#cavernous structure | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inazumass · 6 months ago

Text

Animal Attraction - Laios x Beastman!Reader

No beta read this time, but I might add other chapters of this for f/m/ftm reader in the future on AO3 if there's enough interest for it. I try to make my smut as inclusive as possible but sometimes it takes away from the descriptors, y'know? Let me know what you think! https://archiveofourown.org/works/56591389

TAGS/Warnings: NSFW, Smut with Plot, Gender Neutral Reader, No Use of Y/N, Mild Themes of Forced Proximity/One Bed Trope (Kinda), Huddle For Warmth, Penetration, Gender Neutral Anatomy, Second Person Perspective/Freeform, Beastman/Beastkin Reader/Doglike Reader, Comfort, No Pet Names, Enthusiastic Consent, No use of protection don't be like Chilchuck, y'all

Word Count: 11.9k

As always, Minors DNI

Shadows stretched long across the wooden floor of the old bedroom where Laios sat in his bed for the night. This floor was quiet now but if anyone paused to listen they would be able to hear all the creatures off in the distance as they stalked their way through the dungeon. Their various calls and cries echoed off the far away walls of the vast cavern surrounding the ruins.

It was cool here now, the crisp night air swirling through the alleyways and rustling the curtains. If it weren’t for the view out the window of the ruined structures littering the cave the old town was situated in, it might have been easy for anyone to convince themselves that they were in any regular old inn on the surface.

There were few usable rooms left in the building now though, and the party had to make do with the last three decent rooms on the third floor. Not that anyone seemed to mind much… hell, most were grateful for a proper bed to sleep on for the first time in days.

Down the hall Laios could hear the sounds of his party mates getting settled in for the night, their muffled speech unintelligible through the thick stone walls. He had settled into his bed, unfurling his bedroll over the old linen sheets as he stole glances at the newest member of their ragtag group.

He tried hard not to stare, but his gaze kept flickering up to the soft ears perched atop your head.

By now he’d known well enough not to question Izutsumi on her state after much scolding from the others and the sharp sting of her claws whenever she would get fed up with his pestering. Yet you were so vastly different in comparison to the sharper features of the party’s youngest member; your sharper more wolf-like features juxtaposed with the softer body of a human, the perfect fusion of man and beast. He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like… he’d always fantasised, albeit not so secretly about what it might be like to have more animalistic features, were you more monster or more human? His thoughts were cut off quickly when your eyes flicked over to him, feeling his eyes on your back. Your ears flicked in mild annoyance, not exactly fond of the intrusive gaze.

“What are you staring at?” You sighed, all too used to the way people would size you up. The questions, the fear, the judgement.

“Your ears look so soft.” The blond smiled sheepishly as the words slipped out of his mouth without much thought.

The sincerity of his gaze caught you by surprise, unsure how to respond as you stared back at him. You blinked slowly, momentarily thrown off by his unexpected offhand comment. He seemed genuine, his eyes holding a warmth that contrasted sharply with the usual wariness you encountered from other tallmen. After a beat of silence, you couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"They're just ears," You replied, your tone light but tinged with a hint of amusement as your ears perked back up, "But thanks, I guess?"

He chuckled softly in return, a sheepish grin still playing on his lips. "Sorry, that was probably a weird thing to say, huh?" Laios asked, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he looked down at his lap.

"It's... different," you admitted, offering him a nonchalant shrug. "But different can be nice.” You said finally, earning another smile from the tallman.

His sheepish grin widened into a relieved smile at your response, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he let out a quiet sigh. "I'm glad you think so," Laios replied, amber eyes still avoiding your gaze. He knew if he looked back up he wouldn’t be able to resist staring a little longer. "I didn't mean to make things awkward."

You shook your head, offering him a reassuring smile of your own. "No need to worry about it. It's refreshing, honestly." You replied, sitting back against the old wooden headboard. Perhaps you had been wary of him for no reason, though you hadn’t fully dropped your defences around the group despite your curiosity about the knight. They had all been gracious enough to take you in when you were too injured to carry on alone.

You were certain if they hadn’t wandered by when they did you would have been doomed on your own. Now, you thought, you would be forever indebted to them for their kindness. That being said, you couldn’t help but feel out of place regardless of their continued kindness.

“I’m sorry... I guess I was just expecting you to say something else.” You admitted. A sigh pushed past your lips as you hugged your knees, uneasy at even the smallest bit of vulnerability you’d shown him with your vague explanation.

Though he wasn’t the best at reading the emotions of others, he could see the way you curled in on yourself as if protecting something, your ears drooping against your head. It reminded him of the strays he would see back home, wounded, exposed…

His voice was gentle as he spoke, his gaze lifting to look you in the eyes as he searched for the right words. “I’ve heard stories of beastmen before… but you and Izutsumi are way cooler than any of them.” Laios affirmed, earning a little snort of laughter from you. “Seriously! Half tallman and half wolf, that’s… incredible!” He exclaimed.

You wanted to disagree, but something about the way his eyes lit up when he spoke had you believing it too. After all, no ordinary tallman could do what you could. Even so, you found yourself shifting in discomfort under his gaze. You had always been acutely aware of the implications of your existence, created from black magic… an abomination, a monster.

Even now that you’d finally met someone like you, someone who couldn’t shift the way others in similar circumstances could, she was nothing like you. Though you suspected Izutsumi more than tolerated you from the way she would curl up between you and Marcille when she slept... half the time she complained that you reeked of dog smell, that you were noisy, and so on. You were nowhere near as agile as she was. Your form held little to be proud of; sharp teeth and claws, patches of fur scattered across your body. Both on the surface and deep within the dungeons black magic and all of its creations were things to be feared, reviled.

"Most people see me as a monster," you admitted bitterly, looking away from him as you hugged your knees a little tighter.

Laios’ brow furrowed slightly as he watched you retreat back into your shell. A monster? He wasn’t entirely certain what had compelled him to say what he said next, but the words came out regardless. “So what?” He frowned, his tone capturing your attention once more even if it was mostly due to the shock of hearing him speak like that. “Who cares what anyone else thinks?"

The question was rhetorical and you knew that, yet you opened your mouth to speak anyways. The protests died on your lips before they could form entirely as he cut you off. “Their misconceptions about you aren’t going to change who you are.” The knight said firmly as he looked deep into your eyes, the intimacy of his earnest gaze causing you to look away again.

Laios’ words echoed in your mind, resonating with a quiet strength that you couldn't ignore. You were silent for a long moment. Something about the way he spoke so confidently on the matter had you suspicious that he’d had to tell himself the same thing once or twice. "You're right," you replied, a newfound resolve coursing through your veins as you felt that unfamiliar spark of understanding for the first time in years. "Who cares what anyone else thinks?" You repeated.

For too long, you’d allowed the judgement and scorn of others to dictate your actions, to shape your perception of yourself. While it would take time to internalise it properly and truly digest the sentiment behind his words of encouragement, you felt a bit more steady for the time being. For now you would forge your own path alongside his party.

"Thank you," you said softly, meeting the knight's gaze with a grateful smile.

“Of course.” He replied, laying back against his bed roll and looking up at the ceiling. He was torn now, frustration and mild jealousy gnashing their ugly teeth and gnawing at the back of his mind. Jealousy because he’d always dreamt of what it might be like to be a werewolf or something of the sort, frustration because others couldn’t see how amazing you and the other beastmen truly were beyond your respective abilities in the arenas. Questions swirled in his mind and died in his throat, even Laios knew that now wasn’t the time to ask. Beastman status aside, it irked him that you’d been made to feel that way about yourself.

You had laid down on your own bed before stealing another glance at him. Even in the faint glow that illuminated the room you could see the way his brow furrowed as he stared up at the vaulted ceiling, the mild tension in his jaw.

“You look like you have something else to say.”

He hesitated, his words caught in his throat… You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him and whatever he seemed to be wrestling with in that moment. Despite the barriers that separated you… you shared a common struggle, not just on this mission but in life as a whole. You understood that now.

Laios hesitated, uncertain of how his thoughts would be received. "I do," he admitted. "But it's... complicated."

“Try me,” you replied, rolling over so you could face him properly.

Laios hesitated again, his gaze drifting back to the ceiling as he weighed the words in his mind. Even in the short few days you’d been with the group he knew you well enough to know that you deserved to hear what he said next. "It's just... sometimes I can't help but feel a little... envious," he admitted, self-consciousness flooding into his senses as he spoke the words aloud. A part of him expected you to snap at him for saying something like that after he heard the way his words hung in the open air.

You didn't though, instead you just cocked your head slightly, curiosity piqued by his confession. "Envious? Of what?" He couldn't have meant what you thought he did. You were cursed. Even with the enhanced senses, your strength, your speed… the weight of the isolation had always felt heavier.

A faint blush coloured Laios' cheeks as he met your gaze, a sheepish smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Of you, actually," he confessed, his tone laced with a mix of admiration and embarrassment. "I mean, you're so... unique. You’ve got the best of both traits, you’re strong, you’re fast… you’re a skilled strategist, your sense of smell is unparalleled and… I can always tell when you’re happy because your tail wags even when you’re trying to be serious.” He looked back up and away from you once again as he realised he couldn’t stop the words from spilling past his lips, scratching the itch in his brain.

“I know it’s only reasonable for people to be wary of the unfamiliar, it’s in our nature to want to keep ourselves safe from something that could be perceived as a threat. It’s the one thing we living creatures all have in common. But it’s just frustrating, because…” Because you’re like me. Laios wanted to stop himself from saying what came out next, but he couldn’t help it. "...because sometimes it feels like no matter what we do, no matter how hard we try, we'll always be seen as outsiders," There was a resigned look on his face now, despite the bitterness of the frustration replacing his usual upbeat tone. "Like we're destined to be misunderstood, judged solely by the circumstances of our existence."

You swallowed hard, looking back up at the ceiling with him as his rant struck something within you. His words stung with that all too familiar ache of rejection. There was another beat of silence that passed between the two of you as the weight of his sentiment settled in.

“I know what you mean,” You replied, voice barely above a whisper. This time it was your turn to snap him out of it. “But you know what? Despite it all, we're still here. And that counts for something, doesn't it?"

He didn’t seem convinced, but you could see the way the tension started to leave his body when he finally rolled over to face you from across the room. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Laios replied, the ghost of a halfhearted smile on his pink lips.

The two of you looked at each other in silence for a long moment, a silent understanding passing between the two of you in the night. It had been a long time since you’d had the liberty to have a conversation like this. Open, honest, vulnerable under the cover of the night, tucked away somewhere quiet...

“Thank you,” you couldn’t help but say it again, something about the heavy conversation seemed to lighten the invisible load on your shoulders. “I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve had a conversation like this.”

A soft chuckle escaped him, and he gave a slight bob of his head in agreement. "Yeah, I know what you mean. It's nice to just... talk."

As the conversation continued to flow between you, the initial tension that had hung in the air slowly dissipated, replaced by a growing sense of ease and comfort. Though you both knew that you should have been sleeping, found yourself drawn to his company, his honesty and blunt nature was refreshing. As the evening wore on, bathed in the gentle glow of the flickering candles and soft hum of conversation, you couldn't help but feel grateful for having met the tallman.

You could feel the gentle caress of the breeze as it snuck through the open window, teasing the flames of the candles and sending shadows dancing across the stone walls of the old room. The soft light illuminated the room, creating an intimate atmosphere that seemed to envelop you both in its soothing embrace.

Neither of you were certain when you’d drifted off to sleep, the orange glow of the candles having been extinguished long before you’d woken up again.

As your eyes fluttered open they struggled momentarily to adjust to the darkness surrounding your bed. With the old shutters closed and the candles extinguished it was near impossible to see at first but as your eyes adjusted your enhanced night vision came in handy. All was silent inside now, the rest of your party mates likely fast asleep… the only sounds were the frenzied rushing of the wind against the building and Laios’ light snores in the bed across from you. Even beneath the cover of your sleeping bag, you could feel the cold seeping into your bones. The tufts of fur that littered your body seemed to stand on end in the darkness, prominent goosebumps prickling across your skin

Something was off, it was colder now. Too cold. You reached out across the gap between your beds, gently shaking Laios's shoulder. His skin was cool to the touch and you couldn’t help but notice the way he was shivering in his sleep.

“Laios,” you whispered urgently, “wake up.”

He stirred, breathing slow and heavy. He let out a soft groan as he blinked his eyes open, mirroring your earlier struggle to adjust to the darkness in the room now as his amber eyes searched for you in the blackness. '”What’s going on?” he murmured.

“It’s freezing… something’s wrong.” You explained, tugging your sleeping bag closer around you as if to further prove your point.

“It’s probably just the dungeon’s terrain shifting again,” he replied calmly, rubbing his eyes while his body settled back into consciousness.

A shiver rippled through his body as the chill settled in. This isn’t good, he thought to himself, trying to calculate the situation at hand through the fog of his lingering sleep. Each of the rooms had shuttered windows, so it was likely that the others were fine as well. Considering the rushing sound of the air currents outside it would be safe to assume that there was a significant risk for frostbite out there if left exposed. Staying inside the abandoned structure was certainly the better alternative… but without some sort of external heat source your muscles would easily become stiff and painful at this temperature before long.

Laios huffed, his breath just barely visible in the dark. So that was it then. He glanced back over to you then, watching as you struggled to properly cocoon yourself in your sleeping bag to stave off the cold for just a little longer.

“We’ll be alright,” He said tenderly with a reassuring smile.

“I’m freezing, and you’re still shivering.” You groaned, clenching your jaw as you tried to keep your teeth from chattering.

He swallowed hard, weighing his options in his mind once more as he considered what he was about to say before he took a deep breath. “We should probably huddle together for warmth then.” Laios said solemnly. In an attempt to calm his racing heart he continued quickly: “Shivering all night in our sleep won’t help with the fatigue, right now our muscles are expanding and contracting really fast to try and generate warmth to compensate for the-”

“Okay,” you interrupted, too tired to keep up with his fast paced facts.

As you swung your legs off the side of your bed he hesitated before sliding over to make room for you, watching in mild amusement as you shuffled your way across the gap in your sleeping bag before flopping down next to him in the bed. For once he was at a loss for words, not expecting you to take the opportunity so quickly, though he supposed it made sense. Even though you looked more human than beast, he supposed wolves were pack animals, used to close proximity with other members of their pack. Although- he interrupted himself in his mind, that would be dependent upon the particular species of wolf you’d been - his thoughts were quickly interrupted by the groaning of the old wood frame supporting your bodies as it creaked in protest against the added weight before settling again.

This was better, his warmth next to you helping to warm you ever so slightly, but you could still feel the sting of the cold as you laid next to him in your sleeping bag, struggling to get comfortable. Laios found himself hesitating again, although he couldn’t place exactly why. It wasn’t as if he’d never slept in close proximity to someone else. Hell, on this journey alone he’d spent countless nights sandwiched between other members of his party as they slept.

You didn’t seem to have a problem with it as you squeezed in next to him, but he could still see the way you shivered as you tried to get settled.

“It would, uh… probably be more effective if we combined our body heat.” He muttered, swallowing the lump in his throat once more as he looked away from you.

Silence stretched out between you for what felt like forever as he felt the familiar claws of self doubt scraping at the back of his mind. He was thankful when you finally put him out of his misery, shooting him an awkward little smile as you spoke: “Yeah, that makes sense… I’m alright with it if you are.”

He nodded firmly, still avoiding your gaze as he helped you get tucked in beneath his sleeping bag. If you noticed the shift in his energy, you didn’t show it as you cuddled up next to him, pressing your back into his side beneath the covers. Laios tried to remain calm as he laid your now empty sleeping bag overtop of his, adding extra insulation for the both of you. The wind whistled outside, the shutters stirring as cold seeped its way in through the cracks in the wood. You were grateful now for the additional heat, it sounded like the storm outside was picking up.

The tallman let out a sigh, his breath a cloud of fog as he listened to the intensity of the wind outside. He sat up to tuck the edges of the sleeping bag beneath the two of you, ensuring that the cold couldn’t slither in between the two of you. He glanced over at you then in the dark, your soft features just barely visible in the dim light leaking in from the slits in the shutters. A little smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched your ears twitch against the pillow. You looked so comfortable, cute even.

He pushed the thought aside as he laid back down beside you, his arm resting on the pillow above your head as he attempted to give you a little bit of space.

“I’m glad we found this place,” He commented, his voice a soft murmur above the sound of the rushing wind outside. Despite the chill, the room was calm in comparison to the storm outside. “We’re lucky we didn’t get caught out in that.”

“Mhm…” You hummed in response, already close to falling asleep as you nuzzled against his arm with a sigh.

Laios’ cheeks turned a deeper shade of red beneath the cover of darkness. He could already feel his heart rate picking up again and something about the way he couldn't take his eyes off you suggested it was due to much more than the cold. Here he could feel the way the soft fur of your ears tickled his arm, your bushy tail laid comfortably across his hips. It took every ounce of willpower in his body not to reach out and stroke the soft fur there, wanting to know exactly how the sleek fluff would feel against the roughened skin of his palms. He watched for a moment as your breathing slowed and evened out, realising it would probably be weird of him to watch you sleep.

So instead he shut his eyes and tried to will his body to follow suit, to relax his stiffened muscles and calm the steady hammering in his chest. You grumbled softly as he tried to pull his arm away to readjust, gripping his forearm lightly as you pulled it back beneath your head. He winced internally. He was trapped now, he didn’t want to fall asleep on his back but would it be weird if he slept facing you?

It would probably do a better job of keeping you both warm, sure, but why was it so difficult to just go ahead and roll over? His limbs felt heavy, would it be weird if he put his arm around you? If someone walked in would it cause some kind of misunderstanding? He wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with a lecture from Chilchuck on the importance of professionalism in the workplace.

He lost himself in his thoughts again until he felt another shiver run down across your body. Poor thing, he thought, how were you still cold? He felt like he was burning up but if the cheek pressed against his arm was any indication of your overall body temperature you were still freezing.

With a sigh he gave in and wrapped his other arm around your waist, maintaining a respectful distance from any of the more intimate areas of your body.

You relaxed instantly into the touch, pressing back against him and pulling his arms a little closer as you seeked out the warmth. He tried hard not to look at you then, honey coloured eyes searching the ceiling in the darkness once again before he ultimately gave up and tried to close them once again.

It took some time for him to finally settle down enough to start falling asleep again, only to be interrupted by the way your tail started to wag in your sleep. At first he thought it was cute, wondering about what kind of dream you must have been having at that moment. It had to be something good. He’d always wondered what it was his childhood dogs had dreamed about when he caught their tails thumping against the ground where they slept. Briefly, he wondered if it would be rude to ask you in the morning. That was, until you shifted slightly in your sleep and it started to brush against him instead of the bed.

Laios sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth as your appendage brushed against the front of his trousers. He tried to shift his hips away from you only to earn a little groan of protest as he tried to move.

“H-hey, careful where you’re moving that.” He whispered, shakily.

It was almost shameful how quickly that little motion had him worked up. Having spent so long traversing the dungeon with multiple people in close proximity to monsters… it wasn’t like he had a lot of time to himself. His cheeks burned with embarrassment as he tried to squirm away, only for you to grumble and push back against him in your sleep, tail still swishing lightly against his hips. If you didn’t stop soon he might blow a gasket trying to explain the growing bulge pressing into the soft fat of your ass if you woke up, or die of embarrassment, whichever came first.

“C-cut it out.” He hissed, the arm around your waist shifting so he could grip the base of your tail and stop it from rubbing against him further.

The pressure earned a low moan from you in your sleep and he immediately tensed up and froze.

“Ngh… Laios?” You muttered, voice husky with exhaustion as you came to once again.

Shit. His heart leaped in his chest as you began to stir. By now he could hear the rush of his heartbeat hammering away in his chest like the steady beat of a drum. He released his grip on the tail, too embarrassed now to fawn over how soft the fur was there.

“Y-Yeah, I’m still here” He whispered, his throat dry as he let out another quivering breath. He stayed still then, trying to will you to go back to sleep with his mind so he could turn away and continue to ignore his growing problem in peace.

“What’s wrong?” You mumbled groggily. Even in your half-asleep state, you caught the tremor in his voice. Though you sensed no immediate danger, the wobble in his tone set you on edge. Turning to face him, you inadvertently brushed against him once more.

The moment the soft fur brushed against him again, he couldn't help but twitch as another wave of heat surged through his body. It was all too much, the close proximity and now your warm breaths fanning across his chest, it was too intense. His eyes searched the room in the darkness, avoiding your gaze as he searched for any sort of distraction to calm himself down before you noticed. Sure, it was a natural biological reaction to external stimuli but no amount of logic could spare him the shame that washed over him as he wondered what you might think of him. Your voice ripped him from his spiral once more as you repeated his name.

Those two syllables had no right to get him as worked up as they did. Your tired voice sending another shiver down his spine as he swallowed nervously. Had his name always sounded that good on your lips?

“Laios?” You repeated, completely oblivious to his predicament until you shifted again and felt the bulge pressing into your thigh.

He winced, bracing himself for whatever it was that might come out of your mouth next. The blond prayed silently to whatever benevolent deity above might listen that you hadn’t noticed anything and he might be able to talk his way out of this somehow and turn away. But it was too late now, the evidence was there for anyone to see- or feel in your case. A soft oh was all you offered to calm his racing mind. Heat rushed into his cheeks as he fumbled for words.

“It’s-” his words broke off as you gently pulled your leg away from him, a soft gasp spilling from his lips as he fought the urge deep within himself to chase the heat in order to satiate the growing need in his abdomen. “I… I’m sorry,” he breathed, pulling away from you and attempting to give you as much space as he could within the confines of your shared sleeping bag after you’d finally let go of him. “I…” He wanted to take the blame but he didn’t know how else to get the explanation out, “you were rubbing against me in your sleep and I tried to get you to stop. I’m so sorry.”

The blush in your cheeks mirrored the knight's as you fought to recall the dream you’d been having prior to getting woken up. You hoped you hadn’t said anything while you dreamt.

“S-sorry, I must have been dreaming, I didn’t mean to… uh,” you stammered out, looking back at him uneasily.

“It’s okay.” He practically whispered back as he looked away from you. His nerves were set ablaze even further by the intensity of your wide eyed stare. This was pathetic, really, the way those fleeting touches sent his head spinning. The way you’d brushed up against him earlier only served to further ignite the fire inside of him. He closed his eyes then and forced himself to focus on his breathing- anything that would take his mind off of the way you looked at him or the light trail of heat that lingered along his skin from the way you’d touched his body.

“We can pretend this didn’t happen,” you offered, voice trailing off as shame crept into your voice as well. Your ears drooped down against your head in embarrassment, the fur blending in with your hair under what dim lighting the room had to offer.

Even as you tried to push the thought from your mind you couldn’t help but glance down and away from his face at that moment. You didn’t want to make him any more uncomfortable than he already seemed to be with the situation… but you couldn’t fight the curiosity, so tempted to steal a glance at the space between his thighs hidden beneath the covers.

He opened his eyes just in time to catch the way you glanced downward, unable to help the way he was drawn back to you despite the awkwardness of the situation. For a moment he wondered if he’d only imagined it and that subtle unconscious flick of your tongue against your lips. Laios practically bit his tongue to stop himself from asking something he might regret later. He wasn’t going to let one little slip-up ruin the trust that the two of you seemed to be building up so far.

“Yeah… yeah, that’s probably for the best.” He replied with a halfhearted chuckle.

With the space between your bodies now it was becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore the pent up frustration in his body. The cold was now long forgotten as he focussed on the heat radiating off of you in bed next to him as the storm raged on outside.

“We should probably get back to sleep.” You commented, voice barely audible over the thrum of your heartbeat in your ears. You relaxed slightly, trying to get comfortable in the new position you found yourself in.

The sleeping bags shifted slightly and you pulled them up, your hand brushing against him through the layers of fabric. This third accidental touch was almost enough for his resolve to shatter, a strangled whine releasing from his throat before he could stop it. He tried to compose himself, it was better to just ignore it. In the morning it would be like nothing happened and the two of you could just forget about it as it became nothing more than an awkward memory at the edge of awareness. Something you think about as you’re trying to drift off to sleep and your brain starts tormenting you with humiliating memories.

You swallowed thickly, now trying to calm yourself down in tandem with Laios as goosebumps prickled along your skin for another reason now. Something in you was begging to hear that noise again.

It was better to remain professional about this though, and you both knew that. Even as he wrestled with the urge to grab hold of you and pull you in for a kiss, even though he wanted so badly to know just how you’d taste- fuck. He didn’t want to embarrass himself any more than he already had. So instead of giving in, he bit the inside of his cheek and turned away from you then, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to ignore the ache as his erection pressed into the coarse fabric of his pants with every ragged breath that he took.

Unbeknownst to him you were fighting the exact same demons mere inches away. The air had grown thick between you, almost heavy with the weight of the tension in it. There was a long moment of hesitation before you pressed lightly into his back. Huddling together for warmth now seemed to be a blessing and a curse.

Your shallow breaths against the nape of his neck were driving him crazy, the warm air ghosting across his skin a stark contrast to the chill in the room around you. It had a cascading effect on his senses. Goosebumps rose against the skin of his broad shoulders beneath his shirt and down his arms. He shifted slightly, biting back another hiss when his clothes rubbed against him. You could feel the tension of the muscles in his back rippling beneath his shirt, his breath coming out in shallow huffs. Your sensitive hearing easily picked up on the way his breathing shook.

Fuck it, you thought quickly. This was all too much. If it all went south, in the worst case scenario you were almost certain that you could find your way back to the surface yourself somehow or die trying. If the sting of rejection came after what you said next you would find it within yourself to push it down and accept it. Neither of you could stew in this awkward limbo state any longer.

“I… if you need help getting back to sleep,” you started, your voice tickling against the hair at the nape of his neck when you spoke, “I could uh… help you out…” you offered, voice trailing off at the end as you started to rethink your words. But it was too late now, and the proposition was out in the open.

Laios stilled completely at your words, his body tensing up even further when the offer dangled between you. He wasn’t sure it would be wise to accept, if he even could accept it at first. Part of him wasn’t even sure he’d heard you correctly, were you really offering what his mind wanted to believe that you were?

After a moment of stunned silence, he rolled back around to face you. Even in the dark you could see the pupils of his honeyed eyes were blown wide with lust.

“Are you sure?” He asked quietly, searching your eyes for any hint of hesitation or reservation.

Your body acted before you were aware of it, lightly pressing closer against him beneath the covers of the sleeping bags but still resisting the urge to touch him intimately before you heard his answer.

“If you’re comfortable with it,” you replied, tone still hushed beneath the cries of the storm outside, “and if you want me to.”

He hesitated as he weighed his options in his mind. His will was stronger than most, but his resolve in that moment had worn paper thin. As your sweet voice beckoned him he took in the softness of your features, those cute little ears twitching above your head as you waited for his response… How could he resist?

“...I would like that.” The blond murmured sheepishly, his voice almost catching in his throat as he melted into you where your skin pressed against his.

You let out a breath of relief, your shoulders relaxing then as you slid your hand down between you. He inhaled sharply when your palm pressed itself against the heat in the front of his trousers and you could feel the way he pulsed beneath you in response to the touch. Skilled fingers slid gently along the length of his cock through the fabric as he bit the inside of his cheek.

Your eyes widened slightly, a light gasp breaking the silence from you as you felt the less than humble girth between his hips.

His body reacted involuntarily to the touch, leaning into it slightly as he squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment once more. Everything else had already begun to fade away as he focussed on the warmth of your palm against him, the length straining desperately against the cloth. Fingers rubbed slowly against the outside of the rough fabric before your hand gently squeezed around the tallman’s cock and earned another shuddering breath from him.

Hazy lust filled eyes focussed on the fluffy ears atop your head, too shy to look down at your face as he trembled beneath your touch. His hands balled into fists as you began to massage his shaft, brows knitting together as he fought to hold in a moan. He wanted to touch you so badly, your skin beckoning to him like a siren's song as he leaned into your touch.

The way he pulsed against every little flick and drag of your fingers had your mouth watering in anticipation. Still, you wanted to see him relax, your hand sliding up and down slowly against his length.

The simple friction of your palm against him shouldn’t have sent him into the tailspin that it did, his hips beginning to shift instinctively against your touch. The slow massage of your grip against him only served to make his body ache even more. Laios finally started to let go, a low moan reverberating out against the night air.

“There we go…” you sighed, lightly squeezing him through his pants once more in appreciation.

As he began to give in fully to the pleasure you were giving him the sounds he made were nothing short of heavenly. Whimpers and whines began to slip out more frequently as you touched him now. His hips rocked against you as the slow strokes of your hands stoked the flames of need within him.

You were acutely aware now more than ever of the close proximity, your lips mere inches apart as you started to fully stroke him through his pants. As much as you wanted to tease him more, it was plain as day on his face that he needed this, and you certainly couldn't say no. Silently, you cursed the fabric that hid his body from view.

He couldn’t help but thrust his hips up against your grasp, letting out another soft whine as a similar thought crossed his mind. He needed more contact, the saccharine sound of your coos coupled with the sensation of your hand rubbing his cock through his pants was only making him more desperate as another whine escaped him.

Slowly, your fingers trailed up the front of his pants, earning a disappointed little huff from your comrade at the loss of your touch. Your breaths trembled as your hand came to rest at the closure on the front of his pants.

Your eyes searched for him in the darkness, looking into his with sincerity as you breathed out a soft “May I?”

“God, yes. ” He whined out.

Even if he wanted to he couldn’t have kept the desperation out of his voice if he tried. It was more than enough to have your hands undoing the fastening on his pants with ease. His hips lifted up off the bed so you could help him shimmy out of the garments just enough.

His cock sprung free from the restrictive fabric and he let out a contented sigh of relief. It twitched in your hands, earning a soft hum from you as you wrapped your fingers around the base of his shaft.

The sudden release felt like heaven, he couldn’t stop the shudder that ran through his body as you began to stroke him again. That delicious drag of your hand against him, skin finally on skin. Your touch was gentle though, it made him want to press forward even more, his hips bucking up against your grip as a low moan ripped from his throat again. The touch was akin to a jolt of electricity through his system and as he stole another glance down at your pretty face he couldn’t help but admit to himself that perhaps it was more than the friction that had gotten him worked up.

You lifted your hand and spat gently into it before reaching back down and spreading the warm slick against his length. His breath hitched at the new sensation, his chest heaving slightly with every breath he took.

You sighed happily as you felt another grateful pulse beneath your grip. Your thumb swiped lightly over the bead of pre-cum that drooled out of the needy pink tip of his cock while you began to pump him slowly. Hot breath fanned against his neck, your gaze flickering back up to his handsome face. If Laios noticed the way your eyes glanced down to his parted lips, he didn't show it. He was too engrossed in the almost torturous pace you’d set for him.

Every instinct within him screamed for you to pick up the pace, to hurry up and relieve the tension building up in his body as your grip tightened around his shaft. He let out a groan, knowing that in actuality he wouldn’t dare try and rush you, wanting to hang on to the intoxicating feeling of this intimate moment for as long as he possibly could.

“Can I kiss you?” He whimpered out, looking down at you with a pitiful expression on his flushed face.

He’d hardly had to finish his sentence before your lips were on his, eagerly swallowing his moans while you jerked him off under the covers. The noise you made was somewhere between a moan and a growl, your sharp canines grazing against his lips while your free hand moved up to grip the mess of short blonde hair at the nape of his neck.

Your kiss was returned eagerly, his eyes fluttering shut as he basked in the perfect taste of your lips. The low hum of Laios’ moans vibrated up from deep within his chest while his hips bucked lazily with every pump of your fist against him. When you finally broke apart he was panting and whining as he thrusted up into your hand.

“You’re so handsome like this,” you purred, pressing kisses against his jaw before he needily pulled you back into him for another hungry kiss.

One of his strong hands tangled its fingers in the locks of your messy hair, the tips of his digits gently putting pressure on your scalp as he kissed you with newfound passion. His cheeks burned at your compliment, unable to keep from giving in. He would proudly drink up every ounce of pleasure you were offering him. You returned the kiss full force, every flick of your wrist dragging more of those beautiful sounds from his lips.

Laios had always found himself weak in the knees whenever you’d compliment him, but he’d done his best to ignore it for the sake of the mission. Your kind words had such an effect on him but right now your praise felt like so much more. Something about the way you pressed into him, your fingers grasping at his hair, soft lips on his, it made him want nothing more than to hear what sort of sounds you might make beneath him instead.

As if on cue, his fingers grazed lightly against the base of your ears, earning a whimper against his lips as you kissed. The soft fur was just as incredible beneath his fingertips as he imagined. He'd wanted to feel those cute little wolf ears from the moment he'd laid eyes on them and now was the perfect opportunity. It was his turn to make you weak in the knees, the comfortable intimacy of the touch had every thought melting out of your mind.

At your moans he couldn’t help but thrust a little harder into your fist. But you slowed down, the slick strokes of your palm all but stopping as your fist tightened around the base of his shaft.

Selfishly, you wanted to drag this out for as long as you could, to milk this moment for everything that it was worth while moans tangled together between you two. His tongue dipped past your soft lips, sinking into your mouth and running along yours as he continued to play with your ears.

You found yourself pressing your thighs together, hips shifting as arousal pooled within you, a futile attempt to get some sort of friction against where you needed it most. The taste of his lips against yours was almost enough on its own to have your eyes rolling back into your head. But the way his fingers teased and tugged at your sensitive ears had your mind swirling with lust as your thumb swept across the crown of his cock once more, smearing precum and saliva against the heated skin.

He groaned again at your teasing, breaking the kiss with a pant as he rutted up into your fist. His head was spinning from the way you touched him, all five of his senses on fire. The way your hand squeezed around his cock, your soft lips on his, those cute expressions when he played with your ears, after having gone so long without a moment to relieve himself it was almost too much and not enough all at the same time. He could feel the soft triangles of nerves and fur twitching and tensing beneath his hand, your whimpers against his mouth were already getting desperate.He needed more of you, more of those sweet sounds you were giving him.

“Please,” you begged, the word leaving your lips like a prayer before you’d realised what you were even saying. The storm didn’t matter anymore, the only pressing issue was the burning desire that threatened to consume you both in an instant. Your grip stiffened around him then as he fucked your hand lazily.

He couldn’t help the lusty moan that drawled out of him when you tightened up. Laios could only hope that the cover of darkness hid how shameless he looked then, adorned by your touch. He couldn’t think, couldn’t focus with what you were doing to him. He could hardly keep his composure as your name left his mouth in another desperate whine. The pleasure zipped its way up his spine as his head fell back against the pillows again, eyes fluttering shut.

A strong hand wrapped around your waist, practically pulling you on top of him. His mouth hung open, lips parted to let out the needy sighs and whines that spilled out as his brows knit together.

He looked like the most delectably sinful work of art you’d ever laid eyes on, every marble statue and delicate oil painting paling in comparison. It was difficult not to feel giddy at the fact that you were the only one who got to see such a beautiful sight.

You couldn’t help yourself but to lean down and press kisses along the exposed skin of his neck, canines lightly brushing against the sensitive spots on his neck while you lightly nipped and sucked at his pale flesh.

He could hardly keep his composure, more desperate whimpers leaving his mouth as he was consumed by desire. His heart pounded in his chest like the beat of a drum when you finally straddled him, soft thighs splayed open across his as you worked his cock.

His hand gripped your hips with a newfound possessiveness. The warmth of your body pressed against him had him completely drunk on lust and the throbbing between his legs that you’d been skillfully building up with every little flick of your wrist was becoming unbearable.

Laios couldn’t stop himself from rutting up against you, his cock rubbing up against your crotch as he held you down against his body. A shudder wracked through him when he felt the tip rub against your heat through the layers of fabric that separated you two.

He let out a soft curse at the feeling, your warmth only teasing him more as you let out a little cry of pleasure. Your hips jolted forwards against him involuntarily, searching for a little more pressure when he bumped against you.

“Ah…” You sighed, your grip on his length slipping when he shuddered beneath you.

The little mewls you were already starting to let out as you ground against him were more compelling than any siren’s call. His hips jutted forward again as he started to thrust against you in time with the tantalising roll of your hips. The way your body moved on top of him was hypnotising. If there was a heaven, this is what it must have felt like. He needed to get his hands on your skin, to make you feel even half the pleasure you were giving him. His breathing was growing haggard as he fought the urge to rip your shorts in half just so he could have you right then and there.

“Hah, please, ” he panted, “please, can I touch you?” The way his golden eyes stared up at you, wide and pleading, would have been enough on its own to have your heart racing.

Your eyes were half lidded as you looked down at him, your tail swishing lightly across his thighs in anticipation. Pride swelled in your chest at the mess you’d reduced him to in just a few short minutes, though you were no better.

“Please.” You echoed, proving your desire with another needy roll of your hips against his length.

Your gorgeous form settled prettily in his lap, eagerly awaiting his next move. Gods above, he would do anything for you.

The tallman’s breath hitched in his throat at your plea, his mouth drying up when he looked up into your eyes. His hands trembled lightly against your thighs as he moved to hook his fingers in the waistband of your shorts.

“Are you sure?” He stammered out.

Once this line was crossed it could never be uncrossed, there would be no going back. Hell, he didn’t think he wanted to. If he could lay with you every night for the rest of his life he’d die satisfied. Thankfully for him, your reassurance was all he needed to let loose.

“I need you.” You breathed.

The intoxicating drag of his length against your clothed warmth had you both tensing up with the desire for more. You craved him like you’d never craved another’s touch before, the burning ache within you would be satisfied with nothing more than being filled by his girth.

Simultaneously, at your needy whines he found himself on the verge of losing control, his hips grinding up against you with a little more force before he finally pulled the garments off of you. His knuckles white as he clenched the fabrics in his hand and discarded them beside himself on the bed. The pressure, the lust, all of it was too much.

His strong hands grasped your hips again for a moment as he stared at you in awe, the soft tufts of fur on your body perfectly framing your heat. If it had been any other time and place he’d have had you on your back beneath him in seconds, diving his face between your thighs just to get a taste of what you had to offer. The slick glint of your own arousal shone slightly in the dim lighting, he’d have to wait for another time if he got the chance. Right now he needed this.

One hand slid between your thighs to stroke you gently, his gaze laser focussed on the way you twitched and trembled beneath his touch. The sweet sound of your moans filled his ears and he couldn’t take it anymore. He lifted you up again, aligning his cock with your entrance before slipping inside. Laios didn’t want to waste a second longer without your skin against his.

The head of his cock split you open with ease and had you whimpering at the sting of the stretch while you sunk down on him. Thighs tensed as you sucked his tip inside of you, sending his eyes rolling back into his head.

You groaned, “sh-shit… ah.. S’too big..” You whined.

Despite your protest, he watched as you circled your hips above him, wanting more of that painful pleasure as you bounced slightly in his lap. Silently, you begged your body to get used to the feeling, but on the other hand you didn’t think you ever could… hell, maybe you didn’t want to. The burn of his size was delicious in its own way.

“Mmm-ngh!” He grunted, the tips of his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs. His nails threatened to bite into the skin there as he tried hard not to buck his hips up into you. As much as his body craved the feeling of bottoming out inside you he refused to cause you any further discomfort.

“Fu-huhhck.. It’ll… it’ll get easier, I promise.” Laios cooed, reaching a hand down to stroke you again to ease the pain.

Your head lolled back against your shoulder as you tried to take him deeper, the ridge of his cockhead sinking in past the first ring of muscle when you began to relax for him. The whimpers and groans already leaving your mouth had goosebumps rising against his pale flesh again as his own whines trembled past his lips. His dick pulsed inside of you, sending more fluid leaking out against where you were connected.

“Oh my god,” You groaned, feeling his precum mixing with yours and dripping down the inside of your thighs.

His breaths were ragged as he tried to maintain his composure for your sake, but all was lost as soon as you commented on the way he twitched inside of you. With a grunt, he let his hips surge forward the slightest bit, sinking deeper inside. The knowledge that his cock was leaking inside of you, that you could feel every twitch and every pulse of his veins in your heat, it stirred something primal within him. His fingers tensed against you while he fought the urge to rut up into you like an animal.

Suddenly, your hand joined his in stroking yourself, fingers teasing the engorged area of your arousal. His eyes were glued to you then, watching the way you struggled to take him. Your hips rolled up and down against the first few inches, trying to take just a little bit more.

“That’s right..” he panted, watching with half lidded eyes as you touched yourself above him. His voice was a low purr against your eardrums, his thumb rubbing little comforting circles into your hip as he drank in the beautiful sight before him. “You can take it… you’re already doing so well, just a little more, yeah?”

You nodded, cheeks burning at the praise as another inch sunk inside.

Laios' eyes darkened with a fierce hunger as he watched you work your fingers against your slick heat. The wet, rhythmic sounds of your shallow thrusting blended with the heavy symphony of breathless moans and urgent whimpers filling the room. The old wooden bedframe groaned beneath your intertwined bodies, each creak adding a raw, primal beat to the music of your desire.

It was all music to his ears. His pupils were blown wide, gaze locked on where you straddled him, lost in the sight of you. The scorching, tight sensation of your walls squeezing around him erased all coherent thought, leaving only a primal urge to fill you completely.

Barely three inches deep inside you, he was on the edge of sanity, teetering on the brink of losing control with every subtle shift and grind of your hips. Each tiny movement had him mesmerised, but when you whimpered his name with a desperate cry, he gasped, watching you sink further down on his cock. Every little movement you made had his gaze transfixed on you.

Your hands clenched into tight fists against the coarse fabric at the hem of his shirt, the material now messily bunched up around his waist. The friction of the cloth against your skin only heightened the intensity, adding another layer of sensation to the overwhelming pleasure that coursed through both of you.

His abdomen tensed and flexed beneath your hands as he held himself back. He gasped and shuddered, your body taking him so well as you practically sucked him in. Jaw clenched tight, he let out a soft groan of your name. For a brief moment his eyes squeezed shut, his needy whines only serving to further your attempts to take him all the way. The cold air of the room stung his skin where it touched him, heightening the sensation of your warm body pressed against his.

You were a whining mess already, the mixture of pain and pleasure going straight to your groin when you finally took him all the way down to the hilt. The slight curve of his dick had the head pressing firmly against the spot inside you that made your knees weak. He was finally sheathed inside you, pulsing and twitching like a live wire. Ironically, he was the one who wanted to start pounding into you like a dog in heat. His eyes rolled back again as he let out a guttural moan, the sound rippling up from somewhere deep in his chest. Laios wanted to stay composed, to keep himself in check… but the excitement coursing through his body had rendered him helpless against his own desires as he began to bounce you up and down in his lap.

The way he said your name echoed inside your head, somewhere between a plea for more and a low groan that rolled off the tip of his tongue. Your hands shook against the fabric of his shirt, your back arching overtop of him as you tried to catch your breath, a blessing he wouldn’t allow you as he bucked into you.

“Oh my god,” his voice was breathless. “Fff… ah- ‘m sorry,” He whined, the friction sending a ripple of ecstasy down his spine.

His grip tightened on your hips, holding you tightly against his pelvis. That brief moment of weakness had earned a wanton cry of pleasure from your lips. He let another shaking breath out, trying to compose himself, he was reminded of the way your face contorted when he pushed inside. His eyes shut again as he took a deep breath.

Once the initial shock wore off for you it was heavenly. The sound of his ragged pants and whines egging you on as you started to move against him, fighting the urge to melt into his body at the pleasure. Your legs were quivering now as he thrusted up against you again, trying with all your might to keep enough of a level head to move back down against him.

One of his hands reached down to massage your thigh as he cooed soft praises up at you. When you’d started to move all bets were off, his hips thrusting up eagerly to meet your movements while his other hand held your hips possessively. The slow rhythm you’d set was perfect, but he needed more .

“‘S’okay, right?” he huffed out, looking up at you with what could only be described as adoration. He wanted you to enjoy this just as much as he did.

All you could manage was a hurried nod and a whimper.

“That’s it… yeah,” He groaned, watching as you held onto him for dear life.

Your features contorted in ecstasy as he began to roll up against you, his shallow thrusts helping to establish that slow rhythm between you for the time being.

That smooth voice had you clenching around him, body shivering. The wind rushed by outside and fell on deaf ears, the only thing that mattered to either of you right then was this perfect moment. Your body spread open on his dick while he fucked you gently.

“So good,” he babbled, mostly to himself as his head fell back against the pillows. “Oh my god,” Laios groaned, his words punctuated by the slow, steady roll of his hips up against you as he ground his cock against that sensitive spot inside you.

Another cry of pleasure left your throat, the sound hanging in the open air between you as you began to slide yourself up and down along his length. His words had you dizzy, already drunk on his touch as your legs shook on either side of him. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to maintain a steady rhythm, but the continuous drag against your sweet spot had your eyes glazing over and he wasn’t about to stop any time soon. When another cry of his name left your lips he groaned again. The sound was smooth and hoarse all at the same time, his hands tensing on your hips.

Your body was practically milking him already while you rode him. In a perfect world he could go on like this all night, just laying back and letting you take control… but he could see the fatigue in your movements. Your eyebrows knit together, hands shaking against his abs. Any semblance of modesty or bashfulness had left him as the hands that had rested on your hips slipped below you to grip the fat of your ass with a grunt.

In an instant your back was flush against the bed, hips pinned down by his capable hands.

Laios aligned himself with your entrance once more, pushing himself in all the way to the hilt in one fluid motion as he kissed your cheeks to soothe the ache of the stretch. A hand pressed against his cheek, golden eyes looking lovingly into your own as he smiled down at you.

“I can take it from here, okay?” His voice was soft right before he pressed another kiss against your forehead. He had you pinned beneath him as he littered kisses across your heated skin. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back like this, not for long anyway.

“Ngh… o-off,” you whimpered, your fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt. If he was going to fuck you like this you wanted to see it all, every tense and flex of his thick muscles above you until the image was locked in your brain. “I wanna see you.”

There was a moment of hesitation at your plea, Laios taking in the gentle tone and the way your ears laid flat against the top of your head as you begged so cutely underneath him. He’d never felt so wanted in his life, and the way you clung to him had him half convinced this might have been some sort of dream. Nonetheless he’d shed his shirt in an instant immediately afterwards, his sturdy frame on full display for you now as he sat back up between your thighs.

Your heart nearly stopped in your chest as you watched him pull his shirt off over his head. Your eyes greedily drank in the sight before you, the way his bare chest heaved with every shaking breath, his abdominal muscles tensing beneath his skin as he rocked back into you. He couldn’t help the smile on his lips when he caught you staring.

His lips were on yours then, capturing them in another hungry kiss as he began to thrust into you with long, slow strokes. Your legs squeezed against his hips, tongues tangling together in an intricate dance to the beat of a song only the two of you could hear.

Soft fingers pressed into the firm flesh spanning his broad shoulders as you whined into the kiss.

Laios practically growled then, something snapping inside of him when he felt the way your tail flicked against the side of his leg in approval. His head buried itself in the crook of your neck as he began to pick up the pace, grinding himself down against your tight heat.

Creaks and moans filled the room now, the wet sound of skin slapping against skin coming in to join the chorus. Your arousal and pre-cum dripped between the two of you, the viscous translucent fluids stretching between your bodies and connecting the two of you in strings every time he began to pull back. The room was heavy with the scent of sex, all initial reservations forgotten as he slammed into you.

“Ah!” You gasped, claws biting into the skin of his back accidentally when he rammed into the spot that had your vision blurring again.

“Fuck!” He growled again, his teeth scraping against your shoulder in retaliation. “You’re so fucking hot… taking me so well.”

You practically squealed beneath him, body clenching around his cock with a grip that threatened to make him cum on the spot. The headboard banged against the wall with the force of his thrusts, his grip on you tightening possessively. All you could do was gasp and whimper beneath him as you tried to keep yourself coherent.

The way he fucked you was animalistic, his hips grinding down against you just enough to rub at your arousal trapped between your bodies. Sweat began to bead on his brow as he lost control, those primal urges within him flooding to the surface as he rutted into you.

Your body tensed and shook under him as he used his grip on your hips to deepen his thrusts. His usual soft amber eyes looked more golden, more wolf like than your own as he looked down at you.

Laios grunted as he rolled forwards against you again and sent your claws dragging against his back. You clung to him desperately, this carnal need worse than any heat you’d ever gone through. He had you panting and gasping with the force of his relentless thrusts, the bed creaking and slamming against the wall as you both lost control.

“Fuck, fuck, please! D-don’t stop” you sobbed out.

He didn’t think it was possible for your body to grip him any tighter but every time he pulled out it felt like you were sucking him back in.

He growled in response, his hand reaching down to stroke you in time with his relentless thrusts as he felt the tension starting to build in his abdomen. Your cute little squeaks and whines went straight to his cock. He couldn’t form a proper sentence if he tried.

You were babbling now, begging for more as you started to come undone around him. The perfect arch of your back off the bed pressed you even tighter against his body and he took it upon himself to hold you there as he fucked you through your orgasm.

It had you seeing white, a sob of pleasure wracked your body. Thighs clenched around his hips, your moans shaking. The blond watched as you came, your head lolling back against your shoulders in post orgasmic bliss. He savoured the way your body tightened around him.

His fingernails dug into your hips as he pistoned into you. “C-close…” He grunted into your neck.

In your bliss, you begged him to finish inside. The debauched whimpers setting his nerves on edge and his pulse skyrocketing. Your pleas filling his head as he ground against your already overstimulated heat. Your cum dribbled down against his skin as he pinned you back down, growling into your neck as he reached his peak with a loud curse. The sound was muffled by your soft flesh against his lips and teeth as he shuddered above you. His hips jutted forward and slammed you against the bed as you milked him for everything he was worth, his cock twitching and sputtering inside you.

“Ngh! Fuck…” He whined. His hands rubbed lightly against your sides, lightly squeezing your ass one more time as he stayed inside.

“Hah,” you chuckled tiredly, lightly stroking along the marks you’d left on his back. “I knew you were pent up but I didn’t realise you were that pent up,” you teased, turning your head to the side so you could kiss his jaw.

“‘S not my fault,” He whined, nuzzling further into your neck. After all, how could it be his fault alone when you had him so wound up he could barely think straight?

This earned a little giggle from you as he rolled off of you, coming to rest at your side in the bed. The wind had calmed outside, the musty scent of the old room long replaced with the stench of arousal and sweat. A part of him couldn’t believe what you’d just done, and in a dungeon no less…

The sight of you blissed out next to him was enough to make him forget his lamentations entirely. Your soft ears tickled his jaw as you nuzzled closer, arms clinging to him as fatigue took over again. He reached down and pulled the sleeping bags back up over you, not wanting to risk the cold creeping back in again.

“You’re so cute like this,” He smiled, the fingers of his free hand gently running up through your hair to stroke your ears lightly.

“Ngh… n-no, shut up,” You whined.

It was a weak line and it was obvious you didn’t mean it. Even Laios could have told you that from your tone alone, but the way your tail wagged against your side of the bed had him beaming.

“Hey, I mean it,” He murmured, his hands tracing lightly against your skin and the soft patches of fur on it.

You kept hiding your face regardless, embarrassed by the compliment. Your lips pressed gently against his shoulders, peppering kisses there in a silent apology for the claw marks as exhaustion crept into your bones.

“You’re gorgeous.” He whispered, leaning down and to plant a soft kiss against the dewy skin of your forehead. He took it one step further and reached over to lightly stroke your tail. His golden eyes were half lidded now and filled with all the adoration in the world as he looked down at you.

“We should get back to sleep,” you sighed, melting into the way he stroked your hair.

Even just mere hours ago he couldn’t imagine having you this at ease and relaxed in his arms. He gently adjusted himself so he was curled around you too, your limbs tangled together as you drifted off to sleep.

1K notes · View notes

theartmatrix007 · 2 years ago

Link

#beholdthewonders #cavern #corridors #corridorsofthedeep #digitalartpatterns #geometric #geometricart #geometricpatterns #geometricalart #mechanics #pattern #science #scientificunderstanding #structuralmechanics #structure #architecture

0 notes

cloudwisp · 16 days ago

Text

Dragon!Sylus gifts you a beautiful castle the first year you spend together. Your little grumbles about his dragon cavern atop the highest peak near Tarus City always caused his ear to perk from how you never truly could make it feel like it’s your home. Even when your efforts to make the best of the situation with the resources you could gather just weren’t enough, you missed the domesticity that was once your home life.

Your pouts and yearning for a nice and relaxing bath now require a bit more planning and travel to a nearby hot spring to soak in warm waters. The fireplace where you’d prepare your meals limited you to simple stews and roasted potatoes to satiate your hunger. You miss freshly baked bread and sweet cake when the towns you visit don’t offer some of your favorite things. And being greeted by cute animals that wander into your space and feed them leftovers you have lying around. Just small things that brought you joy in the simplest form.

Sylus promised to keep his word and fulfill your every mortal desire. And so, he ventured the lands in search of a new home that feels familiar to you and where you could see yourself belong. He doesn’t settle for anything less than perfect and finds an abandoned castle with verdant fields that allow you to plant a garden for your fondness of flowers. Roam the large corridors and open doors to many rooms than you know what to do with and bask in the cherished sunlight/moonlight filtering in through the windows. Anything you want that he hasn’t accounted for you just need to say the word and he’ll grant every last one of your wishes.

After clearing large debris and cleaning up the space, Sylus eventually takes you to the location keeping you under pretense to avoid ruining the surprise. You’re more beautiful than he’s ever seen as he watches you intently. His chest swells with adoration in light of your elated reaction with your sweet sighs and little gasps taking in the enchanting structure that he says will be “our home” from now on. You’re speechless and touched beyond words that you pinch your cheek to ensure this place is real. He had been preparing this wonderful secret and it’s everything you could dream of and hope for with him by your side.

You're already filling out the idyllic details of this new chapter with Sylus as you explore the regal castle together. He offers his suggestions when you want them amidst your tangent about your plans to do with the place. But when you turn to him with a tinge of concern in your expression he couldn’t quite understand the sudden shift. “Are you sure about this? What about your treasure and your collection? Could you really leave them behind?”

Sylus softens when you consider his feelings for a moment, and he supposes that you haven’t realized by now that you’re his one and true treasure he’s been waiting for all along. “None of those things matter. As long as I have you, you’re all I need in this world.”

#ᨳ ₊˚ 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐩.𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 #sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus fluff #sylus l&ds #sylus lads #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #sylus lnd #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader

803 notes · View notes

unoislazy · 1 month ago

Text

Promises

Vi x Reader (Part One)

(Childhood friends to lovers)

You and Vi had been friends for as long as you could remember, which is why it took you by surprise she would make such a irrational decision without telling you.

A/N:Just a little something something. A prologue, if you will.

For as long as you can remember you’ve been part of the undercity. Such a fate never really bothered you. Your family life was broken and your chance of survival was quite low, but you miraculously had made some friends who looked out for you, and you did the same for them.

And among that group of friends was a girl whom you grew to care about to a deeper extent than you could ever even begin to fathom.

When she wasn’t out stealing or picking fights with people, she was with you, hanging out and having fun. Forgetting what horrors life in the caverns below the glistening city of progress held.

That girl, of course, was Vi.

You walked through the darkened streets of the city, your feet carelessly walking through puddles of water that was contaminated with liquids you’d rather not waste your thoughts on finding out. You kept your head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone looking to pick a fight, and keeping yourself as compact as possible incase you needed to book it. Such is the way of the fissures.

Your tensed state lasted only until you reached your usual hang out spot, The Last Drop. It was owned by Vander, a man with a big heart and even bigger gauntlets. He looked out for any kid that crossed his path, despite how weak it made him seem to some of the others around him, who grew restless with his complaisance in the grand structure of things.

That, however, did not concern you. All you cared for was seeing your best friend.

Just before you could fling the door open and make your usual obnoxious entrance, the door opened with a swift tug and almost caused you to stumble forward.

You looked up slightly and made eye contact with none other than Vi.

But something was wrong.

Something was very wrong.

Her eyes fluttered open a little wider than they normally rested, her pupils focusing on your quickly as she moved back a bit in the door way. Clearly she wasn’t expecting you.

“Vi, What’s up?” You asked, a smile on your face to mask your concerns but anyone with a brain could see past it without much effort. Your eyebrows creased as you realized she was no longer looking at you. The pink haired girl let out a quick sigh before grabbing your hand and moving past you.

“Come on.” She said in a quieter tone than normal. You of course followed suit with little to no arguments, your main concern was just figuring out what was wrong. It wasn’t long before she stopped, taking you both into an alley way only a few feet from the bar as she let go of your hand. You couldn’t help but notice the absence of warmth as she did, but you shook the thought from you head nonetheless as you looked back toward her.

“Vi?” You called out quietly, moving your face a bit more towards your line of sight, almost as if you were forcing her to look at you. This only resulted in another sigh before she took a pause. She wanted to say something.

She was dying to say something.

“Vi, whatever it is, would you just spill it. You’re killing me here.” You remarked sarcastically, trying to lighten the very clearly damper mood as you continued to stare at her.

She then, finally, turned back towards you. She moved her bandages hands gently on to both of your shoulders as she stared at you.

“You remember that job that went to shit topside right?” She asked, now looking you dead in the eyes. Her blue eyes seemed to care the weight of a lot of stress, a lot of which you knew she was keeping on herself as to not burden anyone else with it. How you wished she would listen to you when you said she could tel you anything.

You finally nodded in response to her question.

“Of course I remember, who doesn’t?” You replied in an obvious manner.

“Well, the enforcers want someone to take the blame for that crime.” She continued, her hands still gently grasping both your shoulders as if to keep you from running away. You were firmly planted regardless of whether she let go or not, what could possibly turn you away from her?

“Okay…? But it’s not like you had anything to do with it so why does that matter?”

It was then you watched as Vi’s lips pressed into a thin line. The crease in her brow faded as she looked at you with a softened gaze. Only then did it click for you.

“Wait so you… you’re going to let them take you?”

“It’s the only way to fix what’s happening.” She replied quickly as if she was prepared for your protests. However, it only further progressed your confusion.

“Fix what? What’s happening?” You asked.

Then it dawned on you, she was keeping things from you once again for the sake of “protecting” you. You absolutely despised when she kept you out of the loop with things she knew you’d want a hand in if you had known about.

“I can’t explain just-“ She tried to respond, but you cut her off.

“What do you mean you can’t explain? Just tell me.” You practically pleaded.

“Look it’s just… it’s a long story but I-“ She once again tried to excuse, only for you to cut her off.

“No, Vi. Why won’t you ever tell me anything until you’ve already made a decision! Did one else get a say in this? How are you so sure this fix anything?” You exclaimed. You could feel her grip on your shoulders ever so slightly tighten as our words became more laced with desperate anger.

“It will. It has to.” She responded simply, to which you retorted,

“And what if it doesn’t? Hm? What if it doesn’t fix anything, Vi. You know an enforcers word doesn’t count for shit how can you-“

“I have to try.” She once again responded simply.

“Vi please would you just-“ By now your anger has dwindled and you were just simply desperate to try and talk her out of this.

“I have to do this!” She shouted. You noticed she was no longer looking at you, but now at the floor.

“Why?” You exclaimed.

“Because it’s the only way to protect the people I care about from my own mistakes! I did this. This is my fault, I thought we were ready, I thought we could handle it but… but I was wrong. And now I’ve put them all in danger and I- I have to make up for this.”

You went quiet. Classic Vi. Taking the blame all to herself when there’s more than enough to go around. One could almost call her selfish.

“And what about me? Were you planning on telling me about this before you decided to throw yourself to the wolves?” You responded quietly.

“I figured it would be best if you didn’t know what happened.” She said, he words just barely above a whisper as her view slowly worked its way back up to your eyes.

“What so I could instead just, I don’t know, think you died?”

“I don’t know I just-“

“Maybe it’s better if I found out you gave yourself over and I had no idea.”

“Just-“

“Or Maybe, I would’ve been really dense about it and would’ve just thought you were really good at avoiding me. Maybe that’s the better outcome.”

“Stop!” She shouted, her hand had swiftly moved from your shoulders and planted firmly on either side of your face. She gently held you in place, keeping you looking at her.

“Just… stop. Okay, maybe I didn’t think it through very well but I just wanted to protect you… okay? In the only way I knew how.”

“You don’t have to protect everyone, Vi.”

She didn’t respond.

Classic Vi.

You sighed, knowing that she was dead set on her decision and nothing was going to change that. Not even you.

“Look. If you’re… really set on doing this you have to promise me one thing, okay?”

She looked back, a hopeful glint in her eyes.

“When you come back, and you will come back, you’ll start opening up more. Okay?”

This earned a slight chuckle from the pink haired girl as she looked towards you.

“And… promise you’ll come back.” You added on. The playful look in your eye faded as you realized there was no promising such a thing. You both knew fairly well that this was likely going to be the last time you’d ever see each other again. Both such is the way of a child, you held out on a naive string of hope.

Vi nodded carefully, as if deep in thought. Her eyes jumped from feature to feature on your face, committing it to memory as she the suddenly engulfed you in a hug.

“I promise.”

That was the last time you saw her. You don’t even know how many years it’s been since the incident. Once word spread that Vander and the others had died, you and everyone else assumed that meant Vi died along side them. You held out hope that maybe one day, she’d miraculously reappear, but as the years dragged on your focus strayed from your old friend and more onto your own survival.

The Undercity is an eat or be eaten kind of place.

What good would you fair Vi if you got eaten?

458 notes · View notes

dunmeshistash · 7 months ago

Text

Dungeons

Dungeon Meshi Dungeons have unique characteristics and the Adventurer's Bible gives us a look on a few of the more important ones.

First, what makes a dungeon a dungeon? According to the Glossary section:

Dungeon There are two types of dungeon: manmade and natural. Manmade dungeons like the one on the Island are structures created when a door is linked to another dimension. Natural dungeons are environments that resemble manmade dungeons; they're created when a portal to another dimension forms on its own and mana seeps in. In natural dungeons, you can't be resurrected if you die. The cavern Falin took Marcille to when they were at magic school was a natural dungeon.

Continuing bellow the cut, Major Spoilers ahead

In ch87 we learn that man-made Dungeons were created by the ancient civilizations to contain the Demon's powers, and be able to better use it.

In ch 68 Thistle confirms something similar.

With this in mind, Dungeons also seem to have "Styles".

Like these examples from the cover of ch 48.

"The island", which is the name given to the Dungeon Linked to Melini Village's Graveyard, is a "Compound-Style Dungeon" while other dungeons seem to have specific styles linked to other ancient civilizations (Dwarf-Style, Gnome-Style, Elf-Style)

'The Island' in specific seem to be a Compound Style between dwarfish and elvish styles. As Thistle says, continuing in ch 68, it was an ancient Dwarf construction that was then used by Elves.

Maybe that's the reason the dwarfish inscriptions are only in the innermost levels of the dungeon. The Style then seems to indicate which ancient civilizations created the manmade Dungeon.

From how they speak about Dungeons in the story I also believe there isn't a way to create new manmade dungeons, and rather they must find them since they were buried by ancient civilizations once they realized it was impossible to control the Demon.

Besides that dungeons apparently also seem to have a life cycle, or "Maturity Levels", that ends with the collapse of the dungeon. Here's the cover for ch 54 illustrating it.

From the descriptions, Utaya seems to have reached lv 5 while others tend to be conquered and collapsed before. Some even seem to collapse on their own.

These are the main Dungeons pointed out in the adventurer's bible with their respective descriptions.

DUNGEONS

1 THE ISLAND

A new dungeon that was discovered just six years ago. It's rumored that the Golden Country that existed a thousand years ago still lies in its depths, imprisoned there by the Lunatic Magician.

2 BUDOU PIT

A dwarf-style dungeon. It was excavated straight down like a mine shaft and has already collapsed. Its atmosphere and location are bad, and even after it was discovered, not many adventurers visited it. As a result, it's believed to have collapsed naturally. Its depths may be connected to the ocean: If you listen carefully, some say you can hear the waves. People also claim that if you throw something into the pit, it will inevitably wash up in the port of Kahka Brud.

3 THE BRUD DUNGEON CLUSTER

A dwarf-style dungeon. It's made of the ruins of dungeons that riddled the ground beneath Kahka Brud. Now that its last lord has been defeated, the dungeon has been completely captured. It's become part of the town, and bits of it are used as storehouses, shops, and private homes.

4 THE TOWER OF NIGHT CRIES

A gnome-style dungeon. It's on the verge of collapsing and is currently sealed. Since it's still functioning, if barely, it's believed to have a lord somewhere. The dungeon is shaped like a tower. Its name comes from the wailing noise produced by the wind blowing through holes in its walls at night. Winged monsters have been sighted flying around the tower.

5 THE UTAYA DUNGEON

An elf-style dungeon. It changed lords frequently, and it's the dungeon that grew the largest after the ancient war. At present, it's sealed. Fifteen years ago, monsters flooded out and destroyed the nearby towns. Because it had expanded so much, it couldn't be blocked off completely, and the Canaries quelled the situation by casting a barrier over the dungeon and the entire surrounding area. Magic users are still permanently stationed there to maintain the barrier.

6 THE DRAGONS' LAIR

An elf-style dungeon. Currently collapsed. A rare case in which an entire region of interlacing canyons became a dungeon. Many dragons lived here once, and it was a notoriously secluded region. However, it was hard just to get to it, the rewards were small, and the dragons were tough. Almost no adventurers visited it, and it's thought to have collapsed naturally. When the population dwindled, mana stopped flowing through it, so the large dragons vanished. However, a few small dragons still live there.

7 THE CENTRAL WATCHTOWER

An elf-style dungeon near the capital of the Western Elves. Currently sealed. Since it hadn't had a lord for a long time, it was believed to be nearly collapsed. Mithrun was dispatched to investigate a nearby rash of disappearances and got taken in.

There's much more to talk about how the dungeons work, especially how it relates to Ancient Magic but I'll leave it for another post in the future. If you have any insights about the information here or if I've missed something important please share!

#Dungeon Meshi #Dungeon Meshi Spoilers #Dungeons #Dungeon Design #The Island #thistle dungeon meshi #dunmeshi thoughts #Its hard to know whats relevant to the dungeons and whats more relevant for ancient magic since they're so linked #I'll try to edit the image ids and make them better later I hope these are ok

797 notes · View notes

arcanewhoosh · 29 days ago

Text

The Bolter

2.2k words

Proofread? Y/N

TW: Minor descriptions of injuries

Arcane Series Finale spoilers

In the aftermath of the Battle of Piltover, you find yourself desperately clinging to a toy monkey head with nails hammered into it.

If you were to ask the regular citizens of Piltover and Zaun, the regular duration of a search and rescue mission is around seven days. While this was, in a way, correct, it would only reach that many days if there was enough proof that the missing person was alive.

Standard operating procedure only allows a max of fifty-one hours.

You've been searching for nine days, fifteen hours, and twenty-seven minutes.

We don't have the resources right now, there's been too many casualties.

Alone.

There’re too many places to look through. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have put the thought in your head-

Through every single cooling duct leading into the Hex Gate.

-the fuse assembly could've survived by other means.

"I have to try, Cait." You say as you put on your pack, loaded with first aid supplies and recovery equipment. Caitlyn moves to grab your arm. Her grip firm, but she's not holding you in any way that could actually prevent you from leaving. You still stop and wait for her to finish what she wants to say.

"It's been over a week. You've barely slept the entire time, and I can't keep changing the subject when Vi asks me where you've gone." She tugs at your arm lightly, willing you to sit down on a nearby chair.

It had been ten days since the end of the battle. Ten days since Piltover and Zaun almost met their demise. Ten days since so many lives were lost; all for power.

Vi was -is- a mess. She could barely pull herself up from the ledge you fished her out of back at the top of the tower. Dread had already begun to creep its way across your body as you made your way up to where Jinx and Ekko's balloon had crashed. The feeling only got worse as you climbed higher, seeing no signs of its three occupants. You started running faster up steps, climbing ladders with speed you never thought possible for you. For a moment the dread had ceded, your adrenaline taking over. But then there was the explosion. And then... And then eventually you heard Vi's cries.

Your body stiffens as you shut your eyes, willing the memory away. "You're gonna have to cover for me a bit longer, Cait." You say as you softly pry your arm free of her grasp. "With how loud that explosion was, there's no way the assembly could've just survived."

"If it was anyone else, maybe I would've stopped searching already. But you and I both know this isn't just anyone else, no matter which side you're on." Caitlyn looks at you for a few moments, you know well enough that she's already wavering in her previous attempt to dissuade you.

"You wouldn't have mentioned it at all if you didn't think-"

"I know, I know." She finally says. "I wouldn't have given you the schematics for the structure either."

She sighs, an all too familiar indicator that you've won. "Just... Don't push yourself too much. I know I'm the one that gave you hope that she survived, but at some point..." She trails off. You know she wants to say that she doesn't want you to have your hopes crushed, or to put yourself in unnecessary danger. Especially since the inner ducts have been unstable since the explosion.

"I promise, I'll be careful, Cait. You know me." You shrug and smile at her, hoping that the nonchalant display is enough to convince her that you aren't fatigued out of your mind.

The look on her face says she doesn't buy it. But she says nothing about her doubts, instead nodding your way. "Be careful, I'm holding you to that."

"I will."

"Fucking air vents." You curse as you drop your pack by the wall of the duct. The thump it makes echoing around the cavernous tunnel. You've been walking uphill to get back up to the entrance, but the strain from working non-stop for over a week, the sleep deprivation, and the mental exhaustion was bound to catch up. Maybe Cait was onto something with the whole resting thing.

You let out a huff at the thought. You didn't have time to rest, what if Jinx was somewhere hurt, with no one around- she'd find a way to pull herself out of here and escape-- or what if she was trapped somewhere -this is my second sweep of the vents and all the obstructed entrances have been cleared- You lean against the tunnel wall before slumping gingerly to the ground. Your ankle hadn't fully healed from the battle, and you still had bandages all over your midsection from injuries you sustained.

You take a few steadying breaths before pulling out a map of the vents, marking the sections you've done your sweep of. Your vision swims for a moment, and it's enough for you to shut the map and lean you head against the wall. You close your eyes and steady your breathing, willing yourself to hold it together.

You're no use to me dead. She would say right about now. I'm still alive and you still say I'm useless. You'd reply.

"Yeah, but I say it lovingly." She harks back from her chair, tinkering away at her robot bug thing that she and Isha were using for their little fight club. You turn from the pin board you were making- places in Zaun where new checkpoints had been placed. You drop the purple pen you were using-Isha had stolen the red marker you usually use-- to write and make your way over to Jinx.

"Lovingly?" You ask as you turn her chair around, a grin plastered on your face. She rolls her eyes, but her own smile betrays her attempt at brushing you off. "Don't think too hard about it, you might hurt yourself."

"Looks like you've been the one thinking about it." She scoffs at you, turning her chair back to face her work station. Though she doesn't turn fast enough for the pink dusting her cheeks to escape your notice. "I said don't think too much about it."

"Hey." You say softly, turning her chair around again and pulling up a chair for yourself so you were eye-level. She's pouting, so you know you're not in trouble. "I'm sorry for teasing." You take her left hand and place a kiss on her knuckles. She makes a face.

"Ew, don't kiss my hands, they're covered in grease."

"When are they not covered in grease?"

"Didn't you just apologize for teasing?"

"I'm sorry for teasing, again."

"You're lucky-" She clamps her mouth shut. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from grinning again. The last thing you want is for her to close herself off. You know she's being careful. For someone known to be completely reckless at spontaneous times, she could be just as calculating and reserved. She's slipped a few times already, not explicitly saying I love you, but accidentally implying it or using some variation of the word during a casual conversation. You're no better, but so far, you've been able to avoid slipping.

Maybe you both thought it was too soon to say. Three or four months of you acknowledging that there was something between the two of you might be too soon, but there was a revolution going on, and revolutions are rarely peaceful and without casualties. Who knows what might happen in a few months, weeks, days, or hours. But you don't know what the next few weeks have in store for you.

"I know I'm lucky." You say. Hoping that the implication of, I know I'm lucky you love me, is enough.

But it wasn't, and now I'm here.

You jolt forward, blinking a few times to clear your blurry vision. Had you dozed off? For how long?

You sigh and rub your face with your hands. You do need rest, just for a little bit, then you'd get back to searching for her. You're no use to her dead, after all.

The walk back to your apartment is agonizing. The second you decided that it was time to take a break, your whole body decided that it was the best time for you to feel your exhaustion in its entirety. Your pack was suddenly heavier, your ankle decided to start swelling, and the wound on your side thought it was the perfect time to start bleeding again. Despite your body's attempt to suddenly render you immobile, you're able to meander back to your door after a horrible confrontation with five flights of stairs. Damn that faulty elevator.

You decide that having a view from your balcony isn't really all that worth it as you jam your keys into the lock and make your way inside. You stop dead in your tracks as soon as you pass through the door. The lock never clicked open.

You draw your pistol quietly, and scan the open living room and kitchen area of your home. Deeming the areas clear, you start making your way towards the hallway leading to your bedroom, pistol aimed and ready. Who on the Runeterra's green earth would be targeting you? Leftover Noxians? No. Turn coats like Maddie? Unlikely. Someone from the Undercity with a grudge? Unless they figured out who I am, I doubt it.

You hear a creaking sound from a door to your left, and you quickly kick it open and aim your pistol at the intruder.

"Jeez, you'd think a girl would get a warmer welcome after coming back from the dead." The intruder says, leaning back on a chair and idly scanning a vinyl.

You stare, dumbfounded. A part of you fully believing you've started hallucinating from the exhaustion, or the blood loss, you're not sure anymore. Your intruder, however, seemed to find your predicament funny.

"What, got nothing to say to me?" She asks. She finally turns to look at you, but the grin she puts on quickly falters when she notices the blood from your reopened wound seeping through your uniform. And then she's in front of you, one hand cupping the side of your face, the other hovering just above spots of blood on your shirt.

She asks if you're okay, but you're not sure. You still haven't confirmed whether on not you're hallucinating. So you do the only logical thing in the world and wrap your arms around her.

"Jinx?" Your voice cracks as you utter her name, and you wait. Wait for her to disappear, for your tired mind to catch up and be able to distinguish what is real and what isn't, because a part of you was only ever really using the tunnel search as a coping mechanism and that-

"I'm here, it's okay." She says as she wraps her arms around you and returns your embrace. If it were any other day, it would be you comforting her, offering her words of reassurance, support, affirmation. But this isn't any other day. Because you thought for the last ten days, twenty-three hours, and eight minutes, that she had died in an explosion.

But she didn't, and now you're sure that she's alive, that she's here, and alive, and breathing and-

"I love you." The words spill out of your mouth before you can think of anything else. How could you think of anything else? When those words, you realize now, have been long overdue.

She laughs. You realize how much you've missed hearing her laugh once your tears start falling. "I'm sorry." You say. "I thought, you died."

You stop yourself from hissing as her hug tightens and pain shoots up from your side. You could stomach the discomfort for this. You wouldn't let her go for anything, not again. "I'm sorry I took so long, bubs."-Your heart soars at the nickname- "There were a few... loose ends I had to take care of before coming to find you." She wipes away your tears as she says this, her hands carefully brushing your hair out of your face.

"It's okay, nothing else matters now." Just you you wanted to add, but refrain from speaking any further. You pull away just far enough to look at her, still not letting her go. It's her, alright. Her hair is different, and she doesn't have her pants that that one enforcer described as a half-eaten circus tent, but it's her.

"You're not upset?" She has the audacity to ask.

"I spent the last week and a half thinking you were dead, upset is the last thing I'm feeling.” A pause. “Wait no, actually, I spent nine days wandering around the cooling vents to look for greasy ass hand prints on walls."

"Hey."

"And I couldn't find any so you must've washed your hands for once-"

"Okay, smart ass, I get it." She says, rolling her eyes before pulling you in for a kiss. Suddenly all the exhaustion and pain you're feeling is gone, and your mind blanks. The only thought running through your head is Jinx and I missed you, and I love you, I love you, I love you as you pull her closer to you.

"Easy, tiger." She puts a hand on your chest to stop you from chasing after her when she pulls away. You let out a huff. She laughs. "You're bleeding, I need to take a look at that first."

"Since when has me being injured ever stopped you?"

She grins at you. "Being away from me that long has you down bad, huh?" You grumble something about her being unappreciative, and she responds by pulling your face down and placing a kiss on your nose.

"You're lucky I love you."

#arcane x reader #jinx x reader #arcane jinx #arcane netflix #arcane #I'm not delusional #this show is purposeful and there are no coincidences

225 notes · View notes

damneddamsy · 2 months ago

Text

second sight | cregan stark x oc (part v)

a/n: on this episode of Stark Fluff, claere gets a visitor, and cregan has mixed feelings about threesomes. also, cregan learns the harp.

Winterfell wore the slow creep of winter like a familiar cloak. The skies had grown paler, casting the looming walls of the castle in a sallow light, while the cold nipped steadily at its people, urging them to quicken their preparations. From the kitchen to the stables, grain stores were replenishing, the last of the harvest before frost could claim the fields. Blacksmiths hammered iron, the women mended at worn cloaks and men bundled hay for the livestock. Winter was not yet here, but its shadow lingered on the wind, always whispering its warning.

In the heart of the keep, the Glass Gardens had begun to take shape. The towering structure Claere had envisioned stood as a defiant tribute to life in a place where death crept so close. As the days passed, the curved iron frames of the brilliant garden grew taller, and panes of glass steadily fitted into place, though fewer hands worked than before. Claere's journey to the Wall and the ominous silence she had shared upon her return had compelled many away. And yet, those who remained—the builders and labourers still assigned to the task—seemed to grow fond of her, drawn to her quiet kindness, the way she listened with impossible patience to the complications.

But today, the hour she usually spent overseeing the glass gardens came and went. Claere was nowhere to be found.

Cregan noticed her absence first, though no one else seemed to. He strode through the courtyard, determined footsteps echoing through the Great Keep as he searched for her. He had asked the guards, the servants—none had seen her. There was concern in his chest, though his outward manner remained calm, and controlled. His pace eased when he finally came across a group of children playing by the kitchens. They must know something.

He crouched to their height and asked, “Have you seen Lady Stark?”

One of the girls, with red cheeks and tangled braids, blinked up at him. "She must be in the crypts, my lord. She's there on the third day of every sennight."

“The crypts?” Cregan frowned, his confusion evident. “Why?”

The girl only shrugged, her young eyes widening with uncertainty. “My lady says it’s of great benefit.”

A vague answer, but there was little else to go on.

The cold air within the cavernous crypts was still, undisturbed by the world above. As Cregan descended into the darkness, his eyes adjusted to the flickering glow of torches, casting long shadows over the stone effigies of his ancestors. He passed the statues of old kings and queens of the North, of Starks long gone, their direwolves carved faithfully at their feet. Their vigilant, stone eyes seemed to follow him as he walked deeper into the crypts, past his forefathers and mothers, the ancient guardians of Winterfell’s legacy.

It was then that he saw her, like a blossom of blue satin and grey furs in the black earth.

Claere sat on the cold stone floor by the statues of his parents, Lord Rickon Stark and Lady Gillianne Glover, her small form dwarfed by the towering effigies. Candles burned softly around her in quiet vigil, casting a gentle glow over the garlands of winter roses she cradled in her lap. A sea of wilted, woven flowers lay swept to the side—a ritual she had tended to every night, and with a pang in his gut, he realized her abnormal habit had all been for his bygone parents.

His breath caught, a warmth spreading through his chest. She had been honouring them. His own parents. In a way that even he had long forgotten to do. Though why would she, of all people, care?

As he approached her, he heard her familiar song, her voice faint, carrying a resonant yet soothing melody through the crypt. They never rhymed anymore; just lines scrambled and sung to confound.

A rose of blue in the cold earth lay, A fire burned bright, Silver threads in the night. A crown of dreams, A heart of flame, Forgotten now, Yet still the same.

"Claere," he called softly, his voice echoing against the stone walls.

But she didn’t answer. She stayed motionless, her fingers deftly weaving the garlands, her eyes distant, lost in a trance-like reverie. Cregan stepped closer and gently cupped her shoulder.

“Love?” he murmured again, more intent.

This time, she stirred, blinking slowly as if emerging from a dream. Her gaze shifted up to him, soft and dazed. She rubbed at her eyes, her fingers stained with the petals of the roses.

As Cregan crouched beside Claere, the silence was thick, broken only by the distant drip of water echoing somewhere in the depths of Winterfell. He took her bare hands into his, startled by how frigid they were. The touch of her skin was like ice as if she'd been sitting there for hours. He blew gently into her fingers, trying to warm them.

"What are you doing down here alone?" he asked, concern lining his voice.

“They like to speak to me,” she whispered, her voice calm, distant, as though her mind were adrift in another realm. “I heard them the moment I crossed the threshold of the castle. They spoke your name.” She waited, eyes wide. "Did you hear that?"

Cregan's brow furrowed. "There is no voice but ours, love."

She looked away, mumbling, "I heard it."

There was a time when her words, her abnormal ways, would have unsettled him deeply. It was woven into their lives like her rose garlands, a constant. Her peculiar way of seeing the world was no longer alien to him—it had become familiar. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a quiet unease stir in his chest.

“Go on then. What else do they say?” he asked, more to humour her than out of belief, but the curiosity in his tone was real.

“I think they're calm,” she replied, her gaze drifting to statues of his parents. “Content. Now that you're here.”

Cregan exhaled, surprised by how much those words affected him. It was comforting in a way he hadn’t expected, though he didn’t believe in such things—spirits, voices from beyond. He wasn’t a man of superstition, but the idea that his parents might be at peace warmed a part of him he didn’t realize had gone cold.

“What do they say about their son? Do they kick up a big fuss?” he asked, his lips curving into a faint, teasing smile. He carefully balled the long garland she had weaved into a neat pile on her skirt.

“They’re proud,” Claere murmured, her voice gentle, as though the words had floated to her on the breeze. “Your mother—she calls you her little wolf. She wants to hold you once more.”

His heart stilled at that. Little wolf. His mother had called him that, when he was still small enough to crawl into her lap after a long day, his face buried in the scent of her hair. His chest tightened, the ache of loss rising up in his throat. Could Claere really hear them? Was there truth in her words, or was it all part of her unconventional mind?

Cregan lifted his gaze toward the stone faces of his parents, his father's chiselled jaw and his mother's serene expression were immortalized in cold marble, watching over him as they had in life. Claere's soft hum floated through the still air, and something in her melody seemed to stir the memories of those long gone. He couldn’t bear the weight of their unblinking eyes. His throat thickened, and he looked away quickly, the familiar ache of loss sharper than he’d prepared for.

“And my father?” he asked, his voice rough now, bearing apprehension now, the question almost catching in his chest.

“He knows you’ve transcended him,” she replied, her tone soft, as if the words were delicate things. “But he’s glad. He wishes he could be here to see you rule the North as he did once."

That broke something in Cregan. He felt the sting of tears behind his eyes, and before he could stop it, one escaped, rolling down his cheek. His father had always been a stern man, proud but distant, and those words, even if he believed they weren't real, cut deeper than he expected. He had been alone since three and ten, sparing no effort in being a man where he should've been a boy. Such was the duty of an early heir, he had grown up between burdening winters and blades.

Cregan blinked rapidly, turning his cheek to her, trying to clear his vision, but Claere saw it. Her expression shifted—confusion flickered across her features. She reached out, her fingers brushing the tear away with the lightest touch.

“Have I hurt you?” she asked, her voice uncertain, innocent in its concern.

Cregan shook his head, sniffing back the rest of his tears. He smiled softly at her, a smile that was half sorrow, half joy. "No, of course not."

"No?" she echoed.

“I’m grateful. I’m very happy.” His voice cracked as he laughed, almost in disbelief at the way she had managed to stir emotions long buried. "Although I'd rather be gelded than have you see me cry again."

Claere tilted her head, watching him with that dream-like gaze, her mind always half elsewhere. “Tears are the sign of a good heart,” she said simply, though there was still a hint of hesitation in her voice.

As Cregan's deep laugh trailed off, Claere’s gaze slipped to the flickering candle before her. She watched the flame, her fingers hovering near its light as though she could shape the glow with her will alone.

“They’ve gone silent,” she murmured, her voice barely more than a breath. “Since I returned from the Wall… the voices, they’re almost gone now.”

Her words chilled him in a way that had nothing to do with the cold of the crypts. He watched her fingers dance in the flame’s heated tip, and something about the way she spoke—so distant, so lost—made his chest constrict.

“I keep seeing these things. Awful things.” She still wouldn’t look at him, her eyes fixed on the candle’s flame as though it held the answers she sought. “Visions, riddled with frozen fire, no men of women born, blue flames that burned cold, dragons—dead dragons—and spilt blood. Endless dark, unending night.”

Her voice was soft but steady as if recounting some terrible dream. The Wall, the omens, whatever visions or feelings had driven her—they had unsettled her in ways she wasn’t used to conveying.

Cregan swallowed, unable to suppress the shiver that ran through him. Claere rarely expressed her visions with such transparency, yet this time there was something raw in her tone, a dread he had never heard before. If only these people could truly see what she had to bear.

“I believed the lands past the Wall would show me the days of yore,” she continued, her words slipping from her lips like a confession. “I thought it would reflect what I see, but it didn’t. None of it. So now I think—”

She stopped herself, her voice catching in her throat, and for a long moment, she said nothing.

Cregan waited, his heart solemn with tension. Finally, Claere’s gaze lifted from the flame, and when her violet eyes met his, there was a tremor of fear in them, an emotion so unfamiliar in her usually distant, dream-like gaze that it struck him silent.

“I think it is things not yet come to pass,” she whispered, her voice tight, as though it pained her to say it. “I think… they’re coming. I don't know what to do. No one else can see." She shook her head, almost violently, and her hands trembled, her calm veneer fracturing before him. Tears welled at the corner of her eyes. “I cannot stop it, Cregan. It terrifies me.”

The vulnerability in her voice, the aching helplessness, shook him to his core. Claere, who had always been silent and intangible, now stood before him utterly mortal, fragile, and afraid. He had never seen her like this, not in all the time they’d been together. It was as though she carried a brewing storm on her shoulders, and she didn’t know how to face it alone.

Cregan’s instinct was immediate. He gently pulled her toward him with a shush, enfolding his arms around her, and gathering her into his chest.

“No, my love,” he whispered into her hair, his voice soothing. "I'm here. It's alright. They're just dreams."

She melted into him, her body trembling against his, her head resting against his chest. He stroked the side of her head gently, feeling the rapid rise and fall of her breath. Her hands clung to the front of his cloak, desperate, as though his warmth was the only thing tethering her to the present. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering there, as though willing his strength into her.

“The North has weathered long nights before,” he said quietly, his voice steady, filled with the same resolve that had been passed down through generations of Starks around them. “Stark blood runs deep in these stones. We’ve stood through the darkness, through cold that could break men’s bones. And yet, we stand. Every time, Claere.”

She looked up at him, her wide eyes searching his face, her breath still uneven but slowing.

"What are our house words?" he asked, as if reminding her.

"Winter is coming," she answered breathily.

“Winter is coming,” he echoed, his voice assertive yet tender. He cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing against her cheek as he looked into her eyes. “We will do what we must to defend the realm, through whatever comes. As we always have. You have nothing to fear.”

His words sank into her like warmth, thawing the icy fear that had gripped her. She exhaled, long and slow, her body finally relaxing into his arms. Cregan kissed her cheek, softer this time, feeling the shift in her, the tension ebbing away.

For a long moment, neither of them moved, holding each other in the flickering candlelights, surrounded by the silence of the crypts. The dead watched over them, but their presence no longer felt foreboding—it felt calm and peaceful, as though the ancient Starks could see and approve.

She nodded, her face resting against his chest once more, her breathing finally even. He could still sense the undercurrent of fear that rippled through her, but the worst of it had passed. His mind worked quickly, searching for a way to guide her thoughts away from the darkness she had spoken of.

Softly, he murmured against her hair, "There’s news from Dragonstone."

Claere shifted in his arms, lifting her head to look at him. The mention of Dragonstone sparked a flicker of curiosity in her gaze, enough to break the hold of the haunting visions.

"A raven arrived last night," he continued, his voice casual, as though easing her into something lighter. "Prince Jacaerys flies north on his dragon. He’ll be here within a fortnight."

Her lips parted as if she wanted to say more, but the thought seemed to drift away before she could grasp it. Something was grounding in the knowledge of Prince Jacaerys’ arrival—something beyond the shadows she had seen, a thread of the present to hold on to.

He gave her a slight squeeze, his thumb brushing a strand of her silver hair behind her ear, a playful glint in his eye. "We'll find out soon enough. But for now, let's get you warm. You'll turn into a sculpture yourself if you're here any longer."

Claere’s lips quirked, a touch of amusement flickering through the lingering shadows in her eyes. “A lady of ice.”

Cregan smirked. “Not on my watch.”

The fruits of labour are often hard-won, and in Claere’s case, it was quite literal. A month past, she had flown on Luna, disappearing into the night for three days. Although it had endlessly upset Cregan, upon her return, it was with the spoils of her journey—seeds from distant lands, collected with care and intent. These seeds were her gift to Winterfell’s glass gardens, her quiet revolt against the fatty northern diet.

Among them were golden beets from the Reach, hardy winter squash, and sweet, bright carrots from Highgarden. She’d also returned with seeds of hearty cabbages and turnips, the kinds of food that could survive even in the harsher climate of the North. And now, after weeks of tilling and patience, some of the plants had finally sprouted, tiny green shoots peeking through the soil like fragile promises of life.

But her project had not remained hers alone for long. Claere, with her quiet strangeness, had drawn the children of Winterfell into it, gradually involving them in nurturing the new glasshouse. The saplings became theirs as much as hers, and the little Northerners guarded them as fiercely as they did their direwolves. Though they laughed and played around her, tending to the glass gardens with dirt-smeared cheeks and eager hands, the adults stood back—watching with cautious, measured eyes.

Now, it called for a celebration. Claere had returned from an early morning flight on Luna, bringing with her the largest haul yet—sacks of ripe persimmons, plucked from the orchards of the Vale. The children gathered around her, eyes wide and filled with excitement. Persimmons were rare in the North, almost unheard of past the Twins, and to them, this was a treasure trove.

She stood there, composed and aloof, while the children crowded at her feet, clutching at her skirts.

"My lady," one small boy asked in awe, peering into the sack, "what kind of fruit is this?"

“Persimmons,” Claere told them. “From the Vale. If honeycomb were a fruit, it would be this.”

One of the girls hesitated, looking up with wide, curious eyes. "Persimmons. But why do they look like little jewels?"

Claere glanced down at the fruit in the child’s hand. “They are… in a way,” she mused, her fingers brushing the leathery skin of a persimmon. “Jewels of the trees. Careful not to crack your teeth on them.”

The children giggled, their awe unabashed. But from the edges of the courtyard, some of the adults watched the scene with guarded expressions. One of the mothers—an older woman with a stern face—made her way toward them, half-heartedly pulling her child back.

"My lady," the woman began cautiously, her tone respectful but wary, "your kindness knows no limit… but persimmons, foreign fruits—are they not better suited for lords and ladies’ tables? Perhaps the children ought to…?"

Claere turned her gaze to the woman, her eyes calm, as if considering the unspoken reluctance. She did not speak at first, only handed the sack to one of the boys who held it up for the others to reach.

“They’re fruits of the earth,” she said softly, “not gold meant to be hoarded. What grows must be shared. It's why the Glass Gardens are being built.”

There was a pause, tension still lingering in the air. A few of the men exchanged glances, unsure of this Targaryen's ways—so different from the daughters of the North they knew.

Then one of the fathers, a grizzled man with a thick beard, broke the silence with a short laugh. “As long as my son doesn’t bring more seeds to my house, we’ll thank you, my lady.”

His words loosened the air, drawing chuckles from others. The children cheered as they dug into the fruit, but the adults, though warmer now, still watched her carefully. In small, deliberate ways—through her gifts, her gentle efforts to nurture life in this land—she was inching closer, bridging the invisible divide between herself and the North.

"Come now, pups," a young lady led the children away with their happy squalls, "one for each. Share it with the others."

"Arrys took three! Fatty!"

"Hey, that's mine!"

"Mine's a little green!"

It was subtle, this shift. Like the first, almost imperceptible thaw after a long winter, when the snow begins to soften at the edges, and the hard ground yields just enough to suggest that spring might, one day, arrive.

Claere’s eyes lingered on the adults for a moment longer, as though she understood. She wasn’t sure she could ever be loved like one of their own. And while they still watched her warily, with eyes that carried centuries of cold caution, there was a slow, begrudging acceptance in their gaze. The kind of acceptance that wasn’t born out of understanding, but out of recognition—recognition that, for all her strange ways, she was not giving up.

“My lady!” A breathless guard stumbled toward her, his face flushed with urgency. He dropped into a quick bow, his words fumbling as they spilt out.

“Scouts have spotted a dragon. We believe... it’s your brother, the prince.”

Her brother. Jacaerys.

The news sent a ripple through Claere’s thoughts, pulling her out of the quiet reverie she’d fallen into. She nodded, dismissing the guard and strolling away from the castle entrance, and soon turned her gaze skyward, watching as Vermax circled in the distance, preparing to land. Luna twitched behind her, growling low, sensing another dragon’s presence but remaining calm as Vermax descended.

Jacaerys landed some distance away from Luna, cautious not to provoke the larger dragon. Vermax was a mere hatchling in comparison to Luna, poised by her rider protectively.

As her brother dismounted, Claere observed him from afar, her emotions a tangled web. She hadn’t seen him in many long months. The boy she remembered had been full of vigour and promise, but now, standing before her, Jacaerys had grown in ways she hadn’t fully anticipated.

The man who approached her was taller, his shoulders broader, his gait that of a prince who had known the significance of command. His dark hair, tousled by flight, framed a face more serious than it had once been. There was a formality to him, a distance that felt almost like the expanse between them, even though they were blood.

Their relationship had not always been like this—distant, formal. He was once her buffer against her vengeful uncles, Aegon and Aemond, and her safest confidante in the Red Keep. He only happened to sour to her presence after their mother, Queen Rhaenyra, had blissfully betrothed them when they were children of nine, for the strengthening of their bloodline and her irrefutable claim to the throne. It was declared null when her mother faced the threat of dispersion from Lord Corlys on Driftmark that she joined Laena Velaryon's daughters to her prince sons in holy matrimony.

Where Claere had somewhat bonded with her younger brothers Lucerys and Joffrey, Jacaerys had remained like a stranger thereafter. He had never been unkind to her, never prodded at her oddities, only stayed apathetic, their connection one of duty rather than affection. He had always seemed uncertain of how to approach her, and she had never sought him out. They had lived like shadows, passing by each other but never truly meeting.

“Sister,” Jacaerys greeted her upon reaching her, his voice polite, measured. He dipped his head, ever respectful, the heir to the throne. "How you've grown in mere moons. And so has Luna."

She imparted a brief nod. "Brother," she greeted back quietly. Her eyes darted to Vermax, his green-scaled dragon, beady eyes watchful of his rider. "Vermax has come to be formidable."

"Indeed," Jace said, sounding proud of himself, peeking back at his dragon. "You'll also be pleased to know that Tyraxes has finally taken to wing. Ought to see Joff instead of me next time."

Slightly hesitant, she asked, "And this time?"

"I've come to see how you're faring," and quickly included, "upon mother's request. As her envoy."

His eyes flashed down to her flat abdomen for a split second, possibly gauging the extent of a prosperous marriage. So far, he was not convinced. It had nearly been six moons, yet no cries of a Stark lordling sounded in the halls.

“I am well,” Claere answered, her tone just as restrained as his.

His dark eyes flicked toward the great castle, then back to her. “There have been… rumours. Whispers from the North that have reached the Queen’s ears. She was concerned.”

Rumours. She knew what he implied—the discontent among the Northerners, their ever-growing suspicion of her, the whispers of a Valyrian witch who crossed the Wall and lived to tell the tale. It had been expanding slowly, like frost creeping across the ground before winter.

“They matter little,” Claere replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jacaerys didn’t respond at first, his gaze sharp as he studied her. Then, with the smallest hint of reluctance, he responded, “I am still your brother, Claere. Marriage cannot dissolve that. I rule over Dragonstone with Baela and if you wish it, I will gladly have you back home or with our brothers in the Red Keep."

It wasn’t quite an offer, more like a suggestion left hanging in the cold air between them. A way out, should she want it. Simply renounce a vain, hopeless marriage and move on.

Claere’s eyes met his, and for a moment, she wondered if he meant it. Did her dear brother truly want her back, or was this merely a way to ease his guilty conscience? To not have suspected the consequences beforehand, before she was ever traded off to the unaccepting North? She glanced at Luna, standing watch behind her, and then back to Jacaerys.

A brief silence passed between them before he spoke again, his voice lighter, though still formal. “I'd like to speak to Lord Stark. Perhaps he'd have a response for the crown.”

The Great Hall of Winterfell felt colder than usual that evening. The large hearth blazed, but the warmth seemed to be swallowed by the heavy silence hanging between the three nobles seated at the long table. Cregan sat at the head, his posture relaxed yet every muscle tensed beneath the surface, his eyes occasionally drifting toward Claere on habit, who sat beside him, ever the silent enigma. Across from them, Jacaerys Velaryon sat straight-backed, his dark eyes flicking between his hosts, clearly working up to something but holding back—for now.

The tension was palpable, thick enough to slice through with a blade, but neither man addressed the looming unspoken questions yet. Claere seemed unconcerned, as she picked at the modest fare before her, her pale eyes focused on nothing in particular. She was present yet did not seem so, lost in her world.

Cregan noticed her silver crown of braids, how they were styled in the manner of a Southern lady, perhaps to butter up to her brother. He never thought he would infuriated over something as foolish as hair, and ought to chastise those handmaidens of hers who only worked around his cause.

Jace cleared his throat, breaking the silence as he reached for his goblet, swirling the golden ale inside. He offered a polite smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

"This beverage is excellent, my lord," Jace began, a tentative olive branch. "And the pie—'tis the heartiest I've had. Sustains the North, I’m sure. Though I can imagine it’s difficult for... some to thrive on such fare."

His gaze dashed briefly to Claere, lingering on her thinner frame. It wasn’t a pointed stare, but the implication hung in the air. Her weight loss, her difficulty sustaining herself on the limited northern diet—it was not lost on him.

Cregan’s jaw clenched, though his smile remained courteous. "We manage well enough," he said, his voice patient. "The Glass Gardens have begun to yield fresh crops. Our granaries our vast. We make sure every Northerner has everything they require come winter."

There was a subtle challenge in Cregan’s words, a quiet assertion of his control over his household and his care for his wife. The implication was clear: I’ve got it covered.

Jace gave a tight nod, his lips pressed thinly together. The conversation lulled back into awkward silence, the crackling of the fire and the clinking of cutlery the only sounds between them. Claere remained as she had been—detached, her pale eyes drifting from the flames in the hearth to the fruit on her plate.

Jacaerys hesitated before speaking again, as though weighing his next words carefully.

"Has Claere ever told you," he drawled, his tone lighter but carrying an undercurrent of something more, "that she and I are twins?"

Cregan’s gaze shifted to Jace, then to Claere, and back again. It rattled him, if only for a moment. Twins? It seemed impossible. Jacaerys, with his dark ringlets and strong build, bore the hallmarks of House Velaryon though, some whispered, his true father, Ser Harwin Strong. Claere, on the other hand, was the image of Old Valyria—silver hair, pale skin, violet eyes, as if fire and ice had mingled to create her. The stark contrast between them had always been striking, and now it seemed even more so. He simply deemed it unlikely at first glance.

"Yes, we were inseparable," the young prince continued, his tone cautious. "We shared the same womb, weaned from the same breast, and learned together as children. We were even betrothed for a time, like our ancestors before us."

Jace's eyes narrowed slightly as Cregan's fingers fisted, and though his tone remained neutral, there was an edge to his words. "But even after all that, there are things about my sister I still cannot begin to comprehend."

Cregan’s eyes darkened, understanding the implication. Jace wasn’t just talking about family ties; he was probing, testing for weaknesses, for fractures in the foundation of Claere’s place in Winterfell. It was a subtle attempt, cloaked in brotherly concern, but Cregan was no fool.

"Aye, that may be," Cregan replied evenly, leaning back in his chair, his fingers tapping against his goblet. "But what man can claim to entirely understand a woman, even one he’s known all his life? Claere may be... finding her feet, but that doesn’t make her any less at home here."

Jace raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a faint, sardonic smile. "You speak as if she’s already oriented herself here, Lord Stark. Though from what I’ve heard, not all in the North share your sentiment."

The jab was delivered mildly, but it hit its mark. Cregan’s expression hardened slightly, his palm tight around his fork, though his tone remained calm. "Winterfell is nearly frozen over. It takes time for new blood to warm itself to these halls. But we’ve had Targaryens here before, and they’ve got by just fine."

"Mm," Jace hummed into his glass, "dragonblood runs hotter than you can imagine."

"Makes it easier then."

Jace leaned forward, setting his goblet down. "That’s just it, isn’t it? Claere is no mere Targaryen. She’s my twin. She has just as much claim to our mother’s throne as I do."

The implicit tension snapped into something sharper, more dangerous. The Iron Throne. The claim. It hung between them like a storm on the horizon, unstated but ever-present. Should sides be drawn in the future, blood could be spilt—not over affection, but over power, the oldest and most treacherous currency. He could imagine it: Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Claere Targaryen, and her king consort, the King in the North, Cregan Stark. It tasted foul on his tongue, withered to ashes as soon as it appeared. Claere was queen, here. She was the winter's queen, a fire that would burn a beacon in the North.

Cregan’s eyes narrowed, though his expression remained stoic. "Are you suggesting something, my prince? Sowing seeds of war in my soil, possibly?" he asked, his voice low, enduring as a mountain before the storm. "Because it sounds as though you’re questioning my lady's fealty to her home."

Jace’s eyes flashed, but he didn’t back down. "I’m simply reminding you of who she is. And that, as much as you may think you understand her, there are parts of Claere that no one can reach." His gaze drifted to Claere then, who sat as still as stone, her eyes on the flickering flame. "Not even me."

Cregan studied Jacaerys for a long moment before turning his gaze to Claere. She had been a quiet, odd presence throughout this verbal sparring match, content to let the two men duel with words over her head. But now, as Jace’s words hung in the air, she finally looked up, meeting Cregan’s eyes with her own.

Cregan leaned back in his chair, a calculated look forming as his hand rested on Claere’s thigh.

His voice lowered, carrying an undercurrent of challenge but framed in civility. "It seems we find ourselves at an impasse. Perhaps a better question, my prince, is not who has known Claere through six moons or sixteen years, but who has tried to understand her the most."

Bitterness flickered in Jace's gaze. He leaned forward, not willing to be outdone. "It’s not the little things that bind people. It’s blood, shared history. We came into this world together."

Cregan’s lips curved into a cold, knowing smile. "Aye, you did. But who stands by you in the darkest hour matters, not who was there when the sun first rose."

Jace’s face flushed with frustration. He glanced at Claere, who sat impassive as ever, and then back to Cregan, clearly at a loss. It seemed like he wanted to argue for a moment, but nothing came. The Stark lord's words had landed.

"Jace is right," she said quietly, her voice soft but collected. "He doesn't know me fully, nor do I know him as I should." Her eyes shifted toward her brother, a faraway sorrow touching her expression. "We've spent years apart—fates pulling us in different directions. He's not wrong about that."

Jace straightened up, a gleam of triumph surfacing in his expression, but before he could speak, Claere turned her gaze back to Cregan, her voice clearer, firmer.

"But that doesn’t imply I am not where I am meant to be."

Jace's smile faded. Her words were simple, undefined as ever, but they carried the gravity intended. It was a quiet reminder that she had chosen Winterfell, that she had chosen Cregan. And though her ways might be unconventional, she was committed to that choice.

Cregan’s expression softened slightly as he looked at her, the tension in his stance easing. Every inch of him swelled with pride at her words.

"I belong here now, Jacaerys," she declared to him.

"These people whisper at you like cravens, sister," Jace told her irately. "They have no regard for the power at your helm. Seven hells, you ride the White Dread. Yet they disparage you and hail you a witch."

"I will not have her leave her home for it," Cregan cut in sharply, his words slicing through the thickening tension.

Jace’s lips pressed into a thin line, his earlier confidence ebbing into frustration. "Home?" he repeated, the word laced with disbelief. “She is of the blood of Old Valyria. She belongs in a throne room, with her dragon soaring over Blackwater Bay—not wasting away in the most forgotten corners of the realm.”

"Wasting away?" Cregan’s voice dropped to a deadly stillness, his eyes narrowing. “She flourishes here, despite whatever Southern comforts you think she’s lost.”

Jace’s gaze sharpened, unwilling to back down. "Look at her, Stark. She's barely a shadow of—"

"Stop."

Claere’s voice cut through the rising tension, abrupt and shrill, though her tone was calm. Both men fell silent.

For a heartbeat, neither Jace nor Cregan moved, their stances locked in defiance, accusations hanging gravely in the air. The room seemed to shrink, the air charged between them as if the two men stood on the brink of war than the moment itself.

Cregan’s jaw tightened, his gaze darkening as he regarded the prince. His voice dropped to a dangerously calm whisper, more powerful in its restraint.

“You speak of power as if it is the only thing that holds this realm together. But it’s not power that keeps this castle standing. It’s hard work, loyalty, honour. Do you think strength alone carried Winterfell through the long winters and centuries?”

Jace’s eyes flicked to Claere, then back to Cregan, the frown on his face deepening. “Loyalty?" he said, his voice tinged with scepticism. "Yes. But loyalty can break as easily as ice, especially when those in the shadows do not see strength."

“They see what I choose to show them,” Cregan shot back, his voice steady, unflinching. “And they see a queen standing beside me. She is spoken for in my name. That’s all they need to know.”

The silence that followed was thick and heavy as if the very stones of Winterfell had taken a breath and held it. Jace’s brow furrowed, his jaw tight as he tried to digest what Cregan said. Queen? The word hung in the air between them, a title not formally bestowed, yet it carried a deeper truth.

Jace’s gaze flicked between them—Cregan, with his unyielding confidence, and Claere, with her quiet, ethereal presence. He tried to grasp it, to make sense of how this odd, reserved sister of his had become something more in the eyes of these Northern people. For all their whispered words, all their doubts and suspicions about her, they still regarded her as something more than a mere consort. She had carved out a place here, without needing to raise a sword or a dragon in her defence. She was no longer a pawn at their mother's behest.

Jace exhaled, his hands resting on the table, his earlier edge of confrontation slipping away.

"I have only wanted what's best for her. And to my mother, it was to bring her back to Dragonstone. Live out her days as she wished, rid off calumnies." Finally, he nodded, settling into a reluctant acceptance. “Now I see... she's not alone."

Cregan’s gaze was unflinching as he spoke. “She never was.”

Jace looked between them, Cregan’s words settling over the table like a thick winter’s snow. Claere’s eyes met her brother's in a fleeting but meaningful look.

Jace, for all his formality, nodded, understanding more than words could say. "Then we place our trust in your hands, my lord, and the princess' peace of mind."

And the Stark, ever the wolf in his den, would guard her with teeth bared if need be. Cregan’s hand tightened on Claere’s, his voice low and relentless.

“You’ll leave Lady Stark in the only hands she needs.”

Claere stood in the doorway of Jace’s chambers, her presence barely announced by the soft scrape of her shoes on stone. In her arms, a basket, small and modest, yet unmistakably precious—the glint of warm dragon eggs nestled within.

Jace looked up from his desk, startled by the sight of her, and rose slowly, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Sister."

“For the new princess,” she announced, her voice low, measured.

She offered the basket, her fingers lingering on the handle for a moment before retreating into the folds of her gown. Her gaze remained fixed on the gleaming eggs as if their presence alone carried the message.

Jace blinked, surprise flashing across his face before he laughed, though the sound lacked true mirth.

“Of course. You always seem to know more than most,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “No one’s spoken of the babe—not even to the Queen.”

Her lips barely moved as she responded, her tone distant, almost cryptic. “The winds carry luck and warnings alike.”

"We've named her Laena."

She inclined her head ever so slightly. “An auspicious name. May she prosper.”

Her words were curt and formal, as though there was nothing more between them than this exchange. The air between them felt colder, stretched thin by years and decisions not their own. He had always hoped for more—some kind of familiarity, some bridge between their shared past—but that hope had been dashed time and time again. The rift, born of their mother's scheming and expectations, had only deepened over the years.

“I wish you good fortune, brother,” Claere said finally, her voice flat, the words of courtesy hollow.

Jace sighed, the weight of lost years heavy on him. He had wanted to speak with her, to find some common ground, but she had always been like this—elusive, indistinct, a world apart even when she stood in the same room. Time had slipped away, and no ravens sent across the vast expanse of that distance could ever reclaim what was lost.

"Lord Stark seems quite fond of you," he tried to say, softening his tone. "I am glad you've found someone to treasure. I also hear that you crossed the Wall alone—"

"The hour grows late. I should leave you to your rest." So blunt, a blade cutting through any illusion of warmth between them.

"Claere, wait," he muttered as she turned to leave.

His sister paused, though her back remained to him, her silence stifling. She did not look at him, and yet he felt her eyes upon him, offering no solace, only the unyielding distance that had grown between them.

Jace hesitated, searching for the right words. “The throne… it’s a cage, not a crown. You know that as well as I. You don’t need it. You don’t want it.”

Claere turned, her gaze indistinct, as if she were dissecting his meaning without revealing any of her own. He took a breath, willing her to understand.

“We were born the same. But only one of us can sit up there. And you’ve never belonged in its shadow. You’re beyond it.”

The silence that followed was thicker, heavier than before. His words hung in the air, an unspoken plea for her to step aside, to yield something that, by all rights, was hers to claim.

She said nothing, but her silence screamed louder than words, and in that void, Jace felt the weight of all that had passed between them, the years lost, the closeness forsaken.

"I'm sorry, sister," he admitted, his voice a soft plea. "For all of it. I wish it did not come to this."

She raised her brows, her eyes sharp as violet shards. "Come to what?"

Jace faltered, caught off guard by the calmness of her tone, the way her words sliced through his own hesitation. He swallowed hard, searching for something to grasp onto. "This anonymity. Our own mother's ambition has turned us into strangers."

Claere's lips lifted to a bleak smile. "Our mother did not do that, Jacaerys. You did."

She stood there, her face unmoving, the silence thick between them. There was no anger in her eyes, but neither was there forgiveness. Just that same cool, detached calm. And with that, she turned and left, leaving him alone in the echo of his apology.

He stared after her, the basket of eggs still warm in his hands, and the cold truth of her departure settling like frost, realizing that whatever bridge he had hoped to build between them had crumbled long ago.

As night closed in, Cregan and Claere's bedroom was bathed in darkness, save for the pale glow of moonlight sloping through the windows, casting long shadows over the stone floor.

Cregan lay awake, his mind restless, replaying the tension of the evening with Jace. He’d handled it as he always did—with authority and force. But had he thought of her? Claere had said little at dinner, her quiet presence always hard to read. Yet Cregan couldn’t shake the feeling he should have asked her, should have drawn her into the conversation instead of battling it out alone.

Beside him, Claere stirred. He watched her wake from the pillows, her bare feet silent against the cold floor as she moved, a familiar routine. Her nightdress clung to her form, delicate and flowing, the pale fabric shifting with each step. She drifted toward her harp—a massive, exquisite instrument that seemed to be attached to her as much as her dragon did. He'd watched her do this countless times, slipping into her world of music as if it were the only place where she could find peace.

Cregan’s eyes followed her as she sat, the harp resting between her legs. She flicked her long, silver hair over her shoulder, tucking the loose strands behind her ear before her fingers found the strings. Each pluck sent a soft note into the air, a lulling melody filling the room, soothing and haunting all at once. Her eyes stared unseeingly at the carpet as she hummed, a low, wordless tune that rose and fell with the notes. Her fingers danced across the strings effortlessly, creating music that seemed to be born of the night itself.

She was the vision of every man’s dream—stunning, elusive. And yet, even as she sat there, calm and poised, Cregan could feel her unease, buried beneath that impassive exterior. He knew her anxieties, could sense them in the way her shoulders tensed, in the small tremor in her breath. He should have asked her, should have given her the space to speak her thoughts, to let her feelings surface.

Quietly, he pushed off the furs and moved toward her, sitting behind her on the long bench. His broad hands slid over her waist, firm yet tender, grounding her as he drew closer. Claere’s fingers continued to dance over the strings, but he felt the stillness in her body, the way her breath caught as his presence nudged against her. He straddled her from behind, thighs sweeping hers, his chin resting on her shoulder, carefully sweeping her hair aside to expose the pale curve of her neck. Soft, lazing kisses followed—his lips grazing her skin, teeth teasing in between. The touch was enough to break her concentration; her fingers faltered, missing the next note. Her humming stilled, but she didn’t pull away.

"It's as if you were made to indulge me," he murmured against her skin, the words low and warm as he kissed her ear, drawing her closer to him with every word.

A soft smile tugged at Claere’s lips. "Not long ago, this used to scare you witless."

Cregan chuckled, a low sound that rumbled against her back, his lips pressing more firmly into her cheek. “Maybe earlier,” he admitted, his breath hot against her skin, “but now. Now I think of immensely bold acts I'd like to see play out.”

His hands slid up her sides, pulling her in closer, as though she was the only thing that could still his thoughts. He pushed another kiss at the seam of her jaw, teeth sinking in to tug at it.

"Do you want it, love?" he rasped.

Her fingers idly plucked at the gold strings. "You?"

"You already have me. I meant the Iron Throne."

Claere’s fingers stilled on the harp strings, the delicate melody faltering, as though his offer had reached even the instrument.

Cregan had always been a man of ancient power, cold winds, and the endless stretches of the North—they were in his blood as much as his duty to his people. He had never wanted the games of the South, the crown’s politicking, the endless pursuit of power. All he had ever wanted was to serve his house and to care for the woman he had sworn his heart to.

But as he held Claere close, her warmth seeping into him in the quiet of the room, his mind was at war with itself. For her, he would march on King’s Landing, he would challenge any lord, any crown, if she asked it. And that thought ate at him, for it wasn’t a war he desired—it was her. Only her.

“I'd give it to you when the time comes,” he whispered again, reluctance carefully concealed. He pressed another kiss into the soft curve of her jaw, his breath heavy against her skin. “If you said it, I’d rally all the houses under my yoke, raise my banners and claim what’s rightfully yours. I'll lay all of Westeros at your feet.”

Her body tensed beneath his touch, but she said nothing at first. The silence stretched, and it unsettled him. He felt her thinking, felt her calculating in that quiet way she had. She always had a way of making him question himself without uttering a word.

“You would march south for me?” she finally asked, her voice low, like a ripple across still water.

Cregan's hands gripped her waist more firmly as he processed her quiet words. She hadn't given him a direct answer, not about the Iron Throne, not about power or the realms beyond the North. But there was something in her silence, the way her fingers had resumed their light plucking at the strings of the harp, her eyes half-lidded in thought. His heart clenched, torn between duty and desire.

His voice was a low rumble, roughened by the cold and tension. "Aye."

"Then what?" she mused.

He was evidently thrown. "You... you could have it all—power, praise. No one would ever question your place. They’d fear you, respect you. The entire realm."

She paused, her hands resting against the harp strings, but her face remained unreadable. After a moment, she tilted her head slightly, her silver hair brushing his chin.

"And what would you do then?" she asked. "Once we have seized the Red Keep, and slain my brother and his heir, would you rule by my side, or would you abandon me in that gold cage with bloodstains?"

His jaw clenched as the simplicity behind her cruel words settled.

"There must always be a Stark at Winterfell," she claimed in a mumble, her tone unyielding, almost teasing. "Would you leave me to be poisoned by the court of vipers while you return home?"

He swallowed, his throat tight. The truth of her question was too clear. The North was in his blood, a responsibility that was older than any crown. And yet, for her, he had entertained the unimaginable. He could see it in her eyes now—the depths of her meaning, the question he hadn’t fully understood.

“You fit in here, with me," she said softly, her fingers brushing over his wrist, still resting on her waist. "This is the only place I’ve ever truly felt at peace. The North may whisper against me, but it has been kinder to me than any throne ever was."

Cregan let out a slow breath, his hand sliding up to her throat. The magnitude of her words pulled at him, grounding him in a way no talk of crowns or power could. He urged her cheek against his forehead, seeking warmth in her closeness.

"Here is good," she murmured, cupping his jaw. "Here, where the cold is real and not the cruelty of men."

And for the first time since he had offered her the world, he understood the answer. It was never about gold, crowns, or kingdoms. It was about the home they had made together, in the harsh, unyielding North.

Cregan pressed a lingering kiss against the pulse of her neck as if drawing strength from the steady rhythm beneath her skin. “You’re my queen, always,” he whispered, the words no longer about crowns or thrones.

At that moment, he knew he needed no banners, no throne to claim. He had already won the greatest battle of all—he had her.

Claere's lips curved, her hand tracing the shadow of his beard.

"A queen without a crown," she murmured, more to herself, the playful glint still present. "And without subjects, save perhaps you."

He laughed deeply, the sound rumbling against her skin before he glanced at the harp resting before them. With a grin tugging at his lips, Cregan reached for it, his large frame seemed out of place with the delicate instrument, but he was undeterred.

“Or I presume,” Claere teased, her back leaning against him, feeling the warmth of his chest. "The King in the North who fancies himself a minstrel?"

Cregan plucked a string awkwardly, the sound that followed more of a discordant twang than music. He winced but smiled, undaunted.

“There’s more to me than swords and axes, you know," he pointed out. "I am quite the bard myself. Listen to this."

He cleared his throat to sing out in a low-pitched voice, fumbling with the strings and producing another off-key note. Claere listened eagerly, holding all the stars in the sky captive momentarily.

Claere, oh, sweet Claere, She plays like a queen, Every note is like a spell, And here I am, A loopy fuckin' fool, Breaking her strings Oh, she hides her laugh well!

Claere burst into laughter, hiding her face behind her hands, a rare sound that filled the hushed space between them, and Cregan looked even more pleased with her reaction than his musical attempt.

“You’ve got that laugh locked away like a prize, don’t you?”

“I don’t laugh at just anything,” she said, her voice warm but with that familiar edge of wit.

Cregan arched a brow. “I’m special then?”

"Very much."

Moving close and her hands over his, she guided his fingers to the proper strings, her touch gentle, her movements graceful. Together, entwined, they coaxed a soft, sweet melody from the harp.

Cregan barely cared for the music. His focus was entirely on her—her warmth, the way her fingers danced across his own, the rare smile that hadn’t left her lips for a long time. How wondrous would it be to be stuck here, this way, with nothing but time to keep them apart?

“I admit defeat,” he murmured, his voice low, amused. “I think the harp is yours, love.”

Claere’s smile softened as she continued to guide his hands. "A queen with a harp," she mused, her voice low and warm. "Perhaps that’s all I require."

Cregan, eyes crinkling with a smile, leaned in closer, his breath against her ear. “That, and me.”

"Perhaps..."

Claere laughed, a soft, clear sound, and kissed him, her warmth banishing any lingering tension. He moved his grinning lips with hers, holding her safe in his palms, now truly untouchable.

"I’ll settle for just you," she whispered.

I'm opening my inbox for asks for one-shots on Claere and Cregan! I'm not sure how that works, but I'll learn as I go :)

a question for my kind ones: if Cregan and Claere had a date night, what do you think that would look like? go as wild as you can!

[ taglist: @pearldaisy , @thatkindofgurl , @theadharablack , @cherryheairt , @beingalive1 , @oxymakestheworldgoround , @tigolebittiez , @cosmosnkaz , @justdazzling , @lv7867 , @piper570 ] -> thank you for your endless support everyone!

195 notes · View notes

zehpeh · 2 years ago

Photo

“BENEATH” - acrylics/ink/digital - April 2023

8 notes · View notes

ganondoodle · 5 months ago

Text

totk rewrite- botw2 edition

been thinking about the other totk rewrite again (the one only based on botw in which the sonau stay a mystery while being expanded upon)

i talked about it before but heres a lil breakdown (im reusing alot of mechanics from the villain rauru rewrite bc they work too well to be discarded for this one)-

(edit, about five hours later .. its not a little breakdown, its a pretty complete summarized breakdown of the entire new rewrite that i didnt intend to spend the last hours of my sunday on but here we are .. long post, but with pics bc theres lots of concepts im reusing or reviving)

okay START:

zelda and link explore the caverns below hyrule castle bc the shiekah tech has been losing power and their research as to why lead them here

they discover ganondorf and through zeldas curiosity break the, already weak, seal on him (no enigma stone here, the seal was done by an ancient queen of hyrule)- he wakes up attacks them, breaks the mastersword and miasmas/malices links arm off (also idea is that you have to fight him but meant to lose horribly lol) and then have to play an escape sequence (or watch a cutscene of it) in which zelda drags link after herself running from gan

(remember this old first idea drawing i made when i started to think about a rewrite? yeah im reviving that, except theres no totk sonau in this anywhere)

they get out and immediately afterwards a heavy earthquake runs through the land, completely, and actually, changing the map (also using the idea of devastating the regions climates- gerudo desert is flooded, death mountain collapsed inwards, the zoras realm is dried up, rito village has completely frozen over - ACTUALLY frozen over, everything encased in thick ice, the temperature has a special new low point, the winds too strong to glide anywhere-, mountains and rivers shifted, caves are revealed- oh and most of the main villages have tried to flee somewhere saver so theres no literal 1 to 1 repeat of points of interest from botw; also no uh .. miasmas holes that are literally jsut like drilled out bc what?? i want the access to the underground be few and hidden to make it more special to discover)

links arm gets amputated and replaced with a shiekah tech one (maybe using the botw shiekah stone/slate since they still dont know how to make them and its the best self sufficient piece of tech left that doesnt rely on the breaking fuel structure) (reusing this concept from the villain rauru one, with the difference beign that theres no corruption of link -or maybe it does have an effect to have shiekah tech literally hooked up to yourself *thinking emoji*- the abilities remainign the same)

when link wakes up some time has passed (so its more logical that the other regions have tried to cope with everything happening) you get a tutorial by purah and other shiekah (bc with zelda in charge theres more shiekah doing tech stuff again! cool!) and now have a magic meter (functions like in the previous pic, recharges over time depending on environment! bc i find that idea so cool for interstign puzzles and storytelling- like i said in an older post, a place where lots of people died might be richer in spirit energy recharging your magic faster- others have been hollowed out of luminous stone which slows down the recharge) and you are left to decide where to go

both zelda and you have a shiekah stone/slate replica but its incomplete since as mentioned the knowledge on how to make it is still lost so it only has the basic functions, such as the map, journal, camera and teleport

zelda is your companion from the start, in the years since botw she trained in basic self defense and can use her sealing powers as a shield to protect herself (though reluctantly since she doesnt want to rely on them) so you dont need to babysit her- you can tell her to be aggressive in encounters, supporting you (occasionally shields you or heals you a little?) or stay out of it/only self defend if an enemy targets her (in case you dont want any help) - she also copies your movement in a way, when you glide around she will too etc- in cases where you go very fast to one thing, like the hookshot, she will grab onto you

zelda also acts as your mobile crafting station, to put it bluntly, as she can craft and repair weapons, which is at first limited but can be expanded upon by doing quests (like the options of spear crafting being hugely expanded by a zora quest- fitting their fight style), when she does it you need the material needed for it though it costs no money- theres new little smith shops around the world that can repair and craft as well in which you can spend money instead for material you are lacking (and a little fee for the work you know)

(one of the first rough concepts for a pair of smiths, one is at the shop (green lady, the scars on her arms are her missing fins bc she burned them or lost them in battle), the other walks around it like terry (beedle) does and from whom you can buy already crafted simple things, like arrow types-

oh yeah, arrow types return and get more options bc theres no way in hell id make anyone scroll through that awful menu just to fuse one arrow at a time (the old types return, but theres new ones and all are craftable in bulk, here and old rough sketch)

(also theres no new 'in the same location jsut a few steps to the left' towers that shoot you into the air bc it just destroys the entire world design- even if there is no sonau tech in this one so no gliders- i want the sky to feel as dangerous and mystical as the underground)

the sky has to be reached via the hookshot, its got big islands mostly with old shiekah ruins, including that broken titan prototype i drew before, and the bird mechanic (you can tame birds and register them at a location there, idk if im keeping the idea of a lone shiekah there, but the birds will stay)-which is if you tamed a bird you can call it when gliding to gain a little boost in height, enabling you to reach islands further away (since no building, yeah that mechanic is better used in a game actually built around it, which totk just isnt- do not argue with me about that- to really let it shine instead of just being a tiktok viral funney build simulator that adds nothing meaningful to the game and actively makes it worse due to its implementation just not fitting there) or save you from falling if you barely missed the edge of one - theres few points of teleportation up there so the world map isnt made skippable, theres no shrines there (and in general, there are no shrines, just minidungeons- ACTUAL minidungeons- integrated into the world, like really big caves that are each unique and filled with challenges- and much fewer of them) (the islands being mostly made nigh invisible from the surface bc clouds gather on their underside)

perhaps different glider types?! and you can switch their design via zelda too

the old botw shrines are non fucntional due to loss of power, either overgrown or broken into pieces due to the ground breaking open, some might be infested with malice/miasma and comes alive like a weird mix between guardian and miasma crab (which also goes for guardian wrecks that hadnt been taken apart for research yet), some are fallen into caves that got revealed or got swallowed by the ground with only the tip remaining- the titans (divine beasts) are all repurposed (like in the other rewrite ideas i had)- the rito tried to flee the blizzard using medoh but sicne no one has piloted it and unstable connection to them causes them to crash in the hebra mountains, unable to leave it due to the storm and thus on limited time; vah rudania was perhaps made into a temple, or training ground but fell into the underground when death mountain collapsed (imagine ... malice/miasma infested rudania being an actual boss itself, chasing after you in the underground); vah ruta was absolutely made into a place of worship and after their domain dried out a few remained there praying to it convinced their faith would save them- its not able to move but manages to produce a little water still; vah naboris might have been used as a stronghold/lookout but due to the desert flooding (which is in fact, bad) its one of the 'islands' people now reside in

new weather types, including storm and darkness caused by mushroom spores that are invasife to the surface

theres at least six dungeons, one for each region (but not in the exact place as in botw bc that is literally just plain stupid though i might use the zora sewer/water system idea for an actual dungeon instead of .. a single button- bc how cool would that have been?? no no lets put the fish people in the sky and put a single button in the coolest part of it that only activates a waterfalll .... coming out of a tiny island in the sky- all just by of the visual neatness of swimming up??- anyway) plus a yiga one that is in and below the akalla citadel- also might put hyrule castle into the underground and inaccessible for a good portion of the game- and one in the forest of the krogs that was corrupted (which i thought was the reaso nfor the backpack krogs, but no, they literally have no goal and serve no purpose than to make funney videos with em, and then even the forest is nothing more but a reused lame fight agaisnt phantom gan- im starting to rant, sorry)

the abilties of the champions will be similar but there are changes, as in tulins (who i might just change to teba bc lets be real he was the one you interacted with in botw really..) isnt a gust of wind, since its both contrary to revalis whole deal of how difficult it was for him to create the updraft and then tulin can just do an almost exactly the same thing as like, a 12 year old- also its little usefullness after me adding in the birds for the sky and different glider types- maybe ill make it a strong windcut forward like in the other rewrite, like the yiga officer windattack but on steriods id also consider most of them not having the innate ability for it anyway, except for yuno maybe since he literally inherited daruks shield and as my idea was could make a variation of it adding the roll an fire to it but still having the shield, bc it kinda makes them like a boring copy of the botw champions and also lessens both their impact in a way (perhaps bringing dungeon items back?? idk,so still working on that)

each dungeon has a unique boss, at least on of which being a corrupted friend (PROPERLY DONE not like poor yuno in totk >:I ) bc each being just some monster tm is kinda boring (like twilight princess was so cool for how it mixed its bosses tbh)- also want satori to have a dark (also nice) counterpart that you might have to fight first bc you are trespassing into its domain (an old sketch gonna revisit it at some point)

new armor sets of course, and you still own YOUR house in hateno, zelda either has her own one in the spot where landa (the funky building lad that you bought your house from in botw) had the 'example' houses or yours got an additional building added onto it for zelda (and you can customize like, trees around it and have a lil farm spot too!!) and in your house theres a chest you can store armor sets in so you dont have to sell them to avoid inventory clutter

POUCHES return!! you can find some but most are locked behind quests (since logically people likely would have pouches) making them a really good reward and dont force you to engange with krogs if you are tired of them, it also avoids making you go back to them over and over just to expand inventory (you can choose for which part you want to use the pouch for, weapon or shield slot etc)- krog seeds are now its own currency for a lil shop you unlock in the forest, one of the highest rewards being the eponator zero (the motorcycle from botw)

also BOTTLES return! the main way to store healing, which also has to be consumed in real time (like in skyward sword, select in on a wheel so link takes it in his hands and 'a' to use it) avoiding the pause and spam apples into your mouth problem-

now cooking is NOT removed, it has even better effects than potions BUT it cant be stored and has to be consumed where you cook it (hear me out-); the cookbook in totk i find pretty annoyingly useless so, the cookbook is now a proper book you can fill out and when you want to cook a recipe you select it there and cook it with what you have (it shows if you dont have it all and also if you wanna swap an ingredient that would end with a similar effect) AND since you cant store it, theres special NPCs that reappear throughout hyrule (like a group of chefs that have one in each region at least) that let you just cook whatever you want without it wasting your materials, and if you hit a recipe it unlocks and is saved in your cookbook (you have to have the materials you want to cook with but it wont consume them, so you cant jsut spam it and fill the entire book out in one go- maybe the chef can give you subtle hints with expressions if something might be good or not before you try it out so you dont waste ages just cooking the same shit over and over xD)

(also possible idea for an item or big quest reward, a portable pot you can set up to cook with -with wood and fire- on the go without having to rely on finding them in the wild, and zelda can act as you chef giving you hints ... honestly i love this idea, remember all the cute botw art of them travelling and cooking together?? make that real you idiots!)

to upgrade your health or stamina you have to get spirit orbs still, but this time you get big ones that each can be traded, since thers fewer minidungeons but they are 4 times bigger than shrines they also give you 4 times the reward- but still one where you can choose which one you want bc i find that an important bit of freedom (idea still is that you free trapped souls and they give you the orb as a reward, majority of which are in caves in the underground or in the surface caves) which encourages you to vary your gameplay and not focus just on one area bc you probably want all those things, go for quests for puches and bottles, for minidungeons for health/stamina etc

oh yeah, the underground houses several dungeons, the weird gravity effect is in either the entire underground or in parts of it- it does not span the entirety of the map, isntead its smaller and often enclosed areas that each are more detailed and 'finished', theres different bioms and enemies you dont find anywhere else, and some enemies on the surface (like the miasma hands but like .. less easy and no phantom ganon bc that got boring rly fast) that sport those hands can grab you and drag you underground- which can either mean doom for you or .. discovering a new area down there hmmmm a risk to take isnt it :3 (also wanted there to be a mount there but idk if i will use this old concept of the dongos or if i want it to be a crab like thing bc of the underwater theme i want to go for)

LORE/STORY

so as you explore you may discover caves and areas in the underground containing sonau architecture (the type from botw, not totk) most of which heavily damaged, but theres few that are in 'better' shape bc they have been in selaed off caverns that werent yet discovered-

you find out the sonau, which you only vaguely knew from ruins in the overworld, were in fact real (but no you dont suddendly know they fucked with hylians and even their names of untold thosuands of years ago that you just so happen to have read in a book all of the sudden like it was an always known fact and not at all a myste- .. rant alarm .. ), and given the ruins underground they must have originated from there, but there are no scriptures that survived and all sculptures are in very bad shape, alot of which seems intentionally destroyed- slowly you and zelda piece together through vague clues (VAGUE game VAGUE, let people THINK) that they had knowledge of the past and the nature of the ever repeating return of disaster to hyrule; the biggest reveal beign that they knew the cycle wasnt natural at all and that it keeps being repeated only through the structure of how this land operates, the beliefs of the people that rule it, altered history etc.

the ancient shiekah under the rule of hyrules royalty found out what the sonau had discovered/knew and persecuted them (parelells to what the king would do to them later on, anyone??) since the divinity of the kingdom must be upheld by all means necessary- which is why the sonau had disappeared so entirely, with little of their culture left and none of them, and by doing so the ancient shiekah also discovered the previously lost knowledge of the gerudo king having turned into the biggest threat to the kingdom in the past (which the sonau had kept secret, knowing what consequences it could have if not handled carefully), which starts up a whole other betrayal plot of the kingdom planning to imprison gan before he can become a true threat (im gonna guess the relations between the gerudo and hyrule havent been that great even before since hyrule was still the main empire)

gan finds out before the plan goes through and assasinates the king of hyrule, the ancient queen declares war (yes, the queen for once) and in the end sacrifices herself to seal him away, more for revenge than any prophecy, but it nevertheless leads to the cycle doing its thing yet again

calamity ganon is a product of ganondorf trying to break free of his seal- and perhaps in an attempt to weaken his unbreakable will the shiekah discover they can use his spirit as a powerful source to their newly invented tech- which previously ran with processed luminous stones (yes battery theory will never let me go idc) and essentially use his own power against him by beating the calamity with their tech

(this knowledge is also how you get the yiga to work with you, using your knowledge of the past as leverage and zeldas ability to negotiate - and bc i thinks it would be cool to see her develop that way, and no i dont mean it as they all gonan fix it uwu either, its hard to go into more nuance here, its already way longer than i wanted- and yes this also ties into the koga is one of the ancient monks that made himself basically immortal through malice experiments HC of mine)

he attacks the regions bc they too sided with hyrule, he drags you to the underground bc its where he has spent thousands of years in agony, hes only out for revenge, an understable one and one you can sympathize with, but one you cannot negotiate with, its been too long, too much, no amount of apology could sate the desire for payback (which keeps the whole link and zelda defeat ganon formular alive BUT gives it nuance, right?? more tragic really, i hope that comes across)

he attacks link and zelda, breaks the masterword bc he has seen it all before, the original calamity, through the eyes of malice, he knows what you will do, inevitably so, you too will come for him, again

at the midpoint of the game you will reach hyrule castle (underground? perhaps it depends on how much health you have, getting grabbed and dragged into its depths losing hearts and if you have enough you survive until you are inside the castle and let go, you cant teleport outside - oh and zelda is either absent for the fight bc you got separated or she held onto you and protected herself with her power- honeslty kinda like the seperation idea bc after having her around all the time its gotta be super creepy to be suddendly alone) and will have a fight with him, that you kinda lose but are saved by the rest of the crew that zelda had banded together and brought here after being seperated from you- maybe without koga yet bc he would be locked to late game i think

there will be a quest to reforge the mastersword, which if you havent already gone to the forest will now lead you there (oh also some of the krogs you find outside the forest now will tell you that they had to flee, but maybe warn you not to go there yet if you are still in early game, others might not know bc they left to plant new forests, windwaker style, maybe a quest there too! to give them purpose beyond being your plaything and then just disappearing- ahem .. )

(old concept for the krog forest/dekutree boss)

the dekutree will tell you to restore it it will need the blessings of the three dragons (who might not have appeared yet, or slowly disappeared one by one, they might need to be rescued bc gan probably knows you are gonna try and repair the sword) (oh look more old concepts still relevant!)

in the end it will .. end with you defeating ganon, just like always (unsure of the place where it will will be but OH LOOK old concepts- here it was still with hyrule castle in mind but that might be jsut for the midpoint fight now- maybe id put the end fight on the forgotten plateau, to round it up nicely, ending where botw began ... ;3

i really like this one .. even more than the villain rauru one, though that one is fun bc a twist like that is pretty neat and fighting with ganondorf is also rly cool- but sicne i just dont like the totk sonau and much prefer them remaining mostly a mystery im very fond of this (also .. im so sick of ancient people with high tech bs now..)

the aim with this is to .. make a botw2 that actually feels like a botw 2 (for me), shiekah tech is still there but little functions still, logically bc its main powersource is breaking off of it, the sonau are a mystery and kinda negatively talked about bc the shiekah persecuted them just like they would later be - also explains why there are shiekah things in every sonau building, of course they would overtake their places and try to erase a much as possible of them (the thunder plateau might have been a place of worship to farodra or for research- now look its a puzzle for a shrine to strengthen our hero to defeat the thing we caused :)) ), the sonau are expanded upon WITHOUT destroying their mystery (none of them are shown, there are NO memories in this game, everything happens in real time and what you can learn about the past is mostly vague clues pieced together by nerd zelda!)

it gives more depth to the shiekah as well as add an important ounce of nuance to the yiga and shiekah, to ganondorf as well while adressing and fixing the things that needed work in botw in ways i would find enjoyable (instead of making it WORSE)

i also dont want to go too hard on 'zelda is totally agaisnt the monarchy bc monarchy BAD', its not meant to come across like that, i just wanted to do sth interesting that does question everything and bc i like to think she could be lead to a different way of thinking, especially if so through her own research and discovery of previously buried history, being confronted with her own biased views by her passion for her interests

anyway, if you read through all of this, i probably forgot stuff, buts its very late and i spent alot of time writing this (bc i cant stop once i started i guess) and theres lots of things repeated that i already talked about BUT if yo actually read through it all, i cannot even begon to express just how much that means to me, and id i dare request, do tell if you like it!!! and thank you so much!!! it might not seem like much but this is also very important to me, i still dream of gamedev after all and i see this as a sort of practice, are my mechanics and stuff actually better os does it just seem like it to me etc -

(though keep in mind, this is in part self indulfent bc hey, its not real and is never gonna be so i might just do what i want- and yes i do believe it is doable, even if this all sounds alot, the magic lies in making it less but make that 'less' more dense and detailed, hence the underground being like at least cut in half in size and the building mechanic being removed (to give to a game where its better used than totk) alone should free alot of time and space for the things i described here)

-thanks again for reading, posts like these rarely get much attention so uh ... its pretty much never worth the time i spent typing designing and writing it (even if theres still lots missing here, like the dungeons and details to the champions ..) so every bit of commentary weighs alot more <3

386 notes · View notes