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rafesbbdoll · 23 days ago

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ticket repay ✩ rafe cameron

୨˚̣̣̣୧ where dumb!reader tries to get out of a ticket with officer!rafe.

warnings ׅ 　female!reader, cursing, cheating, drunk driving, smut, blowjob in public but hidden, reader is actually dumb as hell, mentions of law enforcement, reader is 22 & rafe is 34

word count ׅ 　1.2k

masterlist taglist

it was 1:27 AM on the streets kildare. it was quiet in some areas, some loud and booming with music. you just so happened to find yourself at a party that a few kooks had thrown in celebration of a new edition on the island, expanding figure eight. you were drinking with some other girls, giggling and dancing with a drink in your hand. your head was to floaty to comprehend that time was going by fast. before you knew it, it was 2:03 AM.

your boyfriend had texted you several times, called you, and even tried to contact your friends, but you were having too much fun to notice. it wasn't until you felt sick when you decided to head out for the night. you had grabbed your purse and made sure your phone and keys before heading out. your feet stumbled upon each other as you walked clumsily to your car.

now, you knew this wasn't safe, but how else would you get home?! you didn't want to leave your car at some random house where you wouldn't remember the address, so your best bet was to attempt to drive back home. once you got into your car, you blinked a couple of times, trying to fix up your vision. taking out with phone, you texted your boyfriend back, letting him know you're on your way back.

you knew that he would be mad at you, but at least you were coming home! clumsily, you put the keys into the ignition before starting and driving off. the roads were were mostly empty, occasional cars passing by, side eyeing you from their window. unbeknownst to you, you were swerving in your lane, as well as driving 10 miles under the posted speed limit. singing your heart out to your spotify playlist, you were unaware of the flashing police lights from behind you.

it wasnt until you heard and male voice come from a speaker when you pulled over to the side. you turned your music down, winding down your window with a confused pout on your face. "what? i didn't even do anything," you slurred to yourself. a few min later, a cop walked up to your window. you looked up at the man, noticing his uniform, making your heart drop.

"good evening ma'am. do you know why i stopped you tonight?", he asked, flashing his light into the car to get a look at you and your surroundings. you shook your head, looking up at him with your dazed eyes. "i wasn't doing anything bad. jus' on the way home," you slurred to him. he chuckled at you, noticing your eyes. "have you been drinking tonight?"

you blinked slowly before replying, "only a little bit." he could obviously tell that you were lying, your leg bouncing up and down in your seat. "what's your name again, officer?", you asked. "officer rafe cameron," he replied. "can you step out of your vehicle for me?", he requested, standing back enough for you to open the door. you frowned and sniffled before opening the door and stepping out. "am i under arrest?", you asked, stepping over to him, your blown out eyes brimming with tears.

he sighed before explaining, "not yet. just gonna run some sobriety tests to see how much you've had to drink." you nodded, wiping the falling tears off your cheeks. "what's your name, hun? gotta write it for our records," he explained while taking out a small notebook. "y/n l/n.... you said i wasn't under arrest!", you mumbled to him, crossing your arms and turning away.

"you're not. just have to write it down, okay? the first test we're gonna take is this: say your abc's backwards," he explained to you. you giggled a little bit, "that's easyyy! z... y... x... w... v... t... r... s...." he shook his head, sighing to himself. "you failed, y/n. let's try walking in a straight line, hm?" you huffed in confusion, swearing to yourself that you did it correctly. "but- its right!" officer cameron laughed in response before orchestrating the next test for you.

after you failed the other tests dramatically, officer cameron finally had enough of your antics. "alright miss. you will be receiving a ticket tonight for driving under the influence. do you have someone that can take you home tonight?", he asked, staring down at your face. your bottom lip wobbled, shaking your head. "i can't get a ticket! i didn't do anything wrong", you said to him, moving to tug at his uniform.

he looked down into your eyes, moving his hands on your shoulders to adjust you slightly, "i'm sorry sweetheart, but these are the repercussions." you tugged at his uniform again, looking up at him. he could stop the way his cock stirred in pants as he looked into your eyes, the desperate yet helpless look in your eyes. "i'll do anything, just no ticket please," you sniffled, your hands moving to his belt buckle.

"y/n. this is not appropriate behavior. you know that," he said quietly to you. you blinked up at him, moving your clumsy fingers to unbuckle his belt. "please, i-i don't want to have a ticket. i'll be good i swear," you say, reaching your hand down into his pants. rafe grunted lowly, sighing once your hand removed his cock from his pants

your eyes looked down at his dick, sucking in a breath at his size. rafe looked around, making sure that you two were in a secluded area. he then looked down, finding you on your knees in front of him. letting out a shaky breath, he spoke, "go 'head. get out of a ticket, hm?" you nodded, taking his tip in your mouth a sucking gently. your thighs squeezed together in order to stop the throbbing from your cunt.

having had enough, he took your head into his hands, pushing himself fully down your throat making you gag. he loud out a moan, head tilting back into the night sky, his hips moving back and forth into your mouth. your hands had moved onto his thighs to hold on for support as his pace quickened. he grunted as his tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly, "fuckfuck ㅡ you're so good, y/n. no more ticket, a'ight?", he groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair.

you moaned around him, taking him out of your mouth to jerk him off. "thank you s-so much," you replied, looking up at him with your fucked out eyes. the idea of a police officer always turned you on, but now that you finally have your hands on one, it made you so much more horny. yes, you knew it was wrong to cheat on your loving boyfriend at home, but you couldn't have this on your record!

before you know it, rafe was finishing on your face, groaning as he watched his cum mark you. he sighed, his high subsiding. you stood back up on shaky legs, watching him closely. your fingers collected his cum from your cheeks, putting them in your mouth to get a taste. you hummed to yourself at his taste; it was salty yet sweet in a weird way which made your head even more fuzzy than before.

"good?", you asked. rafe nodded, tucking himself back into his pants. he fixed up your hair and fixed your lips before speaking, "don't let me or one of my guys catch you again." he took out his notepad again, writing down something before giving it to you: his number.

and that's how your relationship began.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

@13hischiers @rafestoothbrush @ohgodimgoungtodie @massivepenguinfart

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shortnspidey · 4 months ago

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DROWNING IN THE DARK

jj maybank x fem!kook!reader || WC: 2.4K

SUMMARY: A storm brews over Kildare Island, mirroring the growing turmoil within. After a tense encounter with his father, JJ’s anxiety spirals out of control. Seeking solace, he turns to the only person he seeks the comfort of, but the newfound relationship, still tender and fragile, is tested by the intensity of his emotions. As the storm rages outside, a more profound storm rages within JJ, leaving him lost and uncertain.

WARNINGS: established relationship, talks of anxiety, fear of storms, self-defeating thoughts, implied abuse, heavy angst with a happy ending

A/N: should I have been working on my homework instead of writing this ... probably but I couldn't help myself! We're also going to pretend the ending of OBX 4 did not exist! Divider by @marvelstoriesepic

➩ main masterlist

➩ obx masterlist

based on this request!!

Kildare Island was no stranger to storms. They were as much a part of the island’s identity as the weathered pilings and the salty sea breeze. But this storm was different. The salty wind whipped through the narrow streets, carrying with it the scent of impending rain. As the sky darkened, a sense of unease settled over the island. For JJ, the storm outside mirrored the tempest brewing within. A recent argument with his father had left him feeling raw and exposed.

His mind, once a carefree ocean of thoughts, was now a tumultuous sea, each wave of anxiety threatening to drown him. Ignoring his father's parting words, likely a stinging rebuke, JJ slammed the door shut, the echo of his anger filling the silent house. Stepping out into the storm, he was oblivious to the rain soaking his clothes and the distant rumble of thunder, a harbinger of the chaos to come. With one final, lingering glance at the house that had never truly felt like home, he turned away, his determination resolute.

He strode towards his battered motorcycle, the keys igniting with a defiant roar. As the engine roared to life, he disappeared into the night, leaving behind the storm within and the storm without. In reality, he had no idea where he was going. The Château was out of the question; John B and Sarah were likely seeking shelter together, and after his last unexpected encounter, it was best avoided. Pope was probably grounded, a consequence of their latest escapade. And Kiara's parents, ever wary of his influence, would not welcome him with open arms.

Which left only one option, a risky one at that. You. JJ still couldn’t quite believe he had managed to convince you, a Kook, to talk to him, a Pogue, let alone spend any significant amount of time with him. Much less how he had managed to become your boyfriend. Your worlds were as different as night and day. You were the epitome of grace and poise, a creature of refined taste and elegant manners. He, on the other hand, was a tempestuous force of nature, a product of his upbringing, raw and untamed.

Yet, there was an undeniable connection between you, a magnetic pull that drew you together despite your differences. Almost as if it was muscle memory, or maybe it was his subconscious, he pulled up to your house, a mix of anticipation and dread filling his chest. Your family’s grand, imposing home stood in stark contrast to the weathered houses of The Cut. It was a world apart, a world he didn't quite belong in. That's when he felt it. The rush of anxiety he believed to be gone immediately resurfaced, the familiar knot tightened in his stomach.

Placing a hand on his chest, the only way he had ever learned to self-soothe, he tried to get as much air in his lungs as he could. He didn’t know if it was the rain, the storm, or the thought of facing you looking like a complete wreck that was the cause of his state. The tension in his shoulders, the knot in his stomach, and the rapid beating of his heart were all signs of the anxiety that threatened to consume him. "JJ," A voice cut through his thoughts, startling him. He looked up to see your father standing on the porch, a few feet away. It was as if his brain had played a cruel trick on him, conjuring up a figure from his worst nightmares.

He immediately stopped his pacing and stiffened up expecting a tirade of insults or a physical altercation. His heart pounded in his chest as he turned to face your father, his eyes scanning the man's face for any signs of anger. He'd learned early on to anticipate the storm before it hit, to brace himself for the inevitable. But it never came. Instead the eyes of the man in front of him softened, taking in his disheveled appearance. "What are you doing out here so late?" Your father asked, his voice laced with nothing but sheer curiosity. "I-" JJ's voice trailed off, completely caught off guard by the unexpected kindness.

He'd always been wary of your father, viewing him as a formidable opponent. Of course, your relationship was still new and "meeting the parents" was never really brought up. However, in this moment, he saw a different side of the man, a side that hinted at empathy and understanding. "C-Can I please see Y/N?" He had managed to stammer out, barely recognizing his voice. This was it. This was the moment your father would shoot him execution style on your front porch. But for the second time that evening, JJ was surprised to see your father opening the front door and turning back to him.

"What are you waiting for, son?" Your father coaxed, gesturing towards the open doorway. "You'll just get sicker the longer you wait out there." His tone was gentle, almost paternal, but JJ couldn't shake the feeling that he was being treated like a stray animal. He hesitated, taking a cautious step forward as if expecting a trap to snap shut. "Y/N should be upstairs," your father continued, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "If I had known you were coming over, I would have set a plate for you at the dinner table." JJ's jaw dropped. Could he have heard that right? Was your father actually inviting him to join the family for dinner?

It was a surreal moment, one that he couldn't quite comprehend. Just as he was about to thank your father for his unexpected kindness, your voice cut through the silence. "JJ?" The blonde boy's face softened as he turned to see you standing a few feet away. "H-Hey, pretty girl," he stammered, his heart pounding in his chest. An overwhelming urge to pull you into his arms surged through him, but he hesitated, mindful of your father's presence. He should have known better than to let his guard down.

Before he could think twice, you had already closed the distance, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck in a bone-crushing hug. The force of the embrace nearly knocked the two of you off your feet. "You're shaking," You murmured, concern etched on your face. "Is everything okay?" You parted from the hug, but kept a firm hand on his arms, feeling his cold skin beneath your palms. "It is now." He nodded, offering a weak, forced smile. “You’re in good hands, son," Your father's voice broke the silence. "See you both in the morning.” You gave your father a reassuring smile before guiding JJ upstairs.

JJ's eyes scanned the room, taking in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, the scattered books on the nightstand, and the framed photos on the dresser. He'd never been in your room before, and it felt oddly intimate. A sense of peace washed over him as he stood in the middle of your room, the warmth of your presence comforting. “You know,” you began, breaking the silence as you shut your bedroom door, “I’m glad you’re here.” He turned to face you, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Me too,” He replied, his voice barely a whisper. "I just wished you didn't do it in the middle of a storm." You chastised pacing around the room.

JJ watched as you pulled out clothes out of a drawer and gave him a look. “Strip.” His eyes nearly budged out of his head at your words. You, his innocent girlfriend who blushed at any of his sexual innuendos was commanding him to get naked. His mind raced as he tried to process what you’d just said as you handed him a pair of your sweatpants and a t-shirt. "What? Why?" He stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. You rolled your eyes playfully. "You’re soaking wet, and I don’t want you to get sick. Plus, these are way more comfortable than those jeans you’re wearing." You turned your back to him, giving him some privacy.

As he slowly undressed, a strange mix of embarrassment and excitement washed over him. He'd never been so vulnerable in front of you before. When he was finally changed, he turned to face you, feeling a bit self-conscious. You smiled at him, a warm and inviting smile. "Much better," You said, taking his hand. "Now, let's get you warmed up." You led him to your bed, the soft mattress inviting. "Get in." You ordered, a playful glint in your eye. He hesitated for a moment, but then climbed onto the bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. You sat beside him, your legs tucked beneath you. "You know," You began, "I've missed you." Your voice was soft, almost a whisper.

JJ's heart pounded in his chest. He turned to face you, his eyes locked onto yours. "I've missed you too," He admitted. A comfortable silence fell between you two. Scooting closer to him, you gently pushed a strand of his sun-kissed blonde hair away from his cerulean eyes, a detail you'd always adored. In response, he wrapped a strong arm around your waist, as if he was afraid you might vanish into thin air. "Penny for your thoughts?" You whispered, your voice barely audible. You knew something was amiss. The usual witty banter and teasing remarks were absent, replaced by an unusual quietude. You didn't want to pry, not if he wasn't ready to share.

Upon hearing your words JJ hesitated. He knew he should tell you, confess his deepest, darkest secrets. But the fear of losing you, of you realizing the truth about him and rejecting him, paralyzed him. You were everything he wasn't, everything he longed for. You were kind, understanding, and patient. He didn't deserve you. He had grown up in a world of violence and neglect, a world where love was a foreign concept. His father's abuse had left deep scars on his soul, shaping him into a man who was both fiercely loyal and deeply troubled. He was afraid that if you knew the real him, the broken, damaged version, you would turn away.

He was afraid that you would see him for what he truly was: a lost boy, a product of a harsh and unforgiving environment. You’d seen that look before, a vulnerability he rarely let anyone see. It was a stark contrast to the bravado he usually exuded, the tough-guy facade he’d built to protect himself. But you knew there was more to him than that, a depth that hinted at a troubled past. Your relationship was still young, fragile, and beautiful. You’d fallen for the boy beneath the bravado, the one who made you laugh, who saw you for who you truly were. But you knew there were parts of him he was keeping hidden, secrets buried deep within. He took a deep breath, his voice barely a whisper.

“I’m scared, Y/N. Scared that if you knew the real me, the me before you, you’d leave. You’d realize you deserve better.” His eyes, usually so full of life, were now clouded with doubt. Your heart ached for him. You reached out, gently taking his hand in yours under the covers. “JJ, whatever you’re going through, I’m here for you. No matter what.” You coaxed, hoping that your words were enough to dwindle the storm brewing in his mind. Because you desperately believed that JJ Maybank deserved the world. He looked at you, disbelief and hope warring in his eyes. “You mean that?” You nodded, your voice steady. “I do. Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

Like a dam that was waiting to collapse, he broke down into your arms, his sobs muffled by your shirt. You held him tightly, stroking his hair as he cried, the tears soaking your shoulder. In those minutes, which felt like decades, his walls collapsed, telling you each one of his darkest truths as if he had been given a truth serum. He poured out his heart, revealing the hidden scars of his past. The boy you'd fallen for, the one who'd always seemed so confident, was now raw and vulnerable, exposing the depths of his pain. You listened, your heart breaking for him by each passing second. You knew that his childhood had been far from idyllic, but you had never imagined it was this bad.

You held him as close as you could, offering silent comfort. "I'm so sorry, JJ." He nodded, his eyes filled with tears. "I'm trying to move on. I'm trying to be better." You smiled at him, your heart overflowing with love and compassion. "You are better, JJ. You're strong, and you're kind. And I'm so lucky to have you. Why would I want anyone else when you're perfect in my eyes." That's a first he thought to himself. JJ had been described as many things—reckless, impulsive, and even dangerous. But never perfect. He was overwhelmed by your words, his heart filled with a warmth he hadn't felt in a long time.

Which is why those three words and eight letters tumbled out of his lips before he could overthink them. "I love you." He didn't care if it was "too early" the look of pure adoration on your face was reassurance enough that he hadn't fucked up the timing. "I love you too JJ. You have no idea." The world seemed to slow down as you gazed into his eyes, a profound connection forming between you two. Upon hearing those words he surged forward meeting your lips, gently but with a passionate purpose. It was a kiss that held the weight of a lifetime, a culmination of years of longing and heartache. He'd spent his life being told he wasn't good enough, that he'd never amount to anything. But in your eyes, he saw something different.

He saw love, acceptance, and a future filled with endless possibilities. As the kiss deepened, he felt a surge of emotion, a love so pure and profound that it seemed to defy all odds. In that moment, he knew that he'd finally found his home, his safe harbor, and the love he'd always dreamed of. As you parted for air, you couldn't help but notice that his body had fully relaxed against yours. Threading your fingers through his hair, you knew it would lull him to sleep. "Good night, JJ. I love you," You breathed out, burying your face in his shoulder. The blonde boy didn't hesitate to reciprocate, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. As the minutes ticked by, JJ felt the storm that had once consumed his thoughts begin to dissipate. Holding you close, he allowed himself to drift off into a peaceful sleep.

thanks for reading! likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! <3

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theauthorandtheartist · 5 months ago

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I had a dream the other night that i can't stop thinking about, where a new LOZ game was released in a similar vein to TOTK, except instead of collecting sages like in that game, there was a series of dungeons/temples that were directly tied to other LOZ games, and at the end, you gained the ability to summon the avatar/ghost of the hero from said game -like the TOTK sages- to help on your quest (and get a fun power up). All of the links would have stilted dialogue with you at first, but as the game goes on they get more friendly and at the end of the game theres a cutscene where they all "move on" and it's super emotional cuz by this point they're all brothers (player-link actually emotes during this cutscene, the only time he does so, for an extra punch in the gut). I don't remember all of the details, but what I do remember was:

A Palace of the Four Sword dungeon where you gained the Link(s) from FSA. FSA Link was the simplest in terms of abilities, the avatar would split into 4 and distract enemies/fight alongside you. Pretty sure this was the first one/tutorial temple. Later on this link gives you a sidequest after which you gain the Four Sword as a weapon (its the second strongest in the game behind the master sword).

A Tower of Winds dungeon where you got Minish Cap Link to tag along. He allows you to shrink for short periods of time to get through locked doors/escape danger. Don't remember much about this dungeon except that there's a timer to get through it before yiu have to start over.

Forest temple/great deku tree/kokiri forest type place where Oot/MM link joins up with you. He allows you to rewind time for a little bit (basically the recall ability but on everything including you). Later on He gives a sidequest that results in obtaining the Fierce Deity Mask (best armor in the game).

Arbiter grounds dungeon where you get TP link. He's basically a glorified horse; you ride him around.

Tower of the Gods dungeon where you get WW/PH Link to tag along. He's like Revali's Gale and Tulin's gust in one.

The dungeon to get the Master Sword is like the Skyview Temple, and to be allowed to draw it you must beat SS Link as the final boss of the temple, After which he joins you on your quest. He allows you to do skyward strikes with any one handed weapon.

A secret, optional dungeon that you only unlock by falling asleep on this random island. It's kohohlit. The only avatars/ghosts that you can access here are OoT/MM Link and WW/PH Link (because PH was a dream and MM was an alternate reality). By the end, You get Alttp/albw/LA link who can put enemies to sleep for a time. Later he gives you a sidequest to get ravio's bracelet, which opens up a few easter eggs and secret loot.

Other links/games were included as easter eggs but they don't stick around. BOTW/TOTK Link is a recurring ghostly NPC who you can find in all the weirdest places, offering seemingly nonsensical trades that change every time you see him (10 frogs for 13 bombs, a ruby for an apple pie, 35 monster parts for a single ancient arrow, etc). There's a few places around hyrule where you see two-bit LOZ1/LOZ2 Link just vibing. ST Link takes the place of Purah or Robbie as the eccentric scientist/engineer who will upgrade your stuff if you bring him materials, and he can also upgrade your ghost-Link-friend's abilities as well since he's -y'know- Hero of Spirits.

There's murals in the castle from Cadence of Hyrule, and there's "ancient history books" about HW and AoC. Throughout Hyrule you'll meet various NPCs claiming to be from different countries here to see "the birthplace of the hero of Holodrum/Labrynnia/Calatia."

Various Zelda's would show up too. You get a sidequest where you have to sneak aboard a ghost pirate ship. It's Tetra's. There's a mysterious sheikah warrior who repeatedly accosts you on your travels to loredump and test if you're ready to fight the big bad. She only ever brings you down to half heart, at which point she makes a disappponted comment and leaves. you aren't able to beat her until near endgame, at which point she reveals herself as sheik, has a brief conversation with Oot/MM Link, gives you some cryptic foreshadowing advice and a few fairies, and dips. BOTW/TOTK zelda is similar to her link since she can be found all over the place, but she deals exclusively in ancient materials and dragon parts. TP Zelda gives lore/exposition when you finally make it to the castle, right before the big bad fight.

Big bad is an amalgamation of all ganons/ganondorfs/big bads across the timelines. He telegraphs attacks via shifting forms to look like various bad guys (forms tentacles like bellum and Majora (at the same time) before slam attack, gets blue pig face before charge attack, long purple vaati hair and bat wings before AOE gust attack, scales up his arm and X on face before big AOE lightning blast, and big fuck-all sword and gerudo features before slashing. 2nd phase has it split into like 5 separate beings to fight you and all your friends at once (each one has different features: one is similar to bellum/majora, one is more beast-ganon, one more demise, one Vaati-esque one, and one Ganondorf-like one). The music is harsh and disjointed, cobbled together from many other games, and the noises that the beast makes are screeching and painful.

By the end of the game, there's a big deal made by SS link that you are the final Link in the cycle, that it's over, that you finished what he couldn't. There's a sense of hope, but also of sorrow, since all your new friends are leaving now. They're ghosts, they're dead, they've done their duty and it's time for them to rest. Before they go, though, each one gives you one last gift (the ability they've been helping you with this whole time) and one last sidequest (one for each of them) for you to accomplish: find their treasures, keep them safe.

Post game is you running around without the ghosts (FSA Link's ability duplicates you now, giving you 3 buddies to fight with, but they can't give dialogue and they last like 30 seconds so it's not the samel), doing mini-dungeons and fetch-quests in order to obtain major key items (all old and unusable anymore) from the Links' adventures, (the Beetle, goddess harp, spinner, shards of the fused shadow, deku/goron/Zora masks, gnat hat, various kinstones, pictobox, deku leaf, LA instruments, Ocarina of Time, wind waker, etc) and some from games not mentioned previously or not from your gaggle of links, (Harp of ages, rod of seasons, silver arrows, a doppel, ST panpipes, a revival doll, Cadence of Hyrule Lute, HW blue Scarf, old and broken Terrako, champion's tunic, BOTW champion's picture, trirod, etc). In post-game, there are new NPCs to replace the links/zeldas that used to fill those niches, but it's not the same. They're gone. It's a bittersweet feeling.

After you finish all the post game and get all the treasures (basically 100%ing the game), you get an achievement called "archive of the ages" and a special cutscene where Player Link sets the Master sword down on the side of his bed, looks out the window of his house at the brilliantly setting sun, smiles, and falls asleep. You may no longer play on that save file anymore. The adventure is over.

Basically I dreamt up a game that was a love letter to the entire series, and I'm sad it was just a dream. Logically i know this will never happen because that would mean tying up LOZ and it's too much of a cash cow for Nintendo to ever stop making, but it was a wonderful dream to have for a little while.

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haerenven · 2 months ago

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Pairings. M.D.Luffy - R.Zoro - V.Sanji - Nami - N.Robin - Shanks

summary. Them with curly headed reader

— (a/n): consider this a gift for my gorgeous curly girlies ₍^. .^₎⟆

MONKEY D LUFFY

- Endless Fascination with Your Curls

Luffy is obsessed with your hair—not in a poetic, admiring-from-afar kind of way, but in the most Luffy way possible. He tugs at your curls just to watch them bounce back, sometimes even poking them with a finger like he’s testing if they have a mind of their own. “Whoa… they’re like little springs!” he exclaims every time, as if he’s just discovered it all over again. And if you ever get annoyed? He just laughs, completely unbothered, and does it again.

- Zero Concept of Personal Space

If he’s tired? Your curls make the perfect pillow. If he’s hungry? He’ll lean against you, idly playing with a strand while thinking about meat. If he’s excited? He’ll grab you, spin you around, andsomehow get his fingers tangled in your hair in the process. Luffy doesn’t care about boundaries—he’s always close, always touching, always acting like he has every right to be tangled up with you, just like your curls are with each other.

- Unfiltered, Genuine Compliments

Luffy doesn’t have a poetic bone in his body, but when he compliments you, it’s so real that it sticks with you forever. “Your hair looks like a whole adventure!” he grins one day, staring at the wild way it moves. “Like if I followed every curl, I’d find treasure at the end!” It’s ridiculous, but he says it with so much excitement—so much Luffy-ness—that you can’t help but smile.

- Doesn’t Understand Hair Struggles but Tries Anyway

If you’re ever frustrated with your hair—too tangled, too frizzy, too much—Luffy doesn’t get it, but that won’t stop him from trying to help. “Just leave it like that!” he suggests with a grin, fully convinced that you look amazing no matter what. And if you insist on fixing it, he offers solutions that make no sense. “What if we dunk your head in the ocean and see what happens?” (Spoiler: Bad idea.)

- The Ultimate Protector—Even Against the Wind

Luffy doesn’t care much about the wind messing up his hair, but when it comes to you? Oh, he takes it personally. If a strong gust blows your curls into your face, he immediately stretches his arm out like a shield, standing in front of you with a dramatic stance. “I GOTCHA!” he shouts, as if he’s just saved you from mortal danger. It’s completely unnecessary, but he’s so proud of himself that you just let him have his moment.

- Plays with Your Hair Absentmindedly

Whenever he’s deep in thought—rare as that may be—his fingers somehow find their way to your hair. He absentmindedly twirls a curl around his finger, stretching it slightly just to watch it spring back. He’ll braid random sections (terribly), tie tiny knots (that you definitely have to untangle later), and sometimes just hold a curl in front of his face, squinting at it like it holds the secrets of the universe.

- Unapologetic About His Preferences

One time, Nami tries to brush your hair out into loose waves, and Luffy immediately pouts. “Nooooo, put it back!” he whines, reaching over to mess it up again. “I like it all poofy and crazy!” He doesn’t care about what’s fashionable—he just loves you, exactly the way you are.

- Loves How Your Hair Feels Against Him

If you ever rest against his chest, he immediately buries his face in your hair, rubbing his cheek against it like a cat. “It’s so soft!” he laughs, nuzzling into you without shame. If you try to push him away, he just stretches his arms to pull you right back. “Nope! I live here now!”

- A Love That’s Loud and Unshakable

Luffy doesn’t do subtle. If he loves you, everyone knows it. He shouts your name across islands, tackles you into hugs that leave you breathless, and brags to strangers about how cool your hair is like it’s his greatest discovery. And when it’s just the two of you, when the sea is quiet and the stars stretch endless above you, he tugs at a curl, grinning softly. “I dunno,” he murmurs, his voice softer than usual. “I just think everything about you is perfect.”

RORONOA ZORO

- Absorbed in the Movement of Your Curls

Zoro is not a man prone to idleness, but when it comes to you, he finds himself drawn to the subtle movement of your curls, as if they’re the sea itself—wild and free. In those quiet moments, as the crew rests, he may sit next to you, his hands absentmindedly finding a strand of hair to twist between his fingers. His touch is unthinking, almost a part of the background, but there’s a quiet fascination in the way he does it—his rough fingertips tracing each curl’s path, not because he’s trying to tame it, but because he finds it impossibly captivating. If you tease him about it, he’ll turn away, muttering under his breath with the same gruffness he’s known for. “It’s just… bouncy,” he’ll say, though the pink in his ears tells a different story.

- A Shield Against the Wind

Zoro observes, always quietly aware of his surroundings, and he notices how your curls seem to fight against the wind, their natural beauty battling the elements. While others may not notice, he does. When the wind picks up, he’ll subtly shift his position, always placing himself between you and the gusts, blocking the worst of it with his broad frame. If you ask him why, he’ll scoff, “You could move, y’know,” but his stance remains unchanged. It’s his way of silently protecting you—and your curls—from the chaos outside.

- Comfort in the Aftermath

After a fierce battle, when the adrenaline that had once sharpened his senses fades into a quiet exhaustion, Zoro finds solace in your presence. He doesn’t need to say much—his actions speak for him. With a quiet breath, he’ll reach for you, running his fingers through your curls, feeling the softness of each strand as his hand tangles within them. It’s not about comfort; it’s about grounding himself, reminding himself that you’re still there, still safe. In those moments, his touch lingers just a second longer than necessary, and though his eyes may not meet yours, the weight of his affection is undeniable.

- Uncomplicated Praise, Deeply Felt

Zoro is blunt, his words seldom adorned with the sweetness others might offer. But when he compliments you, it’s grounded in truth, uncomplicated yet deeply sincere. When you’re struggling with the tangled chaos of your curls, his gaze will lift to you, and with a grunt, he’ll say, “Looks fine to me. Don’t change it.” It’s not flowery, but it’s Zoro in its purest form—honest, no frills. On rare occasions when you take care more of your hair and styling it, his eyes might linger a moment too long, before he clears his throat and mutters, “You look… good.” Simple words, yet they carry the weight of his admiration.

- The Battle of Haircare

When you mention needing new hair products, Zoro’s mind immediately shifts into a mode of confusion. He’s never thought about something as trivial as shampoo, but his love for you has him trying—if only to see you smile. In the aisles of an unfamiliar island store, he glares at the endless bottles, trying to make sense of them. “What the hell is ‘hydrating curl cream’ supposed to do?” he mutters, but when you ask him to help detangle your hair, he takes the task more seriously than anything else. His brows furrow in concentration, fingers working through the knots with an intensity only rivaled by his swordsmanship. Each strand is handled with an unexpected patience, proving that even in the smallest things, Zoro will always give his all.

- A Silent Protector

Zoro’s way of protecting you isn’t flashy or showy. He doesn’t need to make a spectacle of it. But when your curls are threatened—by the wind, by the crowd, by something as simple as an ill-timed brush of someone’s hand—he steps in without hesitation. With a firm but gentle hand, he pulls you closer to his side, shielding your hair from harm, acting as if it’s no more than a casual motion. If someone dares to touch your curls without permission, his gaze is enough to make them rethink their actions, his glare sharp enough to cut through any pretense.

- Loyalty Shown in the Quiet Moments

Zoro’s love for you is shown in the quietest, most sincere ways. If you run out of your favorite hair product, he’s the one to notice, somehow keeping track of the small details that others might overlook. One evening, he’ll appear beside you with a new bottle of your favorite oil, placing it gently in your hands as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. If you’ve had a long day and your curls are more unruly than usual, Zoro will offer a gruff, “Sit down. I’ll take care of it.” The way he works through your hair is slow and deliberate, as if he’s taking the time to tend to something precious. It’s not about the task—it’s about the way he quietly shows you that, no matter the day or the chaos, he’s there for you, always.

VINSMOKE SANJI

- Adoration in Every Strand

Sanji’s fascination with your curls borders on obsession. The moment you walk into the kitchen or sit down at the table, he can’t help but be drawn to the way your hair naturally moves, the way it defies gravity, as if each curl is a work of art in itself. “Mademoiselle,” he’ll sigh dreamily, gazing at you with the adoration of a man utterly enchanted. “Your hair… it’s like a perfect symphony of elegance and chaos—so wild, so effortlessly beautiful.” He could spend hours simply staring, but when he’s around, you’ll always feel like the most stunning creature to ever exist.

- The Art of Curly Hair Care

Sanji may be a chef, but when it comes to your hair, he becomes a meticulous artist. He knows exactly how to make it shine, how to take care of it with tender touches, and he’s the only one you trust to give you the perfect trim. Whenever you ask for help with it, he responds with complete seriousness. “Of course, darling, it’s my honor to ensure your curls remain as perfect as they deserve to be.” His hands are always gentle but firm, his focus intense as he works on keeping your hair looking its best.

- Flirty Comments with a Side of Gentle Touch

His flirting knows no bounds, but with you, it always feels different—genuine, tender. If you catch him staring at your hair, he doesn’t even try to hide it. “How do you make your curls look so good?” he’ll ask, his voice thick with admiration, leaning in as if he’s trying to discover the secret. “Are you sure they’re just hair, or do they have a mind of their own?” he’ll muse, his gaze so intense it feels like he’s searching for the very meaning of life in your locks.

- Curly Hair, Perfect Partner

Sanji’s love for you goes beyond superficialities, but the way your hair frames your face? He can’t help but be captivated every time. You’re a vision—whether it’s in the kitchen, surrounded by the smell of his best dishes, or on the deck under the golden sun, your hair always perfectly wild and untamed. “How did I get so lucky?” he’ll whisper to himself, caught in a moment where everything seems to revolve around you. “My perfect, beautiful mademoiselle…”

- The Hair-Ruffling Ritual

On rare, quiet moments, when you’re sitting together or sharing a peaceful moment, Sanji has this little ritual. He’ll reach over, carefully running his fingers through your curls, smoothing them down as if it’s his responsibility to protect them. When he does this, there’s always a soft, affectionate smile on his lips, as if he’s savoring a secret joy no one else gets to see. “I swear,” he’ll say with a soft chuckle, “if I could, I’d make sure every curl stayed as perfect as the first time I saw it.”

- Teasing with Adoration

Even in his playful teasing, Sanji’s love for you is clear. If your curls are a little out of place, he’ll make a show of dramatically fixing them, acting as if it’s a matter of utmost importance. “There’s no way I can allow such disarray on my lovely lady,” he’ll say with a smirk, his fingers carefully tucking a curl behind your ear. You know he’s teasing, but the care with which he does it shows just how much he values you.

- A Man Who Wants to Spoil You

He doesn’t just want to cook for you—he wants to pamper you. He’ll surprise you with special oils, conditioners, or hair accessories that he swears will make your curls even more radiant. “Only the best for my queen,” he’ll proclaim as he carefully places a luxurious bottle of hair serum in your hands. “A woman as beautiful as you deserves the world, including perfect curls.”

- In Private, He’s Your Rock

When it’s just the two of you, away from the prying eyes of the crew, Sanji’s admiration for you feels like a soft, steady thing. In moments of quiet, when you’re lying in his arms after a long day, he’ll press gentle kisses to the top of your head, letting his lips linger just long enough to enjoy the feeling of your curls against his face. “You know…” he’ll say softly, “I’d protect every single curl on your head if it meant keeping you safe.”

CAT BURGLAR NAMI

- Strategic Observations of Your Hair

Nami is always keenly aware of your curls, though she rarely shows it. She’s more practical than emotional, so she admires the way your hair moves with the wind or the humidity with the same precision she’d use to study a map. “so gorgeous,” she’ll say, a faint smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth as she watches a few stubborn strands fight against the breeze. You can see that spark in her eyes—Nami loves a challenge, and your curls are one she enjoys mastering in subtle ways.

- Curly Hair Care Expert (Without the Compliments)

Nami isn’t one to shower you with over-the-top compliments about your hair—she’ll leave that to others like Sanji. Instead, she’ll approach your curls with the same pragmatism she applies to everything in her life. She’ll be the first one to suggest a new hair product when your curls are looking frizzy, her voice casual as if she’s offering you an extra map for your travels. “Try this—works wonders with humidity. Trust me, I’ve tested it.”

- The Subtle Tease

Nami loves to tease you, and your curly hair is a prime target. “It must take you forever to untangle that mess in the morning,” she’ll comment with a smirk, clearly enjoying the light-hearted jab. But when she says this, you know there’s affection behind the teasing—Nami isn’t mean-spirited, she’s just playful. Still, you’ll catch her grinning as she watches you attempt to fix one particularly stubborn curl.

- The Subtle Compliment (When You Least Expect It)

While she’ll never openly gush about how beautiful your curls are, she’ll show her admiration in small, subtle ways. When she notices a particularly well-placed curl or a new style you’ve tried, she’ll make a nonchalant comment. “Okay, I’ll admit it,” she’ll say while adjusting a map or focusing on something else. “That curl right there—looks good.” She’ll never go overboard, but you can hear the sincerity in her voice.

- Curly Hair, Practicalities First

Nami’s practicality takes over when it comes to your hair. She’ll often have hair ties and clips on hand, offering them to you without hesitation. If your hair starts getting in the way during a storm or a chaotic situation, she’ll hand you one with a knowing look, as if it’s just another tool to make the day go smoothly. “Trust me, it’s easier when you don’t have a ton of hair in your face while navigating through this mess.”

- Shared Moments in the Sun

On those rare, peaceful moments when the crew is relaxing on a beach or under a tree, Nami will sit beside you, eyeing your curls with a kind of fondness. She’ll reach over to lightly tuck one curl behind your ear, the touch soft, almost intimate. “Your hair’s wild,” she’ll comment with a small smile, “but in a good way. It suits you.” These little moments of connection, where Nami’s usually cool demeanor softens, are a quiet but important reminder that she values you, in every sense.

- In Private, She’s Surprisingly Gentle

When it’s just the two of you, Nami can be surprisingly tender. If she catches you adjusting your curls in frustration, she won’t let you do it alone. “Let me help,” she’ll say quietly, gently moving to fix the curls you’ve been trying to tame. You’ll feel her fingers brush your scalp, working in silence with focused care. For someone who doesn’t always show her emotions, her actions speak volumes.

- Nami’s Way of Saying “I Care”

Nami doesn’t always wear her affection on her sleeve, but when she does, it’s in these small moments with you. After a rough day, when the rest of the crew is busy or unwinding, she’ll settle beside you. Without saying much, she’ll gently adjust your curls, fixing them in a way that feels almost soothing. “You’re fine. Stop stressing,” she’ll whisper with a calm smile, her touch tender but firm, reminding you that she’s there.

NICO ROBIN

- Admiring Your Curls from a Distance

Robin, being observant as always, notices the subtle beauty in your curls, though she’s not the type to openly gush about them. When she’s deep in thought, her gaze will often drift to you, to the way your curls frame your face so perfectly, as if each strand is in its rightful place. She’s not one to speak often, but when she does, it’s always with a calm, almost meditative tone. “You have a way of making chaos look beautiful,” she’ll say, the softness in her voice making it clear that it’s more of an observation than a simple compliment.

- Gentle Touch and Care

Robin isn’t the kind of person who’s outwardly affectionate in the traditional sense, but when she does show her care, it’s in the smallest, most delicate gestures. If you’re struggling with your curls, or if the wind has made them unruly, she’ll quietly take a seat next to you, her hands moving to adjust a few strands with meticulous care. She doesn’t rush, allowing the moment to feel intimate, her touch feather-light as she smooths down a particularly stubborn curl. “There. That’s better,”she’ll say softly, her eyes lingering on you with that serene, knowing expression.

- The Quiet Compliment

Robin doesn’t give many overt compliments, but when she does, it’s always in the form of quiet, thoughtful remarks. If your curls catch her attention—perhaps when the sunlight hits them just right—she might lean in ever so slightly, her lips curving into a subtle smile. “You always seem to look the most radiant when the wind plays with your hair,” she’ll comment, her voice low, as if she’s sharing a private thought.

- Her Subtle, Intimate Observations

Robin’s way of showing admiration is to notice the things that others might overlook, the subtle movements, the small details that make you unique. She’ll watch your curls bounce as you move, and though she might not comment on them every time, there’s a certain glimmer in her eyes that lets you know she’s taken note. “Your curls have their own rhythm,” she’ll muse, her voice a soft hum as she watches them shift in the breeze.

- The Quiet Protector

Though Robin is typically reserved, when it comes to you, she’s remarkably attentive. If she notices you becoming frustrated with your curls, especially in the heat or humidity, she might offer you a calming smile, her hand gently brushing your hair out of your face. “Don’t let something so simple trouble you,” she’ll say, her voice as smooth as silk, her touch both soothing and reassuring.

- The Curiosity About Your Hair

Robin’s intellectual curiosity extends to you as well, and she’s often fascinated by the way your curls seem to have a life of their own. “It’s remarkable,” she’ll say with a quiet tone of wonder. “How do you keep your curls so full of life?” She’s genuinely interested in your haircare routine, as it represents the unique qualities of your personality that she finds so intriguing.

- A Gentle Bond in the Quiet Moments

In private moments, when the noise of the world fades away, Robin enjoys the soft serenity of your company. She might run her fingers through your curls, not in a rush but with a calm, soothing touch, as if she’s cherishing the peacefulness of the moment. “Your curls remind me of the ocean,” she’ll say, her voice almost distant as if lost in thought. “Full of mystery and depth.” It’s her way of expressing how much she values you, in her own quiet, graceful manner.

- Noticing Your Efforts Without Saying Much

Robin is keenly aware of the effort you put into your appearance, especially when it comes to your curls. She notices when you take extra care, or when you’re struggling with them. If you’re frustrated with the way they’re behaving, Robin will gently offer assistance, her tone soft but sure. “I’m sure they’ll settle. It’s just a matter of patience.” She understands the small, quiet frustrations that others might overlook, and she offers support without making a big deal of it.

- The Protective Quietness

In the rare moments when someone else dares to make a comment about your hair—either teasing you or offering unsolicited advice—Robin is quick to defend you. She’ll raise an eyebrow and speak with calm authority, her words firm but never harsh. “I don’t believe they were asking for your opinion,” she’ll say, her gaze never leaving the person who dared to intrude on your space.

- Help with Your Curls

Nico Robin’s Devil Fruit powers, the Hana Hana no Mi, allow her to sprout extra limbs from almost any surface. She’s not one to show off, but when she notices you struggling with your unruly curls—perhaps a particularly stubborn knot or frizz—she’ll use her powers in a subtle, gentle way to assist you. With a calm, focused expression, Robin will sprout delicate, flower-like hands from the back of your head or from the side of your shoulder. “I’ll help you with that,” she’ll say, her voice serene. These hands will deftly smooth through your hair, massaging out any tangles or gently pushing stray curls back into place, working with the same care and precision she’d apply to her own tasks. The hands, sprouting from places like your shoulders or even from behind you, are soft and graceful—never overbearing or intrusive, but more like a quiet offering of help, her calm presence easing away any frustration.

It’s a gesture that’s almost poetic in its execution—Robin’s powers are used not for grand battles or dramatic displays, but to ease your mind and make your hair fall just a little bit more perfectly, with a soft smile on her lips.

RED-HAIRED SHANKS

- A Love as Wild as the Sea

Shanks has spent his life chasing the horizon, but when he looks at you—when he watches the way your curls catch the sunlight, wild and untamed—he swears he’s found something even more boundless. He cups your face in his one strong hand, his thumb tracing over your cheek as he gazes at you with that easy, knowing smile. “The sea’s spent its whole life trying to move like you… and it still doesn’t come close.” he murmurs, voice dipped in quiet wonder, as if he’s found the only treasure that truly matters. Your lashes fluttered as you blinked, once, twice, before giving him a look somewhere between amused and skeptical. “You always this smooth, or did the sea teach you that too?” Shanks’ grin deepens, his thumb still tracing lazy circles against your cheek. “Nah,” he muses, voice low and teasing. “The sea just taught me how to chase what’s impossible to resist.”

- His Fingers Lost in Your Curls

His hand is calloused, rough from years at sea, yet when it finds your curls, his touch is impossibly soft. He has a habit of playing with them absentmindedly—twisting a strand between his fingers while deep in thought, brushing them from your face with the backs of his knuckles. When you sit beside him on the deck, he leans in just enough to let the scent of salt and wind in your hair lull him into contentment. If you ever rest against his chest, his hand naturally moves to cradle your curls, holding you there like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever touched.

- A Sailor Who Studies the Storm

Shanks is a man who understands the sea—its tempests, its serenity, its unpredictability. And when he looks at you, at the way your curls shift with the wind, full of their own wild defiance, he understands you in the same way. He watches as they move in the ocean breeze, never trying to tame them, only admiring the way they mirror your spirit. There’s a quiet reverence in the way Shanks watches you, as if memorizing every twist and turn of your curls the same way a sailor memorizes the tides. He never tries to smooth them down, never seeks to control them—because to him, they are a perfect reflection of you. Wild. Free. Untamed by the world. When the wind picks up, pulling at your hair like the ocean reaching for the shore, he only chuckles, his hand instinctively finding its way to you. With an easy touch, he tucks a curl behind your ear, his fingers lingering just long enough to make you feel the warmth of his calloused palm against your skin.

- Sheltering You from the Wind, His Own Way

Shanks doesn’t just pull you close when the wind picks up—he does it casually, as if he has every right to. He’ll throw his heavy cloak over your shoulders with a smirk, shifting his body just enough to block the strongest gusts. “Can’t have the wind stealing my favorite sight,” he muses, tucking a stray curl behind your ear with his thumb. He may be missing an arm, but that never stops him from holding you the way you need—as if the sea itself could never sweep you from his grasp.

- The Scent of Salt and Memory

He’s drawn to the scent of your hair in the same way he’s drawn to the ocean—something comforting, something constant. When he embraces you after weeks or months apart, he buries his face in your curls, inhaling deeply before exhaling a slow, content sigh. “Smells like home,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and unguarded. If you tease him about smelling like rum and mischief, he only chuckles, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. “Then I guess we belong to each other, don’t we?”

- Taming His Hands, Not His Heart

He may only have one arm, but when he touches you, he makes you feel as if he could hold the entire world. If you ever struggle with your curls, he’ll offer to help, his fingers threading through them with surprising patience. “You trust me with this?” he teases, though his touch is careful, reverent. If you let him, he’ll tie loose sections away from your face, securing them with a scrap of ribbon he cut from his own coat. And when he’s finished, he leans back, studying his handiwork before murmuring, “Still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

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wandering-tides · 10 months ago

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Look at the Piggybank

Look at the Piggybank!

It's shaped like Raon!!!

....this must mean Hong and Ohn's piggbanks are cat shaped with their respective colors, right?

-thinks back to the Top Whips Test on the Wind Island where only the kids piggybanks were left-

...That scene is so much more devastating now

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sumbei · 1 month ago

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re-reading the wind island test is really making me think.

If LSH and CJS didn't tell KRS to keep living for them, he most definitely would've killed himself. He said it himself at the beginning, he only lives because he cannot die. he made a promise to them.

#tcf #lcf #trash of the count's family #tcf cale #cale henituse #kim rok soo #man.#now all i can imagine is a scenario where he actually tries and the ghost of lsh and cjs comically appear to tell him to stop doing bullshi #lee soo hyuk #choi jung soo #the hungs <3

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little-miss-of-the-sky · 20 days ago

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Telemachus x blessed by Hestia reader

Chapter one : a warmth like home

His first memories of her were vague, nothing more than a drop in the ocean of his memory. However, she had found her way into his head and never left.

Telemachus was only a child when he first saw her, on that dry winter's day. He was still too young to see the true nature of the men who invaded the palace of Ithaca. To see the damage Demeter's grief was causing. Yet the young prince often heard the maids speak of her, in whispers and gossip. "Child of the hearth", "gift of the gods", "guardian of the fire". So many words used to describe a little girl, seeming rather to evoke something divine.

The courtiers were like a poison that gradually spread to every corner of Ithaca. The children's laughter had fallen silent, replaced by loud mockery. The corridors, once lit by the soft glow of the sun, were now dirty and desolate. Odysseus seemed to have taken the soul of his island with him when he left for Troy.

Antinous had had far too much to drink tonight, and the encouragement of his companions only made him madder. Telemachus, sitting at his mother's feet, felt his anger increase with every obscenity he shouted. He, a little boy, could respect his mother, the graceful Penelope of Sparta. So why did men claiming to be courting her turn up every night and harass her like this?

The clamor of the men grew louder with each passing second, like the howling of a wolf pack before a hunt. The maids left discreetly, their heads lowered, and Telemachus felt the courage of his young heart flicker like a flame in the wind. Suddenly, a menacing silhouette detached itself from the group of men. The glow of the torches reflected off his dark skin, and his red tunic evoked the blood he so loved to spill in countless fights. He approached Penelope slowly, each step testing her, preparing to seize her. But the Queen remained dignified, silently weaving on, now carrying the King's honor on her shoulders.

It wasn't the first time Antinous was trying to force her, unfortunately, far from it.

Antinous stopped in front of Penelope, letting out a mocking laugh before sighing:

"Let's see, Queen of Ithaca. The King's been gone for 5 years already and you're still thinking about him? So let me...... discover what old Odysseus loved so much".

In an impulse of indignation, Telemachus stood up, his little face taut with anger. This man was leading those who were destroying his life, his home, his father's dignity, and he dared to speak of his mother like a common whore?

"Shut up! My mom deserves better than you! "

The words, fiery with passion, had escaped the young prince's mouth before he could think any further. Under normal circumstances, when Antinous was sober, he would have mocked Telemachus' words, would have launched the other courtiers into countless taunts. But alcohol destroyed his thoughts, fueled the fire in his soul.

Antinous grabbed a handful of Telemachus' hair, his eyes wide and his mouth forming a menacing sneer. Penelope had stopped her work, frozen at the sight of her son being manhandled in this way, the way her child was threatened. She should have intervened, had to intervene, but that would only make the situation more difficult.

Telemachus let out a small yelp of pain, a veil of tears covering his eyes as he tried to remove Antinous' fingers from his soft black locks. Antinous simply tightened his grip with a sneer and exclaimed:

"My companions! Who thinks the little prince deserves to learn a lesson the hard way? "

But before anyone could reply, a soft voice was heard:

"Stop right there Antinous....."

Telemachus turned his head with difficulty towards the origin of the sound. And his heart raced when he saw her, with a mixture of fear and curiosity. A child, hidden by a long crimson cloak, was playing with an old stray cat by the fire . The fabric of her cape was covered with flames embroidered in gold thread, and her worn leather sandals had orange straps. But it was when she revealed her face that the Prince's heart stopped. Her eyes were the color of flames, two orbs blending yellow, orange and red in perfect harmony.

Some courtiers, annoyed by her intervention, moved towards her, joined by Melanthius and Antinous. The two chatted for a brief moment before Melanthius rushed towards the little girl, raising his hand to slap her across the face.

She didn't seem bothered at all, preferring to clean the ashes that had accumulated on the cat's paws before declaring, "You, who have so abused Xenia, Melanthius, slapping an envoy of the gods will not appease Lord Zeus's resentment towards you." These simple words were enough to unsettle the courtiers, who all calmed down and returned to their usual huddle. Even Antinous returned to his seat, giving him a nasty look as he passed by her.

When night fell and Telemachus was ready to sleep, snuggled against his mother's chest, a question crossed his mind.

In a tiny voice, he whispered, "Mom? Why was Antinous afraid of the girl? And who is she?" A long silence passed before Penelope answered in a weary voice, her fingers tracing the branches of the olive tree that served as her bed.

With a deep sigh, she declared, "It's....a Girl blessed by Hestia Hestia. We found her asleep amidst the ashes, a few days after your father left. She's your age, and honestly, that child is a true angel. Antinous is afraid of her because she plays at scaring him, but what you saw of her isn't her true personality, far from it..."

Telemachus let out a soft sigh of admiration, his sleepy mind wandering into a world of ideas about this girl blessed by Hestia. With a mischievous smile, he looked at his mother and exclaimed, "She must be as strong as Achilles!"

Penelope let out a laugh as he ruffled her hair and replied, "It is true that she possesses more humility and patience than that great warrior..."

This answer satisfying him, Telemachus snuggled up to his mother again, and before closing his eyes, muttered, "Tomorrow, I will go see her to ask her to play... and tell herthat her eyes are beautiful..."

#epic x reader #telemachus x reader #epic the musical #hestia #antinous epic #Melanthius

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cupcakefactory · 9 days ago

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Swimming lessons with Rafayel

Pure ass Rafayel fluff? YES PLEASE. I'm ovulating, this was nice to write, i need a soft gentle man to teach me how to swim thank you very much.

Pairing: Rafayel x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Gender specific nicknames (Miss Bodyguard/Silly Girl/Missy), Fear of drowning, Rafayel is a little bit of a dick but we love him for it

WC; 1.1k

“Rafayel..”

She fiddled with her fingers, avoiding his hypnotizing gaze as they stood in his studio together – they had been talking for days now about going on a date together once his latest painting was finished, and originally she had agreed and been exited about it.. until every single date idea Rafayel gave involved water, swimming in the ocean, going to an abandoned island (this involved a boat, and they’re track record for those was also horrible so it counted as water). Things you’d expect from a Lemurian, his life had been nothing but water before now, she had known that, and she would have been excited if it wasn’t for one small fact.

She couldn’t swim.

Sure, she should be able to, being a hunter and all, so she understood why Rafayel had never questioned it. A hunter should be able to survive in all conditions, rain or shine, land or sea – she had just managed to cheat her way through the tests, hiding in the background and making it through the water by thrashing her arms around. If anyone noticed, they didn’t comment; she passed the test, much to her and her family's surprise.

However, now wasn’t the time for nostalgia. She heard his paintbrush being set down, and hands that were softer than sand rested against her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his mismatched ones. They were stunning, she had easily gotten lost in them so many times, but now wasn’t the time for that – she saw his worries in them as she gulped, looking out the window towards the ocean that caused all her issues at that moment.

“I can’t go on those dates with you, Rafa.. I can’t swim.”

“That’s it, sweetie? You had me worried there for a moment!”

Her eyes snapped back to his, confusion evident in her gaze as he offered a lazy smirk and shrug. Picking up his paintbrush again before continuing the strokes on the canvas, his eyes focused more on that. He acted like it was nothing, like she hadn’t just confessed the biggest secret she had been keeping their whole relationship! Was it really not that big of a deal? But yet, all his date ideas had involved water!

“What do you mean ‘That’s it’, Rafayel, your Lemurian! I can’t swim!”

“So, Cutie? I'm Lemurian, I’ll just teach you.”

He said it so quickly, like it was second nature and painfully obvious to anyone who thought hard enough. A chuckle at the bewildered look on her face as he stood, stretching and motioning towards the painting with his head – looking over she saw it was completed, a real masterpiece, something that would stand out in the gallery.

“Oh.. Rafayel.. its..”

She felt his arms wrap around her body with a gentle sway and a hum – he smelled like the ocean, slightly salty and beyond pleasant. It was like home again, falling back against him as he chuckled, a kiss on her temple before he spun her to face him.

“Amazing? Brilliant? I know, I know, but most importantly, miss bodyguard, complete. Let us start those swimming lessons.”

It was cold on the beach, the wind playing with the water to make the atmosphere feel worse than it actually was. She shivered, eyes narrowing onto Rafayel, who jumped into the sea like it was nothing, and she guessed to him it was nothing. He didn’t have to worry about death, nor did he have a reason to fear what was beyond the depth of the water – he had grown up there, he knew better than anyone what was a threat and what was a friend.

Her fatal flaw in this situation was reaching into the water to check the temperature, her fingers had barely skimmed the edges before she was pulled in – a grunt, panic, and way too much kicking followed as she tried and failed to keep her head above water. Certain Father Death was about to pay her a visit – this was it, she was going to die because Rafayel thought he’d be funny. Through her blind panic, she didn’t register his lips on hers, the soft touch barely there but giving her the ability the breathe underwater.

“Silly girl, you thought I’d let you die after I just got you back? Open your eyes.. I’ve got ya."

She did slowly, holding onto him like he was the only lifeline she had, letting her eyes adjust – slowly, the full ocean came into view. Colours she could only have dreamt of, fish and other marine mammals she had only ever read about filling her field of vision – and a small gasp as the realisation that they were in the ocean, breathing and experiencing this together. Of course, she knew the stories, that kissing a Lemurian would grant you the ability to breathe underwater – but ever the sceptical, she doubted the truth behind it, she’d have to test what other myths were correct now this one had all but been confirmed.

“Right, Cutie, you're gonna have to let go of me, y’know? I can’t teach ya if you’re stuck to me like an octopus.”

That fear came back, and he saw it before she even had a chance to open her mouth. He shook his head a little, just taking her hands in his and moving backwards, so she knew they were still connected, so she knew if this went bad, he was still there to save her. With a small smile of reassurance, he motioned to her legs

“Kick a little, get used to the water.”

She nodded, kicking back and letting what she only assumed were instincts to take over – it was fun, feeling like you were floating surrounded by the wildlife, how the outside world was muted and non-existent, how only she and he mattered right at this moment. Her kicks got more desperate, flicking little waves and splashes towards Rafayel, who all but tried to dodge as many as he could before pulling her back into his embrace.

“OkayOkay, maybe a little calmer this time? You’re not fighting a wanderer, you're just swimming.”

She nodded, and he let go, watching as she kicked just the right amount, moving a little without meaning to, and he took that as his cue, swimming backwards and dragging her along with him. The joy in her eyes was worth it, completely uncensored and pure because of what he was doing, because of the lesson he was teaching her. He waited a moment before letting her go, and watching as she finally swam alone – he couldn’t hide his smile as she turned towards him, that face he had loved in every lifetime breaking into a massive grin as he opened his arms and accepted her in.

“See, I knew you could do it, Missy.”

Likes, Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated <3

Please don't use my work to train AI :(

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#love and deep space #loveanddeepspace #love and deepspace #Rafayel x you #Rafayel x reader #lnds Rafayel #Rafayel x mc #lads Rafayel #love and deepspace Rafayel #Rafayel #Rafayel lnds #lnds #lnd Rafayel

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court-jobi · 6 months ago

Text

Tired Eyes

((Banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work/characters))

Pairing: Todoroki x reader (UAteacher!reader x Pro-Hero Shoto)

Rating: T+ (smol insinuated spice between lovers)

Words: 2k

Warnings: GN!reader, Behold the FLUFF, est. relationship, stress relief, Shoto is a good partner, just comfort hours, yall, tender kissing, *light suggestive pining* Shouto is a petname king

Summary:

An overworked hero and his under-rested lover are both due for a vacation. You are certainly dreaming of such a time where you can get away, and pose the idea one night when the dreams become just a bit too real and appealing to all your senses to ignore.

A/N: Ok, I super love writing Shoto now. Y'all's love of my first fic convinced me... more love for our half-and-half beau awaits~

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

Night sky. No clouds in sight. There is only a sky of deepest blue, a sea of deepest green, and sparkling gems of reflected starlight in between. Music rises from the sandy beach band beneath you, but out of sight from the serenity of this island paradise.

There’s light, despite the lateness of the hour. Streams from the moon above you: so brightly that it casts shadows through those teetering, cascading palms over the entire balcony.

Just slightly too cold, this wind. A perfect midnight breeze, but you’re hardly chilly. There’s a perfect set of arms holding you around the waist– paired by a warm cheek pressed against your right side: his left.

You don’t get views like this living in such a thriving city. Those skylines hold their own beauty, but it’s hardly a candle to this unspoiled beach. Distant rolls of waves crashing at low tide act as the perfect background noise. Your better half is humming the familiar song that’s playing downstairs there by your ear; a relaxed state emanating from him that you rarely see–

Todoroki slips into your study, on the hunt for where his darling lover could be. Catching you catnapping at your desk, he runs a hand through your hair to test how deeply you sleep.

‘What’s gotten into you, huh? You never dance!’

‘We’re on island time, aren’t we? What’s the saying.. ‘there’s a first time for everything’.’

‘Breaking news: Japan’s number four hero, SHOTO, dancing his life away with the love of his life’- that’ll make headlines! I gotta make a call-’

‘They’ll never believe you…’

‘Where’s my phone- I gotta get proof-OOPHM!’

‘Stop talking. Come dance~’

A cool hand swipes a finger up your neck, another test.

Kisses outline your cheek in a curve, coupled by dreamy, airy hums. Lips that sear with their ‘want’ of you, laden with heat and obsessed with covering you in their wake. Making you weak for someone who proves his strength with utter softness– and his power with gentleness.

The man atop you -who worships you- has held your hand for years, but your heart for much longer. Friendship turned to something dearer once you both tested the waters together, which led to seeking out new shores in whatever spare time you could afford– time away being a precious treasure. You’re set on committing these kisses to memory, making the most of this respite that resets his busy mind and serious outlook.

He’s making sure you let go of every ounce of worry, now that he’s feeling better. Making you sing his praises without a care for who might hear over the billow and sway of hala trees.

Making you his.

‘M’love… My love….’

‘-My love?”

You stir suddenly and wake like nothing’s happened. That work email draft still sits idle on your browser and as you turn, the discovery that your boyfriend’s returned from the streets of Esuha comes to life as well.

You breeze past your bleary-eyed stare at the man who was just carrying you to bed, distracting you with his mouth, looking fondly up at you unbound by responsibility…- you were sure it was real, just moments ago..

“Oh Sho– sorry about that, I was just um– heh.."

A teasing eye studies your masking. "Long day?"

A curriculum planning session with Aizawa and Cementoss you’d thought was wrapped up yesterday continued in the main office today. Both heroes had flanked your desk with recommendations for your third year students, as well as the intern assignments for the first years. There also lay plenty of midterm e-filing on the administrative end you’ve been putting off, in favor of helping each of the department heads with their assignments so as to not stop their momentum.

Yet where has that left you? Stretched too thinly, as usual.

Not only has the Principal wagged a cautious tail at you for this level of stacked taskload, but in your carrying it home, you’ve received disapproving looks from your life partner as well.

Luckily, Todoroki appears more docile than normal– likely the result of his own weariness coming into play and softening his reaction to finding you this way yet again.

Long day yesterday. Long day today, and a long day most likely to face you tomorrow.

"Yeah.. they do tend that way now.”

"You haven't touched your tea, it's cold." He eyes the way the cup beside you doesn’t steam anymore, with a raised brow. All you can do is rub your eyes and stretch for a little added cuteness.

"I like cold tea- just add a little lemon and some ice~"

While charming, it sadly does little to sway your Pro-Hero.

"You're working too late again, sweetheart. We talked about this."

"Look, it was my bad forgetting the deadline. I got carried away with other stuff,” you explain your shortcomings, “But I don't want to be more stressed out later; I just… thought I could tackle it now?..."

“You ‘tackle’ too much during the day. Surely something can be left for tomorrow?”

“There is plenty for tomorrow– but there’s still some tonight.”

Without much expression, Todoroki sinks from his authoritative stance. A blur of mussed red and white hair knelt beside you to allegedly listen… only to swivel your chair for you, and hold his hands out to you.

You reached out, knowing you needed one of his award-winning hugs. Anything to settle the jolt of waking from such a pleasant dream.

…only Todoroki doesn’t offer you such a solace. Instead he pulls you up the rest of the way, and tosses you up over the shoulder and carries you by your pinned thighs. Paying no mind to your exclamations along the way to the bedroom, you can’t even look back at him from this angle he carries you in .

"Sh-Shoto! C'mon, I can do this! I just need another hour or two - like two-and-a-half, tops."

He set you down on your feet by the bed, though you plop down onto the edge under his intensive -yet loving- stare. Todoroki lightly bridges over you, a hand atop each thigh to keep close to you.

"After… you take a shower, change out of these clothes, and eat something, then we can discuss your work schedule. But I won't let you run yourself into the ground."

He cupped your face and tenderly ran both hands down your hair and back to cup your entire face. His hands finding their comfortable home on your cheeks, you melt at the soothing touch of Todoroki’s thumbs brushing tender skin that’s graced by your shut lashes- where some semi-dark puffiness lies from interrupted rest.

"You have tired eyes, love.” your sweetheart whispers to you, “You're not listening to your body. Let's take care of it."

It’s the same argument you’ve coached him through sometimes. Though as a Pro-Hero, he’s taken the hint of self-care that you selectively ignore when it’s turned to you.

You sighed, but opened up to a well-meaning gaze; Shoto really was the most beautiful human you’d ever seen.

"Okay, honey. You win."

He smiled- wrenching your heart again, “I'll warm up our dinner."

“What do we even have?” you fight for the memory of what’s in the fridge.

“Don’t worry about that,” Todoroki settles you with a kiss on your forehead, “I’ve taken care of all of it.”

You hop in and out of the shower in record time and dress down in a curated set of pajamas, courtesy of Todoroki himself. Prepped and pre-heated in the towel warmer right beside the shower door, the gesture was just one of the many expressions of his love for you.

He timed his reentry perfectly, changed into lounge clothes as well and armed with a small tray complete with an assortment of some of your favorite poppables you can make a meal out of: crisp veggies, some rice balls, a touch of fruit for sweetness– all expertly topped with a green onion finish.

It’s a taste of something you’d maybe find on vacation. Even the way Todoroki plates this late-night snack meant to share… you’re spoiled by the presentation, without any special occasion sparking it at all. He makes ordinary Tuesdays feel like more. Sunday evening scaries aren’t something to dread anymore. Small moments in the daily -that hearken to the indulgent moments you work hard for- make the biggest difference in your weekly grind.

“You’re not off the patrol rotation around Golden Week, are you?” you ask wistfully, armed with a lightly sauced onigiri.

Todoroki stills from putting away some clothes; midthought, in puzzling fashion.

“Actually, I think so,” he gives a soft little smirk that’s more sleepy than pleased. “Iida and I worked out that he wanted some family time off the week after, so I offered to team up our agencies for that month to ensure smooth coverage while we’re both gone. The school is closed too, right?”

It’s perfect timing, you think. How you want to make your dreams a reality…

“We are. Got me thinking…”

Settling your finished tray aside to join you, Todoroki listens in.

“D’you think maybe if I get back in your good graces -not doing so much after-hours work-” you make a few bats of the eye to him, “...maybe we could get away for a bit? Take a little holiday?”

“A trip?” Todoroki asks.

You hum your request, hoping he’ll be open to it.

It’s hardly a fight; by the way his brows lift in amusement, it’s only obvious he’s never been asked about such a thing before, but loves the idea.

“Where did you have in mind, darling?”

Only the subject of your dreams: a beach hidden from the rest of the world, where cell reception is next to none (you pray) and where good food and good music are all you need to focus on while you spoil each other rotten with a selfish streak of alone time.

You shouldn’t feel so possessive of him -he’s a Pro-Hero who’s responsible for keeping this corner of the world safe… but you have to say, the idea of taking a break at his side has been seeping into your dreams long before tonight.

You can’t stay silent on it anymore.

“Somewhere there’s water.. And at least a six hour time difference. And a comfy bed.. N’ you.”

An amused huff leaves his nose again, transfixed on how soft your face looks at this moment.

“Big end of the bargain you’d have to hold up,” Todoroki teases, his voice worn by a day on duty and tenderized to sleepy perfection, “I know you can’t always escape it.. Can you promise no more after 9PM? Would that be fair?”

You accept the challenge, “That’s a good window. I could do that.”

Todoroki trails a warmed hand up your arm to ultimately cup your cheek.

“Promise no more lukewarm tea?”

“Is that so bad an offense to you?”

“Nearly unforgivable. Grounds for disowning, if you’re Nana Yaoyorozu.”

You giggle in your delirium, “Well, certainly can’t have that! No more, pinky promise.”

Leaning in, Todoroki seeks out a last condition,

“Promise I get my kisses in the doorway again?”

“Missed them tonight, huh?” you sigh guiltily.

Todoroki teased your partly open mouth, “Terribly.”

Nudging his nose, you beam at your sweetest reason to get up in the morning,

“I promise, my prince. Whatever you want. So please, can we?”

Matching the nuzzle and never one to refuse your wants or needs, Torodoki dives back in to kiss you,

“How can I say ‘no’ to my angel. Of course we can. A little break in paradise might just be what we need~”

You know no one works as hard as he does. Carrying the legacy of Endeavor is a hefty enough charge, forget that he’s set to forge his own path past what the reputation has already afforded him. Shoto has become a household name to many; though yours is where he is most content to come rest his head and heart.

With the dangling treat of a getaway with him on your horizon, you set the intention to finish your work after this aside for the morning, entirely. Shoto has already made his plea to hold you for the rest of the night, and you could never refuse his tender asks. When he treats you like royalty, how could you not in return?

With your shared kisses and brainstorming of vacation destinations now on the mind, you’re hardly focused on student affairs; you have dreams to fulfill.

#shoto todoroki #shouto todoroki #shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha shoto #mha todoroki #todoroki fluff #shoto fluff #shouto fluff

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moondance-r · 7 months ago

Text

SAGAU-adjacent not-Creator Creator 1

Summary: You knew, viscerally down to your bones, that you did not create this world; Teyvat had no grand creator, no single hand designing its wonders. It did, however, have something of a catalytic agent, without which it would not exist.

You.

[Masterlist] [Next]

Godhood got boring after a while, so you wandered. You peeked into worlds and travelled from star to star -- one, dying and desperate, called out to you.

It might have been beautiful, once. You could see patches of greenery and remnants of grand structures littering the landscape, could sense life lingering on its surface and stubbornly refusing to fade. This was a world on the verge of destruction, you knew, and not just because of what its creatures did or didn’t do. No, this was something far grander than anything mortals -- or pseudo-immortals -- could ever achieve.

Its core was decaying inexorably, not on a time scale noticeable to any of its inhabitants but destined for demise nonetheless. You... pitied it, perhaps. You had no reason to -- you had watched countless worlds perish and this one should have been no different -- and yet you dove close and settled into the core of this world that called itself Teyvat.

You slept.

And Teyvat grew itself around you.

You awoke to darkness. This was strange because you had no physical form and should not have registered the lack of light as anything that would impact your senses. And yet it was dark and you could not see.

(With physical eyes, a corner of your mind whispered. How novel!)

Since you had eyes, you must have a body. You tried to move a limb; nothing happened, except for a brief sense of pressure. Then you heard -- with ears! -- muffled rumbling before light pierced the darkness as soil peeled itself back from where it buried you beneath the earth. You sat up. You were in a divot someone might call a grave, if not for it having no markers or headstones.

You didn’t know how long you sat there appreciating the dawn before a metaphysical humming caught your attention, and you turned to see some stone steps leading up to a circular portal. That, you knew instinctively, was a passage leading to the roots of this world where you had slumbered for the past... how long?

You didn’t know. You wanted to find out.

The first order of business: getting off this island. Unfortunately, it seemed as if you were stuck in your fleshy body, which didn’t even have the decency to transform into something capable of flight when it refused to allow you to revert into your nebulous spirit form. You considered just walking into the sea, but you only had this one body on hand and did not want to test its lung capacity for so little reward. Life was so fragile already.

Well, this may be a problem, you thought to yourself. Not even a single local solar cycle and your journey had already stopped in its tracks.

So you sat. And thought. And thought some more.

Before you could petrify into a statue, something big flew overhead, handily startling you out of contemplation. You rose to your feet as a winged four-legged creature covered in teal fur landed heavily in front of you and bowed. You assumed it bowed, anyway -- such gestures weren’t easy to do when one was a quadruped, but the way it drew back a foreleg and lowered its head was definitely deliberate.

You blinked at it, nonplussed. You’d barely taken more than a hundred steps on this land, there was no way you had done anything to deserve this bowing and scraping.

“Mine Guiding Wind,” the dragon said in a deep, echoing voice, “it gladdens me to see thine holy visage. It would be of utmost honour if mine unworthy body might bear thy divine form through the skies.”

“...You can speak to me casually,” you said instead of getting into all of that. You wanted to be off this island before digging into the dragon’s delusions. “And yes, a ride would be appreciated.”

The dragon seemed to faintly shiver in delight. As you approached, they obligingly shuffled around and offered a foreleg so that you could climb onto their back. You forced your new limbs to cooperate as you clambered up and over to settle in front of their first pair of wings and gripped their ruff.

With a great beat of the dragon’s six wings, you ascended into the air. Despite your muffled senses, you could detect this world’s wind element assist in the dragon’s rise. Anemo, you remembered from the last time you were awake, one of this world’s seven elements. All worlds worked differently and this one fell on the more magical side of the scale. You wondered how Teyvat had changed since its near destruction -- if new civilisations had risen to replace the old, if these new peoples remembered old lessons. If they would be as welcoming as their world had been.

At least the last was promising if the dragon’s greeting was anything to go by, though who knew if that would persist once they realised you weren’t whoever they thought you were.

“What’s your name?” you called down to the dragon, trusting that Anemo would carry your voice.

Sure enough, the dragon replied, “I am Dvalin of Mondstadt, Sweeping Gale.”

“And is that our destination? Mondstadt?”

“It is, yes... unless You would prefer somewhere else?” Dvalin asked, suddenly hesitant.

You hummed thoughtfully. “No, Mondstadt is fine,” you said as you rolled the name around in your mind. You didn’t know enough about this world to have an opinion, though you wondered if this ‘Mondstadt’ was a city? A country? A continent? Or maybe it was merely a wild region uninhabited save for a territorial dragon. That would be interesting, you thought, though probably quite boring.

Sea eventually gave way to land beneath you, which quickly turned into soft rolling hills. People walked on clearly marked paths, and you watched a few turn and look up as you passed.

“It’s surprisingly peaceful,” you commented, thinking back to the scorched earth that had greeted you. “I’m glad.”

Dvalin vibrated beneath you, which you realised was a purr. “It has been many an age since you last descended, Pathfinder; that Mond may receive your praise for our efforts is the greatest reward of all,” they said.

Dvalin landed at the foot of a giant tree, in front of which was a stone statue of an androgynous figure that glowed brightly to your senses. Halfway in a daze, you slipped to the ground and stumbled to the statue, missing the way Dvalin lowered themselves in preparation to catch you should you fall. But even if you noticed you wouldn’t have cared, because the statue called to you like a beacon.

The instant you lay a hand on it, you could feel the world breathe a sigh as a portion of your power returned to you. A rush of air tinged with Anemo buffeted you and the tree joyously, and you chuckled and smiled into the wind.

“I’m back.”

“Your Grace!” A person dressed in fancy green and white clothes seemed to appear out of thin air from the speed he flew over, beaming all the while. “Your Grace, You’re finally here! The festival is all set up, we’re just missing You, O Holy Breeze!”

This person... You squinted slightly. There were remnants of your power within him, though less than the statue. Just what had Teyvat been up to while you were sleeping?

You raised your hands as if to fend him away. “Slow down, who exactly do you think I am?”

“Your Grace?” he asked in bewilderment.

“Answer me first.”

After a brief hesitation, he twirled and bowed with a flourish. “You are the First Breath, the Guiding Wind who accompanies all, the Creator of Teyvat and its every marvel! Every pebble, tree, and shrub was nourished under Your loving hands. You are the one worshipped above all, and we have been waiting most anxiously for Your return.”

What the hell, you thought pointedly at Teyvat.

In response, the wind whispered to you, Barbatos, wind sprite, Anemo Archon, a void where there was once god-heart-gnosis.

Putting aside how the world itself was being suspiciously helpful, you were now face to face with the dragon’s delusions which seemed to not be limited to the dragon. No, if you were understanding things correctly, this was something shared by large swathes of the population. Only one problem: you were not a Creator or creator, of Teyvat or otherwise. To give life was far beyond your abilities. No deity you knew of could do it either.

You could sort of understand how such a belief might have come to be, if you turned around and looked at it sideways. The process of saving this world from its slow march toward destruction had necessitated merging yourself with Teyvat to share your life force, and this had won you major brownie points with it. If an abstract version of that event was somehow passed down, then your power was extracted to fill things like the statue and this young man... If they could feel you as distinct from Teyvat itself, which you were, then you supposed that it wasn’t impossible for them to assume that you had more agency in their fate than you did. Still ridiculous, though.

This is the problem with magical worlds, you thought despairingly, cults everywhere.

“I didn’t create Teyvat,” you tried to explain, but Barbatos only tilted his head questioningly.

“What are you talking about, First Breath? If it is rejection You fear, please do not, for there is no need. Your return will only bring joy,” he said.

You gave up. This level of conviction wasn’t something that could be shaken in a single conversation. “Alright, fine,” you sighed, “let’s... let’s go to Mondstadt, then.”

“Oh You’ll love it, Your Eminence!” Barbatos chirped, bouncing on his toes with a grin. It appeared as if gravity had no hold on him. “The Church has covered the streets with flowers, flags, and everything they can get their hands on! The Knights of Favonius have set up stalls and shows and even a parade, while the noble families are also planning something, though they’re being quite secretive about it. And the wine! I’ve heard Master Diluc -- he’s the owner of Mondstadt’s biggest winery -- is going to break open his best vintage of dandelion wine, I’m looking forward to it...”

You let Barbatos’ chatter wash over you as the two of you walked northwest. Mondstadt the nation was a land of gentle breezes and temperate climate now, but you could see hints of a violent past in the landscape. Here, a dip between hills that was once a crater. There, a cliff face eroded until it was a shadow of its jagged former self. You wondered how many wars this world had suffered.

You wondered if Barbatos won his seat through conflict, as you did your godhood. You had been mortal once too, maybe a human, maybe some other creature, before you achieved great feats during a war and ascended beyond mortality. That was perhaps why you felt kinship at the sight of Teyvat’s ruin, despite the aeons you lived that left only faint impressions of your origin.

Did you have family that you left behind in your homeworld, or friends? Comrades? Almost certainly; it was a war, after all. You pushed the thought away.

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#genshin impact #genshin impact oc #genshin sagau #my writing #sagau-adjacent verse #genshin reader insert

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meteoramp3 · 4 months ago

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❝ Endless sorrow

╰┈➤ Summary: After finding out about the death of his brother, Jacaerys becomes overwhelmed by the grief, secluding himself in his room until he decides to find solace with you. Words: 1.8k!!! Warnings: Major character death, slight descriptions of mutilation, and grieve. Angst with happy ending ig. Masterlist

The northern winds blew restlessly against the Prince of Dragonstone as he rode Vermax, his beautiful green-scaled dragon that grew larger with each passing year. Since the beginning of the Dance of Dragons, the blacks had been planning strategies, testing their allies, and negotiating with uncertain dynasties. Jacaerys took the most dangerous journey, while Luke, being younger, was assigned the safer route.

When the prince arrived at Winterfell, he was warmly greeted by the Warden of the North, Cregan Stark. The boy reminded him of his younger brother, who had died ten years earlier. They drank together, hunted together, trained together, and sealed a blood pact of loyalty together...

But if only Jacaerys had made the other journey, much blood would have been spared.

The fateful news of Prince Lucerys' tragedy arrived at Winterfell by raven, sealed with the Targaryen sigil. Jacaerys left the North at once.

That bitch Aemond Targaryen had killed the sweet boy and his dragon — their bodies torn apart by Vhagar, falling like crumbs into the sea.

When he arrived at Dragonstone, he tried to be strong for his mother, to tell her how the negotiations had gone, that he was the heir to what they had fought for, but the burden was too heavy to bear, and tears spilled from his eyes before he could stop himself.

Jace had known his brother since the beginning of his life, he had grown up with the idea of his brother becoming Lord of the Tides and ruling by his side, and now, in the blink of an eye, he had lost him.

The funeral didn't help either, Rhaenyra could only find crumbs of his brother and Arrax. His clothes were tangled with Arrax's wing, and dried blood decorated them. They all looked so lost and tired, especially his mother. Rhaenyra had lost her father and her daughter, the tears on her cheeks not yet fully dried, and now she lost her son.

As they debated how to respond, a raven arrived from Harrenhal.

“An eye for an eye, a son for a son, Lucerys will be avenged”.

Jace had secluded himself in his room. He didn't eat besides what was necessary, he didn't get out unless it was necessary, planning and analysing what their next move should be. Daemon had decided to behead an innocent child in response, but he wasn't Daemon, he wanted to strike directly at Aemond, but he knew that was stupid.

He looked at the window one last time before deciding it would be a better idea to take a walk.

The halls of Dragonstone were quiet, its walls dimly lit by the torches hanging on them. Some people from the staff were walking around the ancient castle, bowing their heads respectfully at Jacaerys whenever they saw him, but he didn't spare them a glance, too focused on getting out of there as soon as possible.

He managed to resume his normal breathing the moment the landscapes from around the island were disguised, his legs aching a bit from the pace he had walked, Jace placed his arms over the stone railing, taking the sight he was in front of. Everything seemed so calm, like there was no war, like nothing had changed. Vermax’s screeches could be heard, he paid them no mind.

The moment his boots landed on the sand, a nostalgic feeling filled him. Not so long ago, he was sparring with Luke in that same place, after they came back from King's Landing. But this time it wasn't the sound of wooden swords that filled the place, it was only the waves from the ocean that crashed on the shore. On it stood the only person who could understand him completely, his twin. Oh, if Luke's death broke his heart, yours would shatter his heart.

You were staring at the sunshine, wind blowing against your hair, thinking about The Seven knows what and your clothes were dripping with water. Jace started getting closer to the shore, the sound of his boots sinking on the sand pulling you out of thoughts, finally.

“Jace, what are you doing here?” The prince had a serious look on his face, something was bothering him. He swallowed before speaking. “I decided to take a walk”.

“You’re pouting, what is it time?”

Jace was doing one of his weird faces, something was bothering him, yes. That’s obvious, but he only did that when…

“Aaah! You’re mad at mother for going to King’s Landing, aren’t you?”

“What she did was foolish,” You nodded, agreeing with him. “We just lost Luke, Daemon just killed Jaehaerys, she can’t just disappear without a word and expect me to be fine with that! Without her, the cause is lost…”

Your fingers scratched the back of your neck, your mouth felt dry, how do you respond to that? “You’re right in that. What should we do?”

“I don’t want to talk about the war right now, that’s quite the reason for this walk”

“Right…”

Jacaerys moved his uncertain gaze to the crystalline water of the beach. He studied the waves for a second, his mind drifting again to the thought of his brother, who was supposed to become Lord of the Tides. He did want to talk about how he felt about it, he missed Luke, really. It didn’t matter that Jace was barely a year older than him, he was his brother. Back to Winterfell, when he heard the news, he felt like someone had punched him across the face… Actually no, he felt like someone had just stabbed his heart. When he was talking to his mother he felt like a little boy, it was obvious that such news would destroy him, but in the end, he was the heir to the Iron Throne, he couldn’t be so vulnerable. Later that day, it reached his ears that Rhaenyra passed out the moment she heard the news and Joffrey had tried to get on Tyraxes to avenge his brother, only for the Sea Snake and Rhaenys to keep him off the young dragon. He didn’t get a lot of sleep that night, he barely made it to two hours of sleep. Rhaenyra told him not to do anything the next day.

But after all, how could he sleep? His brother got killed, his mother could've had hit her head after fainting, and Joffrey could've got killed if no one had stopped him. Besides his new-found insomnia, Jace stopped eating so much after the incident. No more lemon cakes, no more pies or berries for him, no more sending Joffrey, Aegon or Viserys to the kitchen to see if they could steal something for him (or you, sometimes…)

“I miss him”. The words surprised him, not you. He wanted to keep his facade of “super strong big brother who doesn’t let his siblings get in trouble” But fate managed to prove him wrong. He had been training part of his life by now, he had sensed that something was wrong with Alicent and her children, and that feeling intensified when Otto became Hand of the King again, it was rather obvious that they were plotting against Rhaenyra from the very beginning.

“I know, I miss him too” Your hand gripped his shoulder in a comforting way.

“It’s just that… He didn’t get a proper burial, Rhaenyra didn’t find his body, what if he’s out there? Alone, without someone to help or protect him? I’ve been trying to do my best with the sword, you know it. Daemon is a tough one, he has helped me to improve a lot, I’ve been pushing my body to its limits, it hurt, yes.” A sniff was heard. “But if it means protecting my family, then I want to do it. I thought I had done my best, that it was all worth it, and in the blink of an eye- my brother is not here any more!” Oh, he was sobbing.

The way his shoulders started shaking violently alerted you. His body was quickly wrapped by your arms, the touch was well welcomed. Due to your lack of experience comforting people - especially Jace - you could only stand there awkwardly, caressing his back softly. He has never been someone too emotional, he sometimes cried, yes, but even that was something rare. Jacaerys was a man, it was rare to see one cry after their childhood, besides, he was his mother's heir, he shouldn't be crying, he had to help with war, and he had to help and defend his (side of the) family.

“I'm sorry.”

“What?” You set him softly on the ground, letting him cry on your shoulder, your sleeves slowly wetting from his tears. You looked at him curiously. “You're sorry for crying? Gods above, Jacaerys. Don't apologize for something like this, ever again. I know you don't want to look like someone who's weak,” Your hands cupped his cheeks, making him look at you. “But you- we have just lost one of the most important persons in our lives, how could we not cry? It's only natural that you're sad, no one here is expecting you to be completely fine, Jace. I don't even know why I have to tell you this, gods above. We all are bleeding in some way right now, and if you need to toss and turn in your sleep, ruin a sword beating a tree, cry or scream, do it. I'm not going to judge you. Viserys is dead, Visenya is dead and Lucerys is dead, I would think something is wrong with you if you didn't cry, you have already seen me, barely talking and riding for hours. You crumbled when you saw mother, you cried once, you're not committing a crime for doing that, Jacaerys, you're just proving that you're a human, it does not matter that you're the son of a dragon. If you have to cry, cry.”

The boy was visibly surprised by the scolding, he grabbed the handkerchief you were offering, wiping his tears with it.

“Do you want to wash your face?”

“Our clothing is already dripping, I might as well wash myself entirely.”

“Jace.”

“Sorry…”

You breathed sharply through your nose, not wanting to say something you'll regret while he was washing his face. “Do you want to take a walk before Rhaenyra sees and scolds us for ‘ruining’ our clothes?” He nodded and intertwined your arm with his.

“Everything will be fine, Jace, you'll see. Mother will take what is hers; we will go back to King's Landing, she will sit on the Iron Throne, you'll succeed her, and peace will return to the Seven Kingdoms, I promise” He squeezed your hand in acknowledgement, and you squeezed his back.

If only your words had been true.

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