#wind island test

[maria-of-the-waves]

Erjon of the Wind Island

Ok, I'm writing this at midnight and it's probably coming from my sleep-deprived mind, but here's an idea what I need to write down before I forget it ヽ(￣～￣　)ノ:

Well we all know that the Wind Island test was just an illusion unlike the SGT on Earth 2 and this is because the Sound of the Wind would not have enough power to create an entire alternate dimension based on anyone's worst fears of the challenger who is going to do it σ(￣、￣〃).

We also know that due to the curse Cale never tried to form bonds with Min Ah, So Hoon or the rest of Team 1 but they still cared about him and were just as loyal as any member of Cale's family ( ‾́ ◡ ‾́ ).

Well, what if that were the case for the butler boy we see in the Wind Island test (ᓀ ᓀ)?

Let's say that he became very worried about his master after seeing him act in such a strange way and he decided to follow him because of that same concern ~(>_<~).

This only grew after seeing the way he spoke (or rather questioned) everyone he crossed, it got even worse after seeing him pick up a book that he already hated too much to even approach (｡•́︿•̀｡).

Well, he follows him from afar, not close enough to hear him but close enough to see him.

He watches everything that happens in Super Rock Villa and after he enters the top floor he gets very worried because he can't see it without giving himself away.

He hears the sound of a book hitting the floor and, alarmed, runs in only to see him "commit suicide" (ﾒ﹏ﾒ)

He panics and while trying to stop him he accidentally falls out of the window with him, causing him to somehow reach the real world (っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ.

Can you imagine his panic when he discovered that the world where he lived his entire life was nothing more than an illusion? That the monster that appeared in every horror story was real and was at its maximum power?

And that's not even counting the shock of trying to stop the suicide of a loved one and knowing that you're about to die only to wake up in a cave full of dead mana with a younger version of your lord ( : ౦ ‸ ౦ : ).

What's more, let's say that he cannot remember anything from before the moment the test began, there is not a single memory, only information full of holes that he knows is true until he no longer is, worse yet? He didn't even have a name! ლ(¯ロ¯"ლ)

Finding out all of that would give him an incredibly big identity crisis, the chaos of the destruction of Wind Island would definitely be worse with a preteen suffering from an identity crisis.

It's more thanks to him that everyone discovers that for an entire week Cale was trapped in an illusion of his worst fear and had to commit suicide to get out of it to get the flask and the whip (╥_╥)(they don't know that the flask could be obtained easily and Bud never tried to get him off the island so everyone thinks the test was to get the jar out and improve the Sound of the Wind ╮(￣_￣)╭)

Eruhaben will feel incredibly guilty and will probably drink the entire flask, not wanting Cale's sacrifice to be in vain.

Bud will be worse than in canon thinking it was all his fault.

The children of "x" years of age on average will be very overprotective.

Ron and Beacrox will be more lenient than usual with Cale and at the bottom will be our butler boy.

Still in crisis, he decides to follow our young master, not knowing any life apart from him, despite questioning whether his affection for him was just another part of the illusion (ಡ‸ಡ).

Cale upon finding out this tells him to do what he wants and that if he is going to accompany them he will need a name or alias ( ̅́ ◡ ̅́ )

And he (Cale) ends up choosing Erjon as his name, which is of Albanian origin and means "our wind" (of course, the latter only after at least two hours of discussion about whether Cale will give him his name or Erjon should choose it, It turns out that even in a more than traumatized state of mind they are both incredibly stubborn)

[blueteller]

Ah, today I just have been casually reminded that Cale's biggest fear is living in a world without his beloved friends and family

[xx3bvvx]

It's 5 am. here, and I was watching an edit about the Wind Island trial. We all know that Cale jumped out of the window to finish the test, and it kind of implies that Cale committed suicide, you know? So what if... Cale really died, and the rest of the novel is just what his family imagined would have happened.

Y'know what? I think I should go to sleep, seriously. What's wrong with me?

[sealedsanctuary]

霹靂封靈島 Pili: Sealed Spirits Island · 2002 - Ding Feng Chou enters the Cold Food Cottage.

[tragedykery]

*twirls hair* bisexual pirates u say? would love to hear anything u'd like to share about them <3

YESSS. okay so

it’s set in the avatar world but like. in the ages before the war and also a little bit to the left bc someone invents metalbending. the previous (fire) avatar died about 20-30 years ago (no one really knows) and because of that there is quite a lot of piracy.

I have a doc with the crew here. still workshopping the characters used for the names bc I don’t want to get that wrong but there you go sjfkgsjks. I also have a doc with the relationships between the crew but there’s an undescribed image in there. as for the crew and its famous bisexuality…yes pretty much everyone is bisexual. the only ones who aren’t are iraluq and nisha (lesbians) and tetsuo (gay). also most are poly- or at least ambiamorous (that’s why the relationship chart is. a little convoluted)

now onto the actual story. it would be told from the perspective of an indentured sailor on a merchant ship, hira. she’s like 27 and grew up as an orphan in the earth kingdom. the ship is out on the middle of the sea when they suddenly get attacked by pirates. hira, who has never been in danger like this before, tries desperately to defend herself—and, for the first time in her life, uses airbending. she gets knocked out by a stray frying pan (the cook’s weapon of choice), and no one thinks about her anymore because well. they’re busy fighting. until, several hours later, she wakes up on the pirate ship. unbeknownst to the pirates too bc they kiiinda accidentally kidnapped her.

she gets found out within minutes, much to everyone’s confusion and embarrassment and anger (at themselves. how do you accidentally kidnap a person.) the only problem is uh. they’re out in the middle of the sea and already several hours away from the merchant ship. hira is stuck with them for the time being.

the captain, taituk, who is my poor little meow meow (strikethrough: my poor little meow meow) really embarrassed and apologetic about the whole ordeal because holy shit I accidentally kidnapped a person, promises her that as soon as they reach land, she can get off the ship. hira, of course, takes this offer. she doesn’t have any family or friends on land or whatever, but it’s better than staying with a bunch of pirates.

on the ship, however, she finds that the crew is…really cool actually. there’s an air nomad girl that isn’t a bender herself but grew up in the temples so she teaches hira how to bend. she gets taught how to fight and defend herself by the really badass warrior women! so when the time comes, she has grown too attached to the crew, and instead of leaving, stays and becomes a pirate too.

(and then, later, for no other reason than that I think it would be really fucking funny, she discovers she’s the avatar. tfw people are hoping for the avatar to put a stop to piracy, but when she finds out her identity, she is, in fact, a pirate.)

tldr: yes queer pirates in the avatar world thank you so much for asking (/gen) and so sorry for rambling and if you read this whole long-ass thing I’m even sorrier

[theauthorandtheartist]

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.

[shortnspidey]

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.

[wandering-tides]

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

[coastalcowplant]

Windenmere Equestrian Estate 🗝️

Nestled in the misty countryside of Windenburg, Windenmere Equestrian Estate is a stately manor that has stood the test of time, watching over its expansive fields and pastures for centuries. Built during an era of prosperity, this ancestral home once bustled with the life and spirit of the Windenmere family, who earned their wealth through a thriving horse-breeding empire. Known for producing some of the finest thoroughbreds in the region, the estate became legendary, woven into the fabric of Windenburg’s equestrian legacy.

The estate’s architecture boasts a blend of Tudor and Gothic Revival that reflects its noble heritage. Grand stone walls, softened by creeping ivy and moss, hint at the manor’s age, while arched windows and leaded glass panes cast a dappled light into the stately interior. Upon entering, one steps into a world untouched by time. The grand foyer features polished marble floors, framed by intricate woodwork that speaks to the craftsmanship of a bygone era. Elaborate tapestries and portraits of past Windenmere family members and their prized horses hang along the corridors, creating a silent gallery of the estate’s illustrious history.

The heart of Windenmere is its equestrian grounds, where generations of horses have been bred, trained, and celebrated. Stables constructed with the finest oak stand beside an aged, but well-kept, riding arena, and beyond lies the estate’s private trails that wind through ancient oaks and rolling hills. Even the air here seems steeped in memory, carrying the faint sounds of galloping hooves and distant echoes of past triumphs.

Today, Windenmere Equestrian Estate stands as a living tribute to the Windenmere family’s legacy, preserving their passion for horses and their place in Windenburg’s storied past. It is a place where time seems to pause, inviting those who enter to step back and experience the elegance, tradition, and quiet strength of this historic home.

Forged in tradition, crafted for champions. . .⚜️

Available for download on the gallery! :)

Gallery ID | briannaasims

No CC build

§168,468

Residential Lot

4 bed, 4 bath

64 x 64

⚲ Von-Windenburg Estate

Packs Used: Base Game, Horse Ranch, Growing Together, Cottage Living, Snowy Escape, Island Living, Get Famous, Cats & Dogs, Get Together, My Wedding Stories, Realm of Magic, StrangerVille, Jungle Adventure, Vampires, and Romantic Garden

[moondance-r]

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.

[Masterlist] [Next]

[foreingersgod]

I love your work! Could you write kate Martin x fem!reader whose just a regular college student?

of course my love!

A/N: hi everyone! i’m still working on several requests right now so be patient with me! i promise they will all get done soon, but i’m a busy college student who only has so much time! they’ll be done soon, thank you so much for your patience and support, ily all !! if you have any questions about your request, feel free to message me :)

Living Life with You . KM

pairing: kate martin x reader

synopsis: kate is just so incredibly in love with you

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

midterms were swiftly approaching for the semester and everyone was scrambling to prepare, yourself included. you had about 4 exams that you needed to study for, ranging from chemistry to psychology to family finance. so you spent most of your days this week confined the comforts of your apartment, sat on the couch with you laptop on your lap and your notes spread across the coffee table.

it wasn’t abnormal for you to hide away when you needed to focus on your studies, but kate had planned to stay at your apartment all this week to spend time with you.

“i just don’t want these stupid midterms to ruin our week” you had told her one night over the phone. “i would feel bad if you just sat in my apartment and watched me study for hours, especially since having a full week to ourselves is so rare”

“i just want to be with you, baby, doesn’t matter if you’re studying or not” she reassured you.

sure enough, when kate arrived at your apartment, a bag packed and a quaint little bouquet of flowers for your kitchen counter, she had no problem with you studying. in fact, she had changed into her pajamas like you had done and sat herself on the couch directly next to you.

but the night was not just spent on the couch watching you study. she had offered to make you your favorite dinner (offer is a generous word, more like forced you to stay out of the kitchen so she could treat you) and set the table. she even washed your dishes that remained in the sink from earlier in the week so you wouldn’t have to stress about it for the night. kate had called you into the kitchen after about an hour, announcing that dinner was ready.

“please take a break and have dinner with me?” she pleaded, you could practically see those puppy dog eyes from the living room.

so you rolled yourself off the couch, stretching for the first time since 3 pm, clambering your way into the kitchen. what you were met with made your heart absolutely melt.

“hey, you hungry?” kate stood at the counter, dishing up your plates, dish rag thrown over her shoulder and sleeves rolled up to her elbows. god, your jaw must’ve been on the floor.

not only did kate look so irresistible making you dinner like this, but she had lit your ‘nice candle’ and set two spots next to each at your kitchen island for the two of you. she pulled a couple wine glasses out of your cupboard, setting them next to your plates as you walked over to her in the kitchen.

“babe, you did all this?” you stood behind her, resting your chin on her shoulder as she put the finishing touches on your plate. she grinned, feeling your arms wrap around her waist, turning around to face you.

“you’ve been working so hard to study for your tests,” she placed a sweet kiss to your forehead “and i wanted to do something special for you to help you wind down”

“ugh, i truly don’t deserve you” you pouted, kate grabbing your hand and guiding you to your seat. “i’ve just been sat on the couch hardly giving you the attention you deserve. you’ve been working just as hard with your team.”

“and you show me that everyday, you go to every single game, even if it’s an away game. you come with me to every banquet and event. you fix me up when i’m hurt and give me your undivided attention every single day. you’ve truly given me the world, YN” she sat next to you, pouring you both a glass of wine.

“i love you so so much, kate” you said, looking at the delicious scene in front of you. you’re favorite food, a nice glass of wine, all of it by candlelight, and your sweet girl at your side.

“i love you too,” she pulled you in for another kiss “and i love living life with you”

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

imagine telling zoro you're pregnant

The test results indicate that you were in fact very much pregnant. Having confided in Robin and Nami about missing your period– you had thought maybe it was a fluke the first time, but after a second month without you asked them to help you find a pregnancy test. So, when the crew docked a few weeks later – the three of you went to the local doctor to take a test. Now you sat alone on the deck of the Sunny, results written on a piece of paper. Approximately thirteen weeks. The girls were just as shocked as you and when Nami asked who the father was, you flat out refused to say.

“Not before I tell him.”

They seemed understanding but there were only so many options for them to pick from. It had to be one of the men on the crew, Nami had pointed out. Robin was more respectful and said it was up to you to decide when you told the others – until then, they would keep mum.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you.”

Looking up from the paper in your hand, you saw the father of your child and felt a wave of nerves. He seemed relaxed in his white shirt and black pants, swords sheathed at his side. He looked perplexed when you shoved the results into his chest and started toward the observation room. The rest of the crew had ventured out onto the island, but you came back with the results, telling Robin and Nami you wanted to rest for a bit. Zoro had gone out too, but he must have gotten back, and it was a good thing too. Going up the stairs that led to the upper deck, you felt his sharp gaze on you then heard a curse in the wind. He called out to you but you kept walking to the observation room. Once inside, you sat down on the edge of Nami’s desk and waited for Zoro. He walked in, moments later, fist closed around the paper.

“You’re pregnant.”

“So, you can read.”

“Not funny,” he murmured, taking a seat next to you. Neither of you said a word for what felt like minutes but was most likely seconds until he sighed deeply. “Well, are we going to tell the others?”

“I don’t know.” Your forehead met his shoulder and he chuckled, giving your thigh a soft pat.

“I never thought of having kids or being a – a father. I don’t know how the hell we’re going to do it.”

“We don’t have to, you know,” you whispered, eyes focused forward. Zoro stiffened beside you. “I’m sure there’s a doctor we can go to…we are pirates after all.”

It wasn’t like the thought didn’t cross his mind in the time it took to read the piece of paper and the walk to the upper deck, but it was a brief though. He didn’t know what kind of father he could be, because he truly never thought of the possibility.  Would a child ruin his goals? Would it shift everything in your lives? What about your dream to help liberate people around the world? What would having a child do to those dreams?

“Zoro, what do you think? This can easily go away, and we can go back to our lives.” You stole a look from him, and he turned to you, eyes filled with thought. “It can go back to us sneaking around, just us two. Wouldn’t you like that?”

He stared at your face, recognized the sincere gaze in your eyes – the kind of expression that gave many people hope. That’s what you did, gave people the strength to move forward and do things they never thought possible. Zoro was staring into your eyes and wondered if his child would have their shape. He moved his arm around your shoulder, and you relaxed against his side, the two of you close together as the ship docked quietly.

“No matter if it’s a boy or girl, my kid’s going to learn to three sword style.” You moved away from Zoro to get a better look at him. He seemed resolved and smiled at you. “I’m not raising no wimp. We’ll probably have to add a room to the ship. Sure, Franky’s up for the challenge.”

Like that, Zoro was all in.

“Zoro…”

“…also, Chopper better know how to deliver a baby. Nami and Robin can help.”

“Zoro…”

He stood up and walked over to the wall of books. “Do you think there’s a baby book here?”

Zoro finally looked at you and stilled at the tears in your eyes, realizing then that he hadn’t heard a word from you – what you wanted. He felt ashamed for running his mouth so much when you hadn’t even confirmed that you wanted the kid too. He strode over to you, taking your hand in his. If you were to say you didn’t want to go through with the pregnancy, then that was the end of the discussion. He wasn’t going to force anything on you – not even his own kid.

“Hey, what are you thinking?”

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you laughed. “I’m thinking you’re going to be a really good dad, Zoro.”

The man’s eyes softened, and he asked if that meant you wanted to have the baby. You nodded, giving his hand a squeeze. “Yeah, I guess it wouldn’t be so bad, huh?”

He kneeled in front of you, holding your gaze with a stern expression. “Listen, no matter what, I’ll make sure nothing ever bad happens to you two. Got it? The two of you belong to me now and I’ll always keep you safe.”

“Belong?”

An eyebrow rise had the man turning red and he backtracked, swiftly getting to his feet. “I don’t mean it like that! Just – you now, that’s my kid in there and you’re my….”

Amused, you questioned him further. “You’re what?”

Zoro cursed; cheeks bruised with embarrassment. Taking his hand, you smiled up at him and his body resigned. He pulled you up from the desk and held you at the waist, thumbs caressing the hem of your blouse. Realization hit him that you were going to be glowing with child, his child and the thought brushed away all insecurities. He took you in his arms and lifted your chin, eyes baring into yours.

“You’re the mother of my child and I love you.” Perfected words came from his mouth before his lips touched yours and his arms moved around your waist. He pulled you closer, kissing you gently, cradling your back delicately. He was terrified, a feeling that was foreign to him because now more than ever, he had something so precious to lose. His lips parted from yours and he smirked at the way your eyes fluttered open, and he brushed a thumb over the bottom of your lip. “So, we’re really going to do this?”

“I love you, Zoro,” you grinned, grabbing his hand to place over your stomach. “…and yes, we’re going to do this.”

Lost in the moment, in one another’s eyes, neither of you heard footsteps approaching. Both jumping back when two hands patted your backs – it was Robin at the doorway. “What a pleasant surprise, are you going to tell the others? Nami didn’t place her bets on Zoro.”

Zoro cringed at the thought of anyone else but him being the one to have gotten you pregnant – it made him want to fight Sanji, because he was sure that’s who Nami thought the father was. It made him mad, but then you touched his shoulder. “Might as well tell them all.”

“Yeah, probably,” he sighed contently, feeling your hand on his back. He nodded to Robin and told her to lead the way – the three of you leaving for the main deck where everyone was gathered, showing off the goodies they had purchased in town. Everyone’s attention drew away from their purchases, eyes focused on Zoro and you as Robin stepped aside. The swordsman and you exchanged glances before you blurted out the news. “Zoro and I are going to have a baby. I’m about three months pregnant and I’m sorry if this puts a damper on things for us as a crew….”

“Don’t be sorry.” Zoro placed a protective hand on the small of your back and looked at Luffy. “I intend on seeing all my promises through, we both do.”

Luffy stared and stared, everyone silent, until a smile pulled from the corner of his mouth, and he rejoiced. “How cool! A baby! That’s like another crew member! You’re gonna teach it three sword style, right, Zoro?”

“Luffy, you can’t give a baby a sword!”

Usopp chastised the captain while Sanji sighed. “Zoro, you’re a lucky bastard. I guess I need to go back into town to get more supplies. A pregnancy calls for healthy foods.”

“I’ll need some medical books; you should be taking vitamins as well.” Chopper tapped at his chin, asking if he could do a full examination on you. You agreed to bring him the paperwork from the doctor’s office tomorrow as well. You relaxed as Zoro told Franky about the extra room, the two men moving off to the side to discuss plans for some renovations. Robin mentioned a bookstore in town. “We can go get some baby books.”

Everyone busied themselves with plans and you felt a wave of relief that the crew was actually happy about the baby, so much relief, that you placed a loving hand on your stomach. It was going to be a challenge, further along in the pregnancy, especially with all the situations the crew finds itself in, but they were your family.

Family protects each other.

 Eyes teared as you witnessed the love of the crew embracing Zoro and you then you felt a warm hand on your shoulder.

“I should have known it was him,” Nami smiled, patting you lightly on the head. “It makes sense now that I think of it. I do love kids, you know.”

“Good,” you laughed, holding back tears as she hugged your side. “Because we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

Looking to where Franky and Zoro stood, the father of your child found your stare and he smirked. A soft, quiet, knowing smirk that penetrated the depths of your heart and you wished then, that your child would have his smile. Have his small smile and immeasurable strength. The child was going to need it– to the world government, the people that would love them the most, were dangerous people. But your child would know the truth, they will see it with their own eyes and feel it within their heart. They would have a crew full of a family that would do anything for them – no matter what.

[asumofwords]

Lighthouse - Sailor!Aemond x LighthouseKeeper!Reader - Mini Series

Summary: You work as a lone Lighthouse keeper on a small island just off the coast. Everyday was the same routine, tending to your duties and the lamp with not much time to spare. But what will happen to your routine when a storm rages across the sea, and a handsome man washes ashore?

Warnings: This fic is 18+. Readers discretion is advised. Warnings will be added in their relevance. She/Her Pronouns. Slow burn, pining, kiss.

Note: EEEE! Here is chapter two of my little mini-series! Thank you all so much for your patience for this update, to say it has been hard has been an understatement. An odd thing to put into the notes of a fanfic, but From the River, to the Sea. 🇵🇸

Chapter 2: Unfamiliar Changes

The next few days were the same routine as usual, but with a new addition; A man who had been at deaths door, recovering in your bed. 

The lighthouse, you knew. 

You knew the way to light it, tend to it, care for it. It had been your life for many years ever since your Pa had died, leaving its responsibilities to you.

It had been him who taught you everything. He who had raised you to know what you now do, to do as you now do each day. And you were thankful. Thankful to not be married to a Fishermans son, or market boy at a young age, to squeeze out child, after child, in a marriage that had no love or care but rather a societal duty. 

But now, there was a man in your home. 

A man on your small, little, isolated island which you sought refuge in. An island and isolation that had been all you had known, and yet now, here he was, laid in your bed with hair like spun silk that lay around his head, a violet eye you had only heard in the tales on shore, a scarred cheek and sharp mouth. 

Was he a pirate?

You had heard of those, but for some reason, he didn’t seem to be as brash and roguish as those stories either. And whilst his presence was not all begrudged, it did throw your small little world into a loop. So with the duties of old, came the duties of new. 

You would rest, only shortly, wake, and tend to the lamp, the storm slowly moving away inland, but the winds too high to take your small boat alone, or send your pigeon with a letter to alert them of the wreck and lone survivor.

Thereafter, you could come back inside, fix yourself a tea, and here began the new routine; you would make two instead of one. 

Two plates or bowls of food. 

Two cups or glasses of water, or tea.

Two of everything. 

One for you.

And one for the man. 

A man who still had not told you his name.

That was until that evening.

The winds had begun to yield, but the soft grumbling of thunder still prevailed in the near distance.

You were eating the last of your stew together, though this time, he was seated at the table. You having dragged the only other chair on the island down the many stairs of the lighthouse to the cottage. 

He was still rather pale, and wheezed and coughed on occasion, but after his many days in your presence, you realised that he was not pale because of his ailment, but rather, his skin was just as white as the porcelain William’s wife owned. His cheeks however, gained some colour, and his lips were no longer cracked and dry, but now hydrated.

And plump.

And soft.

And-

“-Aemond.”

The spoon you were holding clinked back onto the side of the bowl.

“Pardon?”

“My name,” The man put another spoonful of stew into his mouth, chewing before swallowing politely, “Is Aemond.”

You tested the name on your tongue. It was definitely not a common name from around your part of the world.

“I take it you are a long way from home?” You chewed on a chunk of potato, watching as the man nodded.

“Aye.”

“Your ship-“

“-Vhagar.” So that’s what its name was, “Sunk to the bottom of the sea, I presume.” His lips pulled down at the sides.

You nodded solemnly, “Was your family-“

“-No. No family. Just me and my crew.”

You cleared your throat awkwardly before nodding, “I’m sorry. Though we have the Gods to thank. They favoured you when they washed you ashore.”

Aemond, the man before you, scoffed, “Favoured. Sunk my ship and my men. Drowned me.”

You sucked your teeth, feeling slightly guilty about your choice of words, “Yes, and yet you are here. I prayed-“

“-You prayed?”

A nod, though his gaze seemed more intrigued than mocking, “To the Drowned God. Prayed to anyone who would listen to spare your life.”

You watched as the corner of his lip twitched, “And why should a Lady such as you, pray for a sailor such as me?”

“I’d hardly like to deal with a corpse on my beach." You stirred your stew, "And I am no Lady, I have told you this.”

The snort from his nose made way into a smile that was contagious. 

At least you could be blunt.

And in some ways, you supposed that he liked this bluntness. 

You shared your meal together quietly, the crackling of the fire and sound of rain and occasional thunder outside. You found, much to your displeasure, that you did not mind having his company after all.

He did not talk to fill the space, and seemed to think deeply before he spoke, at least when he was not irritated or slightly offended by your own remarks. All in all, he was a welcomed presence in your modest home.

And that was what scared you.

“Do you often have drowned men wash ashore?” His spoon was delicately placed in his bowl, bread devoured shortly after given to him. The way in which he ate, the manner in which he sat back, rod stiff, indicated to you that he came from some form of high society, far higher than you, and likely came from money and wealth that you could do naught but try to imagine. 

You smiled coyly, “You’re the first. An achievement to some end, I am sure.”

The corner of his lips pulled again, yet this time, it developed into a full smirk, “Then I am honoured to have been the first, Miss.”

A blush rose to your cheeks, and you had to look away.

The way in which he spoke, the way his voice became deep and smooth like the whiskey in your cupboard, had sent shivers down your spine with the implication that perhaps there was a double meaning to what he said.

To what you had said. 

But then he continued, “And how does a woman of your stature become the keeper of this Lighthouse?”

“My Pa. He was the keeper before I. Taught me all there was to know. It was just me and him on this island for a long, long time, and now it is just me.”

“Is your father-“

“-Dead.”

“I see.” Aemond nodded, “I am sorry for your loss.”

“Don’t be.” You gave him a small smile, “He died doing what he loved.”

A silver eyebrow raised above the man’s seeing eye, “And what was that?”

“Drinking on the job.” You poked your tongue in your cheek to stifle the laugh as you watched Aemond’s composure become flustered, “It’s okay,” You reassured him, “You can laugh. My father was not a solemn man. I like to think he enjoys my humour.”

A hum was all you received, though he did not smile as you had hoped.

You had not fully seen him do so yet, and although there was glimmers of a more playful and relaxed man, you wondered in that moment if perhaps he was simply just a rather stern and serious sailor after all. That his nature was to be stiff, and bold, and unbendable.

And if he was to be that, a small flicker inside of you wished to make him bend. 

Gods, what was wrong with you?

Had you grown so lonesome in your isolation that the first man to wash upon your shore, literally, was whom you would grow some sort of desire for?

Sure, you were no stranger to pleasure, chasing your own peaks with your hands as often as you’d like, of course, if it did not endeavour to endanger the care of the lighthouse. And now, that a man was sat before you, kept in the confines of your home by storm and ailment, you wished to taste what it truly meant to be pleased. 

It had of course crossed your mind once or twice on your rare travels to shore. Speaking to the locals in shops or on the street, friends of William, or any decent man who cast you a glance. You had thought about it seriously, allowing some sort of dalliance to form, to warm a mans bed and then leave on the morrow to go back to your life of solitude. 

In fact, it had almost happened. 

A sailor named Dalton Greyjoy had caught your eye on the occasions he would be on shore at the same time as when you were. He was sailor from a well known, and well to do family. He came and went as he pleased, and it was no secret that he liked his women. Dalton's hair came below his ear, curling slightly atop his head, the colour as black as night and with his eyes to match his hair; a piercing, deep black which captured and lured anyone who caught his gaze.

And you had caught his, on more than one occasion, and each time, he had tried to woo you. Tried to offer a trip on his sturdy ship which carried more than one hundred men. Or a tour of his home which lay on bountiful lands on shore.

He had even offered a drink in the local tavern, and a meal, with a desire to speak to the ‘beautiful woman who keeps my ship from ruin’. 

And you had thought on it, had almost given in, and when you had rejected him the last time, you had meant to offer him refuge on your island, should he ever so need it. If he was ever so inclined to have a tour of your own homestead, of your lighthouse which kept him from ruin. 

But when you had moved to tell him thus, he was gone, back to the seas for the Gods only know how long, perhaps months, before he returned to shore. And that had been two months ago, and you had almost kicked yourself at the missed opportunity of having a man warm your bed, and then leave. 

The convenience was lost.

You were under no impression that it would be anything more than a release for the two of you, and in your eyes, it was perhaps, a perfect arrangement. Yet, you had strung him for too long, and the seas had called him once more. 

You had thought to wait to look for his ships arrival as it passed from you to shore, and lowered its anchor within eyesight. You had thought that perhaps at the sight of it, you would send your pigeon to her, the large ship, or to shore to send word of your request of his presence. But then, you thought, perhaps you would make a quick stop to the markets, weather permitting, and keep your eyes widened for the dark black hair which you sought. 

But now, as the man you had come to know as Aemond, grew stronger with each day, the desire to meet your desires with Dalton faded, and were now replaced for the desire of a man who was the stark opposite.

No black hair, only silver. No black eyes, only lilac.

Would his lips be as soft as they looked?

Would he hold you passionately? Whisper in your ear? Give you pleasure that you had only read of?

This was what you thought of, thighs clenching as you pulled the old wick from the lamp to replace it with a new one, careful to not spill any oil around the lamps enclosure or yourself. You were exhausted as you lit the flame, night crawling towards you rapidly.

There was not much rest that you could get when sleeping on the worn down lounge of your home, mind reeling at the thought of the handsome man not too far from you in the warmth and plush of your bed.

Once you were positive the lamp was fine and well lit, you trudged down the stairs, eyes struggling to stay open as you made your way back to the cottage, the wind blowing your hair roughly as you closed the door behind you.

The fatigue dragged you down, limbs feeling as heavy as stone as you moved to make yourself some tea, feeling all the more exhausted than before, eyes half shut.

Once your tea was made, you sat on the couch and stared at the fire, blowing the steam away and sipping on it to warm your chilled bones. The lighthouse was cold inside, no warmth but the lamp, and despite wearing your warm layers, the cold still nipped you to your core.

There were no thoughts as you moved half asleep around your home, pulling the heavy waxed coat from your shoulders to place on the hook by the door.

Your boots came next, and then your socks, and finally you pulled away at your dress, untying your stays as it slid down your hips to the floor.

You trudged to your room, having extinguished the lamps and candles in the cottage, leaving the fireplace to burn through what was left of the night.

It was dark as you pulled back the sheets, mind in memory and eyes already shut, as you slid into bed in only your slip, pulling the sheets up to your neck as you lay on your side.

Then sleep came just as quickly as your eyes closed.

-

It was hot. 

Too hot. 

There was a warmth that radiated around you as you slowly rose to consciousness.

Then, came the weight. 

A weight of something wrapped around you, behind you, heat seeping into your spine. You blinked sluggishly, confused as to what it was as you shifted, feeling whatever that warmth was shifting with you. Solid.

Arms. 

Two arms.

One under your head, the other draped over your middle, hand splayed across your stomach as your back was pressed into the flush of someones chest. 

Not someone.

Aemond. 

You jerked, suddenly awake and out of the bed, looking down at the man who looked tiredly up at you, corner of his mouth lifting slightly as he fought away a smirk. Heat rose up your neck and into your cheeks in embarrassment. 

You had been in bed.

With him.

Tucked into him.

Oh Gods.

Your mouth opened and shut as your brain misfired, unsure of what to do our say. 

Do you apologise?

Gods, you had been so tired you hadn’t even realised. 

You were suddenly mortified at the thought of what he must now think of you. 

He must-

“-If you want to get into bed with me, all you must do is ask.” Came the low timbre of Aemond, who now smirked freely at you. 

Your heart raced in your chest as you became flustered, a small squeak escaping your lips. 

Aemond’s eye bore into your own as you stood there, bare feet on the cold flagstones below, chest heaving as you were at a loss of words. His eye then roamed lower, taking in your appearance as you felt the heat of his gaze blanket over you.

It was then, that you realised, you were in nothing but your thin shift.

“Gods. Fuck.” You swore, turning quickly to throw on an old dress, foregoing your skirts, stay and stockings.

You kept your back to him as you hastily did up the many buttons, suddenly cursing each and every one of them as your fingers struggled to do them up the more you become flustered, all the while you could still feel his heated gaze upon you from the bed.

You uttered an embarrassed apology, too ashamed to even raise your eyes to look at him, before you fled from the cottage, forgetting your coat, and not even doing up the laces of your boots as you shut the door behind you and raced towards the lighthouse. 

You had never quite climbed the steps as fast as you had in that moment, desperate to get away from his salacious gaze, and your burning embarrassment.

What had you been thinking? Climbing into bed with him like that? He must think you desperate. Depraved. Unkempt.

Gods be good.

The embarrassment made tears prickle at your eyes.

Though the lamp in the lighthouse was fine, and there was no true reason for you to monitor it, the worst of the storm having moved away, you did not return back to your cottage. You stayed in the cold, no coat and shoes half tied, shivering in the stone walls of the lighthouse to avoid the mortification of that morning. And yet, despite trying to avoid him physically, there was no possible way, you had tried, to avoid thinking of him. 

Thinking of his touch, how warm he had been behind you, how his large hand had completely spanned across your middle as he held you to him, how his fingers had twitched and pulled as you wriggled in first wake. How he smelt of the sea, and sweat, the stew you had cooked him, and the smell of your own sheets, but beneath it all, there was his natural scent, something earthy and musky and like sandalwood that surrounded your every waking moment. 

If it wasn’t for his legs and his near death, you would think the man was a Siren.

You thought of how cold he had been when he washed ashore, how pale and almost blue he looked, and now he burnt hot, and although he was still pale, the flush of life coloured his cheeks and lips. His lilac eye devouring you every chance he had.

At first you had thought you were mistaken, that he was simply looking at you, but now you were sure of it. His eye, the seeing one, unclouded by injury and simmering a bright lilac, watched you almost always half-lidded and ablaze with something you now thought could perhaps be lust.

Gods. 

You buried your head into your hands, deeply exhaling before standing up straighter, trying to erase the images and thoughts of him from your mind, but it was hopeless. He was all you could think of, all you could smell, or see behind your eyelids, and you yearned to reach out and touch him. Hold him. Caress him. 

Your thighs instinctually squeezed together and you sighed, feeling a wetness that had settled between them. 

Gods be good, you were in trouble.

You shivered again, rubbing your hands together as you looked out at the sea, mentally cursing yourself for not having more than two chairs on the island, but you had never needed more than that.

Your legs ached from not having sat in the hours that had passed, and you had turned to pacing the small landing back and forth to try and keep yourself warm. 

A soft clunk came from the bottom of the lighthouse. 

You mustn’t have shut the door properly. 

You continued your pacing, back and forth, breathing into your icy palms as you tried to warm them, mind straying to a body of warmth that you knew, if you pressed your palms against him, would warm in an instant. Your hands coming beneath his tunic to splay against his stomach, working their way-

The sound of rustling came from behind.

You spun on your heel in fright, breath caught in your throat to find Aemond behind you. Now standing straight, the man towered over you, looking down his sharp nose at your shivering form. His hair was slightly wet, stuck down to his shoulders and dripping from its ends onto the floor of the lighthouse. The tunic he wore, stuck to his skin where spatters of rain wet the material. 

In his hands, your coat. 

“Gods be good.” You cursed at him, hand immediately shooting out to press against his forehead, having to rise slightly on your toes to reach, “Have you gone mad? You’ll catch cold and grow ill again.”

Snatching your coat from his hands, you threw it up and around his shoulders, pulling it together tightly at the front, watching as his brows furrowed at you.

His hands caught your wrists as you fussed over him, and you immediately could no longer meet his eye. The warmth of his hands seeped into your bones, and a barely contained sigh fell from your lips.

Aemond was so close, so close to you, you could feel his warmth, smell his-

“Go back to the cottage before you become feverish again.” You tried to pull your wrists away from his hands to push him back to the door, but the man did not budge, his grip only tightened. 

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Came his low response, jaw tensed as he watched you. 

You swallowed, looking anywhere but his eye, “No.” You lied terribly, hoping he couldn’t feel the way your pulse quickened at your wrist, “I have to tend to my duties.“

“-You’re a terrible liar.”

You bristled, heat rising in your cheeks again before you met his eye.

Exhaling shakily, you tried again to get him to release your wrists with no avail.

“Please let go of me, Sir.”

Aemond’s cheek twitched, before finally he let go, and you begrudged his warmth leaving you the second he did. 

As his hands dropped to his sides, your eyes flitted to the exposed skin of his chest, if only for a moment, where his tunic was ripped down the middle. He moved, arms coming up again as he pulled your coat from his shoulders, stepping towards you suddenly. 

You stiffened, feeling his warmth envelop you and the subtle scent of salt and sandalwood engulf you as he wrapped you in your coat, pulling it tightly against you at your front. Your arms were trapped beneath it as he kept his hold on you, the coat pulling tighter as he stepped closer.

“You’re cold.” He whispered, head ducking slightly as he looked at you, long strands of silver cascading over his shoulder. 

Okay. You were sure of it. 

Perhaps he was a Siren. 

And now he was going to drag you to the sea and-

You watched in a confusion, or horror and delight as his head began to dip down towards your face, eye watching you intently as you held your breath.

Oh Gods, was this really happening? Was this man-

“Sīr gevie.” Came a deep purr from the back of his throat, and there it was again, that half lidded gaze. 

You parted your lips instinctually, feeling his nose brush against yours, your eyes fluttering as you looked down to his lips which were parted a hairsbreadth away from you, “I don’t know what that means.” You whispered, feeling his breath fan across your lips warmly. 

“Beautiful.” Came his response, less purring than the last, more of a whisper, more delicate, like the silk that spun his hair, ready to break.

His face loomed closer, the tip of his pink tongue coming to wet his lips, and all you could think of was how you wished to close the distance, to press against him, taste him, have him. 

Your lungs ached from the breath you had been holding, and a sudden gust of wind knocked at the windows of the lighthouse. It seemed to have broken the spell, jerking you away from the man in front of you, who blinked longingly at you.

Swallowing thickly, trying to ignore the ache in your core, you uttered, “I need to prepare supper.” Before you dashed away from him and down the stairs, almost tripping over your half laced boots in the process. 

As you wound down the stairs, you felt a pang of guilt leaving him up there.

Would he be fine to get down himself?

What if he grew ill? It was cold, and he had no coat, and you had just-No. If he had made his way up those stairs, then he could surely make his way down them.

You wasted no time preparing dinner, darting about the kitchen noisily as you began to prepare your meal, cutting the vegetables on the chopping board, and moving for some more dried meats to add with it, soaking it in some bone powdered broth you had made days earlier.

When the door of the cottage opened, and then clicked shut, you ignored the mans arrival, keeping your back to him, pretending that you were all too busy preparing the dinner to spare him a second glance, and not only that, you were far too engrossed of thinking what was coming next, and not at all how his lips might have felt on yours. 

You heard him settle at the table by the fire, and without looking, cast your voice behind you, “I still have my fathers belongings,” You told him, voice shy, “Seemed a waste to be rid of them when he passed. You may fit them. I’ll let you look through the trunk after supper so that you may have some cleaner, warmer clothes.”

A hum, and then, “Thank you. You are a gracious host.”

You blushed at his compliment, thankful that your back was turned to him so that he would not see you shy once more. Once your meal was cooked, you brought it over to the table for the two of you, including a plate of some of your scones, as well as the jam from Celia to go with them after.

It was a mostly silent affair, a tension strung between the two of you, pulled taught as the minutes went by. That was until-

“You are not married.”

It wasn’t a question, more of a statement of fact. 

You blinked, taking your eyes away from your meal as you looked up at him.

He was already watching you.

But there was nothing malicious about his statement, more so curious as to why.

Aemond continued, “You are a beautiful young woman, a shame that you are not out in society.”

You swallowed thickly, feeling vulnerable at the turn of conversation. 

You knew it was unheard of a woman of your age to be unwed, and not only that, alone in a usual mans position. You knew that the townsfolk at shore talked about it, whispers behind your back at why that was.

There had been a cruel rumour once that you simply enjoyed the coming and goings of the many different sailors who came to and from the port. It didn’t help that Dalton was not quiet about his interest in pursuing you, at least, not as his wife anyway.

“I am content where I am.” You sighed, “I have no desire to be flaunted on a mans arm as merely decoration. I have a responsibility to those on shore and on sea, and I doubt any man in town would know more about the mechanisms of working such a lamp than I do. They would be more of a burden than a blessing.”

Aemond blinked before lifting another steaming spoonful of food to his lips, “And do you not grow lonely on this little island?”

Did you?

You didn’t think you did.

At least, not until he arrived on your shore.

“Not at all.” And unconvincing lie, or perhaps not a full one, “William comes to bring my reprieve, and I go to and from shore as I wish for the whims of societal company.”

The man swallowed his mouthful of food, head cocked as he looked at you, “William?”

“An old friend of my fathers.” You explained, watching as he relaxed at the explanation, “Brings food and goods to me when I cannot get them my own, which is more often than not. His wife and daughters join him here on occasion.”

Aemond hummed, “It is a shame you have no feelings of loneliness.”

“A shame?”

The corner of his lip twitched, “I thought you might have enjoyed my company.” Before you could respond, he spoke again, “Though, perhaps it is not a shame after all. There is no husband that I need worry about.”

Heat rose into your cheeks fast, and a flush of hurt crept up your throat.

Of course he would make a comment about you being unwed. 

He was just like the others in town. 

“You mock me.” You grit angrily, hands twitching on the table. 

You watched as a flash of regret creeped over his face.

“I don’t.” His tongue darted out to lick at his lips again, the hungry look in his eye not at all for the food on his plate, “I would worry that my attempt to court you would be burdened by a disgruntled husband.”

Court you. 

Court. 

Your stomach turned tightly, and you found yourself pushing your chair behind you quickly as you stood, grabbing your empty plate as you moved to take it to the kitchen, unsure of what to say, mouth dry and mind reeling. 

As soon as your back turned, you heard a deep chuckle behind you, making your cheeks flush with heat once more. You did not even bother to clean your plate, instead dumping it into the dry sink before you snatched your coat off of the coat hook and moved to open the door.

“You cannot avoid me forever.” Came his low purr, and would if you tried.

The door thumped behind you as you swept yourself outside.

-

By the time you finally returned to the cottage, the night had flown away from you, having spent the majority of it trying to cool the heat in your body that he had stoked, resting your cheeks against the cool class of the lighthouse, anything to soothe the molten blood that coursed through you.

The storm had mostly passed, and your home was quiet as you snuck back inside, darkness filling the majority of the space bar the fireplace as you pulled your coat from your shoulders, back facing the room.

When you turned to walk further inside a small gasp pulled into your lungs. 

“You’re awake.” You blinked at Aemond owlishly, watching as he leant back on the small worn couch, his long limbs stretched out in front of him by the fire, with one arm resting against the back.

“I am.” You shifted on your feet, unsure of what to do or say. 

Damn your anxious mind, reeling in circles at the thought of him, and his desires and if he desired you as much as you desired him. And what if-

You shook the thought away, “Well, you must be tired. You need to rest so that you may go home. The storm is passing, and I’d wager that you could return to shore now.” You wrung your hands together. 

You didn’t want him to go, but you knew it was logical.

He would have to leave. He would have to go home. To his family. To his friends. To his land. And then, you would be left alone with the spiralling 'what if's' of his stay.

“You speak of fatigue as if you sleep more than I, and do less.” Came his pointed remark, “I am well aware of my need to recover, and my abilities.”

Speechless. 

That was what you were.

The fire crackled loudly between you as you watched him shift, moving to lay himself down onto the couch which was comically too small for him. His long legs stretched over the arm, feet dangling almost to the floor whilst his head was tucked at an awful angle on the opposite arm. 

He looked like a doll that had been carelessly tossed onto the couch by a child.

“You need rest.” He mused, eye roaming over your body shamelessly, “I shall sleep where I am.”

Your brows furrowed, “You can’t suggest that you wish to sleep there.” Your hand pointed to where he was uncomfortably lain, “You do not fit. You shall see no rest and I will have to nurse you to health once more.”

“All the more reason for me to stay here.” His eye slid shut, seeming to make a point of sleeping on your lumpy and aged lounge.

You guffawed at him and his brazen flirting, mouth hanging open as your hands moved to your hips, “Go back to bed.”

His brow lifted, but his eye stayed shut, “A command or request?”

You blinked, “A request, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Will you be joining me?” Came his purr, eye cracked open at you, the bright lilac having turned as stormy as the sea once had been.

“No.”

Another hum, something you had grown used to by now, his eye sliding shut, “Then I shall stay put.”

You stormed towards him, looking down at him, trying to not notice how soft his hair looked, or how the pale skin of his chest looked like a cozy place to-

“Really, Sir.” You sighed, exacerbated, “I must implore you to sleep in the bed tonight. You will only hurt your neck and back. I am far smaller than you, and-“

“-Sīr byka.”

The language was smooth, the r curling in the front of his teeth, all creamy, and soft like syrup and warm. It sent heat straight into your core. 

“What does that mean?”

His eye opened again as he sat up, “Would you like to know?”

Gods, he was infuriating. 

“Yes.” You grit out, “Or else I wouldn’t have asked.”

“I said you were little.”

Embarrassment curled in your chest, but not only that, something else that sent heat striking through you. 

You tried to blink it away, “An obvious observation. And the bed would fit you perfectly well, if only-“

“-Nyke kessa mazverdagon ziry-“

“-Would you stop that?” You snipped, chest heaving as you blushed, watching as the tall man pulled his legs down and sat up, looking at you predatorily. 

You were in trouble.

Every hair on your body stood up as he watched you beneath his lashes.

“Stop what?”

You wet your lips, “T-that.”

“What, byka ōños?”

“That!” You pointed, running a hand through your hair, “You- You make a mockery of me.”

His head tilted, “I do no such thing.”

“You do.” You countered, looking anywhere but him, “You speak in tongues that I do not understand. For all I know, you could be throwing insult at my person. I know that I am not as educated as you-”

“-Do you want to know what it means? You only need ask.”

“What does it mean?” You breathed, watching as he stood from the couch, sucking all the air from the room as his head slowly came up to your height, then finally looming over you down his nose. 

“What does ‘what’ mean?”

“Fine." You huffed, "You shall stay on the couch, and I shall send word tomorrow-“

“-Little light.”

You lashes fluttered against your cheeks as you felt him step closer to you, your chest heaving as one of his hands reached out to caress a lock of your hair, tucking it behind your ear. You shivered as his fingertips grazed a path down your neck, his eye intent on you. 

“W-what?”

“Byka ōños,” Aemond purred, “It means ‘little light’.” He took a step closer to you, his chest brushing against yours, warmth immediately seeping into your dress as you craned your head to look up at him, "Byka perzys.”

“And what does that mean?” Your voice was quiet, unsure, the air around you crackling with the tension that had been building for days.

“Little flame.” He translated, large palm moving behind your neck as he gripped the back of it softly, fingers tangling in your hair. Your breath hitched as he moved forward, his eye on your lips, yours on his.

“Byka jelevre.”

“What does t-“

Aemond’s lips crashed into yours hungrily, silencing your question. You squeaked, eyes widening before they slowly slid shut, hands coming to the front of his tunic as you fisted them tightly, rising on your tip toes to meet him. His kiss melted you, a fire being stoked in your gut steadily as the fingers in your hair tightened.

Then as sudden as it came, it stopped. 

You were both panting, looking at one another as his tongue wet his lips.

“Fuck.” He growled, before crashing into you again, teeth nibbling at your bottom lip as you sighed into his embrace.

His other hand wrapped around your waist pulling you tightly against him as his tongue licked at your bottom lip. It was unfamiliar, uncertain, and your lips parted in a small gasp, immediately feeling his tongue lick tentatively at your mouth.

You were still, frozen as you thought of what to do as the hand on your waist moved to pull at your skirts hastily, dragging them up your legs.

And then, it was as though the fog was cleared, and your mind re-emerged. You pulled back with a gasp, hand gripping the wrist that was pulling at your skirts, your eyes searching his face with uncertainty. 

And then, slowly, it dawned on him, realisation washing over his features. 

“You’re untouched?” Came his quiet breath.

You swallowed, shutting your eyes to avoid his prying gaze, too afraid of his next reaction as you answered him. 

“Yes.”

The warmth of his body left yours, and you almost subconsciously followed it, eyes reopening. 

He looked at you with a new expression you could not quite understand. 

Your chest ached to be held again, to feel his want and his hands pressed against your body. To feel his chest against yours, his lips on your own, his tongue teasing yours as you sighed into it. You wished to feel the calluses of his hands, and smell the salt and sandalwood that lingered around him.

You felt stupid for having told him, for having stopped him. You wished you hadn’t. You wished you had just let him have his way-

“-Apologies, Miss. I did not mean to overstep.”

Any thought that you had vanished, and you found yourself gasping for air like a fish out of water.

“I shall retire for the evening.” He took another step back, his eye not once leaving yours as he shifted his body towards your bedroom, “But if I do take your bed, I would like to earn my keep around your home as I recover.”

If this man did one more thing out of the ordinary, you thought your head may spin off your neck.

“Your keep?” You echoed, feeling the tingle in your lips from his kiss. '

Did he mean-

“-Work around the island. Cleaning, gardening. Anything that you need or want from me. I am yours.”

You felt that his last offer meant more, but you did not have the wherewithal to ask for elaboration, nor did you have the courage. 

Gods, what was it about this man that turned you to syrup?

You nodded slowly, watching as relief washed over his features, “It is much appreciated, though I will be hard pressed to find things for you to do yet.” You shifted on your feet, hands wringing together once more, “I shall send word soon of your survival to shore. My pigeo-“

“-No.” Aemond said hastily, to which he recovered a moment afterwards, “No need until I am hale and healthy again. There is no point for false hopes, I may turn on the morrow.”

You shook your head, a small laugh falling from your lips, “I see no possibilities of you turning to meet the Stranger tomorrow. You-“

“-Please.” Came his voice once more, rough and quiet, and more strained than before, “Let me stay dead for a while longer.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the general tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

@blackswxnn @marihoneywk @targaryenrealnessdarling @namelesslosers @aemondsfavouritebastard @dahlias-and-marigolds @aemondsbabygirl @toodlesxcuddles @jemmaagentofshield @malfoytargaryen @bellaisasleep @aaprilshowers @assortedseaglass @elizarbell @xpersephonex @lijeno @likeanecho344 @coffeeobsessedtrencher @diannnnsss @lexwolfhale @notasockpuppetaccount @at-a-rax-ia @spinachtz@marysucks-blog @generalkenobitrash @zenka69 @shygardengalaxy-blog @kittendoll05

[fireofdestruction23]

Yk, I’m not the emotional type at all. I’m pretty much detached from what’s going on around me most of the time therefore I’m not one to cry at all and that makes me out to be “heartless” as far as people are concerned. That’s why when I started reading TCF I was hooked and couldn’t stop reading. I felt so seen in Cale/KRS’s character and I couldn’t help but love him because we share similarities. Now that I’m rereading for the third time I can’t help but feel emotional about this story that I love so much and makes me cry, laugh and despair when they are going through difficult things. When I first read the chapter of the Wind Island test and read how people view Cale/KRS as a “heartless emotionless monster” I felt so enraged cause it hit home. People said the same things about me when my gramma died and I didn’t shed a tear… I didn’t cry because I didn’t love her. I loved my grandma, she was the only one on my side since I was young, but I couldn’t cry even if I wanted to. I guess that’s one of the reasons I love and relate to Cale so much.

[court-jobi]

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. 

[anime-lover324]

Just a Thought

Hey, Cale mention in the beginning that Kim Rok Soo was poor, right?

Assuming he wasn't just talking about his childhood circumstances, what if he didn't meant "poor" in the literal sense?

What if it was poor in the "Why I have no money? (from the Wind Island test)" sense?