continued, before either of them could speak, because he had learned long ago what happened when gods pretended there wasn’t. His gaze stayed on the child as he spoke, voice low and measured. “A seal is not a lock. It is a promise with consequences. Her power will not be gone, it will press back as she grows. She will feel it as restlessness, as dreams too big for sleep, as a pull toward the sky on nights when the stars are loud.” He glanced at the parents then, expression uncharacteristically gentle.
“She may struggle. She may feel different even among demons. And when the seal begins to loosen, and it will, it will do so in moments of choice, not age. Fear will crack it. Defiance will strain it. Compassion may open it.” His mouth curved, just barely. “And when that day comes, I will not be able to pretend I can fix it for you. This buys time. It does not buy safety forever.”
The silence that followed was heavy, but not empty. The Fen Yang exhaled slowly, shoulders sagging as if he had been bracing for a blow that never came. He reached out, resting one large hand over the succubus’s, grounding them both. “Time,” he said quietly. “If this gives her time… then we take it.” The succubus nodded, blinking back tears as she pressed a kiss to their daughter’s brow.
“We’ll help her through the rest,” she added, voice steady despite the tremor beneath it. She looked up at Wukong then, resolve hardening like steel wrapped in silk. “Do it. Please.”
Wukong inclined his head, solemn as an oath. “Then listen carefully,” he said, looking between the parents with a stern expression. “Because once I begin, the universe will notice the absence where she once rang, and that silence must be kept.”
Sun Wukong did not draw circles or call the names of heavens. He only sat, cross-legged on the worn floor, and held out his hands. Her parents ever so hesitantly handed her to him. The baby blinked up at him, unafraid, stars along her tail dimming to a soft twilight glow as if responding to instinct older than thought. “Easy now,” he murmured, not as command but reassurance. Golden light threaded from his fingertips, not blazing, not divine in its usual arrogance, but fine as silk.
He wove it slowly, looping it through the spaces between her breaths, following the rhythm of her tiny heartbeat rather than imposing his own. The air hummed, not with power, but with attention, as if the world itself leaned closer to listen.
He did not push her power down. He folded it. Carefully. Like tucking wings before sleep. The Void-energy resisted at first, curious rather than hostile, brushing against his senses with a vast, starless cold that made even the Great Sage still. Wukong smiled faintly. “Yes,” he whispered, understanding at last. “You’re very big for someone so small.” With a deft twist, more trick than technique, he knotted the power inward, anchoring it to her sense of self, not her fear.
The pressure in the room faded. The candle straightened. Shadows returned to where they belonged. The baby yawned, utterly unimpressed by the cosmic negotiation that had just taken place, and curled her fingers into Wukong’s sleeve as if claiming him part of the bargain. He stilled, then carefully loosened her grip, sealing the final thread with a quiet breath. “Sleep,” he said softly, not a spell, but a suggestion the universe, for once, agreed to honor. When he leaned back, the weight he carried settled into his bones at last. “It’s done.” He looked at the parents, eyes tired but certain. “She will grow as a child now. The rest… will wait.”
Wukong rose to his feet, the golden light long gone from his hands, leaving only the faint ache of having reached somewhere he did not fully understand. He handed the baby, now falling asleep in his soft hold, back to the succubus. Her breath was soft and even, and for the first time since he had entered the house, the air felt ordinary. Safe in the quiet way that went unnoticed until it was earned.
He paused at the threshold, one hand resting briefly against the doorframe, eyes tracing the subtle charms worked there. With a flick of his fingers, he adjusted them, not strengthening, not overpowering, but redirecting, bending their intent so they would glance off celestial notice as easily as they already did divine curiosity. “If Heaven comes asking,” he said without turning, “you never saw me. And if demons come knocking, tell them nothing at all. Silence is harder to track than lies.”
The Fen Yang bowed deeply, relief clear in his movements. The succubus followed, clutching their child close, gratitude and fear braided tightly together in her expression. Wukong hesitated, then glanced back at the baby one last time. For just a breath, her eyes fluttered open, unfocused but aware, and her tiny mouth curved into a sleepy smile. Something in Wukong’s chest gave a quiet, unexpected pull.
“…Grow slowly,” he murmured, more prayer than instruction.
Then the glamour settled fully back into place, the Great Sage’s presence thinning like mist under morning sun. When the door opened again, the city’s noise rushed in, mundane, human, alive. By the time it closed, Sun Wukong was already gone, moving once more through the world unseen.
It would be a few years later, when Wukong would think of returning, to check in on the child. Some random day that led him to wandering back into that neighborhood. Trying to hone in on her energy, burned into his mind to recognize it since the day he met her.
When he found the home empty, he should’ve stopped there. Left it alone, assumed they moved somewhere safer, with less demons. Yet something in the Great Sage’s gut refused to let him. He moved through the dust filled house with dread. Studying the cobwebs that grew as if they would tell him what happened. He moved upstairs first. Wandering into empty, dust covered rooms as if he truly believed he would find something.
When he landed on her empty room, with nothing but a crib in its center. Sun Wukong felt his heart hurt in a way he could not describe. Lingering as if he was expecting the child to appear in front of him. Eventually he moves on, leaving the door open.
Eventually he makes his way to the basement.
The stairs creaked under his weight, each step a reluctant confession. The air in the basement was thick, damp with neglect, carrying a faint tang of iron that Wukong’s senses immediately recognized. He paused at the threshold, golden eyes narrowing. At first, the shapes were indistinct, shadows cast by broken furniture and old crates, but then his gaze sharpened, and the familiar lines of posture and the unmistakable traces of aura cut through the dust and rot. His stomach twisted.
Two bodies lay crumpled in the corner, unmistakable even after years: the succubus and the Fen Yang.
Their forms were still, yet Wukong’s senses reached through the decay, tracing the echoes of who they had been. The same care, the same fierce protection he had seen the day they had entrusted him with their child. He knelt briefly, hand hovering over their still warmthless forms, a quiet rumble escaping his throat, both a curse and a lament. “I should have… I should have known,” he muttered, voice almost swallowed by the oppressive gloom.
Wukong’s eyes snapped up from the corpses, scanning the basement with golden intensity.
The crib upstairs, the stillness of the home, they all screamed the same truth: she was gone. Every instinct honed over centuries, every battle fought against gods, demons, and the laws of Heaven itself, flared in a single, sharp pulse. He wasn’t just angry; he was a storm held in a single body, coiled and tense, senses stretching outward, probing the world for the faintest trace of her energy. Nothing. Not a flicker, not a whisper.
His hands clenched into fists, nails biting into his palms.
“No,” he breathed, low and dangerous, voice carrying a weight that could crush mountains. The thought of her taken. By demons, by Heaven, by some unseen hand, made his tail bristle and his golden eyes blaze. He crouched, circling the basement like a predator, every sense reaching for the trace he had burned into memory, every shadow and scrap of dust interrogated. Even the silence seemed alive, hiding truths just out of reach, and Wukong’s frustration grew sharper with each passing heartbeat.
Wukong leapt back to the stairs, golden eyes flaring as he extended his senses outward, reaching for the signature energy he had memorized the day he first met her. The familiar warmth, the star-flecked constellations woven into her being, should have been there, even faint. But there was nothing. Not a trace. Not a whisper. The threads he had relied on to find her snapped as if cut by unseen hands.
He froze, tail coiling tightly behind him, breath sharp in the silence of the empty house. And yet… something tugged at the edges of his perception, a flicker too faint to follow, a heartbeat too small to locate, but undeniably hers. Alive. Somewhere. The knowledge offered no comfort. Only a knife of frustration.
Wukong sank to one knee, hands braced on the floor, golden eyes scanning, probing, reaching for something, anything. The basement smelled of iron and dust, of lives ended too soon, of a trail that had been erased. He could feel the weight of her absence pressing down, but the spark of life, so faint, so deliberately veiled, refused to be snuffed out. A low rumble built in his chest, half anger, half relief.
“Alive,” he muttered, voice rough. “Good… at least you’re alive. For now.”
Even without knowing where to go, even without a path, Wukong understood one thing: he would not rest until he found her, no matter how clever the hiding, no matter how long it took.
Wukong pushed himself upright, dust swirling around his boots as he ran a hand over his face, golden eyes narrowing. Alive. That was all he knew. He could not sense where, could not follow, could not even guess with certainty, but she was still breathing. That alone was a spark worth chasing.
His mind, always spinning, began assembling possibilities. Who, or what, took her? Celestials? Demons? A mortal with forbidden knowledge? None of it mattered yet. The first rule was simple: find her. Everything else, anger, vengeance, punishment, would follow.
He strode back to the stairs and paused, tail flicking as he considered the house one last time. “No one leaves traces forever,” he muttered, almost to himself. He would wait if he had to, watch if he must, but he would not wander blind. Somewhere in the world, faint as a whisper, her energy pulsed, alive, aware, vulnerable. And Sun Wukong, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, would track it, no matter how long it took, no matter how deeply it was buried.
The streets outside were bustling with oblivious humans, yet he saw none of them. Only the possibilities, the invisible threads, and the faint pulse of a life he had vowed to protect. He vanished then, slipping into the currents of the world, patience hard as iron but mind sharp as a blade, knowing the hunt had only just begun.
