#its like twilight a bit in that regard | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zara-renata · 4 months ago

Text

Datura Tea | ao3 | masterlist

You're suffering from insomnia due to untreated PTSD (probably, I don't know, I'm not a doctor or a therapist) from your family getting, well, exploded, and the longer this goes on, the sloppier you become in combat and just existing, and a bad idea is born (let's go to the club alone, drink enough to finally get drowsy and then go home and finaaaaally sleep it off). Zayne treats some of your injuries, Mephisto does Sylus's stalker bidding, and guess who appears at the club right before you're about to probably violate the Hunter's Association code of conduct on an idiot who has a hard time taking no for an answer? Spoiler alert: he can't sing but he can dance, even if he chooses to dance to the music he'd rather be hearing than the music actually being played.

Second person POV, gender neutral MC/reader second person POV, a teeny tiny bit of Sylus POV at the end CWs: insomnia, trauma, grievous bodily injury, hospital environment, shots/needles/stitches, self-destructive behavior, MC may have issues regarding self-worth, MC refuses to get proper treatment, poor life choices, stalking (by Sylus), unwelcome boundary pushing by a non-main character, dubiously welcome boundary pushing (by Sylus), (irresponsible) alcohol use, everyone's thirsty for MC and MC is oblivious because this is a self-insert gacha game and no I will not be taking any criticism on this point at this time.

Just as you had hoped before agreeing to Sylus’s deal that allows him to make use of your flat as a safe house if necessary, things have returned to normal. Well, as normal as they can be ever since your world was blown apart. It has been weeks, and you haven’t heard from him at all. At first, in the days following Sylus's little... visit, you sometimes find yourself thinking that you see a larger than normal crow amidst the swaying trees on your way home at twilight. Or you'll catch the reflection of two uncannily similar looking men in the shop window you just passed, but when you turn around, all you see is the blur of a faceless crowd.

You tell yourself that you're imagining things.

But then you stumble into your flat one night, wounded, again, but not so badly that you need to go to Akso Hospital, and stop short. You stand very still, clutching the hilt of one of the blades strapped to your back, and listen. Something feels off. Did you line your various pairs of footwear in a neat little row along the wall of your foyer recently? You can't remember doing so, but you've been doing a lot of things on autopilot recently. You wait, but nothing stirs in the gloom of your place as the automatic light shuts off due to how still you're standing.

Nothing. Just silence, and an aching feeling of absence that you refuse to think about too hard.

Just as you had hoped. Of course. Although you don’t know him well, you learned enough during the few days by his side to know that Sylus’s moods and interest were mercurial at best. You knew from the moment that Kieran and Luke offered you advice from a psychology book about how people who have everything often need constant challenges and the unobtainable dangled in front of them to keep their interest: Sylus would soon become bored with whatever game he thought he was playing with you, and your life would return to its peaceful… new-normal. And that’s good. That’s what you want. You are not equipped to handle a presence like him in your life. You’re a law-abiding, predictable, simple hunter, just trying not to leave the world worse than you found it, one day at a time. You shake your head, and hang your weapons on the wall rack, next to the coat hooks, and unlace your boots, relieve yourself of your blood-soaked pants and ripped shirt, and step into your flat wearing nothing but your underwear. Free, at last. You turn to head to your fridge for a pack of something frozen to place on the bruises that are only just beginning to bloom along the side of your face, only to freeze yourself, again. Your heart kicks wildly in your chest as you take in the looming mass in the middle of your kitchen, before you realize--

On your kitchen island stands a huge black and red pot, filled with a riot of white flowers, their edges ringed with a faint lavender color. You hesitantly reach out and run your finger along the deadly looking little points dotted along the petals' edges. You don't know shit about flowers, but these look threatening, somehow, in their savage beauty.

Maybe this is a prank. As your partner and closest neighbor, Xavier has access to your place. And Tara has your spare key, since Xavier is out of town so often on his little secretive, certainly not having anything to do with Lumiere escapades. Maybe this is their idea of cheering you up?

But you're not convinced. These flowers look like a warning. You quickly try to summon a list of people who might want to make you uncomfortable, or even frighten you, enemies you've made or hell, beaten at the claw machine? But no one comes to mind. Sylus had said that Sherman wasn't acting alone when... well. He wasn't acting alone, so maybe these flowers come from them, trying to tell you that they'll eventually finish the job. But if they knew where you were, and still wanted to take you out, they could have left a ... bomb instead of a pot of frighteningly gorgeous plants to accomplish their goal. You shudder.

There's no card. No message. Just the cryptic message of the flowers themselves. For fuck's sake, you're tired. Something about the flowers makes you paranoid, so you carefully run your hands through the leaves and stems to see if there is some sort of hidden surveillance equipment, but you fail to find anything. Giving up, you lift the heavy pot with a grunt and place it on your indoor balcony, shutting the door. Now if there is some sort of camera or audio recording device, all they'll see is your hazy outline through your glass balcony door. You can't help yourself: you make a rude gesture at the door, just in case there really is a hidden camera in there. You finish your trek to the freezer, slap a bag of something frozen past its due date onto your face, and spend the rest of the night tossing and turning in your bed before another dawn rises.

As the days turn into weeks, and another day has passed where you're wincing as you open your front door, worried that he'll be on the other side, only to find it empty, with none of your clutter undisturbed, you finally decide to put Sylus out of your mind for good. He helped you when you needed it the most, and you repaid his dubious generosity when you patched him up at your place. So you push the thought of him down deep, down with all of the other things you can’t bear to think about these days, and life goes on. You water the mystery flowers from time to time, at the same time you water the rest of your plants, and resign yourself to not figuring out who sent them anytime soon.

You can’t sleep, again.

You’ve been trying it all: running on the treadmill until you’re on the brink of vomiting, the harsh lights of the deserted Hunter’s Association fitness center making you squint. All you’ve gotten for your efforts is a headache threatening to add itself to your list of complaints at midnight, 2 AM, 3 AM, 4 AM, until you’re still awake and your morning alarm is sounding from your hunter’s watch.

Squeezing in extra full body supersets with the kettlebell, sweat pouring down your back, soaking through the hair at your temples and dripping onto the mats. Your muscles are not getting any stronger, and you’re sure as hell getting more fatigued, but the sleep won’t come as you limp into your bedroom every night.

Camomile tea with honey, warm milk, cold milk, rooibos tea without honey, fennel tea (you gag a little, and decide that you’re absolutely done trusting Moments recommendations when it comes to tea that aids sleep) before slipping under your tangled duvet, only to have to get up to pee an hour later, with no drowsiness in sight.

Every time you try to meditate and take deep, calming breaths, the memories come. And you can’t. You can’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Once, you even ask Zayne if he can prescribe you something to help.

"No."

"No? You haven't even asked what I'm asking for help with!"

"No."

You look down at your boots, wondering how far your pride will allow you to push him. You don't really want to tell him, exposing all of your messy insides and issues for him to clinically judge, to file away under this diagnosis or that and dismiss as he moves on to the next patient, for him to see you at your absolute lowest when you've never even seen him break a sweat. Something about that idea makes you want to cry.

"Ok." You smile brightly, or at least try. It probably comes across as more of a grimace, but you are trying. "I'll get going, sorry to bother you!" you chirp, and then cringe internally. Why did you apologize? He's your doctor, if you can't even handle asking him for help with this, even if he says no, you might as well switch physicians. It's fine. This is fine. You are fine.

You're about to turn the handle of his office door when his even voice stops you from behind. "What you need isn't pharmaceuticals. It's therapy. You need to talk to—"

But you can't. Talk. You can't imagine thinking the thoughts, let alone getting the words out. You can't, not yet.

"It's just sleep, Doctor Zayne. I'll just drink some fennel tea," you lie, give him a little salute, and escape.

So now you’re on the brink of doing something you’d previously rather have had your teeth pulled than experience: going to a crowded club, getting shit-faced, and hoping the dancing and alcohol will knock you out for a solid 24 hours. But Tara has already turned down your invitation, putting her hand on yours and saying with excruciating gentleness that she doesn’t think that’s what you need right now, which you can’t stand—the kindness, the knowing looks, the unspoken questions from everyone in your life who knows what happened, and are watching you like a ticking time—

Bomb.

You shake your head. You can’t.

And Xavier has been out of the office a lot lately, and from the mail piling up on his foyer floor whenever you nosily peek through his mail slot, probably out of town as well. So he’s not an option to invite after Tara turns you down.

You already know that Rafayel is out of the country on an exhibition tour, so you don’t even bother calling him. Talking to him usually does cheer you up, but you don’t need to be cheered up, dammit, you need to sleep.

You don’t even consider Zayne. First, he's your doctor and probably thinks spending time with you outside of the hospital would feel like a punishment for the sins of a past life. Also, imagining him, neon lights of a cheesy nightclub reflected off of his elegant glasses, indignantly pressed on all sides by unwashed, sweaty bodies, dancing—your brain short circuits even trying to imagine it.

There’s no one else you would trust being drunk around who you can ask to go with you. But the idea of getting drunk, alone, in your silent flat, makes you want to gag worse than the fennel tea.

As you slip on a comfortable pair of tights under a stretchy pair of shorts, and a soft, loose top—off the shoulder so that you look like you made some effort (you refuse to wear anything that can’t also double as athletic wear, because who the hell knows when you’ll get an alert on your watch), you tell yourself that you’ll be fine. You’ll drink enough to get tipsy, enough to make you drowsy, you’ll wear yourself out on the dance floor, and then you’ll go home again. And sleep. You don’t need anyone else for this. Of course it would be nice to be able to let off steam with a friend, but these same friends have been walking on eggshells around you for months, so it’s probably better this way. No awkwardness, no judgment, no gentle attempts to convince you that you need—

You’ve just slipped your boots on when you hunter’s watch goes off. A wanderer is within minutes of your flat’s location. You gaze at your weapon rack, which hangs next to your coat rack in your foyer, and hesitate. These days, you grit your teeth at the sound of gunshots at the practice range, loud in your ears even through your noise cancelling headset. Still too loud. Still too much like a bomb. You use your blades as much as you can, only unholstering your pistols when absolutely unavoidable. You grab two swords and your holsters, and sprint out the door.

You manage to avoid unholstering your pistols during the battle. However, blades require close quarter combat, which means you’re getting hurt more often. And the insomnia means that your reflexes are slower than they’ve ever been. So after you successfully defend a group of tourists from the wanderer, while unsuccessfully defending yourself against the death throes of a bladed tail that flays open your back, you find yourself back in Zayne’s office, again.

Lately, you feel like you see the inside of Akso Hospital more than the inside of your own flat.

You try desperately to avoid having to go, when at all possible. You take care of yourself, when the injuries are in places you can reach. Teeth sinking into your ever-dwindling supply of bandage rolls, the pain is sharp and demands your entire focus, so your thoughts are unable to drift elsewhere, to flit to the places you can’t go in your mind yet, not yet, you can’t—

But there are some wounds, like the one you just got, that you can’t reach, contorting yourself in front of the bathroom mirror, your heavy, tired arms unable to finagle some disinfectant and a bandage over the torn skin. So here you are, again. To put it mildly, Zayne is not happy. He delicately, efficiently, dabs disinfectant onto the latest laceration on your back in frigid silence. You can almost taste the disapproval wafting from him.

It stings, badly, but the pain is dull amongst the cacophony of other aches and healing wounds on your exhausted, battered body. You don’t even have the energy to wince with each point of contact between the cotton and your gaping flesh.

“You don’t have to fix me up yourself every time, you know,” you try to break the ice. “I’m sure you have other patients with urgent complaints more in line with your specialty. You only know about this time because Greyson ratted me out.”

“I am your primary care physician, as well a cardiac surgeon. I am responsible for signing your fitness for duty certificates. Greyson knows this, and acted accordingly,” Zayne clips out. His office falls silent again, and you focus on the flowers you gifted him sitting near one of his office windows, as he prepares to slip the needle containing the local anaesthetic under your skin in preparation of the stitches you need. You try, as you always do without success, to figure out why he keeps them in here. When you first saw them, they reminded you of the color of the little seals he had made you when you were children. That you had interpreted as a threat. So you gave them to him on a whim, and was shocked to find them in his office the next time you visited. You wonder if he waters them himself, or if he lets the hospital’s horticulturist do it. He’s probably too busy to keep track of such trivial things. You decide that you should thank the lady you’ve seen watering plants in Akso’s hallways with a fruit basket or something for her extra effort. Out of the corner of your eye, a couple black birds flap their wings as if startled, half hidden in the fluttering leaves of the trees in the courtyard that Zayne’s office overlooks. You’re about to look for what startled them when—

The shot is worse than the disinfectant, but the painful prick is quickly over. A welcome numbness spreads under your skin, and you desperately wish it came in pill form for—well, everything else that’s wrong with you.

All you feel is a distant tug and release, but your muscles are locked tight as you let the delicate petals fill your vision, as you try not to think about anything at all, as you’ve done for months now. You’re grateful for the silence, for Zayne’s steady hands and breath. You’re grateful for his care, even though you hate that you need it. You don’t want to be another burden to him, when he has so many heavy burdens already. In this too, you have failed, as you failed—

You can’t. You can’t—

Almost as if he has just felt the way your body has stiffened even further under his competent hands, Zayne interrupts your spiral as he, light as a snowflake, finally lays the bandage over your neatly stitched wound and secures the adhesive sides. He sits back with a sigh and just gazes at your bare back in silence.

You can’t bring yourself to move yet. You’re just so tired. But you know you have to. You don’t want to worry him, you know he has other, more important matters to attend. You gingerly lean back and let your shirt, which had been scrunched up under your armpits and around your shoulders while Zayne worked, slide down your back as you heave yourself to your feet.

You don’t want to turn and see whatever non-expression Zayne has on his face—you want to get out of here, from under these too-bright lights and his tangible concern, but you owe him the courtesy of looking him in the eye as you express a gratitude that can never be fully conveyed in words. So you do turn, but find him leaning back on his desk, his hazel eyes fixed on the same flowers you had just been staring at.

You open your mouth to thank him, to say your goodbyes to get the hell out of here, when he cuts you off with a voice softer than you’ve ever heard from him.

“You know that you cannot continue like this,” he murmurs, eyes still on the flowers.

You take in the sharp line of his nose, the severe set of his lips. The bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows draws your eyes down the contour of his throat, and it hurts you a little, what a beautiful man he has turned into. For a moment you are jerked back in time, the profile of a serious little boy with softer cheeks but the same hazel eyes overlaying itself atop the view in front of you. When he turns to look at you again the vision dissipates, and you suppress the pain—the only thing you’re good at these days. You steel yourself for whatever lecture he is about to lay into you, convinced that the gentleness in his voice is just his exhaustion at having to deal with you, again, when the shrill ring of his mobile rips apart the quiet in his office.

His frown deepens, but he doesn’t move to answer his phone. It continues to ring between the two of you.

“Better get that, Doctor Zayne,” you nod toward it, flooded with the relief that you might escape from his cold admonishment unscathed, this time.

His jaw clenches, and the knuckles of his hands are white where they clutch the desk, but after another ring he finally reaches into his white coat pocket and lifts the phone to his ear.

“This is Doctor Zayne,” he answers with his customary calm, despite the disappointment you’re pretty sure he’s feeling at the interruption of his flaying you open in ways that the wanderer failed.

You plaster the biggest smile on your face that you can muster, exploiting his inability to say anything as he listens to the other person on the line, and wiggle your fingers in a small wave. Before he can react, you’ve slipped through his office door, and you’re practically sprinting down the hallway to get the hell out of there before he can come after you.

Zayne pinches the bridge of his nose, glaring at his office door as if it’s the door’s fault for depriving him of the chance to tell you that he will refuse to sign any future medical certificates until you listen to him and get the help you so clearly, desperately need, that he needs you to get so that he can sleep at night without being afraid that his worst nightmares will manifest every time you enter his hospital. As he sighs, and prepares himself to handle the next emergency, he does not notice the fluttering birds outside his window, nor the jewel-eyed crow that disturbed them, taking flight from the trees in which they were perched.

It’s not too late. You’re exhausted, and hurt, but you’ve been patched up, and the idea of your empty, ineffectual bed fills you with anxiety. Your mission is still a go. So you stop briefly at home to dump your weapons, only retaining a small knife strapped under a black armband along your forearm, throw on a different loose, soft shirt since your other one was shredded and not in a way that looks cute for the club, and head out again. You know a place you’ve been to before with Tara and some other colleagues on an 'optional' but heavily implied as mandatory ‘team-building’ night that ended with a lot of vomit, an inter-office breakup, and a lot of stern glares from your captain the following week. You are deeply hoping that this place can give you what you need tonight.

You look up and cringe at the glaring neon sign: THE BOOM BOOM ROOM. Ok, so this place isn’t exactly classy. But you’re not looking for classy. You’re looking for affordable booze, overwhelming beats, and a late enough closing time not to get kicked out before you exhaust yourself to the extent required by this mission of yours. You’re relieved that the line moves swiftly, and the bouncer waves you in without a second look. Apparently you don’t look as horrifying as you feel, and the knife is discretely hidden under the band on your arm. And suddenly you’re inside.

You’re met with a wall of sound and smells, the bass vibrating in your chest, the floor sticky with what you hope is only spilled beer, and the crowd is surging. You close your eyes once and just soak it in for a moment, letting the mindless life that the place is bursting with wash over you. Then you slip through writhing bodies to reach the bar and order your first drink. You don’t actually want to get shit-faced, since you’re alone. But you do want to have enough to feel the pleasant numbness of alcohol burning its way through your veins, to get drowsy. You order a shot to start and a high-percentage beer to clutch while you dance so you don’t have to wait at the bar again.

It works, for awhile. You let the music fill you, you let the warmth of the shot spread through you limbs. The presence of other, anonymous people, who know nothing about you nor what you’ve been through, relieves some of the loneliness that you refuse to admit has been plaguing you ever since your grandmother and Caleb … Ever since you lost them.

And then you feel someone sidle a little closer to you than comfortable, and you open your eyes to find some guy looking intently at you with a hopeful smile on his face. He leans even closer to you to be heard over the beat as he shouts “Hey! Wanna dance?” into your ear, making you wince.

You shake your head, closing your eyes again, dismissing him. But he doesn’t seem to get the hint, because you feel a hand at your elbow, and hear his voice again: “Why not? You’re not with anyone, right?”

You open your eyes again, and gently, but firmly remove his hand from your elbow with your other hand. “Nah man, I’m just here to relax. I bet someone else would be happy to dance with you though.” You shoot him a tired thumbs up and try to shift away, but he somehow manages to keep pace in front of you, and he’s opening his mouth to say something else, and you’re repeating to yourself I’m a Hunter’s Association role model even when I’m off the clock, I will NOT remove his jaw from his skull, I will NOT remove his jaw from his skull… When suddenly you feel heat envelop your back and someone’s huge hands are gripping your hips—instinct kicks in, you’re convinced that this asshole isn’t alone and his buddy has managed to flank you, and the knife is out of your armband and at a big, warm throat before you realize you’ve spun in his grip, and a pair of bright red, amused eyes are looking down into your face.

“Come now, is that any way to greet your boyfriend, kitten?” Sylus smiles indulgently down at you, hands still on your hips.

“The fuck, Sylus?” you breathe, unable to move, your brain scrambled from trying to reconcile the club’s beat, the aching absence that you’ve been trying so hard to ignore, and the man finally filling it again, right in front of you for the first time since he left your flat’s foyer in a mess of blood and feathers.

Sylus lifts a hand from your hip and runs one long finger over the blunt edge of the knife, gently lowering it from where you are still holding it in shock against his throat. One droplet of blood, flashing like a jewel under the club’s lights, beads from where you pressed a little too hard, and begins to slip down the path of his carotid artery. You barely restrain yourself from launching yourself at his neck and running your tongue along his skin to counter the droplet’s descent—aaand at this highly intrusive thought, you want to punch yourself in the face, and tell yourself firmly that it’s the alcohol. You haven’t had alcohol in months. Your tolerance is basically non-existent at this point, you cannot be blamed for whatever the hell that urge just was.

“I see your professional greeting has not improved any since our last encounter, sweetheart,” he laughs, sounding genuinely pleased despite his complaint, thankfully oblivious to the insane thoughts inflicting themselves on your brain. His gaze flicks from you to the aggressive guy still gaping at the two of you. “I suggest you listen to what my partner has clearly communicated to you, if you would like to leave this... establishment, with all of the limbs with which you entered it,” he sniffs, clearly unimpressed with both the venue and the limbs in question. The guy’s eyes widen a little more, which you didn’t think possible, before he just nods his head so fast it looks like it will detach itself from his spine and pushes away from you through the crowd.

“I think you frightened him,” Sylus tsks, shaking his head. “Another poor service review for the Association’s feedback form, kitten. I’m worried about your performance review this year.”

“Perhaps I should bring them your head to compensate for my poor customer service. That would guarantee a raise instead of an admonishment,” you snap, still feeling violent from your inexplicable impulse to slobber all over this smug asshole’s throat.

Sylus’s eyes, impossibly, light up even more in response to your threat. “Oh, I would love to see you try to take my head,” he almost growls, smiling so wide you can see his crooked canines.

It’s the alcohol. It’s the alcohol. There is absolutely no innuendo to be found in what he has just said. You lift your hand to slap that thought right out of your head, but Sylus catches it in one of his own and tightens his other grip on your hip.

“You’ve already done quite enough damage to one of my favorite acquisitions tonight,” he says, running his thumb gently from your wrist to your palm. For a brief moment, all you can do is stare up into his face, ensnared by the softness in his usually sharp eyes, the slight crease between his eyebrows, the hair that you had told yourself for weeks could not possibly be as soft, as pretty, with the sheen and color of a pearl, as you remember it being.

Ok, someone must have spiked your drink. This is not happening. You cannot handle whatever game he is trying to play right now. “What are you even doing here?” you ask, in a desperate attempt to divert this conversation’s track before a trainwreck happens that leaves you in more pieces than you’re currently in. "And boyfriend? You're my boyfriend now?"

"Well, this is sudden, but how could I say no to such an elegantly worded proposition?" he gasps, eyes widening in mock surprise.

"Sylus," you warn.

"Yes, my better half?"

"Stop messing with me. Why did you tell that idiot that you're my boyfriend?" You need to know. You don't know why, but you need his answer almost as much as you need sleep right now.

"Unfortunately we live in a patriarchy where having a big, bad boyfriend apparently garners more respect than a clear 'no'," he shrugs. "I considered removing his hand from the rest of him and choking him with it, but thought that might make you mad." You roll your eyes, and he narrows his own. "I was trying to help you, but it appears my aid was unnecessary. I'm almost positive I saw him soil himself when you stabbed me." He smiles in a way that almost looks proud.

"I did not stab you," you insist, even though you can still see the thin line of blood disappearing under the color of his black shirt. You decide not to point it out. He'll discover it when he looks in a mirror later. Considering how self-satisfied he is, probably an activity he spends a lot of time doing. "Why are you here, again?" you repeat, shaking your head.

“A little birdie told me that a certain feral kitten had gotten injured again, and I am finally in a position to do something about it after business kept me away far longer than I had planned,” he answers. Still holding your hip and hand, he gently pulls you a little closer and begins to slowly sway with you, completely ignoring the fast paced, thumping beat of the current track the DJ is spinning.

“Mephisto?” Once again, you’re on the back foot. You are a highly skilled hunter, trained to have sharp senses and to be able to notice when you’re being surveilled.

He leans down, rounding his broad shoulders so he’s close enough to your ear for you to hear him hum his affirmation, leisurely sliding his hand from your hip to span the width of the small of your back to better guide you out of the path of other dancers, his large palm making you feel … safe.

“I haven’t seen him. At all,” you admit, suddenly feeling so tired and out of your depth. So terribly lacking, even at this, a most basic skill of your job.

“No surprise, considering how little you’ve been sleeping,” he says, and then grunts softly as you’re pushed closer into him by someone behind you making their way through the crowd. He’s so warm, so solid, and from this distance, he’s all you can see. Again, just like during the auction’s dance. How are you even here again? You resist the urge to rest your head against his chest like you did that night, as he forestalled the growing panic, as he showed you more kindness than you’ve been shown, or shown yourself, in months. In the months since… you can’t. You can’t, you can’t you can’t—

“You were a little distracted at your doctor’s office, too,” Sylus’s voice cuts through the thunder in your head, and it takes a beat for you to realize what he’s saying.

“You had Mephisto spy on my doctor’s visit?” you almost bellow, or rather, actually bellow, as the people around you shift and give you sideways glances. You try to jerk out of his hold, but only succeed in dragging the two of you a little to the side on the dance floor.

“I instructed him to confirm that you were actually getting proper treatment this time,” Sylus says, unruffled by your continued squirming to escape his arms. “Cease, you’re going to pull your stitches.”

“The stitches you only know about because you’re a creepy stalker!”

“Creepy?” he laughs. “What a strange way of saying handsome, protective, and resourceful.”

“Now I’m worried about your hearing,” you seethe. “That appointment was private!”

“Not private enough for our good doctor’s tastes, I’d wager."

“What does that mean?”

He levels you look with a look that you cannot begin to decipher. After a moment, he shakes his head, the earrings you just notice that he’s wearing flashing under the spinning lights. Is this asshole actually wearing ruby earrings to bring out his eyes? “You cannot possibly be this naïve,” he scoffs, but without conviction. Like he’s talking to himself.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you’re not allowed to spy on me during private moments like that,” you insist, giving up trying to get away from him since he has the reach and agility of an octopus, apparently.

“Excellent, then I’m allowed to spy on you during other moments. I’m glad we’ve cleared that up,” he declares solemnly. “Please pay Mephisto no mind if you happen to notice him in the future, and for heaven’s sake, do not feed him. He is not a pet—he is a subordinate and should be treated as such.”

You make the fastest decision of your life in compiling a list of possible crow snacks as Sylus resumes gently swaying your bodies, and it’s after pistachios as the 7th item on your Mephisto treat list that you realize he has danced the two of you to the edge of the dance floor, and that you have failed to object to him stalking you through his cantankerous mechanical crow.

“Silence is not consent, Sylus!” you try, only to be met with a pitying moue twisting his wide mouth.

“A deal’s a deal, sweetheart. Come, it’s getting late, and I know you are very tired. Let me take you home,” he commands. "You can show me how well you've been taking care of my little gift in my absence."

"Gift?" You're so lost. You stop, not taking another step until he starts making sense.

"The flowers I had Luke and Kieran deliver to your place."

"Flowers..." You wrack your foggy brain, startled at the scowl that is scrunching Sylus's beautiful face.

"Oh, you receive so many bouquets on a regular basis that they just blur together?" He takes a step forward, closing the distance between you again, but his hand slips away from yours until just your pinkies are linked. "I promise to redouble my efforts to make mine stand out from the crowd, then." Inexplicably, he lifts your linked pinkies to his lips for a kiss-the word tender drifts through your exhausted mind. His lips are unbearably soft.

You snort. "I never receive bouquets..." and then it hits you. The doom flowers.

"You sent me the pot of death threats?"

"Death threats?" he blinks, and it's the first time you think you've ever seen him at a loss for words. But he recovers quickly. "You mean the subtle and elegant form of self-defense to comfort and protect you in my absence?"

"Wut."

"I sent you a very generous supply of datura flowers. They're not only visually appealing, but also highly poisonous. You can use them to poison any unwanted guests you happen to find in your home if your more conventional weapons aren't practical for the occasion," he explains, eyes lighting up again.

"Sylus, you sent me a pot of deadly plants with no note or message. I thought someone was trying to convey a message, message. Like, a warning to watch my back."

His face does something complicated then: flickering from surprise to something like pride, but then he just stares at you, sanguine eyes drifting along your face and down to where his hand is linked with yours for a long moment. "It seems I underestimated your cynicism about other people," he says finally. "And while I always enjoy the proof of our kindred spirits, I would rather you didn't have to live a life where you have to be suspicious of something so banal as a gift of flowers." You are blindsided by the gentle sincerity in his words, and you're trying to hold back the tears that are burning your eyes out of nowhere, when he looks at your face again, brightening. "Now that I'm here, let me taking care of being the paranoid one." His gaze sharpens on your tear-filled eyes, and he cocks his head. Runs his middle finger from the corner of your mouth to just under your left eye, gathering the moisture there that is threatening to overflow. "Sweetheart, tears of gratitude are unnecessary. If you're really thankful, then let me take you home, and just try to refrain from offering me any datura tea when we get there, hmm?" He lifts his finger to his lips and flicks his tongue out to lick, and you are convinced you are hallucinating when his nostrils flair, as if he's savoring whatever he tastes in your tears.

As is becoming routine with Sylus, you feel like you're in a fever dream, watching him from a great distance: he's ahead of you somewhere, already at his next destination, pulling you along in his slipstream like a bird in flight, when you're not even sure you know how to fly. The only thing you are able to process at the moment is that if you don't say anything, you'll be right back where you started: staring at the streetlights spilling across your ceiling, exhausted in an empty bed, with no sleep in sight.

“No,” you blurt out. “I don’t want to go home. Please. You’re welcome to go, but I came here on a mission, and I am going to fucking complete it even if it kills me.”

He considers you for a moment, before asking, “And what mission is that?”

You look away, unwilling to meet his eyes now. You don’t want to admit that you’re so fucking tired you can hardly see straight, shoot straight, think straight, but every time you close your eyes, the memories come and you can’t you can’t you can’t and you haven’t slept properly in months.

“I see,” is all he says, and he pulls you along, your hand firmly wrapped in his, and you’re too tired to ask what, exactly, he sees. You let him lead you into the cool night, the bright night lights of Linkon City drowning out the stars above. He tosses you a helmet, and unlike the first time he put you on his motorcycle, he lifts you in his arms to plop you on the seat behind his.

“I’ll have Luke and Kieran pick up your bike and have it back to you before you need it tomorrow,” he says before you can even think to ask about it. “Hold on tight, and don’t go falling asleep on me. I won’t scrape you off the pavement if you fall off my ride.”

And just as he knew you would, you do the exact opposite of what he ordered, because you’re his contrary, ever wilful, feral kitten who refuses to do as its told. You wrap your arms around his solid waist, rest your helmeted head against his broad back, and fall promptly asleep. He relishes the feel of your arms still wrapped tightly around him, but the scarlet-ink tendrils of his evol keep you secured against his back in case your hold loosens as you sink deeper into sleep.

He snorts when you begin to snore through the helmet's comms.

He sighs, feeling content for the first time in weeks. It has taken much longer than he anticipated to clean up all the of messes that Sherman and his backers made while he was gone. Mephisto has been reporting to him daily regarding how you were doing, and Kieran and Luke have been on standby in case you needed them. But even sleep-deprived and determined to take care of your own problems by yourself to the point of self-destruction, you have handled what has come your way with competence, so their help has never been absolutely necessary. But Sylus can see just how close to the breaking point you are. Now that things have finally settled in the N109 zone, he intends to begin a new game, and it starts with him flourishing the trump card of his current hand: your invitation to let him use your place as a safe house whenever the ‘need’ arises.

He revs the engine, just for fun, smiles to himself, and rides through the rest of the night, until the sun comes up.

Later, when you wake up alone in your own bed, stretching lazily in the soft sunlight filtering through your gauzy curtains, you realize it’s the best night’s sleep you can ever remember having. You turn your head and find a black feather on the pillow next to you. You flick it gently, and try not to think too deeply about anything at all.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #fanfiction #my fanfic #this one got away from me and ended up being wildly longer than intended #self-indulgent comfort for suffering from sleepless nights #sylus x reader #l&ds sylus

219 notes · View notes

aeralux · 2 months ago

Text

"My Queen" - Rhaenyra Targaryen

Summary: House Tully has pledged allegiance to The Blacks in support of Queen Rhaenyra. You, Lord Tully's daughter, happen to be the one to deliver an urgent message from your father regarding the upcoming war. The Queen is very appreciative of your support and she intends to show it.

Warnings: SMUT; reader is a Tully but no descriptive language is used (f! reader); power kink; queen kink; LESBIAN SEX; fingering, oral; praise kink (sweet girl is used quite a bit); talks about war (nothing graphic or sad happens)

Word count: 6.2k

-- aera xx

The grand observatory at Dragonstone was a sanctuary of wonder, its high, vaulted ceilings adorned with intricate carvings of stars, constellations, and Targaryen lore. Massive telescopes lined the walls, alongside shelves filled with celestial charts, journals, and sketches. The soft twilight glow poured through the large windows, casting a radiant light that flickered across polished wooden floors and illuminated the drifting motes of dust in the air. The scent of aged paper and polished brass filled the room, a comforting aroma for those passionate about the mysteries of the universe.

Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen stood by a large circular table in the centre of the observatory, an elaborate scroll detailing the movements of the stars unfurled before her. Clad in a flowing gown of deep red and black, the colours of House Targaryen, it was embroidered with delicate designs that twinkled like the night sky. Her silver hair, a distinctive mark of her bloodline, cascaded elegantly over her shoulders, accentuated by a shimmering tiara that reflected the dim light.

Rhaenyra's violet eyes scanned the ancient scroll eagerly, absorbing the knowledge within. The footsteps resonated through the observatory, drawing her attention as the heavy wooden doors creaked open.

A guard entered, accompanied by you. The guard cleared his throat and announced, "Your Grace, you have a visitor." Rhaenyra carefully rolled up the scroll and turned to the guard, offering a gracious smile and a nod.

"Thank you. You may leave us," she replied, her voice gentle yet commanding, resonating with the authority of a queen. The guard bowed and exited, leaving you in the celestial chamber. Rhaenyra regarded you for a moment, her expression warm and curious. "What brings you to my observatory? Would you care for a cup of wine?" she inquired, her smile inviting while her keen gaze revealed her sharp intellect and royal demeanour. A sense of warmth enveloped her, almost maternal, as Rhaenyra glanced down fleetingly to admire the intricate details of the table’s carvings.

"My Queen," you proclaimed devotedly, lowering yourself in a respectful bow before her, fully aware of the majestic aura that surrounded the beautiful Targaryen woman. Her silver hair shimmered like moonlight, and her piercing violet eyes seemed to hold the weight of the realm within them.

"I have travelled from Riverrun with pressing news. A raven has been sent, bearing tidings from my family. They have informed me that House Tully is prepared to lend their support. They will muster an impressive force of 15,000 men and ensure that our cavalry is well-supplied with provisions for the challenging days ahead. While it is true that we may lack substantial military strength in comparison to other houses, our lands are remarkably fertile and bountiful, capable of sustaining our efforts."

You straightened, standing with poise, allowing the gravity of your words to settle in the air.

Rhaenyra listened intently as you delivered the news, her violet eyes focused and attentive. The Queen nodded slowly, processing the information with her characteristic sharp intellect. "15,000 men and cavalry supplies, that's a substantial contribution," she mused, her voice soft yet carrying an underlying tone of authority. "House Tully's support will be invaluable in the trials ahead."

She rose from her seat, the rich fabric of her gown swishing as she moved. Rhaenyra approached you, her steps measured and graceful, the click of her heels against the stone floor echoing in the spacious library. As she drew near, Rhaenyra reached out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. Her touch was warm, conveying a sense of gratitude and comradery.

"Your family's loyalty and dedication to the cause are truly appreciated," Rhaenyra said, her violet eyes meeting yours."In these tumultuous times, every ally counts, and House Tully stands strong among them."

Rhaenyra's gaze shifted to the window, where the sun's rays danced upon the distant waters of Blackwater Bay. A pensive expression crossed her face, a flicker of concern in her eyes. "The road ahead will be fraught with challenges," she admitted, her voice tinged with a rare vulnerability. "But with the support of houses like yours, we shall weather the storm."

Turning back to you, Rhaenyra offered a reassuring smile, her demeanour regal yet approachable. "I am grateful for your presence here. Your words have brought me comfort and renewed determination." She gestured towards a plush velvet armchair nearby, inviting you to sit. "Please, join me. I would hear more of your thoughts and any other news from the Riverlands."

As you took a seat, Rhaenyra poured two goblets of rich, red wine from a decanter on the table. She handed one to her guest, raising her own in a toast. "To the strength of our alliance and the triumph of justice."

You couldn't help the crimson blush that warmed your cheeks as you sat beside her, the epitome of grace and authority. Her presence was commanding and enchanting, filling the air with an intoxicating blend of confidence and charm. With an air of elegance, she extended the goblet of wine towards you, and as you accepted it, your fingers brushed against hers—an electric spark igniting between you, sending a shiver down your spine at the touch of her velvety skin.

It felt almost foolish to be so affected by something seemingly insignificant, yet the moment held a weight that surpassed mere physical contact. You stole a glance at her, the delicate way she held herself, and the glint of mischief in her eyes, making your heart race.

"Thank you, my Queen," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as if speaking louder would break the spell that enveloped you. You lifted the goblet to your lips, allowing the deep, luscious nectar to roll over your tongue. With your eyes closed in reverie, you savoured the rich taste of the wine, feeling its warmth spreading through you, reminiscent of the warmth emanating from her very presence. It was a moment suspended in time, a blend of indulgence, admiration, and undeniable attraction that left you yearning for more.

Rhaenyra observed the faint blush that coloured your cheeks, a small, knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips. She could sense the effect her presence had on the young woman, and while a part of her revelled in the power she held, another part felt a twinge of sympathy. The burdens of leadership are not for the faint of heart, she mused silently, her violet eyes studying you with a mix of curiosity and understanding.

As their hands brushed during the exchange of the goblet, Rhaenyra felt the brief contact send a subtle jolt through her body. She quickly composed herself, maintaining her regal bearing, but the fleeting sensation lingered in her mind. Focus, Rhaenyra, she chided herself, pushing the thought aside to concentrate on the matter at hand.

"The wine is from the vineyards of Highgarden," Rhaenyra remarked, taking a sip from her goblet. The rich, robust flavour danced on her tongue, a pleasant contrast to the weighty matters they discussed. "Lord Tyrell was kind enough to share it as a gesture of goodwill." She paused, a flicker of irony crossing her features. "Though I suspect it was more a ploy to curry favour than a genuine act of friendship."

As she took a sip from her goblet, Rhaenyra's violet eyes never left your face, studying the younger woman with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue. "You seem... flustered," she observed, her voice a low, melodious purr. "Is something troubling you?"

Rhaenyra leaned forward slightly, her elbows resting on the table, her chin propped on her interlaced fingers. The gesture was casual, almost intimate, a stark contrast to her usual regal demeanour. Her silver hair fell in soft waves around her face, catching the light and shimmering like starlight.

Caught off guard by her question, your lips parted in surprise. "No, my Queen, just the war... it seems to be taking its toll on me as well," you muttered, trying to convince yourself as much as her. It would be utterly improper to admit that her touch had sent a chill running along your back, leaving you flustered.

You took another sip of wine, hoping to compose yourself. The rich, velvety liquid slid down your throat, but it did little to calm the sudden racing of your heart. You met Rhaenyra's piercing violet gaze, her eyes seeming to see right through you, to the core of your being. A faint blush still lingered on your cheeks, betraying your inner flusteredness.

You cleared your throat, determined to regain your composure. "My family's support is unwavering, my Queen. We stand with you, now and always," you declared, your voice steady despite the confusion within. You would not let your foolish infatuation cloud your judgment or dishonour your house. You were a Tully, and you would remain strong, even in the presence of such an attractive and assertive woman.

Rhaenyra's violet eyes narrowed slightly, her gaze intense and searching as she studied your face. She could sense the younger woman's discomfort, the soft blush that coloured her cheeks, the way her fingers trembled ever so slightly around the stem of the goblet. It was a reaction Rhaenyra knew all too well, a mix of nerves and attraction, a dance of desire and propriety.

She leaned back in her chair, her posture relaxed yet queenly, a small, enigmatic smile playing at the corners of her lips."The war weighs heavily on us all," she said, her voice soft, almost a whisper, as if sharing a secret. "But we must not let it consume us, lest we lose sight of what we fight for."

Rhaenyra's gaze drifted to the window, where the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The light danced across her face, highlighting the strong lines of her jaw, and the delicate curve of her cheekbones. She turned back to you, her eyes gleaming with a newfound intensity.

"Tell me," she began, her voice low and husky, "what is it that you truly desire? Beyond the battlefield, beyond the politics and the power plays, what sets your heart ablaze?" Rhaenyra's question hung in the air, a challenge and an invitation all at once, her violet eyes locked with yours, a silent understanding passing between them.

You offered a soft smile, your gaze dropping to your lap for a moment as you sought to compose your swirling emotions. The air around you felt heavy with unspoken words, and finally, you broke the silence. "Love," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "isn't that what most people are truly searching for? A tender heart to hold in their arms and someone to care for deeply."

As you spoke, a wistful melancholy settled over you, like a raindrop trailing down a windowpane. The thought of an impending war loomed like a dark cloud, threatening to overshadow the dreams of connection and intimacy that manylong for. It seemed cruel, how the spectre of conflict kept souls apart, hindering the chance to find a kindred spirit in the chaos.

"But I understand," you continued, a gentle resolve in your voice, "that this must wait for now." You shifted your gaze back to the Queen, and in that moment, time seemed to pause. Her piercing eyes captivated you, drawing you in with an intensity that took your breath away. You felt as if you were lost in a vast ocean, with her gaze as the only guiding star.

Amid the uncertainty, the warmth of her presence ignited a flicker of hope within you—an unspoken promise that despite the world's turmoil, love still existed, waiting patiently beneath the surface. The corners of your lips curled into a smile, and in that fleeting moment, it felt as though the two of you were the only ones in existence, united by the fragile thread of yearning that bound your hearts together.

Rhaenyra felt a surge of emotion at your words, a mix of empathy and a deep, aching understanding. She leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table, her chin propped on her interlaced fingers. Her violet eyes softened, a vulnerability creeping into their depths.

"Love," she echoed, her voice a mere whisper, "is indeed a force that transcends all others. It is the flame that guides us through the darkest of nights, the anchor that keeps us tethered to hope in the face of unconquerable odds."

Rhaenyra's gaze drifted to the window, where the last rays of sunlight painted the sky in a kaleidoscope of colours. A wistful sigh escaped her lips, a longing for a life unburdened by the weight of the crown, a life where she could simply be Rhaenyra, not the heir to the Iron Throne.

She turned back to you, her eyes locking with yours. At that moment, a silent understanding passed between them, a recognition of the unspoken desire that simmered beneath the surface. Rhaenyra's heart raced, a flutter of anticipation and trepidation.

"Perhaps," she began, her voice low and husky, "amid this chaos, we can find comfort in each other's company. A brief pause from the duties we bear."

Rhaenyra reached out, her hand hovering inches from yours, a silent invitation. Her violet eyes shimmered with a mix of longing and uncertainty, a question hanging in the air between them. "What say you? What do you say we embrace this moment and see where it takes us?"

The observatory seemed to fade away, the telescopes and maps forgotten, the weight of the world temporarily lifted. In that instant, it was just Rhaenyra and you, two souls lured together by a force greater than themselves, a bond thattranscended the boundaries of refinement and duty.

You couldn’t help but gasp quietly upon hearing her words, the air around you thick with unspoken emotions. The verynotion that Rhaenyra might harbour the same hunger for you that has ignited a fire within your heart is nothing short of intoxicating.

As you lean closer, the warmth radiating from her draws you in, and your faces hover mere inches apart, the world around you fading into a dim haze. Her presence is both overwhelming and alluring as if a delicate crown of stars rests upon her head.

With your heart pounding in your chest, you muster the courage to break the silence that envelops you. “May I kiss you, my Queen?” you ask, your voice a whisper tinged with reverence. Your eyes flit between her mesmerizing gaze and the temptation of her soft lips, each second stretching as you await her response. The moment feels charged with lust.

Rhaenyra's breath hitched in her throat, her eyes widening at Selira your bold question. The air between them crackled with an electric tension, a palpable energy that seemed to pulse and throb with each passing second.

For a fleeting moment, Rhaenyra hesitated, the weight of her obligations and commitments threatening to crush the fragile ember of passion that had ignited within her. But as she gazed into your eyes, she saw a reflection of her longing, a mirror of the ache that had taken root in her heart.

"Yes," she breathed, her voice a husky whisper, barely audible above the pounding of her own heart. "Kiss me."

Rhaenyra leaned in, closing the scant distance between them. Her lips met yours in a searing kiss, a burst of passion and need that threatened to consume them both. She tasted red wine and desire on your tongue, a heady combination that set Rhaenyra's senses ablaze.

Her hands came up to tangle in your hair, the soft strands slipping through her fingers like silk. She deepened the kiss, her tongue tracing the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, craving more.

The world fell away, everything fading into oblivion, the weight of the crown and the burden of the throne momentarily forgotten. At that moment, Rhaenyra was simply a woman, lost in the passion, consumed by a desire she had long denied herself.

Her body pressed against yours, the heat of their shared need burning through the fabric of their clothes. She could feel the rapid beat of your heart, the quickening of your breath, the tremble of your limbs. It was intoxicating, the knowledge that she could elicit such a response, that she could make you burn with the same fire that consumed her.

Rhaenyra's hands roamed over your body, mapping the curves and planes of your form, committing every inch to memory. She wanted to devour you, to consume you.

You moaned into the kiss, Rhaenyra's intoxicating taste sending waves of desire coursing through your veins. Your fingers tangled in her silvery hair, anchoring yourself as the intense sensations threatened to overwhelm you.

Pleasure pooled between your thighs, your core aching and pulsing with need. You wanted more, no, you needed more of her touch, her kiss, her everything. The ache inside you grew, a desperate hunger that demanded to be sated.

Rhaenyra groaned into the kiss, her body responding to your touch like a bowstring pulled taut. She could feel the heat pooling between her thighs, a throbbing ache that demanded attention. Her hands roamed over your body, slipping beneath the fabric of your dress, seeking the warmth of your skin.

"Gods" she panted, her voice ragged with desire. "I need you. I want you. Don't make me wait any longer."

Rhaenyra's hands found the laces of your bodice, tugging at them impatiently. She needed to feel your skin, to taste you, to consume you. With a swift motion, she tore the laces free, exposing your breasts to her hungry gaze.

She leaned in, capturing one pert nipple between her lips, sucking and nipping at the sensitive flesh. Her hand cupped your other breast, kneading and massaging the soft mound. She could feel your heart racing, the frantic beat matching her own.

Rhaenyra's other hand slid down your body, over the curve of your hip, the soft plane of your stomach, until it reached the hem of your skirts. She pushed the fabric aside, her fingers delving beneath to find the slick heat of your core.

She groaned at the feel of you, hot and wet and ready for her touch. Rhaenyra circled your clit with her thumb, revelling in the way your body jerked and twitched at the contact. She slipped two fingers inside you, thrusting deep, relishing the way your walls clenched around her digits.

"That's it," Rhaenyra purred, her voice low and husky with desire. "Let yourself feel. Let me make you come undone."

She pumped her fingers in and out, curling them to hit that special spot deep within. Her thumb continued its maddening circle on your swollen clit, the dual stimulation driving you wild with need.

Rhaenyra could feel her arousal building, a pulsing ache between her legs, her core throbbing with want. She ground her hips against the plush divan, seeking friction for her aching wet cunt.

"Oh, my sweet girl," Rhaenyra cooed, her voice a sultry purr as she worked her fingers deeper, harder, faster. "You beg so prettily for me. I can't deny you what you crave."

She twisted her wrist, curling her fingers just so, seeking that sweet spot within your quivering walls. Your pleas for release only spurred Rhaenyra on.

"Cum for me," Rhaenyra commanded, her eyes blazing with intensity. "Let go. Cum all over your Queen's fingers."

And so you did. With a final thrust of her fingers, your body trembling from the intensity of your climax.

Rhaenyra held her close, her arousal building to a fever pitch as she felt your walls clench around her fingers, the wetness of your release coating Rhaenyra's hand.

"That's it, fuck, that's a good girl," Rhaenyra praised you as you rode out your orgasm on her fingers. The tears streaming down your face seemed to turn her on even more.

As your orgasm subsided, Rhaenyra slowly withdrew her fingers, bringing them to her lips and licking them clean. The taste of your sticky essence on her tongue was intoxicating, a heady mix of salt and sweetness that made Rhaenyra's head swim with desire.

"Delicious," Rhaenyra purred, her voice low and seductive. "I could feast on you for hours and never grow tired."

You gasped as you saw Rhaenyra lick her fingers clean of your release. Your pussy still gushing onto the divan, possibly ruining the fabric, but neither of you cared.

You felt a surge of desire to return the pleasure Rhaenyra had just given you. Rising to your feet, you let your dress slip from your body to the floor, baring your naked form to her hungry gaze. A thrill ran through you at the vulnerability of standing exposed before her.

"I want to make my Queen feel good," you purred your words affectionately as you lowered yourself onto your knees in front of her. Gently, you spread her legs, lifting her skirts to reveal her glistening sex.

Your breath caught at the sight of her wet, red folds. You licked your lips, eager to taste her essence.

Rhaenyra's breath hitched as she watched you kneel before her, the younger woman's nude form a vision of beauty in the candlelight. She felt a rush of desire, a need so intense it threatened to consume her whole.

As you spread her legs, pushing Rhaenyra's skirts up to her waist, exposing her dripping sex, Rhaenyra gasped, her head falling back against the cushions. She could feel the heat of your gaze on her most intimate place, the intensity of it making her core clench with anticipation.

Rhaenyra tangled her fingers in your hair, guiding your face closer to her aching cunt. She could feel the heat of your breath on her sensitive skin, the anticipation nearly driving her mad.

"Don't tease," Rhaenyra commanded, her grip on your hair tightening. "I need your tongue, now."

You revelled in her dominant tone, making wetness pool between your thighs once again.

As your tongue finally made contact with her throbbing clit, Rhaneyra cried out in pleasure, her hips bucking up to meet your mouth. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body, making her toes curl and her fingers dig into the velvet of the couch and your hair.

"Fuck, yes, just like that. Make me feel good. Make your Queen cum." She leaned back against the pillows, her violet eyes never leaving your face. She could see the hunger in those eyes, the desire to please, to worship, to consume.

Your tongue delved deeper, lapping at Rhaenyra's clit, sucking the sensitive bud between her lips. Rhaenyra's grip on your hair tightened, her nails digging into your scalp, holding you in place as she rode your face, grinding her cunny against your eager mouth.

As you pressed your face between Rhaenyra's thighs, you couldn't help but moan against her sopping cunt. The scent of her arousal was intoxicating, and you couldn't get enough of her sweet, tangy juices as they coated my tongue.

You delved deep with your tongue, fucking her tight hole, revelling in the way she writhed and moaned above me. Her taste was exquisite and addictive, and you found yourself craving more, needing to please her, to make her come undone.

Unable to resist, you suddenly plunged two fingers into her spasming pussy, pumping them in and out at a brutal pace. You sucked her clit into your mouth, flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves with your tongue, driving her wild with pleasure.

"Fuck, yes," Rhaenyra moaned, her head thrown back in ecstasy. "Eat me, fuck, eat your Queen's cunny. Make me cum!"

You whined against her sopping heat as you eagerly ate her out, sending vibrations to her already sensitive clit.

Rhaenyra cried out in ecstasy as your fingers plunged into her dripping cunny, fucking her with a relentless, brutal pace. Her back arched off the divan, her hips bucking wildly as she rode the wave of pleasure that crashed over her.

Your tongue lashed at her clit, the dual stimulation of fingers and mouth driving Rhaenyra to the brink of madness. Her thighs clamped around your head, holding you in place as she ground her cunny against her face, seeking more, always more.

Rhaenyra could feel her orgasm building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in her belly, her muscles tensing in anticipation of release. She pushed her hips harder against your hand, fucking herself on your fingers, the wet squelch of her arousal filling the room.

"Don't stop," Rhaenyra commanded, her voice a low, guttural moan. "Make me come, fuck, make your Queen come!"

With a final, brutal thrust of your fingers, Rhaenyra shattered. Her orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, her vision whiting out as pleasure consumed her. She screamed a primal, animalistic sound that echoed off the stone walls of the observatory.

Rhaenyra's body convulsed, her cunny clamping down on your fingers, milking them for all they were worth. Her juices gushed out, coating your hand, chin, and breasts. It was messy, filthy, and perfect.

As the aftershocks of her orgasm faded, Rhaenyra collapsed back against the divan, her chest heaving, her skin slick with sweat and her essence. She looked down at you, her eyes hazy with satisfaction, a lazy, satisfied smile playing on her lips.

"You've pleased your Queen well," Rhaenyra purred.

Rhaenyra gazed down at you, her violet eyes dark with lust and a hint of something more primal. The young woman'ssubmissive posture, and the pleading look in your eyes, ignited a hunger in Rhaenyra that she had long suppressed.

She reached down, her fingers tangling in your hair, yanking your head back to expose the elegant column of your throat. Rhaenyra's other hand trailed down your body, her touch feather-light, teasing.

"You want more?" Rhaenyra purred, her voice a husky whisper. "You want your Queen to use you, to take you, to make you hers?"

You nodded, a whimper escaping your lips. "Yes, my Queen," you breathed, your eyes never leaving Rhaenyra's. "I'myours, to do with as you please."

Rhaenyra smiled a predator's grin that sent a shiver down your spine. "Good girl," she murmured, her hand cupping your breast, squeezing the soft flesh. "You're going to be a good little toy for your Queen, aren't you?"

Rhaenyra stood, towering over you, her presence dominating the space between them. She reached for the belt of her gown, slowly, teasingly, letting the anticipation build.

"On your hands and knees," Rhaenyra commanded, her voice tolerating no argument. "Ass up, head down. Present yourself to your Queen like the good little slut you are."

You hastened to obey, your heart racing with a mix of fear and excitement. You positioned yourself on the floor, ass raised, face pressed into the carpet. You could feel Rhaenyra's eyes on her, could hear the rustle of fabric as your Queen disrobed.

"Spread your legs," Rhaenyra ordered, her voice low and demanding. "Show me that pretty little cunt. Let me see what belongs to me."

You complied, spreading your legs wide, exposing your dripping sex to the cool air and her ravenous gaze. You waited, each second passing by felt like an hour without her touch on your skin. Patience was never your virtue.

Rhaenyra drank in the sight before her, the glistening folds of your pussy, the delicate lighter shade of your inner walls, the swollen nub of your clit. She could smell your arousal, a heady, intoxicating scent that made her mouth water with desire.

She knelt behind you, her knees pressing against your thighs, forcing your legs further apart. Rhaenyra's hand came down on your ass with a sharp smack, the sound echoing in the room.

"Patience, my sweet," Rhaenyra purred, her fingers tracing the reddening skin of your cheek. "Your Queen will give you what you need, but first, you must learn to wait, to crave, to beg for my touch."

Rhaenyra's hand moved lower, her fingers teasing along the crease of your ass, dipping between your thighs, but never quite touching you where you needed it most. You whimpered, your hips bucking back, seeking more.

"Shh, be still," Rhaenyra chided, her voice a low, soothing murmur. "Good girls are rewarded, but naughty girls..."

Her hand came down again, a stinging slap to your ass that made you cry out. Rhaenyra soothed the sting with gentle strokes, her fingers dancing over the heated skin.

"Naughty girls are punished," Rhaenyra finished, her voice dropping to a whisper. "But you have been a good girl, haven'tyou, my sweet?"

You nodded, your face pressed into the carpet, her ass raised high, an offering to her Queen. "Yes, my Queen," she breathed, her voice muffled. "I've been so good for you. Please touch me, my Queen."

Rhaenyra chuckled, the sound dark and rich with promise. "So greedy," she murmured, her fingers dipping between your legs, teasing the slick folds of your cunt. "But I suppose I can indulge you, just this once."

With that, Rhaenyra pushed two fingers inside you, your tight heat clenching around her digits. She pumped them slowly, torturously, revelling in the way your hips bucked, seeking more.

"That's it," Rhaenyra growled, her thumb finding your clit with ease, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive nub. "Take what your Queen gives you. Be a good little girl for me."

You could only moan in response, the pleasure of Rhaenyra's touch short-circuiting your brain.

Rhaenyra withdrew her fingers from your dripping cunny, leaving you empty and aching for more. She circled in front ofyou, her violet eyes dark with lust and power.

"Lay on your back," Rhaenyra commanded, her voice low and authoritative. "I want to see your face when I fuck you. I want to watch you come undone for your Queen."

You hastened to obey, laying back on the plush carpet, your legs falling open in wanton invitation. Rhaenyra loomed over you, her tall, regal form casting a shadow across your body.

She knelt between your thighs, her hands trailing up your calves, your thighs, until she reached your weeping cunt. Rhaenyra's fingers delved inside you once more, pumping in and out, curling to hit that special spot deep within.

"Look at me," Rhaenyra demanded, her other hand gripping your chin, forcing your gaze to meet hers. "Watch your Queen as she makes you come. Watch me as I claim you." With that she pulled her fingers out of your sopping heat, lapping up the slick from your cunt.

"Put your leg up," Rhaenyra ordered. She lifted your left leg, straddling your right thigh as her dripping cunt hovered above yours.

Your breath caught in your throat, a mix of lust and hunger swirling within you as you watched her. The soft glow of the candlelight danced across her features, illuminating the way her eyes sparkled with carnal desire. Every second felt like an eternity as you awaited her next move, your heart racing.

Rhaenyra's eyes locked onto yours, her gaze intense and hungry. She held your leg up, her cunt poised just above yours, the heat of her radiating against your skin.

"You want this, don't you?" Rhaenyra purred. "You want your Queen to ride you, to grind against you until we both come undone."

She shifted forward, the slick folds of her pussy brushing against yours. The contact sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, your hips bucking up to meet her.

"Beg for it," Rhaenyra commanded, her voice a low, seductive growl. "Beg your Queen to fuck you with her cunt. Beg me to make you mine like a good girl"

You couldn't help it, the words tumbled from your lips in a desperate, needy plea. "Please, my Queen," you whimpered, your eyes never leaving Rhaenyra's face. "Please fuck me with your cunt. Make me yours, claim me. I need it, I need you."

Rhaenyra smiled a wicked, triumphant grin that made your heart race. "Good girl," she purred, her praise sending a shiver of delight down your spine. "You've earned a reward."

With that, Rhaenyra pressed down, her cunt engulfing yours in a slick, hot embrace. She began to move, grinding against you, her clit rubbing against yours, the friction delicious and overwhelming.

"Oh, fuck yes!" You screamed out in pleasure, your back arching from the carpet. Your walls clenched around nothing as you felt her clit repeatedly grinding against yours. Eyes screwed shut and brows furrowed, moans kept spilling from your parted lips.

Rhaenyra increased the pace, grinding harder, faster, her cunt sliding against yours in a lewd, wet sound that filled the room. Your thighs quivered, your muscles tensing as your orgasm built to a crescendo.

"Fuck, yes," Rhaenyra moaned, her hips rolling in a sensual rhythm. "You feel so good, so wet for me. I could fuck this sweet little cunt all day and never tire of it."

You could only moan in response, your hands fisting in the carpet beneath you, your body arching up to meet Rhaenyra'smovements. The pleasure was building, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, threatening to snap at any second.

Rhaenyra's smirk widened, a predatory gleam in her violet eyes as she watched you writhe beneath her. Your breath came in short, sharp gasps, your body trembling with the force of your impending orgasm.

"That's it, my sweet," Rhaenyra purred, her voice low and husky. "Let go for me. Come for your Queen."

She increased the pace, grinding harder, faster, her cunt sliding against yours in a slick, obscene sound. Your thighs quivered, your muscles tensing as your orgasm built to a crescendo.

"Fuck, I'm gonna..." you panted, your words trailing off into a moan as the pressure inside you reached a breaking point.

With a final, brutal grind of Rhaenyra's hips, you shattered. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your vision whiting out as pleasure consumed you. You screamed a primal, animalistic sound that echoed off the stone walls of the observatory.

Rhaenyra rode out your orgasm, her pleasure building as she felt your cunt spasm around nothing. She ground against you, drawing out your pleasure, milking every last drop of ecstasy from your body.

As the aftershocks of your orgasm faded, Rhaenyra collapsed beside you, her chest heaving, her skin slick with sweat. She pulled you close, her arms encircling you, holding you tight against her body.

"My sweet, beautiful girl," Rhaenyra murmured, her lips brushing against your temple. "You please your Queen so well."

You nestled into her embrace, your heart still racing, your body humming with satisfaction. At that moment, you belonged to Rhaenyra, body and soul, a willing subject to her desires.

You nuzzled your face into the crook of her neck, seeking solace as you tried to catch your breath. Her scent enveloped you, a delightful blend of vanilla, lavender and lust dancing in the air around you, warm and inviting.

With a tender touch, you reached out to brush her silky white hair away from her face. The strands glimmered softly in the light, cascading like a waterfall over her shoulders. A few wisps clung to her forehead, dampened by a light sheen of sweat that glistened like tiny pearls, evidence of the warmth that lingered between you.

As your eyes met, a wordless understanding passed between the two of you, a shared moment that transcended the need for language. You smiled at her, the corners of your lips turning upwards, filled with unspoken affection and connection, knowing that in this quiet intimacy, everything that mattered was perfectly captured in that fleeting glance.

Rhaenyra leaned into your touch, her eyes fluttering closed as you brushed the sweat-dampened strands of her silver-gold hair from her forehead. She nuzzled into your palm, a soft purr rumbling in her chest.

In that quiet moment, the world faded away, leaving only the two of you, entwined in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow of your shared pleasure. Rhaenyra's heartbeat slowly returned to normal, her breathing evening out as she savoured the warmth of your body against hers.

"You're a treasure," Rhaenyra murmured, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your bare skin. "A gem among the dross of this world. I am lucky to have you by my side."

You tilted your head, meeting her gaze with a soft, loving smile. "I am the lucky one, my Queen," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "To serve you, to please you, to be yours... it is an honour beyond measure."

Rhaenyra's smile widened, a rare, genuine expression of happiness and contentment. She cupped your face in her hands, her thumbs stroking your cheeks.

"You are mine," she declared, her voice a low, possessive purr. "And I am yours."

You leaned in, capturing her lips in a slow, tender kiss. It was a promise, a seal on the unspoken vows exchanged between you. In that kiss, you pledged your loyalty, your devotion, your very soul to Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Dragon Queen.

265 notes · View notes

tsukinoshinjiu · 2 months ago

Note

the expressions that you drew for all the LU Links on the cover art….those are some insane details! Sky and Wild are both grimacing, Warriors looks almost displeased and Time looks so CONTENT aaksjsbhahqhah

Hehe thank you so much!! Time is definetly the only one that's actually having any degree of a good time LOL. There's actually a lot more symbolism to the back cover than it may seem >:) Please allow me this opportunity to yap about it below~ (spoilers for the Willow Bark and Chamomile fic!)

Although the placement of the links has no regard between each other, I deliberately placed them in specific spots relating to their dreams, most specifically, in regards to light and shadow. In this artwork, the sunlight means good, warm, comfort, but also the truth, and to an extent, the goddesses presence (most specifically for Sky more than the others). The shadows represent the nightmares, the windfish's control, and even bad feelings in general. Time, Wind and Four are fully in the sun, the ones with the most peaceful dreams. While Time basks in it, Wind is almost confused, he is facing the truth, looking for it, but can't quite grasp it, whereas Four is turned away from it, he doesn't want to look. Twilight is the only one fully divided into light and dark, probably the most obvious of the metaphors. He physically can't choose sides, to the extent even his dream is split in two. Wars and Hyrule are in the shadows, but the sunlight is there, just barely reaching its fingers to their head. They know something is wrong, but the windfish is messing with their mind, making it harder to think. Sky and Wild are the ones with the worst luck. Completely in shadows, Sky just barely close enough to the sunlight, almost reaching for it, but no goddess will appear in a made-up land. Wild, almost struggling to breathe in fighting the weight of his memories, where even good memories are bittersweet, and bad ones are even worse to bear. Of course, Legend is the only one standing, yet his face is not visible at all. That's kind of what he felt like in this fic, an outside agent, a secondary character to the other's problems, yet still the one active player. Distant, yet vital. We don't know how exactly he feels, and that's kind of the point. This isn't at all alluded to in the story, but wouldn't it be fair to think he, too, fell into a dream when they arrived? What would've been in the veteran's ideal reality? Was it painful for him to wake up of his own volition? Or was it only natural, for verily, it be the nature of dreams to end? In truth, none of these things were present in the fic, I drew them like this explicitly for these metaphors, perhaps a bit too obviously. I wonder If I am reaching too far? That's the kind of lines you cross when you go 30 hours in a paiting, lol. But those were my thoughts working on it anyway. I hope they sound cooler outside my head XD

#my art #linked universe #ask tsuki #yap mode activated nyoom

131 notes · View notes

violetasteracademic · 5 months ago

Note

I just finished cc3 and I’m worried the next book will be about nesta. Why do you think the next book is still about elain?

Hello my darling anon! Congrats on finishing CC3, you have sent this to a rare bird in the wild who actually enjoyed the hell out of it despite the flaws. So I hope you had a good time!

I'm a bit nervous to show you guys this side of me. Well, I suppose I've been showing it, but to compile it in such a way is quite another ordeal. That being said, I have toooons of links and resources to share why, for me personally, it is so clear that Nesta's story is *not* over, and Elain's book is undoubtedly next. Both of these things are true, but it has everything to do with the direction of the multiverse, which is very tightly woven, and *not* ACOTAR 5/6, which has been in the works for near a decade. Save this. Come back to it. Take your time working through it. I'm giving you everything, anon!

We have two parts at play: ACOTAR and the new series, which I have no doubt in my mind is Twilight of the Gods (more on that later) so lets start with facts before we move on to theory.

I am positive Elain's book is next because Sarah's messaging has remained 100% consistent since signing on the ACOTOR spinoffs in 2016. Moving forward from ACOWAR, she wrote ACOFAS as a novella to "bridge the gap" between ACOWAR and the spinoffs, and set up the future of ACOTAR. That was completely true for ACOSF, where everything that was set up has come to pass or been expanded on so far. The introduction of the Blood Rite, Nesta's mental health struggles, Morrigan being assigned to Vallahan, and the continued escalation of Elain's relationship with Azriel and Lucien's with the Band of Exiles. We meet Emerie, we learn more about the struggles of the patriarchy in Illyria, so on and so forth.

Then, we have ACOSF. The first dual POV romance of ACOTAR. This was only the beginning of a long term plan of dual POV romances coming to fruition. Here is youtube video from early on in the process describing the spinoffs as standalones that feature a different romantic pairing each book, but form a backbone when united.

By 2020, after ACOSF was announced, Sarah reiterated again that the new spinoff series features a new couple each book, with their own miniature plot and romance resolving within the overarching story of ACOTAR. Here she also shares that she plans to write a *lot* more than what she is contracted for, and has a ton of different ships to choose from. You can watch that here.

And now we move to 2021, after ACOSF was released, and Sarah confirms she always planned to write a book about Elain here.

This is actually a great interview and one of my favorites. You can watch the whole thing here. Eva Chen is a real one.

As far as ACOTAR goes, Sarah has continued to confirm in multiple interviews that her initial plans regarding the spinoffs have not changed, and still largely follow that initial outline she pitched back in 2016. And it was always going to be Nesta and Elain.

I will reiterate, ACOTAR is its own series with its own structure. Every ACOTAR book will feature a new couple with their own romance story. ACOTAR will continue to be exclusively a romance series from here on out. A lot of people speculate a lot of things on the future of ACOTAR. That we'll get a big finale with a multi-pov, that the story will end after Koschei, that we'll have a Kingdom of Ash style book. None of this is true. Sarah is going to keep contracting ACOTAR books until she runs out of couples. If you think this sounds odd, keep in mind that SJM herself is a fan of and grew up on Nalini Singh, who has series that started in 2006/2009 and are still going, featuring a new couple each book:

So, this is not strange behavior for the genre, and I think SJM is excited to have an ongoing fantasy romance series like this. And I'm excited for us to read it!

So, no KoA multi-pov finale. No second Nesta book. ACOTAR is an ongoing romance series with an "unspecified number of books remaining."

Okay! Now let's talk about Nesta! Bone Carver voice: Nestaaaaaaa

I'm going to do something just for you, Anon. And whoever catches this in the next week or so. I left titkok as far as booktok/content making and whatnot and privatized all my videos with my face on them (for a variety of reasons. Some fandom/bullying related, some not) but I did a massive breakdown of SJM's publishing contracts and all of the lore for Twilight of the Gods build up. I did get some of my screenshots from other Tumblr accounts, and linked my sources in the caption! Give this a watch (it's long) and pop back over.

Obviously if you spend some time in the comments section, mostly the questions at large are regarding timeline. I'm happy to chat theory, but focusing on Nesta, it is incredibly important and specific that she had her role in CC3 and that she connected The Valkyrie to Midgard, aka Middle Earth in Norse mythology which is where Twilight of the Gods, aka Ragnarok takes place. We have seen Midgard, Hel, and I have no doubt we will see Asgard.

But take a look at the difference between Nesta and Azriel's journey in CC3. Nesta had a deep emotional arc with Bryce. She developed trust and a relationship with her that Azriel didn't. In the HoFaS bonus chapter, Nesta forged a bond and a relationship with Bryce's mom, Ember. Nesta and Bryce's development is what is important here: Nesta has now created the bridge between the Valkyrie and Midgard. Valkyrie are the chosen fighters of Odin in Twilight of the Gods- the war at Ragnarok.

Twilight of the Gods is coming, fam. Crescent City three also revealed that The Mother, Urd, and Wyrd are all the same entity. The Goddess of all creation and fate. She oversees all worlds, and another important but oft overlooked element in the CC3 crossover is the frequency of the conversations about the Gods:

So yes, Nesta still has a huge arc coming up baby! She is not done. No one is done. But the Valkyrie are gearing up to play a major role in TotG, not the next ACOTAR. I believe this also grounds the continuation of the tension between Nesta and Rhys, and these two powers at odds when it comes to making decisions. Rhys will protect Prythian first. Nesta is building the bridges to other worlds, and is willing to fight alongside them. Rhys has no relationship with Bryce and Midgard. Nesta does. And lets not forget the Pegasi!

CC3 was not about Nesta. It was about Bryce and Nesta. Giving the Starsword back to Nesta is simply because that is who Bryce had a relationship with, and will continue to have a relationship with in the multiverse, not because Nesta is getting another book. Honestly- who else was she supposed to give the sword, Mask, and Truth-Teller back to? Twilight of the Gods will feature characters from all worlds. Sarah confirmed it will be emotional to write because of the old faces we'll see pop up in her Today Show interview here. This interview was thoroughly structured and planned, and released on the same day as HoFaS.

Speaking of the Starsword, let's talk Azriel and his role in CC3. Azriel is now the only person we have seen carry both the Starsword (likely Gwydion from here on out) and Truth-Teller. Light and dark. The power that combined to unleash the magic on Avallen, otherwise known as the Prison/Dusk Court in Prythian. Nesta has her own sword, Ataraxia. We have not seen Nesta touch, wield, or use Gwydion. Only Azriel has.

There is only one other character at home in Prythian who has also wielded and used the full power of one half of that pair of weapons: Elain.

Nesta used Truth-Teller to cut off the kings head, yes, but Elain used Truth-Teller to travel through the shadows across a battlefield with no experience and no training. She held that blade, and it worked to her will, tapping into its magic.

Azriel also learned about the corruption of the Cauldron. This was his primary experience in the crossover- discovering that the Asteri, who force mates and curate bloodlines to create powerful offspring which they then churn through a soul meat grinder for food warped the Cauldron to enact their will. Azriel did not form a relationship with Bryce, or Ember, or form any sort of additional connections to Midgard the way Nesta did. His part of the story revealed the problems at home. His (likely) love interest is the only person who has used his blade there, while Azriel is the only person who has used Gwydion. Bryce notes that Azriel must have some Starborn blood in him. Silene confirms that the Dusk Court can only be nurtured and looked after by Starborn heirs.

So while Nesta's compass in the crossover pointed to Midgard and her developing relationship with Bryce, as well as her clear willingness to work with her, Azriel's compass pointed home. It pointed to his lineage, to the corrupted Cauldron, to being one half of Gwydion and Truth-Teller combining, the Dusk Court. All of which points us to...

Yup. Elain.

If this STILL isn't enough for you, I have made a few additional posts regarding The Glass Coffin (aka Sleeping Beauty, which Bryce plays for Azriel in the HoFaS bonus chapter) and some, but not all of the little Elain coded details in HoFaS. You can find those posts here and here.

I could keep going forever. I can reiterate that there was not one but two ACOSF bonus chapters, and both were about Elain. I can talk about about the fact that SJM always planned to write a book about each sister, and ACOFAS was about- duh- each sister. But this is already so long and full of so many links and resources. The wrap up is this- ACOTAR is now an ongoing dual POV romance series. Until she tells us that is no longer true, it is true. A new couple each book. Nesta and the Valkyrie are key players in Twilight of the Gods. Sarah confirmed she was writing Crescent City and Twilight of the Gods at the same time. The multiverse is happening, and it just takes a little bit of exploration to understand where the characters are likely headed.

I'll end on this note. Azriel and Elain are light and dark. This belongs to them. The bridge of connection between them- Truth-Teller:

Now look at how the combination of the Starsword and Truth-Teller is described in HoFaS, and tell me if it looks familiar to you:

And now alllll together again, fam! Who are the only two characters who have properly wielded and/or tapped into the power of the Starsword and Truth-Teller in Prythian?

Azriel and Elain.

I think that's everything. I hope this comforts you. I genuinely don't ever feel worried or confused. It is all so clear to me how Sarah wove this together, and I think it's absolutely brilliant. Eep! I just get so excited! So take a little bit of my excitement and release the fear. Half of the people making content on this blatantly hate one half of the next book and they willfully ignore that she has had one of the most beautiful, breathtaking, well foreshadowed and woven storylines in the history of SJM's writing. Of course that is only my opinion, but honestly, how could you NOT be impressed and excited?!

I can't wait. I just can't heckin' wait.

If you got through all of this, wow. You're the real MVP.

#elriel #pro elriel #elain x azriel #elriel endgame #elriel supremacy

103 notes · View notes

tare-anime · 6 months ago

Text

SxF Mission 100

(Beware spoilers)

Happy 100th chapter sxf fandom!!!

(I'm super late I know. Works get in the way. 😅😅😅)

Editor san gives the greatest gift for Endo celebrating 100th chapter, by unleashing moon man to fulfil his most desire of angst and gore, didn't he? 🥹🥹🥹(/jjjj)

This chapter, a.k.a Martha's POV during the war was so heartbreaking. 💔💔💔

I cried during the most powerfull panel of this chapter

Like....

I-.....

I've read so many awesome analysis regarding this chapter. And I agree with all of them.

The worldbuilding in this arc, the angst, the anti war message.

Yeessss!!!

So let me dissect these arc with different angle.

It's not a secret that my current fic obsession is Orpheus by @cantareincminor (Amazing character development and plot twist, and its entering the final arc!!!! *screeeeccchh*)

One chapter in particular made me realize the one theme sxf fans haven't touch yet, in regards of these past arc (as far as I've encountered sxf analysis).

That is: Forgiveness

Yes. In the theme of war and cruel world, while the people in higher positions only find way to conquer the others; either to gain resources or to defend themselves; people in the lower position or those who actually has to dirty their hands, had to bear the ugly side of war and its repercussion in full force.

Lost of their loved ones, have to numb themselves to kill the others, enduring physical and mental injuries, and many more

And yet, despite all that, the act of forgiving which leads to compassion still exist.

The way Mrs. Anabel treated injured Martha, despite the latter being an enemy country's soldier who in a way was responsible for her daughter's death.

I'm truly amazed by this act of forgiveness and compassion.

And this will spread kindness, which eventually will heal and conquer the hatred, and leads to peace.

Peace of one's soul, which eventually leads to peace of the two countries.

Now, I know we've yet to find out how Martha return to Ostania, or how the reunion between Martha and Henry will happen, but we do know that both of them forgive all the things that occured, and carry on with their lives.

This already shown by none other than Yor Forger herself.

During this convo at chp.91, we finally shown how forgiving Yor can be.

She forgives the war that took away her parents. She forgives how by raising Yuri she had to lost her childhood, and she carries on with her life.

Sylvia Sherwood finally ready to forgive herself for failing her family (and we've yet to find out what happened to her family), and finally ready to carry on with her life.

Interesting to see that our main protagonist, Twilight himself, isn't ready to forgive himself.

[Redacted]'s still has that tiny space of forgiveness inside of him, as seen by him sparing Franky during their first encounter. But, as soon as Franky pointed out the odd of propaganda, he retaliated.

And it seems that Twilight is not ready to forgive himself, as seen by so many denials he did up until the recent chapters/arcs.

He is getting there bit by bit with the help of Anya and Yor.

And only after he forgives himself, he will start to heal, and finally he can start to carry on with his life.

And obviously we as the fans will cheer when that happen.

Maybe in another 100 chapters???? 🤣🤣🤣

Anyway, happy 100th chapter!!! Thank you for this amazing work, Endo sensei.

Here's for another 100 chapters or more !!

Cheeerrss!! 🍻🥂🍻🥂🍾🍾🍾

#spy x family #martha marriott #sxf chapter review #sxf chapter 100 #sxf mission 100 #sxf analysis #sxf world building #sxf meta #sxf details #loid forger #yor forger #sylvia sherwood

94 notes · View notes

weepingflowerbonkcop · 1 year ago

Text

Here's another post regarding the Linked Universe created by jojo. I'll try and finish all the rest some time. Enjoy!

What the Chain thinks about a Modern! Reader using slang/meme references:

Time

• I believe that Time being the oldest of the Links is old school/traditional when talking.

• He's using real medieval talk, things like saying "Salutations/greetings, my friend." Instead of just saying a simple, "Hi/ Hey, how you doing bud?"

• He's the type of guy to not use too many abbreviations when he talks. Things like saying, "cannot" instead of "can't." He just radiates that energy.

• So, him meeting a Modern! Reader would be ... quite the interaction. The first time meeting reader would've startled him as they use slang and just throwing him for a loop.

• He's kind of like the cat with the buffering wheel on its forehead, but that's only whenever reader speaks or opens their mouth.

• He gets one of the younger incarnations to translate to him as reader joins the group on their adventure.

• He'll try his best to understand the terms the more he grows on the reader.

• As for memes tho - no. Just straight up no. He doesn't understand them or the readers broken humour. Gremlin humour he gets but the idea that reader bursts out laughing while looking at something remotely close or similar to meme just makes him worry.

• He will however try and use some of the terms when he talks, but he just ends up butchering them or using them incorrectly. He sounds like the hip dad trying to stay in touch with the kids.

• 6.5/10 He tries to understand/learn readers slang and that's just sweet. He would've scored higher if he wasn't that dad.

Twilight

• Twilight - similar to Time - is more old school when talking. He's not as uptight as Time and does use abbreviations when talking and he slurs some of his words sometimes.

• The fandom has established that he's got an accent and it makes it harder to understand him when he talks sometimes.

• Poor guy thought it was the same for you when he first heard you use slang. He genuinely thought it was just an accent.

• He doesn't always understand, but he's quicker than Time to learn what you mean. He's the one to sometimes translate what you say to Time after Wild explains it to him first and half the time it's incorrect though does Wild do it on purpose? Maybe.

• He's the one to ask Wild in his spare time about some of the terms and how to use them when talking to try and impress you.

• With memes though ... he also buffers. Modern! Reader would make even the slightest reference to a meme and he'll sit and buffer for a bit before asking. Its funnier when he's Wolfie.

• He finds certain memes to be funny though. Cowboy memes or any farm memes would tickle his funny bone.

• He's a 7.5 or 8/10 because he's a sweetheart and uses his free time to try and get closer to Modern! Reader even if it's just by using some slang.

Warriors

• I'd imagine him having a bit of a higher education since he's a knight and having travelled with Athena to other kingdoms. He would use the military lingo and the more posh Hylian/upper class Hylian.

• He talks proper and sometimes pronounces words a little different. Almost like he's got a fancy British accent.

• He's taken back by the loose words reader uses some confuse him leading to him asking questions.

• He's actually one of the Links that's more interested in learning slang and memes from readers world.

• He's a bit more open to readers world and the quirks that come with it other than just the slang.

• He tries to figure out the slang by taking in the entire sentence and trying to figure it out. He's definitely the cool uncle when he uses slang and correctly.

• He's Time's other translator when Twilight isn't around.

• Warriors actively stays quiet whenever reader talks because he does like how well slang rolls off readers tongue.

• He wouldn't fancy the meme references all that much, but he tries and keeps an open mind.

• Warriors does make bets with Legend about some of the terms and what they mean or how Time will react to reader using more slang/meme references through the day. He'll sometimes egg reader on with any military memes especially the Area 51 memes.

• Overall he's a solid 8/10.

#linked universe #isekai #linked universe x reader #linkeduniverse #modern au #lu time #lu twilight #lu warriors #linked universe twilight #linked universe time #linked universe warriors

273 notes · View notes

absolutebl · 1 year ago

Text

This Week in BL - Top 3 Are HEATING UP

Organized, in each category, by ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Dec 2023 Wk 2

Ongoing Series - Thai

Honestly, 3 are neck & necking for top position! They are all so good in different ways. But The Sign had me hooting with laughter this week, so it scooped #1.

The Sign (Sat YT) ep 4 of 10 - This show is literally everything (except straight) all at once. It's BL, queer, band of brothers, romcom, erotica, paranormal, fated mates, mystery, suspense, slasher, and horror. It’s the king of genre mash-up chaos. I have no idea what I’m watching but I’m ON this ride. Is it a roller coaster? Is it a haunted house? Is it a twirl & hurl? Is there candy floss? Am I even tall enough? Who tf cares. All through the second scene, I was laughing. It was legit funny. Billy has great comedic timing. Guess he’s not just a pretty face.

Everyone should be watching this. Sure, it's madness but there is genius in it.

Last Twilight (Fri YT) ep 6 of 12 - Yech. August may be one of GMMTV’s least likable characters ever (and that is saying something). Meanwhile, MOAR language play! They spoiling me!

Mhok letting Day go then walking away at the party hurt so bad.

Argh this show is great!

Ep 6 so that kiss was right on schedule. I’m looking forward to the boyfriend eps before doom & pain in the new year. Carry on GMMTV.

Speaking of...

Cherry Magic (Sat YouTube) ep 2 of 12 - Oh they’re great. It’s great. It’s paced oddly, moving quickly through most of the key scenes of the original JBL in these first 2 eps. I think it’s intending to encompass more of the manga series than that one did. Which is good, cause that will get us all the way to The Library Kiss (TM). It's the best kiss in the manga. I also like the sides in this show (better than the JBL version).

My Dear Gangster Oppa (Thurs iQIYI) ep 8fin - What a lovely slightly unhinged little show. Tew, can we talk? Un-ironic suspenders, that takes courage. Also, the revolver was a crazy gun choice.

Final thoughts:

This show is just as ridiculous as its title. About a gaymer who falls in love with one of his in-game teammates, who just happens to be a IRL gangster. A real gangster, the kind that actually kills people regularly. The lead pair is doing their best with a ridiculous story and shoddy script, but I enjoyed it. Although I was grateful it wasn’t very long, what we got was oddly satisfying if, frankly, a little bit silly. Recommended. 8/10

That said, what's important about this BL is not the show, but the production and style. Let me explain... no, too much, let me sum up.

This is a chimera BL. Regarding characters: it has Japan's style otaku + Korea's style gangster + Thailand's style friendship group. It used Thai talent + Korean money (Kakao) & IP (adapted from a manwha) but aired on a Chinese channel globally (iQIYI). I'm delighted by the eclectic insanity of this production and truly doubt that any other genre but BL could ever produce like this. It's like diplomat's BL and it's the great wonder of our age that it happened at all. This BL deserves its place in the history books on production alone, even if that place is only in the footnotes. A remarkable little monster.

For Him (Thurs iQIYI) ep 3 of 10 - The sides are… messy. Using the same actor for the old bf is… odd. But in the end, this show leaves me smiling. Which means, I like it despite myself.

Bake Me Please (Mon Gaga) ep 4 of 6 - It's decent. It’s basically what I wanted Antique Bakery to be when I first watched that way back when (not to mention Bite Me). But there’s been so much BL since then that, for some reason, this is falling flat. I think it’s moving too fast for a Thai series. Although, say what you like, Ohm has to be one of the best soft kissers in the industry. He's just good at mouth tenderness.

Ugh, that doesn't sound right. But you know what I mean.

Twins the series (Fri GaGa) ep 7 of 10 - I love how First is so upset when Sprite starts chatting and being nice to Koh. Sprite is just a sweet easy-going likable boy. I enjoy Sprite as a main character, he’s a bubbly little communicator. And they had a cute kiss.

Pit Babe (Fri iQIYI) ep 5 of 14 - Because there was more Alan and Jeff and they were more key to the plot I was more into this ep. I do compare it to green smoothie down the pants in the Trash Watch.

Cooking Crush (Sun YT) ep 3 of 12 - Look OffGun are truly great. But I’m just not sure we need them in BL anymore. That said, it’s nice to see Off as "the one with the crush" for a change. Also, this show is only good when OffGun are on screen together, otherwise it kinda, well, sucks.

Night Dream (Sat YT) ep 1 of 6 - Cafe setting featuring a cook and a writer. *Seems awfully familiar.* Except these two are exes and this is a reunion romance. It’s stiff and very pulp but not bad (no crap sound effects) and I am a sucker for a reunion romance. That said, Rookie Thailand is not to be trusted, proceed with caution.

Absolute Zero (Weds iQIYI) ep 12fin - I'm grateful this is over. It was tense but for the wrong reasons - sadness and confusion. This final episode was fine, but that’s because it was mostly them being together + flashbacks. Plus all the familiar actor faces of the grown-up friends (hi, Karn my lovely, still stunning I see). But 2 of 12 episodes is not enough for the 10 of suffering and confusion that came before.

In conclusion:

A man is killed on his 10th anniversary resulting in a time paradox, for which the only solution is him never meeting his childhood sweetheart until later in life. Both lovers cycle back to the past at different ages, so that they each become their own 1st & 2nd great loves, but every time it ends in pain, until each also endures 10 years of separation. Finally it gets fixed, but leaves them with multiple memories of time's failures like temporal PTSD, and everyone around them has chronic deja vu. Me? I got both. This is one of those BLs that is high-quality with great acting but poor story. If you like your BL dwelling, maudlin, and tense due to angst and suffering, then you might enjoy this. But I just regret it, 6/10. Recommended only if you like confusing time travel emo pain.

In which case, just watch Tokyo in April is... instead. Give over Thailand, Japan does it better.

Middleman’s Love (Fri YT & iQIYI ep 6 of 8 - While our main couple isn’t working for me... the side couple isn’t working for me either. I really wanted to give LeoTai a chance, this is the 3rd show I’ve seen them in, and still nope. I like Jade a lot more when he’s sad. He’s a much more pleasant screen experience depressed. I would like him to stay hurt for a couple of eps, just so I can enjoy this show a tiny bit more. But then he just goes unhinged again. Argh. I just don’t like it.

My Universe (Sun iQIYI) Pisces of Me ep 17 of 24 - Codependent boyfriends in middle school planning for high school dealing with stuff. Including other boys being into them.

Playboyy (Thurs Gaga) 5 of 14 eps - Dear Playboyy, it's not you, it’s me… I hate you. You’re about as deep (and as palatable) as a shot glass of cum. While I'm sure you’re someone’s kink, you're my weakest link. Goodbye. DNF

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

VIP Only (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 5 of 10 - It’s cute but I don’t think BL in this short format is Taiwan’s strength these days. And this is quite slow and dull. Perhaps they should have whacked it down to 6 eps, not 10.

Sahara-sensei to Toki-kun (Japan Fri Gaga) ep 3 of 8 - This is one of those JBLs that I should like on paper but is failing me. The drag bit was ridiculous but handled gently. The kiss was… well… something wasn’t it? It’s all very odd. I like the photographer cutie character.

It's Airing But...

The Whisperer (Sun ????) 10 eps - Thai horror BL that ALSO involves cheating (what joy is mine). I don't think even the perfect single dimple can motivate me to watch. Word is... it's terrible.

7 Days Before Valentine (Weds WeTV) 10 eps - Giving me Luminous Solution vibes. I'm waiting to binge if it's safe.

Beyond The Star (Weds iQIYI) 8 eps - House of Stars meets Boyband. I was NOT impressed with ep 1. Been told I shouldn't bother.

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps - I find this series more fun to binge, so I'm waiting until after it completes its run next week.

Dear Kitakyushu (Thai/Japan movie) in theaters in country only, I know nothing about distribution.

Behind the Shadows (Korea movie) this is a historical I was interested in, but I've been told they kill the gay so I'm OUT.

Next Week Looks Like This

Still coming:

12/23 Dead Friend Forever (Thai horror) iQIYI

Original 2023 forthcoming BL master post (see comments, some are inaccurate, NOT KEPT UPDATED). With the end of the year upon us I'll do an "announced for 2023 but never happened list" soon.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

He so pretty.

I forgot how likable TayNew are, and frankly I think New is a better version of this role for me, personally. I like him a lot. He's a conscientious sweetheart. And a good egg. (Cherry Magic)

Ah the rooftop my old friend. (Last Twilight)

I would like to point out that it's no accident the naga's sex dream happened in the shower, he's a water creature after all. (The Sign)

(Last week)

#the sign the series #was very hot this week #this week in bl #bl updates #Last Twilight #Thai BL #cherry magic #my dear gangster oppa #my dear gangster oppa review #for him the series #Bake Me Please #antique bakery #twins the series #cooking crush #offgun #Absolute Zero review #bl reviewed #bl reviews

211 notes · View notes

yourlocaltreesimp · 1 year ago

Text

Yan!Chain Headcannons

part 1(Hyrule and Legend)

This episode is dedicated to @mushroomwoods and our conversation on how we want to marry Twilight

Tw: Yandarism and it’s accessories, violence, obsession, cannibalism mentioned, Twi has wolf mannerisms, Time has FD living vicariously in his mind

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Twilight

Absolute gentleman when you first got to know eachother, one of the more willing ones to give you trust without falling head over heels. Became close friends before he realised your part as his guide.

Speaking of, there’s a lot of guilt to say with Midna. He never really got to know if she loved him back. All he knows is that he fell in love with his guide and then, they were gone. If you see where this is leading then you know.

When Twilight rather abruptly remembers that you were in fact his guide alongside Midna, he doubts his own feelings. Especially considering all of the protectiveness he’d had to repress from the wolf which still made its place in his mind. But… you came back. And you cared. So, he must’ve loved you, right ? He’d be blind if he didn’t.

Main love language is probably physical touch and words of affirmation. It’s what he grew up with in Ordon and it’s what’s comforting to him. So, it’s what he extends when caring for you.

He also has the tendency for acts of service while he’s crushing. Will drop whatever he was assigned to do so you can sleep, talk, have company. Or do things you didn’t ask for like mending your clothes, restocking your bag, killing a man.

Absolute sweetheart. Cuddle buddy. Guard dog. Will cannibalise someone who’s rude to you as Wolfie and won’t bat an eye. Your safety is the most important.

Speaking on Wolfie and guard dogs, I mentioned this briefly before. Twilight has some left over effects from his wolf form. Keener senses, sharper attention, as well as various other side effects he’s taken in. They all manifest as an extra voice in his mind. Not like a separate person per say, just a separate intelligence. Like when you’re panicking and that primal voice tells you to run. He just has it all of the time. Especially in regards to you. As far as that little voice is concerned, you are his. Not shared with anyone. Not part of any other universe. Not by anyone else’s side. His. His love, his deity, his light, his mate (such term of endearment making the little voice keen with happiness). All his. And he’d do anything under the stars to keep it that way.

He’d love to just keep you in Ordon, where the people are tight knit, and where you can’t wander off without him knowing. He’ll work so you can stay at home and rest, maybe even look after the kids he’ll stick you with. It’s a dream of his, actually. The only thing him and his primal side agrees on.

They also agree that kidnapping you is Ay okay if it means that picturesque comfy living is the end of it.

Preferred nicknames for you: Darlin’, Love, Sweet Heart, Sugar, Babe, Honey

Bonus: He and Warriors had a bet on who could make you the most flustered. He’s a bit of a flirt with accent of his, especially after he learns of its affect on you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Time

Absolute last when it came to falling for you. He doesn’t even know why in hindsight, he’d always taken a shine to you. He just… never noticed. dense as mf Anyway- You were definitely friends, or at least reliable source of comfort and calm. You’d talk him off the ledge of his panic attacks, cradling him like he was so precious and in turn, you never really worked as a part of the chain. Well, He never forced you at least. You always did anyway.

The deity was the first to point it out, being the one to live in his head. Pointing out his Time would never let anyone else do what you did, never. But alas, the deity still regarded you as a weak spot in Time’s bleeding heart, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

The others were next, teasing him about it. They didn’t think their suspicions were real, however, until they saw the frozen look he had on his face.

He was the last aside from you to realise it, coming swiftly after remembering your guidance. He’d always thought your caring nature as a rouse. But seeing how you never gave up on him, growing up alongside him, keeping him safe from dangers he was forced into… he was a fool for you.

Love language is Quality time and Acts of service. Loves just simply being with you, enjoying one another. He has to repay the favours of what you’ve done for him. A nice massage, a rest day, a nap. Anything your heart desires.

That said, you not only have one overly protective mf on your hands… but two! FD, while originally seeing you as an oversight, fell like an angel from heaven. I’m scared for whoever throws disrespect on your name because they will be delt with, By both the Hero of Time and the Fierce Deity of War.

Time would court you traditionally. Flowers, Gifts, Poetry. Whatever he could truly accomplish given the circumstances. You are pampered more an any of the Zeldas in any of the timelines. So much as make a single comment of how much you like something and his wallet is open.

Might genuinely think you’re a deity, you’re the only one FD likes enough to seek out approval from, so that must mean you’re something.

Worships the ground you walk on. Kills any nonbelievers. That’s his motto

Would definitely kidnap you. Between him and the deity, you’re not leaving. But depending on how cooperative you are, he’ll be a little more lax. Might even let you get a job if you’re good enough, so long as he can walk you to and from home like a good partner.

Preferred nicknames for you: my Love, my Beloved, Dearest, Darling, anything classy.

Bonus: He’s definitely thought about how similar Twi and you can be, down to comparing what traits were passed down the lineage to his successor.

#linked universe #legend of zelda #linkeduniverse #yandere linked universe #link x reader #link x you #linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere link x reader #x reader #fir’s library

385 notes · View notes

maple-the-awesome · 1 year ago

Text

You Sacrifice Yourself for Them || Part 3/3

Part 1 || Part 2

Pairings: Twilight, Wild, & Wind x GN Reader

Requested by anonymous: HIIIII OMG I JUST WANRED TO SAY i lovelovrloveloveeeee the way you write so much!!!!!!! ur recent loz post had me kicking and squealing in my sear hehehe T_T could i request a scenario with the chain in a situation where the reader sacrifices themselves to protect the boys? im imagining things begging the enemy to take them instead, protecting them from a hit or even something funny like taking the blame for a mistake they made!!! id love to see some angst from you!!!!! THANK U AND HAVE A GREAT WEEK!!!!!💖💖💖💖

Zelda Masterlist 💙 Fandom Masterlist

There had been a time when Twilight hated dungeons for how often they popped up during his adventures. Between the brain teasers and terribly inconvenient designs (seriously who needs so many rooms or levels?), he would groan aloud every time someone warned him about a problem coming from deep within some 'sacred temple' or caves near their home, however after months of walking until his feet are sore and countless encounters with monster hordes, you could say Twilight has officially had a change of heart. Sliding a few boxes around for an extra heart piece really doesn't sound that bad compared to chasing a shadow across several realms, now does it?

With that said, he had been a bit relieved when a group of locals brought it to his attention that some strange smoke had been rising up from a nearby mountain, practically begging the group of visiting heroes to check it out. He wasn't the only one willingly to agree, in fact most of the boys seemed eager to help aside from Time who was hesitant to derail their quest as well as Wild and Warrior who just couldn't understand what all this fuss about dungeons is about. In the end, it was decided that half of the group would go for the locals' sake while the others would stay to investigate leads about portals. At the time, this seemed to be a great trade and Twilight had even been looking forward to being able to do something different, but as his luck continues to prove, it turns out he has none whatsoever in terms of joy...

What even happened? He doesn't quite understand. He was joking with Wind and Hyrule about something long after everyone had split into two groups to make exploring the dungeon go faster. They were nearly complete with their half, having successfully fought a miniboss which was no trouble at all, in fact that's what had them in such high spirits at the moment. They entered the next room while placing bets regarding how 'difficult' the main boss would be when a shout met their ears. Seconds later, Twilight heard a 'BOOM' while being shoved backwards by a heavy force. Given that sound and the vague smell of smoke in the air, he would've assumed he had been hit by the blast of a bomb which probably wouldn't have been so far from the truth if not for you.

It takes a good minute for Twilight's poor mind to catch up, realizing much to his horror what had actually happened as you fell stiffly against his chest, your entire backside scoured. The floor tile behind you both - the same one he was about to step on before you shoved him out of the way - is gone, only a smoldering pile of broken shards left in its wake. Now why it exploded, Twilight doesn't know nor does he care. His main concern is you, sitting up in a snap and grabbing your shoulders with worry. At least there's some relief in you blinking open your eyes to look at him, but the way you groan and flinch at the movement makes him sick with guilt.

"What was that?!" Wild asks the same question that's hidden deep in Twilight's mind.

"The gold floor tiles explode," You explain, the pain clear in your grumbled voice as you attempt to push yourself away from Twilight, although he doesn't allow it, instead carefully shifting you to sit on his lap as he hisses as the sight of how the flames had burned right through you tunic, leaving behind a nasty open wound that no doubt continues to burn.

"Why did you do that?!" He asks the questions on the front of his mind, accepting the potion Four quickly hands to him for you. A part of him wants to be angry given how calm they can all be given your injury, although any other day he'd be rational enough to understand panicking won't help the situation. Regardless of logic, this is you. You're hurt and you got this way protecting him. It should be the other way around if anything!

"Don't be such a hypocrite. You would've done the same for any of us," It's as if you can read his mind as he carefully pours the liquid over your burns, causing you to hiss quietly, but other than that, you're actually handling the pain pretty well, "Besides, it would've been a lot worse had you stepped on it directly. All that fur you wear looks pretty flammable to me. You would've gone up in flames instead of a small burn."

Twilight tries to keep his eyes down at his work as a stubborn sign that he knows you're right, not that he could ever admit such a thing aloud, "...Still...A shouted warning could've done."

"No it wouldn't. Your foot was already lowering -"

"- You two can argue about this later," Four interjects while offering you a hand to get up, "That potion is only a temporary solution. We should get you back to the inn so that Hyrule can heal you completely."

You're about to begrudgingly agree, knowing full well how difficult it'll be to walk on your own even though you were pretty excited to finish this dungeon. Before you can take Four's hand, however, you're lifted into the air, held bridal style in Twilight's arm (which poses no challenge for him to accomplish).

"I'll carry you back."

"You don't have to -"

"- You took a hit for me. It's the least I can do," His voice is as stern as his mind, making it clear that this is the only compromise you'll be presented with less you want to keep the argument up all night. Thus, you merely pout and look away with a huffed 'fine', "I'm sure the three of you will be fine finishing the dungeon by yourselves?"

"Pff, with our eyes closed," Legend crosses his arms, offended anyone would think otherwise. Four and Wind nod quickly, their eyes still reflecting sympathy for your sake even though they know you've seen worse.

With that, Twilight turns, heading towards the exit of the dungeon with you (more comfortably that you'll say) in his arms and Hyrule at his feet. As upset as he appears on the outside, Twilight can't help feeling some sort of shameful pride at the thought that you'd be so fond of him as to willingly risk injury, so he makes an unspoken promise to himself to spoil you for at least until the evidence of your burns fade. It's the least he could do (and the best excuse he'll find for staying at your side nonstop).

Perhaps it's because he's never had many opportunities to do anything like this before the Calamity or maybe it's because he got so accustomed to it after those dark days. The origin doesn't change the fact that Wild tends to find more comfort in nature than ever before. The splashing of stream water down a waterfall. The singing of birds or creaking of crickets depending on the hour. The gentle breeze through his hair as his only company...It's become a habit of his to find spots like this during tough moments, especially those when he feels himself slipping the most...moments like what occurred today...

If he wasn't so upset and angry inside, he'd feel sort of guilty for running off the way he had back there. It wasn't anyone else’s fault that he's out of his element lately, resulting in more screwups on the battlefield. It's not their fault that he messed up during the last fight, too, breaking his sword against a darknut's armor, leaving himself defenseless (he didn't think it would be that strong!). Most importantly of all, it wasn't their fault that his ignorance resulted in you, for whatever reason, feeling as if it was your responsibility to save him with complete disregard for the risk.

Wild keeps replaying the moment in his mind - you fighting viciously against the darknut until it was reduced to a puff of purple smoke, but not without receiving several cuts and scrapes yourself. He's not sure what hurts more: seeing you injured for his sake or the anger that flashed in your eyes when you looked back at him. You're not happy with him. Nobody was considering the number of times they've warned him about not rushing in battle head first, however your disappointment carried a strong burn that challenged even the Old Man's. If anything, Wild strives to see your joy and hear your praise, not be the source of your dismay.

He can't help but wonder what would have happened if you weren't so prepared at that moment. What if you had gotten a more serious injury? What if you had died all because of him? Could he stomach losing another person he loves like that? How can he call himself a hero when he's constantly failing those he should be protecting the most? He can't. He's a failure...

"Link?"

He pretends not to hear your voice, although it's a poor act given the way he flinches. Sighing, you take his turned head and stiffened shoulders as an invite to walk closer, finding a seat beside him in the grass. You don't say much at first, simply taking in the beautiful scenery and counting the fireflies fluttering around you.

"...I'm sorry I yelled at you either. I lost my temper, but I shouldn't have."

"You had every right to," Wild mumbles, pulling his knees to his chest and hiding his face against them so that he doesn't have to look at you, too afraid he'll break down if he does, "I put everyone in danger by being impatient. I put you in danger."

You shrug, looking down as you run your hand against the grass, "...You really do have to be more careful, I'll stand by that. You gotta assess situations especially against monsters you've never seen before...but with that said, no one can expect you to be perfect. This situation is different for all of us. Really, aside from the Captain, most of us have never even worked in groups before, so it'll take getting used to. Just try to keep in mind that you're not alone, so don't act like it."

Wild lifts his head only to put his chin upon his knee, still stubbornly glaring into the distance instead of responding to your words, although he's forced to smile a little when you nuzzle your face against his while whining his name for attention.

"I heard you."

"Then show it. It took me forever to think-up that heartfelt speech. Do you know how difficult public speaking is?"

"It's only the two of us."

"And like, thirty fireflies!" You gesture to the bugs in question, happy to hear Wild's chuckle and even happier to wrap your arm around his without any sort of fight, "...I mean it, Link. It's okay to lean against the rest of us sometimes. I'd be devastated if something irreversible ever happened to you."

He blushes, his words whispered as he leans his head against yours and closes his eyes, "...I'd be, too, if anything happened to you."

This can't be happening again. How is this even Wind's luck? He thought he made himself perfectly clear from the beginning that just because he's the youngest in the group does not mean everyone has to keep trying to protect him as if he’s made of glass! He's a hero of courage, too! He did his part, traveling across the great sea, fighting through numerous difficult dungeons, and defeating Ganondorf all by himself - Well, the King of Red Lions and Zelda helped some, too, but the point still stands! He didn't need Wild to take a hit for him that one time nor did he need you to do practically the same exact thing now!

It's worse this time than it was with Wild which only makes Wind angrier (and guiltier). Unlike the Champion who bounced back onto his feet after a few minutes, you weren't so lucky. No matter how much Wind shook your body or cried your name with his tears dripping across your bloodied face, you just wouldn't wake up. He couldn't even lift you to carry you to safety. Time has already tried explaining to him that his panicked state likely waived his strength, but Wind refuses to accept that excuse.

He must've done something during that fight to make you think he couldn't handle himself. You got hurt - really hurt trying to protect him and he couldn't even protect you afterwards. It was Warrior who picked you up and ran out of the battle. It was Hyrule and Legend who worked together to heal your wounds with potions and magic. What did Wind do in the meantime? He cried like a child.

He did his best to hide it, wandering to the back of the group while desperately trying to use his sleeves to clear away the tears. He couldn't help it, as much as he wanted to believe otherwise. For those long ten minutes of you not moving regardless of everyone's efforts, he was left thinking he had killed you. He's a hero who's supposed to save people, but instead he ended up getting one of the nicest and more selfless individuals he's ever known killed!

At long last, you began to stir, further awoken by the chorus of relieved sighs that followed. You complained of a nasty headache and immediately tried sitting up which Legend wouldn't allow; you're okay - you're alive despite how it may have looked seconds ago, but that doesn't make Wind feel much better.

Even from where he stands so far away, he can see the smudged blood staining your forehead and that dazed look in your eyes while Wild just laughs, welcoming you to the club of needless head injuries. You, of course, brush everyone else off, your eyes skillfully finding Wind despite how he tries to hide from view.

You croak his name, yet he turns his back to you with crossed arms, doing his best not to start crying again, "I thought I told you all to stop risking yourselves for my sake. I can handle myself!”

"You would've been hurt yourself," You comment with a frown, making Wind's anger flare.

"I'm not a child, though!"

"I didn't say you are one. I would've jumped in front of you even if you were as old as the rest of us. Trust me, Wind. The only thing on my mind at that moment wasn't anything related to your age, it was simply the worry that you were about to be ambushed. I didn't want to see you hurt any more than I'd want to see any of you boys get hurt."

Wild chews on his bottom lip, blinking back the tears as he at last stomps over to join the rest of you, pouting stubbornly yet his voice is genuine as he mumbles, “...I’m just happy you’re alive.”

You give a droopy smile and a thumbs up, although the action is rather shaky, “As good as ever!”

“No, you clearly are not,” Twilight deadpans.

“Lay back down already, you have a concussion!”

"Legend, lower your voice."

#lu twilight x reader #lu wild x reader #lu wind x reader #linked universe x reader #linked universe #legend of zelda x reader #legend of zelda #link x reader #x reader

224 notes · View notes