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unearthlyeclipse · 1 month ago

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"I'M BETTER THAN YOU THOUGHT"

Loki Laufeyson/Odinson x Reader || 10k Words || You've been training and waiting many years to be the perfect bride. Obedient, caring, non-revolting. The day finally comes when you are hand-picked for a husband. Once that day arrived, you never expected to be selected as a childhood friend of yours, the friend who would grow up to be the king of Asgard.

A/N: To the poor anon who requested the President Loki fanfiction, I PROMISEEE you I'm working on it, I'm reposting this story from my AO3 in the meantime, I apologize again, and this goes for my other wonderful requestees!! Please enjoy this one, as this was one of my first fics I've written after 3-ish years!!! This is also a DIRECT rip from my AO3 page (CoralChutes) so there may be a bunch of spelling errors!!

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, minor angst, mutual pining, enemies to lovers, arranged/forced marriage, slow burn, hate sex (?) but not for long, "You cum first," taunting and teasing, cunnilingus, fingering, sloppy makeouts, hair pulling, edging, hand/blow jobs, deep throating, nipple play, you're playing hard to get somewhat, doggy style, riding, choking, creampie, squirting, slight breeding kink. If I miss any, let me know!!

The two of you sat at an elegant table with countless choices of food scattered amongst the fine fabric of the tablecloth that had a beautiful gold trim with a fancy white pattern as the base color.

Loki’s hand rested beside his plate, which only had small crumbs remaining. His finger taps in frustration against the table, looking straight across from him to you as you slowly eat your food, still trying to process the events from today.

It was all so sudden. You're now married to the King of Asgard after being selected, a maiden who was trained to be an excellent wife, not knowing you would get selected for the God of Mischief. Not by a long shot.

The day you received the news was like a fever dream, you were dazed from shock, your body fighting between fainting or having a heart attack out of anxiety and panic. Your closest friends, those who were trained with you were quick to comfort you, some saying to be happy to be married into wealth, others saying to be cautious of Loki.

Despite being a childhood friend, the king was celebrated yet frightened many with his mischievous looks and actions, the women you trained with were quick to warn you of said events. You have known Loki for years, yet it has been years since you two last connected. To connect in an instant as such was a genuine shock to your mind, wondering if the king had felt the same way.

You were somewhat excited, being able to be in such a high power, having the authority to help your soon-to-be subjects, yet you were still so concerned over the idea that Loki didn’t truly want this, considering he was not the one who chose you.

Despite your nerves nearly jumping out of your skin, you couldn’t help but feel so attracted to the god, looking so ravishing in his wedding attire. He was wearing a tailcoat tuxedo that reached down to the middle of his calves; the ends of the tuxedo had a beautiful embroidery with a bright gold color.

Loki was wearing a green button-up beneath the tuxedo, a luxurious gold chain that drooped over his chest, and a dark, small emerald weighing down the chain just a bit. His slacks showed the curves of his hips and legs, displaying how thin yet muscular they seemed.

The way he would show you such gentle care in front of the guests who have traveled far and wide to your ceremony, his fingertips barely grazing your shoulder as the two of you danced, the tender kiss you shared- it all felt like bliss to you. But as the festivities carried on, you noticed the glances he would give you behind the backs of the many who watched you all.

He seemed irritated, his eye twitching occasionally, even rolling as the corner of his mouth hitched just enough to show his canine and gum. His nose scrunched slightly, yet all of the wrinkles were quick to fade once guests came to greet you both, his seeming disgust turning into a cheeky grin as he shook their hand.

Did you upset him? Was he not satisfied with the quality of the reception or the guests? Many questions continued to swirl in your mind as you two sat in silence. You wished to have talked to him before the events of the night, yet you were forced to be separated until the vows, practically only speaking to each other if needed. As your brain continued to scramble for any words, Loki decided to break the ice himself.

“Allow me to clarify something for your small, feeble mind.” He spoke sternly, “This marriage is nothing more than a political facade, an ordeal that we have to endure for the sake of our Kingdom. I hold no affection for you, nor will I ever. I will not attempt any unnecessary acts of love in public unless the people wish to see, but I expect you to do the same.”

His words were so harsh and sudden, like a doll being pricked at the heart with needles. The words from the man harshly weighing on your stress that followed after the events from today, the constant greetings, the so-called “affection” you two were showing off for the world just crumbling to bits in a matter of seconds.

You knew better than to snap at a god. You’ve learned from some of the best-kept maidens of the kingdom, teaching you to keep your stance, to clean properly, and to nurse, bathe, and so much more. In the heat of your thoughts, with overwhelming emotion overflowing mentally, you forgot about any “decency” a woman should have in marriage.

“My hopes were already low when you would scoff at me behind the backs of our guests.” You said plainly, not an ounce of attitude being shown but to Loki, it was a clear sign of your annoyance.

“Oh my, how my actions must’ve wounded your spirit. Do you expect me to swoon over anything you had to say at the ceremony?” He spoke, cackling lowly at the thought.

“I've been taught to hold my tongue if I were to get married, I'm afraid I must for you, I suppose." You shrugged, using your utensil to pry at your food slightly. You tried to shake the feeling of his eyes staring you down, looking at your figure without a change in his demeanor.

“I could've cared less if you would’ve responded to every word I spoke at the gathering, but even an ounce would be better for me, for our arrangement. To have communication whether it’s in public or behind these walls is important, even if you don’t believe so.”

Loki leans forward in his chair, intrigued by your words. He let his head rest in his palm while he listened.

“You've been taught to hold your tongue, have you? How obedient... truly amusing." Loki mocked. "It’s a shame you didn't learn to sharpen your mind but perhaps that would be too much for you.”

He wanted to twist the dagger he had in your heart even more, continuing to speak harshly of you. “I need you to draw my attention, my dear. Not beg for it now. Not to mention you haven’t done anything too fascinating to the eye.”

"My mind is quite sharpened unlike yours.”

“Doubt it. As for I am a literal god, dear.”

“Doesn’t make you smart. Not to mention how quick you are to assume that I’m not appealing. You find comfort by dripping insults like a candle rather than getting to talk things out like a proper king.”

“My mockery is a kindness, my dear. You should be treating it as if it was the greatest honor bestowed upon you.”

Your fingers wrapped around your glass with frustration, taking a sip before continuing.

“If you truly didn’t find any interest in me you wouldn’t say a word. My years of efforts seemed to have worked in another way rather than being a loving wife to a loving husband.”

Loki grinned. "Your attempts to grab my attention? Pathetic at best, honestly.”

"Yet you still boast on, Lord Loki? I have a position of authority as you do, and if you believe I'm still beneath you, I'm far from it." You spoke, punctuating your words by standing and pushing the glamorous golden chair into the table.

Loki watched as you rose and pushed in your seat, your defiance irritating him as he did to you. “Ahh, the newfound queen is attempting to play royal.” He tutted, wagging his finger.

“Nobody said that you were beneath me, but your newfound authority has not impressed me nor ever will.”

He leaned back in his seat for a moment as he took in the sight of you. You were wearing such a large dress that truly made you stand out from any other guest at the reception.

The base of your dress was pitch black and you had many layers of fabric that circled your waist. These hoops were a lot lighter in color, a small variety of uneven cut lengths of an emerald tone drooped down your body like a veil, trailing down to the small train on the ground. The fabric has the same golden embroidery that Loki does, wrapping around the edges or ends of the dress.

Your shoulders were exposed along with your collarbone and cleavage, a large, heavy emerald pendant with a gold chain resting above it and almost snuggly sitting between your breasts. You and Loki both had matching wedding rings, his just a golden band with your initials carved into the inner area while yours had another green gem, Loki’s initials carved in as his does.

You shrug before making your way to Loki’s end of the long table, him sitting there as if the conversation hasn’t just occurred which left you just a bit more irritated than before. You lower your head just enough for your lips to be close to his ear, your hand resting on the armrest of the chair. “You’re a fool to try and reduce me, Loki of Asgard. You’re an utter fool.”

You then took your leave, the long and airy layers of your dress flowing and following with you. The duties of today made you tired, not to mention Loki’s bickering, so you wanted to go back to your quarters and rest. Unfortunately, the two of you had to share a room so as not to create unwanted suspicion between the maids and butlers of the home.

You opened the large door and closed it without attitude, now wandering the long halls as the click of your black heels echoed constantly until you found two maids interacting while dusting a few portraits that hung on the walls. You had requested their help to get out of your royal garb and into something comfortable, to which they happily agreed.

The two maids led you to your quarters and began to gently undo the layers, getting each ring that settled around your waist and lifting it carefully above your head. As they continue to carefully remove and store your current clothing, Loki is taking his time to reach your shared chambers, knowing that you will be there.

Once you had left, his face had turned into a displeased frown fueled by his irritation and a sprinkle of anger. He couldn’t believe how you pushed away every word he had to say, truly raising his interest slightly. He muttered words under his breath as he slid out of his chair before heading down the same path you did.

You soon were out of all of your clothing, changed out of the large dress, and now into a new set of black lacy lingerie paired with a tulle robe. The feathered ends circled your wrists, neck, and ankles in a pitch-black color. The sheer fabric was a green color to match your dress, making your eyes roll at the thought. Although you were getting sick of being placed in the same color palette, you couldn’t help but admire the view of every outfit you wore.

You thanked the ladies assisting you, wishing them goodnight as they did to you while they stored the garments in your large closet and left you in the room. You took hold of the large sheet that spanned over the bed, covering your body up to your neck.

The sheets were so soft and cozy over your skin. You finally felt the emotions from today slowly exert from your mind just before the door opened, a light cackle filling the silence.

“Did I bother you so intensely that you had to rely on the maids of the palace?” He grinned, “Pathetic, really.”

You scoffed, turning your body from facing the ceiling to the large window that faced the city below, the glass taking up the entire wall with long and large curtains on both sides.

“I’ve been on my feet this whole damn day like you, give me a break before starting to belittle me at least.”

“Oh, my lady is so dearly tired. Well, you aren’t the only one who’s had a difficult day.” Loki’s hand movements emphasized his feelings, his fingers contracting and expanding with each sentence. “I’ve had to endure this tedious ordeal of a marriage, stuck with someone as insufferable as you.” He continued to walk over to the bed, sitting down in the corner.

“If you’ve been dealing with heaps of issues like me, why don’t you go and rest then?” You spat back, fully covering your head with the blanket.

“Now you want to act like a child?” He spoke, his irritation now rattling within his mind. “Hiding yourself from me will do you nothing just as sleep won’t do me any good.”

“I’d rather keep pulling this blanket over myself rather than have a broken record in my ear. Just let it go.”

Loki leaned further while still sitting on the corner of the bed. “How about letting go of that ridiculous blanket and talking properly?” He then grabs the end of the blanket closest to your face and yanks it back, revealing your lingerie outfit from your shoulders down to your waist.

You immediately grew flustered but were too angry to even display an ounce of your true feelings. “By the gods, just give it up, Loki!” You now shouted, grabbing and yanking the blanket out of his hands. You were able to drag it with ease due to the slight shock that had hit him from the view.

Although both of your emotions were boiling over, he couldn’t help but appreciate the curves the outfit displayed, your skin tinted green by the coat and your chest rising and lowering with shaky, anger-filled breaths.

“I’m not giving up to someone as lowly as you. Not. A. Chance.” He punctuated his words by growing even closer to you, his body caging and towering over you as he leaned forward, the fabric of the sheets dipping with his body on the bed.

“You’ve gotten under my skin this entire day and you expect me to just let go?”

“Yeah, hilarious really!” You shouted angrily, moving your body away from him until your back hit the headboard. “Genuinely so hilarious the King of Asgard is going to such an extent to mock a woman he hardly knows still.” He continued to grow closer and you placed your hands on his shoulders in response, gripping them while trying to push him away in which you were failing to do so.

“Is this amusing to you? Trying to get out of something you started, getting a rise out of me? Successfully getting a rise out of me?”

“Looks like I did receive an ounce of interest from you if you’re so hot and bothered.” You sneer with a grin, “Just say you want to fuck your lady out of anger. That’s pretty common for husbands, is it not? I had to learn how to please them after all.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed, his anger flaring once more. “Would you like me to admit that?” He asked exhaustedly, “To admit that there’s even a pinch of desire that rests within me for you? A pinch that finds you fascinating, maybe even irresistible?” You then notice his eyes running over your body again, catching the fact that he nearly raised a hand to rest on your body.

“To hear that from you is a shock.” You scoffed, “You probably don’t even mean those words. Just trying to swoon me to produce an heir, then to discard of me immediately...” Your eyes darted from Loki, looking out the large window beside the bed. The city glimmered below, still bustling with celebration from the wedding hours ago.

“I’m not that harsh of a person, my dear.” His voice was low. “I’m not a monster that would use you in such a way. I wouldn’t discard you.” He then took his hand and let his index and thumb pinch your chin gently, forcing your attention back to him.

Your eyes twitched in reaction to Loki’s sudden gentleness. Although he kept his bratty demeanor, you could recognize that his feelings were strangely sincere. Your lip curled, trying to fight back any feelings that were trying to spill from you, but your face didn’t show a single sign of emotion. The two of you remained silent in your positions, your grip on his shoulders lessening gently while Loki felt your resistance slowly melting away.

He still kept his hand on your chin, locking your gaze with his gently. Watching your expression grow just a bit softer made him grow at ease. You were finally shedding off the defensive barrier you had due to his harsh words from earlier, the pang of regret hitting Loki hard. He released his hand from your chin and moved it to your cheek, his slender fingers cupping your skin softly.

The gentleness was strange to you, making you want to retract from it, but you couldn’t help but give in. Your hands moved away from his shoulders to cover your eyes, a shaky exhale leaving your lips before Loki used a hand to pull one of yours away.

“Don’t hide from me, let me see you.” He said with an ounce of concern, moving the other hand away. “I want you to look at me.”

“You’ve already won your little shouting war with me and you’re still here trying to comfort me at my lowest… I don’t understand.” You hissed through your teeth while you adjusted your position so Loki wasn’t above her anymore, both of you sitting up. “Your pity towards me is so infuriating…”

“Pity?” Loki repeated, a small hint of sarcasm in his tone while he allowed you to sit up. “You truly believe this is pity? No, no my dear, this has nothing to do with that. It’s something else that’s completely different.” Loki then let his hand rest on your thigh, his touch practically melting through the thin fabric of the gown. “Can you not think of any other reason why I followed you?”

“Why possibly?” You snorted at Loki’s change in demeanor. Although you were a bit anxious about how he would’ve responded, you could still tell his pride was still sky high but he wasn’t letting it have full control over his actions and words.

The small giggle made his jaw clench, even if he knew you were trying to overpower his irritating attitude, it was working without a doubt.

“Desire. The purest and rawest.” He said shortly, his large, dark eyes piercing straight through your soul while his hand remained on your thigh, the other going up to your cheek.

A chill immediately shot through your spine, eyes widening slightly to his confession. Yet without any emotion in your expression, after a few quiet moments you spoke, “…Are you just going to let your desire bubble?”

Your words acted as a switch within Loki’s mind, his hand moving to the underside of your thigh to caress your skin while he leaned into your ear. “Oh, my dear, I thought I would have to let it boil for a lifetime.” He was quick to capture your lips in a passionate kiss, the hand on your cheek moving away to grip your waist, his touch desperate and possessive as he thrived from your lips. You closed your eyes quickly as your faces clashed, bringing up a hand to grip his dark locks while you forced your tongue into his mouth, enticing a groan out of Loki. Your other arm wrapped around his neck and shoulder, pulling him even closer to you so your back was fully on the bedsheets.

The kiss was fueled by desire, resentment, anger, lust, and heaps of other emotions that drove you two into animalistic urges, both of your touch desperate and pleading.

The kiss felt like it had only lasted a few mere seconds when Loki pulled away from you to give the same attention to your neck, littering your skin with bites and kisses as he ventured lower., removing the measly coat off of your body without wasting any time to give your neck attention.

“You’re driving me mad.” He spoke huskily.

“I can tell, Loki.” You nod, whimpers now spilling from you as he bites at your collarbone and around your chest.

He hummed in response to your whimpers, further fueling his desire as he lowered, ignoring your heaving chest and moving straight down to your thighs. His hand snaked up both of your thighs, his thumbs sinking below the waistband of your panties and pulling at them teasingly, watching your thighs squeeze together in response.

“How lewd… You must’ve been so eager for me at the gathering. Marrying someone you once knew before by selection, getting to see him in such ravishing attire… I could say the same to you. The dress I had selected wouldn’t have looked better on anyone else.” He continues to sing praises to you while he kisses your thighs, nibbling just enough to leave small marks on your skin that make goosebumps appear.

“Would you like me to satisfy you dear? Awake the urges that I know you’ve kept this entire day?” He asked, looking up into your lust-filled gaze with hunger, his thumbs remaining under the bands of your panties.

“If your skills are satisfactory, I will allow it.” You huffed jokingly, your hands both resting on his head, massaging his hair gently.

“I may have an infamous silver tongue, but you think it’s only good for running my mouth?” He snickered before tugging your garment down, taking in the sight of your soaked cunt, a bridge of your wetness connecting and breaking away from the gusset of your panties as Loki pulled them away.

“Oh my…” he whispers lowly, his breath fanning your slickness, causing the butterflies in your stomach to stir. His hands roamed all over your body, running over the peaks of your clothed breasts and your stomach, feeling your soft curves sinking beneath the pressure of his fingers. They returned to your thighs, caressing them gently before one hooked a leg over his shoulder, the other using a thumb to spread your folds gently.

“A truly dirty woman indeed.” He cackled, pressing a kiss to your clit, causing your hips to instantly buck into his mouth, the bundle of nerves barely grazing the tip of his nose. “…and greedy may I add?”

“You’re the one who said you had a desire for me.” You rebutted, tugging at his hair, enticing a groan out of Loki.

“Well look at you, undressed and flustered.” You immediately looked away but quickly brought your attention back to Loki once he licked a slow stripe up the slit of your cunt, making you shiver deliciously.

“Allow me to continue further. I would like to worship you, as a queen.”

“I suppose— oh…” you moaned lowly as he was quick to lap at you, the flat of his tongue gliding through your folds with ease. His fingers dug harshly into your thigh, almost hard enough to draw blood, amazingly contrasting with the immense pleasure that flooded your senses. Loki didn’t move his attention anywhere but your eyes, yours watering slightly and constantly rolling back in bliss, making him hum proudly into your cunt while you gasped from the vibration.

He continued, fueled by your hushed gasps and moans as your hips instinctively bucked into his luscious mouth. “That’s it, make a mess, my dear.” Loki spoke, looking into your eyes with a burning desire.

“Keep going…” You said, commanded even, tugging his hair roughly. He happily obliged, closing his eyes as he now truly savored your aching heat. He peppered kisses on your inner thigh and clit, suckling occasionally while flicking his tongue rapidly against your nerves, successfully making your hips buck further into the sensation. Many minutes passed, nearly hours in your mind, and Loki continued, almost bringing you to full tears as he continued to tease your sensitive body, quivering from overstimulation but also from the fact that you didn’t want to give in to his pleasure.

You did not doubt how well his tongue was, how he was able to nearly make you cum countless times, yet his words from earlier were still negatively itching your brain, you wanted to prove him wrong. As your brain scrambled between the thoughts of giving Loki his satisfaction or trying to hold your “powerful” demeanor, Loki’s lips finally detached from your cunt, his mouth and chin glossy from your juices. Both of your eyes had locked for just a moment, a hint of vulnerability as you looked at each other with lust, your eyes both half-lidded and dazed while your chests heaved to regain air.

As you finally catch your breath, you quickly feel the wind get knocked right out of you when Loki inserted a finger into your heat, your eyes widening.

“Is this satisfactory for you yet? Look at the mess you’re making…” You immediately started to moan quietly as he began to pump his finger within you at a slow pace, resting the side of his cheek on your plump thigh.

“Shh… I know, I knowww my darling. I want you to lose yourself, your composure, everything. I know how badly you want to hear me speak, and I can’t help but oblige. Watching you writhe beneath me… your legs twitching and cunt hugging my fingers so tightly… ahh— couldn’t be more satisfying than watching endless galaxies fall into my hands…” He cooed between his desperate and sloppy kisses to your clit, each kiss deepening with every tug you gave to his hair.

Loki’s pace began to quicken, adding a second finger in unknowingly which caused the heel of your foot to dig into his lower back. He then went from two digits to three now pistoning brutally against that delicious spot within you, making your toes curl mindlessly as your teary eyes continued to stay on his. Your hips lifted in the air, trying to fight back against the looming feeling of release. Words spilled from your lips, a mixture of quiet pleas yet slightly louder calls of Loki’s name.

You’re eyes squeeze shut as you felt your orgasm approaching closely, body so incredibly sensitive as Loki continued to use his fingers within you without breaking a sweat while suckling on your clit with pure hunger, his tongue darting out just enough to graze the bundle of nerves. “Close…” you muttered hazily, stars in your vision and the grip on his hair tight.

“Ah, ah, darling. Not quite yet.” He stopped his motions as soon as you spoke, a wet bridge of your juices connecting with his lips, soon breaking after a low chuckle rose out of Loki.

The ruined orgasm made you flustered, cheeks red from embarrassment as you rolled your eyes in annoyance, thighs squeezing tight together once Loki lifted his head from the junction of your legs. “You shouldn’t play with your food, my husband.” You teased lowly.

“Fair.” He shrugged, his eyes roaming over your breasts as you spoke, “Although it’s a bit difficult to resist. Maybe I should truly dig in, hm?” Loki’s body leaned forward, capturing you into another lust-filled kiss, pressing your back into the soft comfort of the bed. One of his arms possessively wrapped around your back, his other hand resting on your hip.

Your tongue instantly darted into his mouth, the mixed taste of yourself and Loki on your tongues as they swirled, coating themselves in sweet saliva. Your hands pulled Loki further into your body as you two turned over in the bed together, your thumbs right in front of his earlobes while the rest of your fingers tangled in his short curls as his back rested against the sheets while your hips were straddling his lap.

“I may return the favor…” you hummed teasingly, moving the rough kiss to his jawline, peppering kisses down from his neck and slowly down his toned torso, occasionally leaving the faintest hickies whilst removing his tuxedo and his lavish green button-up below. His skin felt incredibly cool in comparison to your warm cheeks. You had even flicked your thumb over one of his nipples, earning a groan that interrupted a starting sentence, most likely another bratty remark towards your sudden change in demeanor.

Loki watched, his brow furrowing as you looked into his eyes as your kisses trailed low, leaving small smudges of lipstick just above his belt line where his pants remained. “Hm… What a needy, feeble girl…” The god couldn’t help the snicker that left his lips once you began to tug his slacks down his slender legs, revealing the large bulge straining against his briefs, practically throbbing with a small patch of wetness right where his wanting head was.

“Have I really worked you up this much, my lord?” Your brows raised just a bit, a small smirk on your face although your face was blushing madly. Another dark chuckle filled the room after your question, a small hint of frustration in Loki’s laughter. “Oh, my dear, you have no idea. With every touch, you make it even worse.”

“Shall I stop?” You hooked your fingers beneath the band of his briefs, tugging ever so slightly so you could see his engorged head barely peek over, slick with his pre-cum.

“ No… no.” his voice shook, “Gah… you truly are a fool…” The primal urge that Loki was holding back to just pounce on you, giving in and devouring you whole was so painful as you could clearly see by the way his length throbbed beneath his briefs.

“I’m glad you believe that. What would you do if I were to stop?” You rest your cheek against his clothed shaft, both hands moving from his waist and now resting on the meat of his thighs while you look up into Loki’s eyes innocently.

“A punishment would suffice. But I wouldn’t dare to spoil the surprise of what that possibly could be.” As Loki spoke he let his palm rest over your head, fingers gently threading themselves in your hair and tilting your head just a bit.

“I have many ways I can make you listen like a proper royal.”

“How… Attractive.” You then tugged his briefs down fully, his length springing in your face, the head barely tapping your nose for just a moment. “Oh my…” you cooed, feeling Loki’s hand expand in your hair with a hint of shock, even relief.

“You look tempted… do you enjoy the view?” Loki hummed, a sly smile on his lips as his free hand lowered to your plump lips and the thumb parting them gently. “That is one way to put it.” You chuckled lowly, your laughter being interrupted with a small tug of your hair Loki did to bring your face closer to his cock, practically feeling the warmth radiating from the shaft.

“Ahh, I can tell my sweet thing, you look utterly starstruck. You’re not planning on stepping down now after coming so far, are you?” Loki let his thumb push a bit deeper, sinking between your lips into your warm mouth, pressing down on your tongue just enough to make you squirm. You were quick to swirl your tongue around his thumb, pulling away with a wet pop. “Maybe I need assistance?” You hummed, resting your head against his muscular thigh.

“Dirty girl.” Loki grinned, changing both of your positions quickly so your back was to the sheets, head lolling off the end of the bed while he stood Becky to your shoulder. He crouched for a moment, leaning in to give you another sloppy kiss, his hand wrapping around your neck and squeezing gently, making you gasp into his mouth. He withdrew from your lips before planting a kiss on your forehead.

“What assistance do you possibly need?”

“Maybe your guidance to my lips. Your shaft seems to be too warm to the touch for me to hold…” You pouted teasingly, breath growing heavy once he allowed his cock in your view, hovering just inches away from your lips once more. His member is just as big as your face which made your cunt drip with your wetness.

The god laughed at your innocent-sounding response, truly enjoying the game you were playing with him. “It too looks like your hands wouldn’t be able to hold such a size. I wouldn’t mind helping you.” He lowered his body and leaned forward slightly, the tip of his cock pressing right against your lips. “Open your luscious lips, my wife.”

You nearly turned into putty from his command, quickly obeying and opening your mouth to allow his head to slip in, his member being met with your tongue against his slit. Loki groaned as he felt you suckle the tip, tongue lapping against the opening to collect his pre-cum. He allowed you to continue sucking him but he also waited to see if you were comfortable. You pulled away from his cock for a brief moment, catching your breath and nodding before heading back to his head, taking it within your mouth once again.

“Oh you’re so eager to please your god— what a good girl. Slowly now.” The trickster praised, easing himself further in as he felt your tongue run along the veins that webbed his shaft. It took him a few moments until Loki could fully sheathe himself in your throat, a small bulge forming, the sight making him groan deliciously.

While he let his cock rest in your mouth, Loki leaned forward to trail kisses from your belly to the swell of your breasts, quickly taking off your bra and discarding it to the side before taking a nipple between his lips. Your legs pressed together in response, your body squirming as you whined around his cock, sending heavenly vibrations throughout Loki’s body. His free hand toyed with the other nipple, rolling it between his index and thumb, occasionally tugging to get those extra cries out of you while his tongue circled your areola.

As soon as he was about to move, you quickly tapped Loki’s thigh, needing to get air for a moment. He was quick to withdraw his cock from your throat, coated with his pre-cum and your saliva. Both of you shivered, breathing heavily at the sudden loss of warmth. “By the heavens above…” You heaved, eyeing his glossy length as it remained close to your face.

“Too much now?” He hummed, the free hand that was toying with your nipple moving down to caress your hip.

“Not at all. It’s plenty.”

“That’s my wife.” Loki praised you before he lowered his cock into your mouth once more, rocking his hips back and forth slowly within you. Your mouth was practically stuffed full with his shaft, slowly entering and exiting while you gagged every time he was fully sheathed inside of you. “Careful now, darling. You’re making me lose my composure…” Loki moaned, using his four fingers to rest behind your neck, his thumb resting over the bulge that would form each time he filled your throat.

The image was so lewd that the god couldn’t get enough, although he knew he was reaching his limit. Loki didn’t want to release within her and spoil the sexual banter between you two, knowing you’d poke fun at him for finishing so early. “You’re such a mess. I cannot allow myself to— gah… turn you into shambles so soon.” He withdrew with a pleasured sigh. You coughed once his thickness left your throat, your chest shakily expanding and contracting to catch your breath.

“My days, Loki…!” You coughed, your body rolling over so your face was buried in the sheets, cheeks red with shock as your jaw ached.

“Are you well? You didn’t break, did you?” He purred, moving around the bed and sitting right by your hip, his hands coming up to massage your back while his fingertips occasionally dug below to run over your nipples. Your back arched, hips rising in the air like a cat, and your knees kept you grounded in reaction to his ministrations, groaning in relief. You turned your head just enough so that half of your lips and eyes were visible.

“I need you… my lord…” You pleaded, hunger in your eyes as you looked back at Loki while he continued to knead your skin firmly.

“Patience, my sweet.” Loki responded, bringing a hand down to your ass roughly while the other continued to massage your shoulder. You gasped from the sudden pain, quickly digging your face back into the sheets to muffle the small moan that slipped from your lips.

“Loki, you can’t do that…”

“Why possibly? Your body is telling me otherwise… you’re completely drenched.”

“Please, my husband…” You murmured, gasping once he smacked your skin once more, the stinging sensation making your toes curl.

“What is it that you’re begging me for, my wife? Use your word now.”

“…For you, my husband, I… I beg for your cock, please…”

“Your pleas are so divine. I’ll give you what you want—but I would’ve loved to hear you for a few moments more.” Loki ended his sentence with one last harsh smack to your ass, soothing the reddened area with sweet caressed circles by his palm. He teasingly let his middle and index finger drag against your clit for a brief moment which caused your hips to jolt from the sudden pleasure. You continued to whine into the bed, thighs pressing together to try and shorten his movements, ultimately failing when you felt Loki insert a digit within you, making you melt under his touch.

He curled his middle finger just enough to press deliciously against that sensitive spot within you, eliciting a loud moan muffled by the sheets. “How sinfully delightful.” He murmured into your ear, his breath fanning against your burning skin while he added his ring finger, the two digits adding just enough pressure to your gummy walls to nearly make you cum. You arched your back and hips in the air while you kept your face buried in the sheets while your hands gripped the sheets until your knuckles turned white as you continued to cry out.

Loki continued his motions, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of your cunt, juices coating the digits and dribbling around your sensitive folds while you continued to moan Loki’s name, the symphony-like music to his ears. He eventually pulled his fingers out of your sopping heat and took them into his mouth to taste you, humming in delight after a few long seconds of sucking his digits. He let them go with a wet pop, teasing cackles following after.“Forgive me, darling. I needed to indulge in you once more. You’re irresistible.”

Your body shook from another near orgasm lost to Loki and his little games, which irritated you, yet you couldn’t pry yourself away from his misleading tactics.

“Please, Loki. Don’t make me plead any further…” You huffed, hips still arched in the air. Loki gave you a devilish grin, massaging your lower thigh gently. “Of course, my dear. You’ve been such an obedient wife after all.” The hum of his voice sent chills down your spine, deliciously enticing the previous butterflies in your stomach to flurry. To have sex with a god, one that you used to know years ago, before different duties had grasped both of your attention.

You were still fighting back against the idea of Loki being so dominant over you, concerned about how one night in bed with him would make you seem weak and inferior despite being on the same wavelength when it came to royalty. You didn’t want to look like a helpless woman in his eyes, even in the public’s view. Fortunately, Loki understood the stance you took earlier while at the dinner table. Every time he would stare into your large eyes, he would feel your resilience. How you were able to change his emotions, even dare to leave him alone at the table without an ounce of fear, drove the god mad with an insatiable hunger for more.

To have a woman who knew her values was something he had been wanting, praying for—and he knew that you were the one.

You felt the bed dip beneath you and Loki’s weight as he fully rested behind you, his hands running down your arched spine, goosebumps breaking out over your skin, all the while you felt his length resting against your thigh. His cock pulsed, twitching against your skin, making you tremble at the lewd idea of him sheathing inside of your longing cunt.

The god took a glance at your wetness once more, using a thumb to spread either fold to reveal the sopping mess you’ve become. “Purely divine…” He muttered, causing you to shudder. “Enough with the teasing, Loki…” You adjust your arms so they’re on either side of your head, hands catching and dragging a pillow close to rest your head on.

Without a word the god plunged his cock within your cunt, slowly sliding himself further inside. You gasped loudly into the sheets while Loki groaned at the feeling of your walls gripping him like a vice. He didn’t give you much time to react, only breathing heavily into the pillow as he filled you slowly.

He paused for a moment, hand coming up to rest on your shoulder to make sure you were alright, not a peep leaving his lips, only ragged breathing. You nod, not turning your head around whatsoever before he began to work himself in further, filling you straight to the hilt of his cock. You couldn’t comprehend how full you felt, walls gently adjusting with the help of Loki’s previous work of his fingers on you. “You feel incredible, darling… Just truly—truly tight…” Loki spoke, his voice wavering just from being inside of you for a few moments. His hand remained on your shoulder while the other gripped the side of your hip, fingernails digging lightly into your soft flesh.

“You can move—“ As you were about to finish your sentence, Loki removed himself, leaving only his tip within before thrusting back inside of you, making your eyes roll back instantly. He continued this motion, agonizingly slow as he wanted to make sure your body was warming up to his length and girth. The head of his cock kissed your cervix multiple times as he continued, slick noises emitting from your entrance as you moaned thoughtlessly into the pillow, hands gripping the sheets before you turned your head around. You and Loki’s eyes met, your teary orbs locking with his half-lidded ones.

Oh, how gorgeous you looked to the god, beneath him, shaking and moaning with tears building in your eyes. In comparison, Loki looked like he was relishing the moment. His hands were holding you in place, hips actively moving back and forth to drag his member within while panting like a dog in heat, seeming so possessive of your body. “Don’t look at me in such a way, my dear— Oh, how shameless you look right now…“ He panted, warning you while he looked down at where you were taking his cock and how it disappeared and reappeared with each drag of his hips.

“Or what, my King?” You spoke wryly, a shaky chuckle leaving your body despite being at his mercy.

“Oh, you think you’re clever?” He snapped his hips harshly against your ass, a penetrating sound resonating in the air as he pressed himself full of the hilt once which earned a loud mewl from you. “What confidence… But do you truly believe you can beat me at my own game?” As his words spurred on while he drilled himself into you, Loki’s hands kept you down as his cock pulsed within you, the god groaning over the feeling of your walls clenching him tight.

You moaned loudly into the pillow beneath you, hands continuing to claw at the silky sheets as you felt Loki grind harshly at the same area that made you melt, causing your thighs to quake with each harsh slap of his own. Your eyes rolled back when his balls would slap against your clit, the sudden touch driving you both mad.

At one point he stopped, allowing a brief moment of rest for the two of you, bodies heaving shakily. You adjusted your upper body slowly so you used your arms to keep yourself sitting upright. He used this moment to press kisses to the back of your neck and shoulders, letting his tongue drag occasionally over your burning skin. As your hand was about to rest on his forearm, Loki gripped your hair, tugging it just enough for you to look fully back at him.

You winced, a small tear forming in the corner of your eye as you looked up into his eye, dark with lust. “You’re losing yourself. It’s a delight to see, considering you were teasing me moments before, darling.”

“Did you not call me a nuisance earlier?” You pried, a teasing yet raspy voice due to all of your cries. Your body shivered in delight as Loki pressed his own to yours.

“You are MY nuisance, every little part of you.” Loki runs his other free hand along your skin to gently grip your neck, his other hand occupied in your hair.

“It s-seems you can’t get enough…” you huffed, eyes still locked on Loki’s as you teased each other, feeling his cock twitch within you with each sentence. “You had so much to say at the table about me, what a strange way to exert them.”

“Exerting them deeply.” He punctuated with a thrust, causing you to yelp loudly. “I’ve learned to express my feelings in a new fashion. It seems like you’re enjoying it just as much as I am.”

“It’s definitely a change, just like your feelings had changed about me and all of what you spoke at the table…” You felt guilty as your thoughts were dragging you out of the moment, dragging you back to how you felt so angry at the table, yet so upset from how Loki was speaking towards you.

Your voice caught in your throat, but the sheer feeling of the mutual back talk was comforting, a sense of ease washing over you. It felt like an intimate challenge, a satisfying challenge of who could ruin the other first.

“The time when I had called you many names?” He hummed, “Idiotic? Shameful? Incapable?” He punctuated his words with a slam of his hips to your ass, his hand moving from your neck to your hip, gripping harshly while his other hand remained in your scalp.

“Y-Yes- oh.. those exact words you stapled on me…” You moaned hoarsely.

“Such cruel, awful words that I had said… Is it sick…? Me, a god, wanting you even after what I had said?”

“Just a little.” You admitted, “But I’ve got to say, the sheer hatred you showed me earlier, the sudden words along with your looks, your facial features, and the way you looked, so formally dressed for the marriage… it was so gravitating, the hatred you had fueled my own, yet here we are in such a wild position.”

The hand he had around your neck loosened as he hunched his head close to yours, voice turning into a low growl. “And what exactly fueled that hatred of yours, darling? Was it my words, or was it something more severe?”

“Your words flooded my mind, making me rebut every sentence,” you hissed between your teeth as his pace slowed down, sensually thrusting his pulsing cock in your sweet gummy walls. “I couldn’t stand your remarks, they angered me, brought me almost to tears in all honesty…”

Loki’s expression softened just a smidge, a small pang of guilt resonating within his body. Before he got to speak, his thoughts interfering with his thrusts, you spoke first once again. “I know you meant those words, but I meant mine as well. Our hatred is strong, but we are just expressing that right here and now.”

“I didn’t truly mean to hurt you.” He spat out of self-shame.

“You didn’t. But those words did hurt. But I will make you pay, of course. I’ll simply ride our hatred out of each other.”

Your words were just as bold as your actions, moving yourself away from him and his cock, the length slipping from your heat while you lead Loki in changing positions. You were now straddling his hips, your thighs caging his own while his cock throbbed right in front of your pelvis.

Loki couldn’t help but grin mischievously, a mixture of excitement and awe brewing within his mind as your confidence shone through, almost blinding. “Will you last to ride out every last drop?” He teased, clenching the meat of your thighs with both of his hands. He massaged your skin with his thumb, digging just enough to further rile you up.

“Another challenge?” You questioned, your voice quickly turning into a groan as you sunk yourself onto his cock, feeling his hot length stretching you quickly, drowning in your wetness. You braced yourself against his torso, your lower hands flat against his toned stomach while Loki groaned with you. His eyes locked on yours once again, licking his lips with a smirk. “Another challenge won’t hurt… I’ve thrown so many at you after all.” Loki purred.

“If you finish first, you have to pull out. If I finish first, you can stay within.” You spoke, not an ounce of shakiness in your voice despite your darkened cheeks, your body remaining still while trying to readjust to Loki’s cock. The king couldn’t help the cackle that left his throat, his chest heaving. “How tempting… What if we were to finish at the same time? What then, hm?” He teased you further, one of his hands moving from your thigh to the flat of your back, fingertips hardly ghosting your skin to have you arch like a cat, goosebumps sprouting through your body.

“A-A silly thought…” You muttered, “We shall see, my husband.” You slowly began to move your hips, trying to keep yourself from losing your power and just plopping your rear down on his thighs while you raised and lowered yourself hesitantly. Your legs were experiencing aftershocks from your previous orgasms, your cunt still so sensitive as you stretched around his cock as it pulsed with every movement you offered. Countless moans left your lips, a mixture of pleasure and slight pain being expressed through how hard you were gripping Loki’s strong shoulders, fingertips digging into his skin.

A low groan tore from Loki’s throat, your walls gripping his length like a vice while you moved your hips. Your breasts were practically bouncing in his face, hypnotizing him as small, mindless whimpers slipped from his mouth. “You truly are— ngh... testing your limits, aren’t you, dear?” He hummed, voice wavering. “You wouldn’t want to lose this bet.”

Although your motions were slow, the pleasure was immense, Loki’s tip constantly coming to press against your cervix, which made your head spin. You began to slowly speed up despite your tired legs, Loki’s words sparking another wave of competitiveness over your mind. Before you even had a chance to protest you felt a hand grope one of your breasts, causing a groan to escape and your body to rest on his thighs again, grinding your clit right against his pelvis since you couldn’t lift yourself in the moment. It will suffice.

Loki’s thumb tweaked your nipple when you began to speak. “I know you’d love for me to lose, to even have us finish at the same time…” you were about to speak further when you felt Loki thrust harshly into your cunt, a grunt slipping from the god and a cry from you. He had noticed your exhaustion miles away, intending to help you in his best interest. His cock was able to hit such a sensitive spot within you, a spot that made you see stars as your head rolled back.

“You know me well. It’s a shame you must always test my patience…”

“And yet you always succumb to my words.” You interrupted his words with a messy kiss, leaning forward and swirling your tongue with his and pulling away. “A pathetic man who would lose himself for his wife—“ your statement quickly being shut down when you felt Loki’s cock twitch within your cunt, threatening to unleash the load he’s been holding back for days since the announcement of you two being wed.

The moment his cock had reacted, he unleashed a fury of rushed thrusts into your desperate heat, his thighs slapping against yours quickly. Loki’s hands continued to toy with your nipple, the other moving from your thigh to your pelvis, using his thumb to press and rub circles into your clit. You moaned out in bliss, feeling like you were being attacked from every sensitive angle you had.

“You don’t have a single clue of what I'm capable of…” he spoke, voice cold and husky, “I want you to finish… lose this silly bet first…” he continued to mummer your name lowly, pressing kisses over your collarbone before heading to your other breast, suckling the nipple and letting his teeth graze the sensitive skin.

You buried your head into his neck, teeth grazing his skin while moans continued to spill from you, jumbled words and pleads spurting out when you began to meet Loki’s thrusts. You both rocked in synchronization, Loki cackling as you lost yourself in pleasure before tugging your hair sharply, dragging your head out of his neck, a yelp from you following when he forced you to look at him while he continued to massage your clit.

“Do you enjoy toying with me like this?” He huffed, voice shaky from his constant movements that soon grew even more erratic. He took in your form, shaking and begging for more as your cunt clenched around him so tightly as if he was going to leave. Your eyes were watering, small tears streaking down your cheeks out of pleasure. “B-But of course— oh! My husband…” You muttered feeling your orgasm inch closer with every second.

Loki’s eyes widened ever so slightly, continuing to take in the sight of you unraveling, strands of your hair sticking to your face with your eyes rolling back constantly. “Again. Say it again.” He cooed, the grip on your thighs harsh as he helped guide you on his cock while he slammed his hips up into you.

“M-My lord… husband… gah—! Loki! I’m close..!” Your words were rushed, quaking as Loki grew more erratic, his thrusts becoming more sloppy.

“Keep going…”

“With me— cum w-with me..! Please, my lord..!” You cried, tears fully flowing from your eyes. It only took Loki a few more of your cries and moans before he started to curse beneath his breath right before he lifted his hips as high as he could, his cock pressing deeply against your cervix before he removed his hands from your hair and clit to hold both of your thighs down, rope after rope of his seed spilling within you.

He groaned as he felt your walls convulse around his cock, your cum mixing with his while your hips bucked madly for that few extra feelings of heightened ecstasy with how your clit ground against his pubic bone. You both moaned madly, panting like animals before you realized you had squirted just above the base of his cock, his tip pressing deeply enough writhing you to cause your system to stir.

The pleasure that had been repressed due to Loki’s persistent halts had finally boiled over; your juices pooled and trailed down his torso while Loki watched you ejaculate in small waves which caused him to snicker in between his moans.

As you both rode off your highs, Loki’s body was still shivering over the aftermath, his breathing ragged while he still felt your walls twitch around his cock, cum oozing from the smallest openings where your intimate parts met. You too had your aftershocks, your hip bucking slowly coming to an end as you allowed your full weight to rest on Loki’s body, your breasts pressing against his chest while he ran a hand over your back to massage your skin sweetly. Both of your chests rose and fell with each breath, a look of pure lustful intoxication still laced in each of your looks.

“…You came so much…” you squeaked hoarsely, breaking the silence while you stared at Loki with half-lidded eyes, noting the cum slowly dribbling from your entrance despite his cock remaining inside of you. He looked up at your fucked out look, chuckling over her words. “You look… utterly wrecked, darling.” He smiled warmly before pulling you in for a passionate kiss, his tongue messing with yours for a brief moment before pulling away.

A dreamy sigh came out of you as Loki gropes your sore ass, kneading your flesh gently before slapping it. You whimper in reaction, a bit more of your combined cum seeping out from your cunt. “How messy… tempting...” Loki hummed.

“Tired…” you mutter, too spent to attempt to form another sentence. You bury your head into the crook of his neck just like before, cuddling him and wrapping your hands around his shoulders and neck. Loki’s hands continued to pamper you, one massaging your back and the other caressing your shoulder, taking in your worn-out form lovingly.

“You did so well, my wife.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“…I never want to hear you call me a ‘feeble mind’ ever again…” you spoke with a throaty laugh.

“Oh, I won’t,” Loki agreed with a playful tone, “…But please know those words… I no longer mean. I know you have a sharp mind, I just wasn’t too fond of admitting it.”

“Amazing to hear. I had a feeling you weren’t so heartless at that dinner table. Besides, we knew each other many, many years ago… But now I am most likely to have your heir to the throne. It’s so soon… we’ve only just wed today!” There was a pang of concern in your voice that Loki quickly picked up on.

“It’s all happening so fast, yet that’s how it usually goes for us, no?” Loki would pause, his expression growing serious. “But you’re right, we have expectations from our people, to raise the proper heir being one of them.”

“I wouldn’t mind having a child with such a rowdy man who can be quite stubborn, as I.” You laugh loudly, pressing a kiss to Loki’s cheek. “A man who thought he had complete control over me the second we laid eyes on each other after the wedding.”

Loki smirked, moving one of his hands to cup your cheek tenderly, his thumb swiping over your skin. “Talk about stubbornness. You were the one throwing remarks back and forth with me.” He snickered playfully. “As for control, sweetheart, we both know who truly has that. But let us not ruin this moment with our bickering.”

“I suppose.” You roll your eyes, adjusting your position to rest your head beneath his head and collarbone, Loki resting his chin on your forehead while he continues to stroke your back lazily.

“Comfortable?” He hummed, his voice notably tired. You nod in silence, letting your body finally rest as you begin to drift off to sleep.

“Rest up, my dear.” Loki presses a kiss to your temple before you fall asleep in each other’s arms as the bustle of the wedding continues throughout the night.

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hxney-lemcn · 3 months ago

Text

I Got Reincarnated as an NPC From my Favorite Video Game and the Protag Won't Leave me be! — Hyrule Warriors! Link x gn! reader

summary: hit by a car, you find yourself transported into a video game, and it's just your luck the protagonist falls for you.

tw: death, drunk kiss/confession (that gets rectified)

a/n: I MADE IT! I did so much research about medieval times for this fic I feel like a scholar.

wc: 4.6k

Master List

It happened in a split second. One moment you’re crossing the road, the green walk signal lulling you into a false sense of peace, then you’re tripping on a crack in the road causing you to drop one of your bags. You quickly scramble to pick it up, only for a loud horn to blare, a screech, and something hitting you full force, knocking you unconscious.

You woke up in a daze. Your mind felt completely blank at first, eyes squinting as you woke up to scratchy sheets and pillow that did not support your head that well. Then it seemed to all come to you at once. You were on your way home from a small grocery run, then something hit you. Adrenaline filled you as you tossed the blanket to the side, inspecting your body for any damages. Odd, not a single blemish on your skin besides some calluses that lined your palms. Strange becomes stranger. It was then that you looked around the room, expecting to find yourself at the hospital, but instead you felt your stomach drop. It looked like you were in some medieval historical museum.

What the actual fuck was going on.

You stood up, legs shaky. The room was small, it held a bed, a wardrobe, and a small fireplace. You felt all out of sorts, looking down at the long white nightgown that you donned. You weren’t sure what you would find when you descended the stairs that led out of the room, so you decided to check the wardrobe for a change. Perhaps that will help you feel a bit more stable doing a routine you were familiar with. Wrong. The wardrobe was filled with…tunics? There were a variety of colors, some with long sleeves, others with no sleeves, some beige, others vibrant colors. You felt way too out of your depth at the moment. Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm yourself, your mind was in overdrive and you needed to take things one step at a time.

With shaky hands, you grab a long sleeved beige tunic. It seemed like that was the first step, it looked like an undershirt. Placing it on the bed you went back to look over the more vibrant tunics, some with short baggy sleeves, others with no sleeves at all. It would make sense the tunic that is more flashy would go on top. Picking out a color you liked, you placed it next to the first tunic. Next you went to search for pants, most were brown or beige, picking the one that matched your chosen tunics the most you finally were ready to change.

You wished you had a mirror to see how you looked, but you suppose they weren’t as common in this time period. What the hell were you saying? Time period? Had you really gone back in time? No, don’t think about it. You took in another deep breath. At least the clothes were really comfy. Why the hell had people stopped wearing these?

With a long sigh, you decided it was finally time to tackle the question of what was beyond this room. Slowly, you walked down the wooden steps, peeking down and seeing that it was what seemed to be a living room/kitchen. An old stove was against the wall, the brick opened at the bottom that held a small fire that was slowly dying. So that’s how they cooked foods back in the day…in this day…? Whatever. A small wooden table rested on the opposite side with two chairs, a small bookshelf rested next to it. It seemed kinda cozy if you were being honest. Another set of stairs led down into another unknown area. Your stomach grumbled, echoing in the silent room. With all your panicking and shock you hadn’t realized how hungry you were.

It seemed that whoever you had become…were you still you? In a sense…yes and no. You don’t want to think too hard about it. Whatever. It seemed no matter what you were a bit lazy in any time period, as a kettle was on the stove with some boiling stew. Picking up a piece of wood from the pile that sat in the corner, you added it under the stove, causing the fire to rise once more. Ladle in hand, you stirred to see all that was in the soup. Bones, meat, carrots, peas, and corn. Grabbing a bread bowl, you scooped yourself up a portion and took a seat at the small wooden table.

As you ate your meal, you reassessed your situation. You were hit, most likely by a suv, bus, truck, or other large vehicle. Then you woke up in some medieval seeming house with medieval clothing. Wasn’t this the plot to some trashy isekai novel? Weren’t you supposed to be the villainess or heroine or something? Why were you some seemingly random peasant? A harsh sigh escaped from your nose. Sure, you didn’t mind reading one of those stories, but to live one? Was this some cruel joke? You needed to know where and when you were, and also who the hell you were. What was your name? Was it the same? With a shake of your head you grabbed one of the books on the shelf that sat next to you. Perhaps a story will help you find some crucial information.

Taking a bite from the bread bowl, you opened the book, only for another wave of horror to wash over you. The text was completely different. You couldn’t read the alphabet-

You clutched your head as a sudden intense, blinding white hot pain overcame you. Your eyes were squeezed shut as a ton of information washed over you. No, not information. Memories. This body’s memories. Memories of when you were a child and your parents walked you through the market, memories of being a teenager and already working in the bakery that sat below you. Memories of your parents dying when you were only eighteen, memories of navigating life in the city on your own, making friends, greeting customers, baking goods. You let out a loud gasp as the pain finally dulled into a throbbing annoyance, white dots littering your sight when you finally opened your eyes once more.

It felt like you were two people in one body, two different sets of memories held in your brain. You need to hurry and start baking so you can open shop. Do you even know how to bake? Of course you do, you’ve done it all your life. You quickly finished the bread that made up your makeshift bowl, rushing down the stairs and looking in awe at the brickstone oven that took up the center of your quaint shop. You started working like it was muscle memory. Taking out the ingredients you needed to make dough, cookie batter, pie crust, and pastries. Then you would put the dough in the oven after the fire died down and you brushed the ashes out. Once the dough rose, the pies cooked, and the cookies settled, you took it all out, bringing them to a table that sat right outside your home, where you would stand all day till your stock sold out or the day was over.

Perhaps you weren’t in such a bad situation after all.

…

It didn’t take long for you to get used to your new/old life. You learned to accept that you had died, that things would never be the same. One part of you itched for a phone or longed for your tv, but another felt refreshed. You learned to live in the moment, and you felt like you were in a community. You’d greet your usual customers with a beaming smile, joke with the man you’d usually get your meat from, listen to the gossip that everyone and anyone would spread about.

Everything finally felt like it was falling into place.

Until you met him.

It seemed like any other day. Waking before the crack of dawn to start your chores, setting up shop and waiting for your first customer. New and old faces popped up alike, until one face was all too familiar. You had accepted this was just some random world separate from your own, your body’s memories not bringing up any history lesson you recalled. But he changed everything. Blonde hair that swept to the left, blue eyes that matched the scarf that wrapped around his shoulders, green tunic and hat that made you want to melt and run away at the same time.

YOU WERE IN A LEGEND OF ZELDA GAME?!

How the hell had you not realized for so long? You were flabbergasted, your merged memories causing you another headache. Oh gosh, this wasn’t even just any Legend of Zelda game. You recognized that scarf and pretty face anywhere. This was Hyrule Warriors. That explains the war, your body recalled. This was just about the worst Legend of Zelda game to be isekai’d into. You willed the Goddesses to take pity on you, but they seemed to be in a joking mood as Link walked straight to your stall. Great.

“I was wondering what smelled so good,” The hero smiled, eyes drifting across the various breads and desserts you were offering. “Heard that your stuff is the best in town.”

“It’s not,” You stated blankly. You were still fighting the urge to run, your fear coming out as indifference. With arms crossed, you squeezed your elbow tightly to get some of your anxious energy out.

Link blinked at your tone, his stance faltering slightly before he straightened up, “Don’t sell yourself short, I’m sure someone as sweet as you wouldn’t have any trouble cooking up something just as sweet.”

‘Wow that was bad,’ you thought. Okay, maybe you were exaggerating, it could’ve been worse…much worse, but you didn’t want him flirting with you in the first place.

“Did you want to buy something?” You asked, tilting your head and getting straight to the point.

“Uh, yeah,” Link fumbled, cheeks tinting a light pink. “Just a pumpkin tart, please.”

“That’ll be five rupees,” You told him, picking up the pumpkin tart. You took his blue rupee with ease, handing him the pastry. “Thank you, come again.”

Link was confused to say the least. Typically people would scramble to gain his business, swoon at his kind words, or even try to flirt themselves. You…you looked disinterested…scared even. Have you done something wrong? Why did you seem to avoid his gaze, shoot down his niceties without a second thought? You were strange, but he could take a hint, leaving your stall with a small nod of his head.

You let out a sigh of relief at that, eying the two girls that were giggling to each other before rushing towards you.

“He talked to you!” Ame squealed, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her curly brown hair bouncing with her every movement.

“He bought your food!” Fisia exclaimed with a dreamy sigh, blue tunic swaying with her as she shifted side to side. “He’ll see how good of a baker you are and be quick to marry you!”

Your face contorted into a look of disgust, shaking your head vehemently, “Why would I accept? I don’t even know him.” A half lie. You were more worried about the drama that would ensue if Link knew of your origins.

“Because he’s the captain and a hero!” Fisia cried out like you had cursed all her kin.

“Not to mention he’s a total dream of a man,” Ame added. “You would be a fool to deny him.” You merely rolled your eyes at their claims. They had a point but you wouldn’t admit that.

“You act like one meeting has set our future in stone,” You grumbled with a shake of your head. “Are you going to buy something or continue blocking my potential customers?”

“You’re no fun,” Ame huffed.

“A man who has the potential of changing your entire life comes by and you throw it away,” Fisia glared. “If I were you I would’ve jumped at the opportunity.”

“You’re still young,” You waved off their complaints.

“I’m fourteen!” Sniped Fisia. “I’ve already crossed into my womanhood.” You cringed at the thought. Sometimes your blurred memories were a curse as you were forced to watch children married off to adults for social status improvements.

“Whatever you say,” You let out a resigned sigh.

…

Once again you found your days pass you by. It had been nearly a month since your run in with the fabled hero. You nearly forgot about it, more focused on the smaller aspects of your life. Cleaning clothes, buying groceries, cleaning your house. Life seemed to be a lot simpler here, something you tried not to take for granted. You owned your three story home, something you inherited from your parents. You had a profitable business, you quickly learned bread was life here. No plates, no bowls, bread was used for all that. One thing you will always yearn for is modern plumbing. It felt humiliating going in the nearby river or digging a hole, but everyone did it! Not even an outhouse! You felt like crying at the thought of being able to flush a toilet or wash your hands.

Point is, as used to this world as you were getting, it still seemed like something would flash back about your old life and remind you of advanced technologies you were missing out on. You shook your head, you needed to focus on the task at hand, picking up groceries for your bakery. Paying for the wheat, honey, and fruits, you hefted the heavy bag onto your shoulder, carrying the other goods in a basket. You made your way back through the crowds, weaving around running children and chattery adults. You nodded towards people you recognized, glaring at those who bumped into you. The sun shone down on you, causing sweat to bead at your hairline. All in a day's work.

“Hey, do you need some help?”

At first you thought you overheard someone’s conversation, it was midday and the market was lively, but then that stupidly handsome face popped into your peripheral and those damned crystal blue eyes were aimed right at you. “I got it,” You replied easily, shifting the bag to sit a bit more comfortably. You almost thought you caught him pouting…

It doesn’t matter, you could see the door to your bakery just a few feet from you, he would just be hindering you more at this point. Besides, wasn’t he not only a knight, but a captain? Shouldn’t he be busy doing…whatever the hell a captain does? Why did you keep managing to catch him when he was free?

Then you ran into your next predicament. Opening your door. Sure, you could set your bundle of wheat down, open the door, then pick it back up, but that would strain your back terribly. You didn’t have long to come up with a plan as the hero picked up on your predicament.

“I knew I could help somehow,” He grinned smugly with a wink. Frustrated. That’s what you felt when your heart flipped at the gesture. Bad heart. Bad feelings. You were supposed to be avoiding this man not falling for him. You pursed your lips, squeezing the handle of your basket as you pass by Link.

“Thank you,” You acknowledged his gesture with a nod, missing his shocked expression.

“Any time,” He replied, smile softening just the slightest.

Your plight had only grown worse from there.

“He’s coming by more often,” Ame giggled, poking at your shoulder.

“Momma says that the hero’s taken a fancy to ya,” Fisia joined, pushing back a dark strand of hair that fell from her braid, sly grin painting her lips.

“Shouldn’t you girls be working?” You huffed, cheeks heating up at their implications. “Or are you trying to get a free sweet from me?”

“Is it working?” Ame asked, Fisia cackling and pushing against her shoulder.

“You two are going to be the death of me,” You shook your head with a sigh, something you found yourself doing more often than not these days.

“You know, my papa said food is a way to a man's heart,” Ame pondered after calming down from her laughter.

“Is that why you’ve been learnin’ more recipes?” You asked, trying to deflect from yourself ever so slightly.

“Mhm,” Ame nodded. “Gotta impress a noble to marry me and I’ll never have to work another day in my life!”

A small chuckle left you at that, “Good luck, it's a noble goal indeed.”

“That’s all the more reason why you should marry Sir Link!” Fisia groans.

They had been feeding too many ideas into your head. You watched with careful eyes as Link interacted with you, the way he leaned towards you, large smile and soft eyes. It was dangerous to roll the idea of dating Link, the legendary hero, around in your mind. It had become more and more tempting as of late. He had managed to make you laugh more than you’d like to admit and you had to give it to him, he was charming when he wanted to be. But you liked him even more when he was being a total dork, it felt a little more real, like he was finally opening up to you.

“Seems like I got lucky,” The familiar voice of the one who cursed your thoughts spoke up.

“One loaf of bread left,” You agreed. “Unless you were craving something sweet.”

“Hmmm,” He hummed while tapping his fingers on the table which currently held your last good before you could close up. An…almost sheepish smile tugged at his lips as his eyes looked everywhere but at you. “Perhaps I could get both?” You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to clarify exactly what he meant.

The sun continued to fall, its golden rays lighting up his blonde hair in almost an angelic way. It was getting harder to deny your ever growing attraction towards the knight. The streets weren’t that crowded as people started to call it a day, some heading home, others towards the pubs. You yourself we're looking forward to grabbing a book and reading till it was time to call it a night.

“I’ll buy your last loaf…” Link started strongly, his confidence wavering a bit as he continued. “And take you out for a drink?”

…

Loud. That was the best way to describe your surroundings. A band was playing lively music as people cheered, sang music, and talked over the noise. The scent of alcohol permeated the space as nearly everyone had a pint of mead. A dish of King’s Chicken sat in front of you, the smells of meaty dishes making your stomach growl. You listened intently as Link told you a funny story from his training days, taking small bites to savor the more expensive end of food he had offered to pay for. As out of depth as you felt, you couldn’t help but feel a bit warm. No, not from the people dancing or the heat from the clay oven. It was a warmth that only the man in front of you could make you feel. Lips split in a smile, a laugh escaping every now and then as he gestured erratically to get his point across.

You took small sips of your mead, watching Link down his third glass. He seemed a bit nervous, it seemed like he was drinking to take the edge off. You weren’t sure why he kept seeming more and more nervous around you. Sure, you had been a bit standoffish the first few times you met, but you had gradually warmed up to him. How could you not?

You easily found yourself telling your own story, you had a lot, from bad customers to your own idiocy. You tried to ignore the shy smile that tugged on your lips at the way he leaned towards you, like he was waiting on your every word with bated breath. Your heart fluttered at the sound of his laughter when you said something funny, or how he would scowl when you recalled an irritated customer. You found yourself leaning closer to him as well, excusing it by thinking it was just so you could hear him better.

This was dangerous. You could tell the alcohol was starting to get to him, dilated eyes never straying from you, cheeks turning a rosy pink, words becoming just the tiniest bit more slurred. It was getting late, you may not be opening up shop tomorrow but you still had household chores to do. You felt a bit fuzzy yourself, barely, but after one pint you had called it enough.

“I think I should call it a night,” You yawned, covering your mouth with the back of your hand.

“I’ll walk you home,” Link offered, stumbling to stand up.

“I think I should be walking you home,” You chuckled, standing up as well. The blonde vehemently shook his head, offering you his elbow. You took it and began to walk out of the pub.

“I wouldn’t be a proper knight if I let that happen,” Link explained.

“Alright,” You agreed easily with a cheeky smile.

Stars littered the night sky, many oil lamps snuffed out for the night. The cobblestone streets were dark as you two made your way towards your house. Quiet laughter and teasing remarks filled the air, the odd passer by glaring or piss drunk. As you got closer and closer to your door, you found yourself wishing to hang out with the knight again.

“Thank you, oh valiant hero, for walking me home,” You grinned.

“Anything for you,” He replied without missing a beat, his words a bit too sincere for your poor heart. You stared at each other, seconds feeling like hours, minutes feeling like days. It was like someone put a spell on you, your eyes tracing his features. His eyebrows were relaxed, a small beauty mark rested under his right eye, his pink lips looked oh so enticing. It seemed the same thought was running through his mind as his hand lifted to hold your cheek, calloused palms brushing against smooth skin.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Link whispered, the sounds of crickets and frogs the only background noise. You felt your mind short circuit as his face inched closer, the scent of mead invading your nostrils. “Can I?”

You knew you should say no. You both were intoxicated to an extent, you should wait till you were sober…but he was so close to you. His body heat made your mind turn even fuzzier than before, all rational thought slowly leaving as his lips brushed against your own. You gave in, pressing your lips together in a desperate, needy kiss. Link reciprocated with fervor, pushing you against the door of your house gently in contrast to how his teeth bite at your lower lip.

You suck in a deep breath when you pull away, heart beating erratically as his lips start to trail from your jaw to your neck. You blink rapidly, trying to come back to reality.

“W-wait,” Your breath hitches as he kisses a spot that makes your knees weak. He stops instantly, pulling away just enough to meet your eyes. Dear goddesses are you down bad for him. If you thought his eyes were dilated earlier they’re practically a black hole now. “You’re drunk.” You state, gently pushing against his chest to create some space, to try and regain your sanity.

“It doesn’t make my feelings any less real,” Link murmured, nose brushing against your own sweetly.

“Then tell me tomorrow when our heads are clearer,” You mumble back, caressing his cheek before opening the door and entering your house. “Get home safely.”

…

It had been days. Your stomach felt like it was twisting in knots. Have you done something wrong? Was he sent away on a mission? Was it the kiss? Was it only a drunk induced mistake? You wanted to puke at the thought. You tried to keep busy. Make your goods, buy groceries, wash your clothes, clean your house. Do anything but let the thought of your feelings not being reciprocated rot and fester.

“We made you somethin’!” Fisia grins as she and Ame run up to your stall. Your desolate expression melts, warming ever so slightly at the girls who you would call friends.

“And what might that be?” You ask with a small grin.

“A friendship bracelet!” Ame exclaims, holding out a bracelet made of linen string. You felt your heart melt at the gesture, taking the gift and holding it reverently.

“Thank you,” You thanked them genuinely. “This means a lot.”

“We all have matching ones now,” Fisia explains, the two of them showing off their matching bracelets. Ame helped you put it on, the two of them happily comparing their hard work. This was the closest you got to a true moment of respite.

Of course the goddesses couldn’t let you have the moment for too long. Ame let out a gasp, tugging at Fisia’s tunic and pointing towards your right. Turning your gaze to what could’ve possibly caught their attention you felt your stomach drop. There stood Link who was slowly walking towards you. He kept his head down, hands fiddling with his iconic scarf.

“You think you can just come back after breaking their heart!” Fisia snarled as she pointed towards the hero. Eyes fell onto the four of you, causing you to shrink at the negative attention. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, was it that obvious you had fallen for him hook line and sinker? Link’s mouth gaped open before shutting tight, he worried his jaw. He looked absolutely racked with guilt.

“I came to apologize,” Link explained, but it felt like your world stopped. You couldn’t hear what he said next, your heart pounding in your ears. This was it. He was going to tell you it was all a mistake and that he didn’t mean any of it. Your breaths felt short, you wanted to run, you didn’t want to face the problem.

It wasn’t till he was standing in front of you, gently shaking your shoulders and calling your name that you snapped out of your panic. You watched him with wide eyes as he looked at you with concern mixed with regret.

“I’m sorry it took so long,” Link sighed, forehead resting against your own. “I…I was going to come the next day, but then there was an emergency that I had to attend to and I didn’t have any time to write you a letter…” He let out a frustrated sigh. “I love you. I love you so much it scares me. I, I’d be honored if you’d allow me to court you.”

“I was waiting for you to ask you idiot,” You huffed, biting back any more scathing remarks in favor of pulling the hero into another, this time sober, kiss. So absorbed in your own little world, full of relief of happiness that your feelings truly were reciprocated that you didn’t hear the squeals of Ame and Fisia, or the whispers of the other towns folk who watched on. Link didn’t seem to mind either, pulling you flush against him as he savored the taste of your lips on his own.

Perhaps you should thank whoever hit you, as you wouldn’t be in this situation without them.

#❥ • my works #loz x reader #lu x reader #linked universe x reader #legend of zelda x reader #warriors lu x reader #link x reader #loz #legend of zelda #lu #linked universe #lu warriors x reader #x reader #lu warriors #warriors lu

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seyph · 4 months ago

Text

A series of fanart of But first they must catch you by CosmicEpithet

This time using paper, ink, colored pencils and watercolor 🎨

(More under the cut)

I am devastated that this fic didn't update in years ��

#my art #linked universe #but first they must catch you #fanfiction fanart #traditional art #the first and last pictures are scanned so they are heavy #sad reader noises

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the-moon-files · 6 months ago

Note

Not sure if anyone has asked this before I think it’d be funny for the Links to get flustered if reader asked them to touch their ears (out of curiosity) (I’m totally not curious myself)

Like are they sensitive? Just some thoughts to ponder...

Again, just going thru old asks, so if i don't apologize in the ask, I promise its a given 😭

Moon: presumed male reader, but no he/him, only "you" used, so gender neutral really ig ("you")

Orbit: SFW, Headcanons-ish, SHORT

Stars: vaguely the classic chain of links

Comets & Meteors: CWs: mildly suggestive, mild discussion about ear piercings/cartilage mention, & TWs: ear piercing disussion (vague, no talk of needles).

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

☆

I actually sorta touched on this in an old ask, I’ll leave the link here in case u wanna see it, (when i find it…)

so ig I’ll expand on some short headcanons here!

so i mentioned last time i talked abt this being like a cultural hylian thing to only touch the ears of someone you love dearly, so like obviously parent/child, maybe older/younger siblings, etc. but i like to think generally,

esp as hylians grow up and become adults, their ears are like a thing only lovers/spouses touch/take care of

including piercings a lot of the time, so like a parent or sibling or lover will learn to properly pierce ears (tho i imagine they only really pierce non-cartilage piercings commonly)

so on the subject of piercings, i definitely think they see any multiple piercings/cartilage piercings on your ears as badass/def a show of good pain tolerance regardless of what you acc can withstand lol

(bro and if you have non-ear piercings?? Wind/Wild is Fascinated, and Leg/Hyrule/Sky/Wars jaws def dropped, even Time’s eye widened)

ok switching lanes back to the intimacy aspect

ok so we’re continuing off that situation in teh last post where you touch Four’s ears and are told what that means, and then half jokingly respond that they are very dear to your heart

(but obv if they’re uncomfortable you’ll def not do it)

bro the effect this has on them is actually irreversible lol

Wind was def the first to outright ask you to like check his ears after swimming or if they get nicked or even to ask you to pierce them once!

(if ur squeamish u said “no Wind, ask ur grandma” lol - but if ur not, like me when i was drunk once, u go for it after making super sure they’re symmetrical and sterile and whatnot, theyre just his firsts, as in the earlobe basic, and lend him a pair of your own earrings to keep in the meantime until healed, which is faster than humans. he is so happy he looks more like a pirate lol)

and the others def followed suit after Wind gave them the courage ironically (both being the youngest and also they literally all fought evil lol)

Wild politely asked if you could make him/help make him some earmuffs, Hyrule shyly asked if you would change his earrings, Four nearly went as red a tomato giving you a pair of earrings before suddenly but slowly all of them (except Wind?) gave you earrings some way or another (made or bought)

When one of the waitresses at an inn you guys stayed at giggled at seeing Sky give you a pair of carved pretty wooden feather earrings, before quickly running off, then congratulated you,

u asked what for, only to have her giddly explain it was a courting gift of course!!

…

nahhhh, all the Links gave you a pair of earrings, they were just being sweet and welcoming you into their culture probably!

or showing that you were dear to them to, since it was an “ear culture” thing!!

…you see the waitress sigh pitifully at the blonde men at your table later that night.

☆

thanks for the ask!!

peace out,

🌙📁

#lu x reader #linked universe x reader #link x reader #linked universe reader #loz link x reader #moon asks #lu x gn reader #linked universe x gender neutral reader #link x gender neutral reader #srry the way i write these things is just so neutal bc of the “you” that being a male/masc/man doesnt rlly come up #bc i could try and include it but it kinda ends up sounding just shoved in like an afterthought or smth #srry male reader lovers i promise ill make a gay post soon

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maple-the-awesome · 6 months ago

Text

Another Link Crushes On You || Part 1/3

Part 2 || Part 3

Pairings: Hyrule, Time, Sky x GN Reader

Overview: You've known Link for years - Well, a version of Link. Neither of you have seen yourselves as being anything more than friends, although it seems not all Link's think the same, in fact when you're introduced to the Chain, one of the boys happens to fall pretty hard for you. I spun a wheel to let fate decide upon random pairs this time. Needless to say, I had a lot of fun with some of them😁

Zelda Masterlist 💙Fandom Masterlist

"Well, look what the cat dragged in. 'was beginning to think you might be dead in a ditch somewhere," You scoff, making your presence known as you lean against the door frame coolly while eyeing your long lost roommate and, more importantly, the company he’s brought home, "Hylia's sake, one of you is enough as it is. Now nine?"

Legend breathes your name in a sigh, not so much as glancing away from the chest he currently digs through, "I can always count on you for a warm welcome."

Despite the sarcasm and rolled eyes, you don't seem to actually hold any true disdain towards one another. Quite the opposite, an observant bystander would notice how the Vet's shoulders relax upon hearing your voice, and how there’s a slight curve to your lips following his snark reply. You’re someone who brings him comfort; someone the Chain can trust.

Pushing yourself from the doorframe, you give them a friendly smile and wave, “I take it you must be the other heroes Link’s told me about in his letters - Less I’m to believe he found yet another ragtag group of misfits to drag around with him…It’s nice to finally meet other people who can bear to put up with his nonsense. I’m his roommate, by the way. Sorry I wasn’t around last time you stopped by.”

"Oh, so he has two roommates then -?”

“- His actual roommate," You correct with an annoyed huff. Of course, it's only half hearted, "Ravio doesn't count since he doesn't pay rent."

"He should. He's around enough," Legend's voice is echoed by the chest.

There’s more conversation to be had as the two of you bicker, although much of it becomes muted ambience for Hyrule who takes to wandering the room in awe of his predecessor’s impressive collection. Boomerangs and gauntlets, hammers and feathers, even an entire little chest overflowing with enchanted clothing…Sure, it’s probably not practical to most, but an adventurer can dream, can’t he? Amongst all of this stuff, Hyrule can’t decide what seems more interesting. The magic rods? A library of maps? How about the unique magical instruments lining the walls?

“...You're the one who practically showed up on my doorstep just begging for a place to stay."

"Really? Because I remember finding and nursing you back to health out of the kindness of my heart after you got your ass kicked by a moblin.”

"I had everything under control -”

- Just then, while half distracted by the argument behind him, Hyrule accidentally bumps into a shelf which causes its contents to shake violently. His shoulders tense in preparation for the awful sound of shattering no doubt followed by Legend’s scolding, but before one of the potions can hit the floor, a hand skillfully dives to catch it.

“Careful there. You could really get hurt with some of the stuff in here,” You smirk, setting the potion back onto the shelf before turning around with your hands placed upon your hips, “I keep telling Bunny this place could be more spacious if he’d just sort through some of this junk, but he’s too emotionally attached to it all to ever take my advice.”

“It’s good to be prepared, I guess,” Hyrule stammers, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment - At least, that must be why he feels so nervous all of a sudden. What other reason would there be?

“There’s already been a few times when the Vet’s items have saved our tails.”

You hum, cocking your head to the side as you look the brunette over. In all likelihood, it’s probably only a split second that your eyes glance his way, yet it’s enough to make him feel see-through. Are you judging him? Do you see how knotted his hair is or how desperately his face needs to be washed?

Golly, you’re attractive yourself - which should be a perfectly normal thing to think because yes, conventionally speaking, you could be found very attractive and for good reason. How did Legend and you meet again? Did he say it was strictly platonic or are you already spoken for? Is that even something Hyrule should be thinking right now? Why would he be thinking such a thing when all you’ve done is look straight into his soul - …And you’re gone.

Regardless of whether you noticed Hyrule’s internal panic, you end up straying from his side to start sorting through a nearby chest yourself. If he hadn’t been stunned stupid, he would’ve heard the words you speak to the group while tossing aside items, “Here’s an idea: maybe some of you guys can take a few items off Link’s hands - Split them up amongst the group to get it out of our hair -”

“- Absolutely not!” Legend’s voice comes from somewhere over the heaps of junk, not that it does anything to stop you.

Finally finding whatever it was that you were looking for, you stand up and make your way back over to Hyrule. Before he can react beyond a jolt, you take his hand and place something in it before putting your own on top. Your touch is soft in contrast to his own rough skin. Oh, and that wink you give him - It’s enough to make his face explode in red. It could be deadly for his heart to race any faster!

“...Don’t let him catch you with it,” You whisper, and that smirk you give makes him certain you know what you’re doing.

“I - um - Oh, sure…I -”

You chuckle at the flustered boy, regrettably removing your hands from his before once again leaving his side. He thinks you say something about refreshments, maybe lunch, but honestly, he’s as good as gone to this world. It takes a bit of shaking from Four and shouting from Wind to properly snap him out of it, at least enough so to finally look down at his hand.

There’s a small blue telescope in his grasp, and it’s with that that he finally decides: you are probably, by far, the most interesting thing to be found here in Legend’s collection.

This is nice - peaceful, even, which tends to be a rare gift these days. Granted, the sun is a little too bright, and it wouldn’t be much of a surprise if someone walks away from this island with a nasty sunburn (most likely Twilight and Wild), but at least there’s somewhat of a gentle breeze to balance out the heat, and a quiet moment protected from any childish shenanigans is never something to turn down.

Most of the boys have been whisked off by Wind who had deemed it a crime that some of them have never seen the sea before. Those who managed to escape his attention have hopefully been keeping out of trouble on their own, basking in much needed time to themselves elsewhere on the island (after all, it does get tiresome traveling in such a large group for so long).

It matters not which deity has decided to smile down upon him today and grace him with this break. What matters is Time’s relaxed - as relaxed as a man with his background and mindset can ever be - while standing here in the sun, soaking in its glow and your perfectly tranquil company.

Ah yes, he hasn’t been left entirely alone. You’re here, too, but unlike his traveling companions, you’re closer to his age and thus seem to match his level of maturity and easygoing nature - a godsent in these trifling times, really.

Currently, you sit upon the porch humming a pleasant little tune while combing Aryll’s hair. She sits between your legs, happily swinging her feet as you work small handfuls at a time, your movements as gentle and careful as the breeze - And that adoring look in your eyes…It could be enough to melt any heart.

Time finds himself being put at ease by the domestic sight, wordlessly admiring how effortlessly you balance caring for the young child while conversing with a stranger like himself, speaking to him softly as if a personal friend of yours:

“Link’ll probably want to stay with his grandma tonight, but the rest of you might do better staying with me. I’m sure she’ll offer, though I’d worry about the stress hosting so many traveler’s would put on her,” You explain, skillfully dividing Aryll’s hair into two blue ribbons, “I have space in my own hut, so there’d be no trouble.”

“It’s nice weather,” Time mentions, gazing up at the clear sky above, “None of us would mind sleeping under the stars -”

“- No trouble at all,” You emphasize with a breath, pretending not to hear his own point. He merely smiles, having no will to argue. They haven’t been here long, and yet this is the second argument he’s unlikely to win against you. The first was your insistence that they stay the night at all with promises to host them well.

Once finished with her hair, Aryll thanks you in a hurry before scurrying off to find her big brother. You chuckle at her enthusiasm, but soon after, there’s a shift in your mood. Suddenly, you grow a bit sad and anxious. Time can’t help noticing the concern that briefly overtakes your expression, twisting your lips into a frown as you raise a nail to nibble on. Now that you’re truly alone, he can no longer mock ignorance to how exhausted you look, and it takes no genius to understand why that may be.

“...Rupee for your thoughts?” Really? That’s the best he can come up with in all his years of wisdom? It’s such a lame way to break the silence and an even lamer way to start a serious conversation with someone you’ve only just met.

Fortunately, you don’t seem to hold any judgment against him. Instead you sigh and look at him from over your shoulder with a sorrowful smile, “Is my stress that obvious?”

“I’ve been around long enough to know a mask when I see one,” Pushing him off the beam he’s been casually leaning against, Time invites himself to finally sit beside you on the steps.

You don’t say anything all too quickly in response, rather you turn back to the sea with a deep inhale.

“...I worry about him,” You eventually confess through a whisper,“Every time he comes back from one of his adventures, he’s…different. Not enough so for anyone else to notice, but I do. He’s getting older - more mature, for better or for worse - and the things he’s had to witness - the battles and responsibilities that no child should ever have to bear - I can’t help seeing how it’s all starting to wear him down, slowly but surely.

“...And I know - I know this is his destiny and that he’s already saved the world once. I know he can handle himself, but he’s - he’s still just a boy! He shouldn’t have to bear the burden of the world upon his shoulders! He should be running around this island, digging for treasure in the sand and catching pigs. Instead he’s finding treasure in dangerous dungeons and fighting pigs!”

Time frowns. What can he say to comfort you? That it’s all going to get better? That maybe, one day, Wind will return home and stay for good? Even though you’re a stranger he has no obligation to, he can’t bring himself to provide an empty promise like that, because out of all the heroes here, he knows best that it would be a lie. This road they’re on - This road the Goddesses have sent each of them down - There is no end to it…Not one that he’s found, anyway…

Fortunately or unfortunately, Time doesn’t get the chance to collect his thoughts nor offer any words of encouragement (if he could’ve even decided on some). You sigh before he has a second to respond, suddenly looking back at him with an optimistic smile only half fitting of the current mood, “...You’ll keep an eye on him, won’t you? Make sure he doesn’t get too ahead of himself, at least during the time that you’re all traveling together?”

"You have my word."

At a minimum, he’s able to give you that promise. The road ahead is rugged and treacherous with fearsome monsters around every corner…but Time can promise that he’ll give his all to protect those in his party. No harm shall fall upon any of the boys so long as he’s able to take a blade within his own hand. He’ll see to it that Wind returns to your arms at the end of this journey, safe and sound with plenty more stories to tell.

Your sigh releases some of the tension kept within your mind and bones, “...I wish none of you had to go through any of this…”

“At times I wish the same…” His agreement is flat and not exactly what you had hoped to hear, even if it is expected, but at least his next words seem to touch your heart more tenderly, “...But it’s not ourselves who we fight for. It’s people like you; people who deserve to live to see times of peace. The world’s safety will always be payment enough.”

As a captain in the Hylian Royal Army, Warrior’s experience doesn’t quite follow the same origin as most of his counterparts. His training had been professional and grueling, the weight upon his shoulders more direct than a mere whisper in the wind guiding him. He didn't have the luxury of stumbling upon his destiny or sneaking in to find Ganondorf when the time was right - No, he was publicly named then pushed by circumstances to meet Ganondorf on a battlefield, of all places.

It’s a life few in the Chain can exactly relate to, although some similar undertones aren’t missed upon Wild and Sky. While Wild isn’t one to draw any attention to it, perhaps not remembering enough about himself to know why any of this may or may not feel familiar, Sky’s a bit more acclimated to this systematized environment than his brothers, even if it is still rather different than home.

The army of this world clearly functions on a far larger scale than any of the knights back on Skyloft, and the air carries more tension than what could ever be found in a classroom, even on testing days. Nevertheless, Sky appreciates how much pride Warrior takes in showing off his world, not letting the stern expressions of anyone they pass dampen his excitement, after all, despite some previous experience fighting alongside inhabitants of other timelines, it’s rare that he’s given the chance to be the host himself, not a simple guest.

"There's someone I'd like you guys to meet!" The Captain announces at the same moment his eyes and smile lighten considerably. Clearly, he’s spotted a new target, one he makes a quick b-line for with the others close on his trail.

A call of your name is all it takes to capture your attention, although contrast to Warrior’s spark, you seem far less amused with your reunion.

“And where have you been?” You hiss, your narrowed eyes disapproving as they basically dare your friend - colleague, maybe? - to try excusing his sudden absence and casual reappearance. Now that’s an expression that really sends Sky back to his days at the Academy! Why, he’s only seen it about a hundred times on his instructors over the years!

"Working," Warrior must be accustomed to being on the receiving end of such a harsh glare, because he completely fails to even acknowledge it, instead swiftly changing subjects as he gestures to the heroes behind him with much fanfare, “I came here to introduce you to -”

"- Sailor!” It’s funny how quickly your expression switches, igniting like a fueled fire. Within seconds, you’re rushing right past Warrior to embrace the youngest hero of their group, “Now there’s a face I’ve missed! Long time no see. Oh, look at you! Have you gotten taller?”

Luckily, Wind seems just as happy to see you, giggling and practically hanging onto you as you rub your knuckles into his hair. With your arm still tossed over his shoulder, you raise an eyebrow towards the rest of the Chain who now feel suddenly out of place, not certain if they should also know you.

Warrior comes up to your side to explain, “Funny story, but everyone you see before you is a reincarnation of the hero’s spirit.”

“Ah! Heroes from different times?” You gasp, pressing a finger to your chin as you look them all over with serious consideration yet hardly any surprise. Maybe you’re just as used to this sort of thing as Warrior is, “...Now that you say that, some of them do seem a bit familiar…”

“You must be the Hero of Twilight Midna spoke of!” You conclude with a point towards their Rancher who jolts. Whether because of the sudden attention or the mention of a sore name, he won’t get the chance to say, “I’m guessing so anyway, based on her descriptions, although I must say, she made you sound more…-”

“- Brutish? Rugged?” Warrior’s smirk is smug yet sadly untouchable amongst the careful watch of the surrounding military.

“I was looking for a nicer word, but that is what she said, isn’t it?” You sigh with a defeated shrug before turning to the oldest of the group. You gasp once again, this time with more heart, “And you! You kinda look like -! But it couldn’t be…Is that you Sprout?

“Talk about someone getting taller! The last time I saw you, you were only yea high!” Time’s thankful that you don’t give him the same treatment as Wind, instead minding your distance while awing at the height difference between you both now, although your smile soon turns sorrowful the longer you look him over, “...Your adventures haven’t been kind to you, have they?”

“In case you haven’t already guessed, this is the historian friend I’ve mentioned before - The one who probably knows more about us than we’re to know about ourselves at this point,” Warrior finally explains to his confused friends, coming up to place his hands upon your shoulder, “Give us a favor and try not to overheat now.”

“Oh don’t be so jealous,” You shoot him an unamused glare and swat him away, however he’s saved from any more scolding when you at long last look to Sky. Based upon what little the Captain has mentioned about you up until this moment, you’re a simple Hylian with no powers beyond your strength with a sword and impressive knowledge of Hyrule’s history…So why is it that your eyes have suddenly managed to freeze him like stone?

"As for you, I recognize that shield from Skyloft's era which means...You must be the Hero of Sky!" Your expression once again lights up like a beacon as you swiftly take his hand and give it a firm shake, not seeming at all fazed by his stunned stance, "You're the Master Fi spoke of, I take it? It's an honor to meet you."

"I, uh - It's an honor to meet you, too," At least he gathers enough of his wits to stumble out some words.

"I must say, Skyloft was one of my favorite places we visited during the war. Such a peaceful island - Well, after getting past the life-or-death battles that brought us there in the first place," You say, nudging Warrior as the two of you snicker. Oddly enough, Sky feels a bit disappointed to lose your focus and even more so to see the bond Warrior and you clearly share. Why, though? Why feel so omitted from someone he’s just met?

Fortunately, the negative feelings don't sink too deep until your attention becomes solely trained on him, "There's so little that has survived in our history books about your time - a real shame, too. As the first hero, I'm sure you have some unique experience under your belt."

"I-I guess you could say that…" Sky mumbles awkwardly, shooting a hand up to rub the back of his neck. Then, suddenly feeling a bit bold, he decides to test his luck with an offer, "I could, um, tell you about them if you want?"

Your eyes widen while Warrior rolls his, "You shouldn't have suggested that -"

"- Really?! Well, I'd love to hear it!" Before he can react, you have Sky’s hands sandwiched between yours, your touch impressively soft despite your years of training and fighting or maybe he’s just imagining them that way, "Could you start with the Imprisoned? We fought it a couple of times during the war and man, was it a pain. Fi mentioned you thought it yourself several times. Tell me, how did you -"

"Aaand we lost them…" Warrior groans, face smacked against his hand as you practically drag Sky off without so much as a goodbye to the others, "We're not going to get a word in ourselves for a while now. Let’s just go see if we can’t get an audience with the Queen and come back for them later.”

#x reader #reader insert #linked universe x reader #link x reader #linked universe #lu time x reader #lu hyrule x reader #lu sky x reader #legend of zelda x reader

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wayfayrr · 1 year ago

Note

I imagine you like fight a strong enemy and are like celebrating and go “I could kiss you rn” to link as he’s like LET ME OUT PLEASE shaking the metaphorical bars of the game.

Link isn't just shaking the bars he's chewing on the glass and hitting it as hard as he can just with the slimmest HOPE that he could possibly get out by doing it

the fact that you're saying it so casually and to his face????? He takes it as a challenge to be able to get out - a personal bet that the second he does he's getting a kiss.

cause this boundary that separates you is the strongest enemy there is right? If you'll kiss him for defeating a lynel or something that much weaker than you'll give him so many more for getting him out right?

He swears to himself at that moment with a small barely noticeable flicker across the screen that he'll get out soon to hold you to your words. even if it's the last thing he does <3

#heheheh you're fueling his love you FOOL #linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #link x reader #yandere link #linked universe #moss✦answers #self aware au #self aware loz

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yourlocaltreesimp · 25 days ago

Text

Glue trap shenanigans

Written for @portraitofalinkonfyre because they're literally the largest four simp I know!

Synopsis: You find a trapped minish and decide to help them out. Unfortunately for you, that minish is very literally a man. Double unfortunately for you, that man is the hero. Triple unfortunately for you, you accidentally asked him on a date

The morning sun hadn’t fully yet melted the dew that accumulated atop grass tips; but still, you were angry.

There wasn’t any light in the house, not even the dull ricochet from downstairs, and you knew immediately that the fire had been doused. The tips of your toes and the ends of your fingers were cold with the chill bite of autumn. A long sigh left your body, some will to rouse leaving with it as it became quickly apparent how the cold had seeped into your joints, stiffening them past their years and leaving you longing for just five more minutes.

Your head spun as you sat up, reeling from the stress of going to the ever-hectic market yesterday and the business of the day still to come.

You quietly thanked Hylia, for at least you wouldn’t have to return to the market. It was nothing bad, not extensively, these were the same faces and same vendors you grew up with. But the loud chatter so early and the delay on the first batches’ bake times just makes the day feel so much longer. Not to mention just how fussy people get when they have to wait an extra hour for their bread. You love bread, you own a bakery, but you don’t get why they get so grouchy.

Days where you have to go to the market are their own special punishment— just for you. Your back always hurts twice as much and the time passes at half the pace.

The beginning of your morning was mostly lacking in frustration, aside from the loop of your apron getting caught on the door handle and the floorboards being too cold as you sleepily stumbled around. You'd told Wren last night to keep the fire in the hearth lit, especially since you didn’t make enough money to afford one of those new steam heaters. But still, the fireplace was filled with only ash when you’d finally found some slippers and made your way downstairs.

Defeated, you pushed a few logs onto the iron rod supports, watching with quiet enamor as the fire ate away at the wood. A sharp wind shakes the windows in their panes, and you curse Wren for not following the instructions you laid out, inadvertently letting your house grow cold as dying as the trees. You took a moment to settle yourself when the doorbell rang. You could forgive Wren, and you most certainly would with time. She was just a child, hardly even 13. She really didn’t know better some of the time.

The fool currently blabbing to you, however, was old enough to know better.

Well old enough to know better.

Ammi wasn’t usually a horrible neighbour. In fact, you’d even bargain to say she was quite nice most of the time. She made you a tart when you moved in, bought your first ever loaf of bread, burnt as its’ heels were. She nodded and waved whenever she saw you in the streets or on your front porch, and all her house parties were quiet and ended at a reasonable hour; the adeius ending before the moon could settle its place in the sky.

But in this exact moment, you wanted nothing more than to grab her by her greys and chuck her into the street.

The prominent wrinkle between her brows settled deep as she looked over you, those warm eyes suddenly feeling lacking in welcome. Her hand grabbed your shoulder, an attempt as connection and sincere, all bony as they were.

“You’d better listen now, dear! I’ve seen so, so many of them these last few weeks.” Her voice was light– well intentioned, you’re sure. But still, you couldn’t trust yourself to force any words out, and she continued.

She liked to hear herself talk at times, but the company usually didn’t feel so intrusive. It was helpful on rainy days at the market or walking back from festivals at night, to have someone to carry the conversation. Especially given your lack of excitement when it comes to conversation. Unfortunately for you, it now meant being backed into a corner, figuratively and semi-literally.

Y’know, given slamming the door in her face wasn’t generally seen as a polite ending to a conversation.

“All you’d have to do is add some of that molasses you got for makin’ those ginger-knights and a little bit of bakin’ soda, and you’ll have all those little buggers right caught” She smiled, her smoker’s lines leading to the thin, lacquered line of her lips. She preened for a moment, proud of her discovery as you stood baffled.

“Din give me strength-“ You pinch at your furrowed brow as if it might help, “you’re trapping picori?” You finally trust yourself to ask after a cool breath dampens the fire that lived behind your ribs. You crossed your arms as best you can manage and leaned into your doorframe. At least it managed give you the support in the absolute dumbassery that was your neighbour’s reasoning.

“Oh please!” She bats a hand at you noncommittally, dismissing your worries as silly, and the action fans the dying embers to a healthy flame, “They’re rats! It’s not as if they have feelings. And anywho, we’d be doing them a favour from such a miserable life.” She pauses at the ringing of a bell, her fat cat rubbing at her ankles, begging for her undivided attention. Ammi bends down, struggling to pick up her chunky cat.

“Much better as snacks to Luci, huh?” Her voice defaults to that baby voice that everyone unanimously decided to be used on pets, nuzzling its little nose. The zapped wires of its whiskers wasn’t screaming ‘cute baby’ as much as it was screaming feral. Ammi turns her attention back to you, and she smiles as though you’d understand. As if you’d come around eventually. Your face scrunches in distaste at the woman in front of you, and her dreaded cat.

Sure, people had to eat and animals had to be slaughtered. Such was the way of life. But glue traps, got any animal were cruel— ensuring their last moments were spent suffering and struggling for freedom they could never get. And still, they’d die of exhaustion and hunger, drawing out their pain as long as possible.

But the Picori weren’t just animals. They were innocence and kindness and hope and the light of warm childhood lingering upon such a scary existence. And this woman has the utter gall to-

There’s the sound of wincing struggle, a hefty woosh, and a loud thud as something hits the floor with a solid smack. The vibrations move through the floorboards, even though the kitchen is a decent bit away.

“UH- Boss?!” Wren calls, light and panicky. Just like the bird. Just as innocent.

You sigh and through Ammi a look of exhaustion in the hopes that she’d get the que and back off already. Her eyes turn satisfied while she adjusts her woollen cardigan and catters something about going to the market and to save her some bread. You scoff, the only image your mind could conjure was of that cruel woman using it to lure poor, hungry animals.

When you do reach the kitchen, you see a lot more white than there’s supposed to be.

A lot more white.

In fact, it seemed as if flour had gotten everywhere. In every corner. In every appliance.

You felt your shoulders tense in some mix of bewilderment and belligerence, the anger from before now targeting anew on the waste of what must’ve been three whole sacks of flour.

“Look- I- I’m so sorry- I just saw you weren’t having a good morning so I thought I’d do the lifting for you since that’s your least favourite job, but they slipped and I-” She cuts herself off to finally look at you, and it seems as if her skeleton tried to jump from her skin in pure fear.

“Please- I really need this job, and I understand if you fire me but I’ll find some way to make it up! Dock my pay, I’ll work extra shifts, I’ll do anything just-”

“I’m not going to dock your pay, Wren” Your shoulders sag as the anger leaves you as empty as your fireplace. Cold as soot. She shuffles awkwardly in place, too scared to do anything else it seems. Too scared to make another mistake.

“It’s ok, really. It happens. We make mistakes. I, much worse at your age. I’d be a hypocrite to punish you” You manage a light chuckle, and that seems to put her at ease that nothing will happen to her by your hand. “I’ll have to get more flour, so you can clean this up while I go to the market to get more.”

“But you’ll miss sales-”

“And I’ll miss even more if you keep fretting” Your voice holds a chaotic whimsy that returns a similar smile to her face.

“So let's get to it!”

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

The market was crisp and cold, as it usually was around mid autumn. The shades of the leaves, the burn of the air in the back of your throat, the smell of the first few batches of spiced wine, it was all beautiful.

There were less people out and about than in the spring and summer, but it was nice to have the beauty to yourself. You were alone, but you were by no means lonely. You handed over a small bag of rupees to the man from the mills and ached as you took two bags on each shoulder. The air was just cold enough to sap the warmth form your joints and leave you stiff, the journey to haul the bags back to your house now twice as arduous. You focused on anything you could to take away from the pain. The slightly wobbly cobblestones as you walk onto your street, the plumes of white smoke from chimneys of your neighbours, the rattle of brittle branches in the wind, the soft squeaking by your ankle- The what?

You looked down towards your ankle as you stood upon the stoop and realised dully there was nothing there. Empty space. You huffed, about to kick on the door with your foot (the closest thing to a knock as you could about get), when you heard the squeaking be joined by the satanic growl of Luci. You looked over at the crooked little hellspawn before you realised that it was about to pounce upon something caught in one of Ammi’s little traps.

Holy fuck it was a Picori.

You unceremoniously drop the flour, ironic, your previous efforts forgotten in favour of now saving your new friend. By the time you leapt from your doorstep to Ammi’s, the cat had begun to pounce, claws fully extended. Your freezing knuckles wrapped around the trap with enough time to save the small mouse from the flurry of attacks. Your knuckles were bleeding; but as you peeled back your hands to see your small friend, you saw he was unharmed.

You scurry over to your house, opening the door frantically. All the meanwhile, the small body in your hands tried everything short of biting you to get out. You try to keep your composure as you rich to the kitchen, thankful to see Wren almost finished cleaning. Her eyes don’t catch on the dripping red blood, entirely focused on the stubborn flour in the cracks of the hardware she’d set to clean.

“Uh- I sliced my hand on the way over- would you mind taking in the bags while I dress my cut?” Your voice is too high-pitched to make the request seem unsuspicious, but she leaves without casting you a thorough glance. One of the few times you could thank her naivety. She beams a smile while throwing her tea towel over her shoulder, turning on the ball of her foot to make steadfast for the door; and so it seems that’s the last of your inspection. You set down the trap and finally get a good look at the small creature squirming about.

He’s small of course, they all are, dressed in his own small clothes. His tunic is sewn and embroidered into quadrants, with each little seam holding its own careful pattern and detail. Among the tiny motifs you see the weaving lines of kinestones, all leading back to the clover leaves where the quadrants meet. His little feet were wrapped in little booties of surprisingly fine leather, though it was hard to see in the thickened molasses tacked over them. His fur coat was a light blonde, the hair lengthened to frame the small face in something akin to a bob. Scraping against the wood backing of the trap was a tiny sword at his back, scabbard scratching at the wood as it used all of what little might it had to try and pull free.

You can swear for just the briefest moment that you’d seen it before in some sort of folklore… but the thought escapes you before you can seem to place it.

The differences were stark from the usual picori, the whole ensemble surprisingly ornate, something you’d usually assume the wealthy might wear if they were full size garments.

“Hey…” You started, but didn’t really know where you were going with this, much less where it would end. Finally, He stopped to turn to you, giving up the struggle of pulling his mitts from the tack.

“I know how to get you out, there’s no need to tire yourself out” You chuckle lightly, half at the way the thing squints at you in some mix of indignation and incredulousness, and half for the sheer oddity of your situation.

Most sane people don’t stand about in their kitchen trying to assure trapped magic mice, but to your defence, when he finally did cease the struggle and turn its attention upon you, his eyes were so… knowing?

Animals were sentient, sure, but fully conscious? …That’s a stretch.

Still, both beady eyes stayed affixed on you, the tips of small ears flicking slightly whenever you'd mutter something to yourself.

Warm water would dissolve the molasses, and oil could help separate the fur while incurring as little damage as possible. Good, gentle oil was harder to come by, most of it sourced from other domains, sent through merchants and sold for the rich. You supposed olive oil could work in the pinch, so long as you rinsed it off well enough.

Settling for that, you set the glue trap down and headed into the stores, chuckling at how the little head followed you wherever you went. You hefted up the metle container of pressed oil and poured some into one of your soup bowls, setting it back where it was, mindful to close the lid.

Bowl of oil in hand, and surprisingly docile (surprisingly armed) magic mouse by your side, you snuck upstairs just in time to check on Wren in the doorway as she tried her best to waddle from the front to the store room with a sack of flour. Credit where it was due, you doubted you could’ve done much better than her at her age.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Your actual private living space was much less adorned than the downstairs area. Most working folk didn’t spend time in their private quarters. You awoke in a room with bare, white walls, in sheets that you scraped together to afford when you bought the house, and got ready with clothes weaved by hands and from wool which both were birthed and would likely die in this town.

Only those who could afford to lie in bed, or dress in clothes brought from foreign lands, would see to decorating their private quarters. Your bathing room was much similar to the rest of the private quarters, plain outside of the necessities. Sink, soap cabinet, copper basin for the water, towels hung, only what you needed. You set your little friend down and rolled up your sleeves, drawing water into the copper bath and lighting the small fire beneath it so it may warm.

You take a moment to sigh, meaning over the bath with your forearms braced on the thick lips of the copper. You take a moment to accept how off-kilter the day had gotten from the usual routine of bread and sales.

When you do finally lift your head, it’s to look at the picori, who stands as politely as one could when stuck in a glue trap.

“You stayin’ in those clothes?” You draw up the strength to conjure words for your audience who can't reply. He nods fervorously, to the point where the flat foundation of the glue trap begins to rock back and forth.

Beneath the golden fur, you can almost imagine the flush taking over its face by how it covers its face when it thinks you aren't looking.

You laugh, using the tips of your fingers to stop him from falling flat on his back. Would it really be flat given his back was stuck about an inch into the glue trap?

You suppose not, but it's an entertaining mental debate you’ll shelve for the next time it’s a slow day.

Now, instead, you snuff out the fire beneath the bath and pick up the trap, using your other hand to test the temperature of the water. Just warmer than lukewarm, a comfy temperature that could still dissolve all that molasses. You remove the little green hat atop its head, minding the little clack the gold bird charm makes as it’s set against your tile.

He wriggles slightly to loops its tiny chin over where your hands are cupped around him, trying his best to stay above the water. You work first massaging the warm water against the tacky sort of glue, loosening it to a sort of thicker liquid. By the time it's mostly melted, you dip one set of fingertips into the oil and massage away what’s left of the stickiness from where it's gripping onto the fur. Some gentle pressure and scraping with your nails, the majority of the sticky substance removes itself from the roots of the fur. Cleaning the clothes still on the little body and the feathery tail is actually much harder than the fur, given how the oil can stain the clothes and the delicacy of the tail. But with a dip in the warm water and some soap, most of the oil lifts from the fabric. With gentle care, you can pry the tacky board from his feet, allowing him to finally relax in your hold. Out of some minor curiosity, you use the very edge of your nail to scritch at his scalp, and are delightedly met with a choir of happy squeaks as he nuzzles into your hands.

Not long after, his large eyes flutter, sleepy after all that effort of trying to free themselves and the warmth of the water.You keep the small body tightly wrapped in your palms so they can leech of that warmth and stay cozy. And cozy it was, given how they try to burrow into you as they sleep away, one of the highest compliments. Your hand leaves for a moment to take a towel off the rack, your hand freezing halfway as the most pitiful whine leaves the form in your hands. You look down to see worried little eyes, groggy and confused as to where all the warmth went.

“Oh shush” You grabbed the towel, slipping it over your wrist so your hand could return to the picori in your grasp.

“See? I have you now, you don’t need to worry” You assure quietly, hiding your amusement as he begins to make himself cozy again. You know you can’t hold him forever, unfortunately, you did need to work.

And so began the plot to find the warmest place in the house. Your sleeping quarters were above the kitchen… and with the ovens on all day, the heat would make its way up. You nudge the door open with your hip, lest it keep squeaking at you in defiance whenever you remove your hands. You nestle the comically large bundle of towel among the pillows and watch in amusement as he cozies up against the pillows.

All considering how immensely unprepared you were, you considered this a great success.

You return to the bathroom to wrap up your now no longer bleeding knuckles, cursing at the little bird charm at the end of the small green hat, left discarded on the tile. Hylia- it was small but painful. You put the little hat in your pocket, laughing at the mental image of trying to explain this to someone. Oh yeah! My neighbour traps and feeds mythical rodents to her devil cat and it scratched me when I was trying to stop it.

Honestly, if you weren’t so crucial to the village, you’re sure they’d send you to a convent.

You laugh with each step down the warped wooden stairs and back into the kitchen, where Wren already began with the first batch of bread. Time passed quickly in the bakery. You always seem to get so absorbed in your work that you never realise the time passing you by. It was hardly ever now that you’d actually work baking. Wren, friendly as she was, didn't have her wits about her; and you’re certain that if she were to run sales, then every loaf of bread would be given away for free. There was nothing wrong with the front of house, but it wasn’t as if you opened a bakery because you wanted to talk to people. The conversations and the camaraderie and drama of the townsfolk were entertaining in some sense, but damn did you just like making bread. It was nice, after the hectics of the morning, to just spend your day doing something you liked, even if you had to stop every few minutes to explain to someone why their regular bread wasn’t out yet.

Late in the afternoon, after all the folks stopped by for whatever baked goods they needed, you split from cleaning the last counter to check in on the picori upstairs. The sun was fading out by now, the sky a brilliant mix of blues and pink, and you’d hate for him to just end up lost.

Frustrated squeaking filled the quiet expanse of your bedroom as the little fiend struggled against his bindings (soft towel wrapping). You waited for him to tire himself out slightly, not particularly enthusiastic about the idea of more animal injuries. You weren’t certain of how sharp their swords could be, but you were certain that you didn’t fancy finding out if the hat was anything to go by. He lets you unwrap him from the towel, and seems fairly understanding that it’s time to go. You walk downstairs, making sure he isn’t jostled too much by the movement, and take a seat on the mossy stump a little ways back from your house.

“Alright bud, this is it” You gently set him down, tilting your hand so he can slide off with little effort.

“Hope you enjoyed your stay, but it’s home time now” He scurries off for a few steps, tail bobbing and swishing with each step before he stops abruptly in his tracks. He turns around and pats his head, his little mitts held out to you expecting. What? Was this goodbye to them or- Oh that’s right he had a hat!

You shuffle about in your pocket, eventually retrieving his little pointed hat, and placing it among his hands. You watched as he shuffled it about on his head, making sure the placement was perfect. Suddenly, he straightened, turning to face you, with those beady eyes bearing into you silently. Oddly, you feel a great amount of understanding between the two of you, just trying to get by and caught up in a greater web of things than you hoped. He lets out a string of squeaks you guess are supposed to make a sentence, and kneels in gratitude,regarding you for the entirety of the moment as you stand to leave.

“Don’t even mention it” You held up a hand in dismissal of the grand gesture, pausing short when you do get an idea “well- maybe mention it to your friends. I don’t wanna see any of the rest of ya getting trapped, ok?” You raise your eyebrows expectantly, the whole embarrassment of talking to a rodent entirely out the window. Still, he nods, a pleased twinkle in his literal orbs for eyes, and scurries off to the safety of the foliage.

The next morning begins similarly to the last, lighting the fire in the hearth. Unfortunately (well, you suppose fortunately to the picori population) there’s no valid reason for you to forgo your usual work at the front of house. The first loaves of bread and savoury pastries are out when Wren arrives, the door handle nearly slamming a hole through your wall with how excited she was. You liked making bread, but this seemed like a bit much… even for her. She sets down her things and scrambles for an apron, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she waits for you to finish up.

“That’s 15 for the bread… and five for the pastry, so 20 rupees is your total” You try your best to ignore the jittering ball of energy just behind you as the old man fished for a red rupee.

“Thank you, have a nice day now” He slides it across the counter, the small jem making little clinks against your uneven counter. He’s hardly even turned to walk away when Wren starts up.

“Ok so I know you don't really like it when I work the front but I really reeeeeaaallly want to just for today- I mean think about it it’d be really good experience and if I don’t learn now then I’ll never learn, and I’m not saying you’re a bad boss I’m just saying that my whole point of being here is to learn and I need to-” You never knew someone could talk so fast. You’ve heard bees buzz at a slower pace.

“Take it.” Your words are blunt as you step into the back, retreating into your comfy corner away from all the people.

“Really?!”

“By the three- please.”

And as the hours passed, and foot traffic slowed, she was no less excited. You were half convinced that purely for the fact of her motivation alone, you’d let her run sales.

The last tray of bread had been packaged when you finally got around to closing up. All the sourdough starters had been fed, all the floors swept, all the counters wiped. All you really had to do was count up the till and go feed the ducks before it got too dark out. The whole day passed in a flurry of familiar work. Mixing, kneading, resting, re-kneading, re-resting, glazing, baking, cooling, bagging, all mixed in a jumble of orders to the demand of the customers. And soon it’d all be don-

“Hey boss?” Wren hung off the doorframe, a far too mischievous smile on her face to mean anything good for you. The type of plotting smile, juvenile.

“...What?”

“There’s a guy out here.” She looked proud of herself, as though she’d caught you among some scandal. It wasn’t the first time she’d accuse some poor bloke of catching interest in you, and you’re sure this wouldn’t be the last. But you still failed to see why she thought it was necessary to come get you. If anything, it was more in character for her to go prying them for information.

“Ok? Can’t you deal with him?”

“He asked for you. Specifically” She waggled her eyebrows, the utter scandal of the situation practically confirmed in her mind. Oh how the gossip mills were… milling. You sighed, unsure of what even warrants someone asking specifically for you. Wren could be a bit much, but it's hardly anything that needs to be taken up with you. You rubbed your eyes, squinting as the thinnest stream of sunlight split from the tops of the buildings, winding down for the evening. You get a good look at the man in front of you and actually stop walking– one foot in the air and all.

He had to look up at you, courtesy of both the slightly raised staff portion of the storefront and the fact he was short. His eyes shined in apparent amusement, complimented by the boyish smirk tugging at his lips and the challenge in his brow. The sun drifted lower and caught upon his hair, making the straw color alight to fine threads of spun gold. Unassuming at first, but all of a sudden priceless. The four quadrants of his tunic were equally as vibrant as they were yesterday and thankfully unstained by the oil, each stitch of the embroidery now visible to you.

Holy fuck the picori was a man.

Ok now life was just being unfair- what are you even supposed to say to that?! Screw the village sending you to the temple, you might just do it yourself at this rate.

The man gets a kick out of your utter shock, leaning with his forearms on the display case and laughing. Besides your burnt frustration, you laughed alongside him, bracing your hands on your thighs. Your stomach burned as you laughed at the nonsensical fairytale your life had spiralled into as of late. Your cheeks burned as your eyes settled upon him again, fond as an old friend.

“I was told you requested me?” You tease, raising an eyebrow in an attempt to heckle him.

“No, I just wanted bread” He defends, trying to cover his tracks as best he could.

“Mhm. Sure” You roll your eyes, “What’d you want?” You gesture to what you have left, slim as it may be. He looks about the small collection, sneaking looks at you as he does before picking a short loaf. Its rounded sourdough, filled with nuts and dried fruit, not really common outside of your village as far as you’d know.

“You sure?” You ask looking between him and the bread, “Not sure they have this where you’re from” It’s as much a dig at him being a literal rat as it is genuine question. He laughs still, cheeks reddened and eyes almighty.

“I mean… c’mon, it’s bread. Can’t be that different, right?” He raises an eyebrow, amused by your bread gatekeeping.

“Well… Usually, people share this over some spiced wine, dip it in n’ all that” You explain, caught off guard by just how intently he follows along, hanging off your every word.

“Oh great.” He hods, finally, while sliding you entirely too much money. He takes the bread and a few steps back before you could stop him.

“Then we could share!” He smiles, bright and unrestrained this time, beaming with a joy that worms its way into your heart.

“Uh- I mean we totally could, but you don't have to-” You backtrack through your explanation, not trying to force him into a date for your care.

“Great!” He nods. “It’s a date!” Oh dear. “I’ll meet you outside” Oh goddesses.

He turns his back as he walks out of your modest storefront, and it finally hits you from where you’d seen that sword before.

Oh goddesses.

There’s no way you just accidentally asked the hero out on a date.

#linked universe #link x reader #linked universe x reader #four x reader #minish!four #except he’s called a picori because that’s what the hylians think they’re called #brought to you by my hate for glue traps

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neutralvibe · 2 months ago

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Isekai!y/n holding bunny!legend after saving him from a horde of monsters.

Bunny legend: "Release me, human."

Isekai!y/n : *shocked* "You can talk???"

Bunny legend : "UNHAND ME-"

#linked universe x reader #lu legend x reader #legend x reader #link x reader #x reader #legend of zelda #lu legend

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librarygarten · 4 months ago

Note

I love your ideas for isekai reader! but what about a reader who is a professional or hardcore gamer? in the sense that will probably finish the videogames with the minimum of items or with lower level weapons

all this based on my friend's experience, who when he completed final fantasy discovered that the weapons could be improved or that there were more powerful weapons to defeat the bosses

—————

the chain: this enemy is very difficult, we should upgrade our weapons and come back later-

Gamer reader: the life bar moved, it can bleed

the chain: ...b-but this enemy attacks from very close range-

Gamer reader: then attack from afar

gamer reader: If the enemy can bleed, it can die

As a certified baby that can't complete any game without a walkthrough, this is absolutely not my lived experience. It takes a special kind of crazy to do that. /pos

The battle was fierce. The monster was strong. The HP bar, something that apparently only you could see, hadn’t moved an inch. Honestly, it felt like you were playing Souls again.

You were no stranger to tough fights. What made this one different was the fact that you were actually in the fight, as opposed to controlling a game character. Getting up close and personal with a monster sure did change some things.

“We need to fall back!” Time yells over the sound of swords clattering uselessly against the monster’s thick skin. “Champion, cover us!”

Wild obeys, pulling out his Sheika Slate and sending chains of energy towards the beast. It will only keep it in stasis for a few seconds, but it was better than nothing. Sky lands one more hit as he flees and you see it: the health bar moves. It probably only lost 1 hp, but it was better than nothing. A few thousand more hits like that, and it would fall, no problem!

“The health bar moved!” you excitedly tell Time and Warriors as you sprint away through the forest.

“Congratulations?” Wars looks at you in confusion.

“That means we can beat it!” you insist. “We just need to get a few more good hits in and it’s toast!”

“We can come back after we upgrade our weapons,” Time decides. “The monster is too powerful to take on at the moment. We were barely able to get away as it is.”

“But we damaged it!” you try again.

“Not enough. We need to do more damage in a shorter amount of time if we stand any chance at beating that thing.” Legend pipes up, and you glare daggers at him. He wasn’t even part of this conversation! What was he doing, butting in and sharing his completely incorrect idea?

“Are you talking about the little nick I gave it?” Sky asks, coming to run alongside you. “I’d hardly call that damage. It barely bled.”

“If it can bleed, it can die.” You mutter. This was getting you nowhere. Fine. If they wouldn’t listen to reason, you’d finish the job yourself. Without so much as a goodbye, you turn on your heel and begin sprinting back through the trees towards the monster.

In your haste, you nearly mow over Four and Wind. Four curses as you pass by, momentarily thrown off balance. Wind somehow puts Four to shame with his own expletives.

“Where are you going?” You hear a voice call after you. “Do you have a freaking death wish!?”

You ignore it and keep running.

The monster is exactly where you left it.

You steady your breathing as it locks eyes with you. It charges. You roll. Your sword strikes against its side as you dodge.

-1 hp.

The best slams its fist into the ground, trying to squash you. It misses my millimeters. You stab at it again.

-1 hp.

Again. And again. You dodge. You strike. You slowly chip away at its health.

You’re not sure how long it takes. You can’t focus on anything other than your movement patterns. When it finally falls, the sun is beginning to rise. Weird. You thought it was afternoon.

“Y/N! What in Hylia’s name were you thinking!?” Your limbs feel like lead as Wild shakes you. It takes a few moments for you to connect that he’s even talking to you. Was he… scolding you? Him??? Mr. I-sled-down-cliffs-for-fun?

“That was… insanely reckless,” Time sighs. He’s standing behind Wild, and he somehow looks even more tired than you feel.

“Where did you guys come from?” You try to think back, but your thoughts are about as fast as cold molasses. They had left, hadn’t they? Why were they here? You feel yourself being sat down as Hyrule begins to heal you.

“Most of us went back to town,” Wind explains. “We were gonna fight it with better supplies.”

“I stayed back to watch. I was planning on pulling you out of the fight, but you… seemed to handle yourself alright,” Warriors massages his temples. “I swear, if I gray early I’m holding you and you alone responsible.”

“Why didn’t you wait?” Legend asks. His familiar snark feels strained. Awww, was he worried about you? If you didn’t feel like passing out, maybe you would tease him a bit. Instead, you decide to answer his question.

“Why would I?”

You can hear multiple Links’ blood pressures rise as they take in your words.

Congrats! Every Link has even more anxiety now! Are you happy?

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ashlovesfood · 3 months ago

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Cause I see nobody, nobody but you, you, you

Tags: Sex ban! First one to lose is bruce, teasing, stuck in the dryer, pussy eating, slick, marking, kissing, hickies, Bruce is feral for you! full nelson, creampie, sweet nothings, sex

Have you ever tried this one?(∩˃o˂∩)♡

A sex ban, made from you. What even started this? Well, let’s talk about it.

Bruce is constantly bending you over or making full on love to you, but he can be rough at times. There was one time where the headboard of your shared bed cracked right down the middle, his palm gripped so hard on the wood it broke. Or when Bruce fucked you in the shower, almost knocking everything down in the process from how carried away he got.

“You are on a sex ban. Nothing less, nothing more.” Bruce stood there astonished from your words, sex ban? “Wait doll- how come? C’mon, you know how much you love it when I get to bend you over.” He shot back arrogantly, his pride swelling like a balloon from his own words. “Bruce, you break so much stuff in the process the only place where it’s safe is on the floor. Remember the headboard? Shower?” You pointed out the times when Bruce was reckless, fucking you so good be broke stuff in the process.

“Ehh- okay, fine. I’ll go on the ban, but if you break first angel ‘m gonna pound you so hard..” He whispered against your ear lobe leaving you all flustered, a stupid smirk wiped on his face as he walked away.

Day 1. It was easy, light brushes and touches did nothing to you and Bruce, maybe. You were washing your dish when he came behind you, leaning against the plush of your ass, supposedly ‘grabbing something’ from the cabinet. You almost would have punched him from the stupid sneaky move. As the two of you laid in bed that night, you cuddled up against his front, accidentally touching his chest just a little too much.

Day 2. There he was, shirtless and in a pair of dirt washed jeans in the garage. Bruce was fixing one of his cars that he owned, the dirt and grime coating his body making you clench. “That’s not fair..” You whispered, thinking of any way to get back at him. Maybe it was fair when you walked in the garage with a pitcher of ice cold lemonade in nothing but his oversized shirt, the fabric swallowing your torso. Bruce had to hold everything back when he saw you, your cute frame being covered from his very own shirt made him hard in his jeans.

“Thank you angel.” Bruce leaned into your neck, leaving a small kiss on your pulse point, watching as you flushed with pink. Oh, two can play at that game.

Day 3. You woke up to Bruce falling off the bed with a loud thud. “Bruce! Are you okay?” You leaned over on his side, finding him face first on the floor. He laid on the floor and shot his hand up, his hand giving a thumbs up. You dismissed it and went back to sleep.

Little did you remember, you took off your pajamas due to the heat and fell asleep in your underwear, leaving Bruce with a great image burned into his retinas and a semi boner. When he heard the soft noises of your snores, Bruce thought he was in the clear but you were sprawled all out on the bed without the blanket. “Son of a..” He mumbled. The rest of the day, Bruce had to hold back from pouncing on you and pounding you senseless for hours to make up.

Day 4. Bruce snapped. You were doing laundry, grabbing the dry clothes out of the machine when there was just an old sock wedged into the metal. You leaned inside to grab it when you felt something warm on your ass.

“Bunny. I’ve been holding back so fucking much, but this? You believe I can last longer when you're bent over like this? Fuck..” Bruce’s warm breath brushed against the curvature of your ass, his hands groping the flesh as he heard your soft moans inside. “B-Bruce! Not here..!” He slid down your pajama shorts, introduced with the pretty sight of your puffy folds throbbing with slick. The breeze of air against your folds made you twitch, lightly arching your back as Bruce spread you open.

He sucked on the inner part of your thighs, biting and squeezing the tender flesh with his teeth, his hands spanking your ass. You moaned from the stimulation, the red marks against your ass spurring Bruce on even more. His lips leeched onto your pussy, the taste of sugary sweetness blessing his taste buds after such a long time. “Fuh- taste so sweet f’me love, needed this..!” Bruce spit against your folds, the warm fluid hitting spot on your tight hole as it dripped down. “Bruucee!” You were tense with need and pleasure, his teasing getting you worked up. Forget the sock, his mouth worked wonders on your wet little cunt.

You shook from your first orgasm, the slick smeared all over his mouth. Bruce slurped loudly, his eyes closed shut from your sweet fluids as he ate you out. “M gonna make up for all the time, better take it all bun.”

Bruce pulled you out, a smile growing at his lips as he saw your face all flushed with need and embarrassment. You were so hazy from the orgasm that you didn’t notice he was carrying you to the bedroom, his footsteps moving faster as he approached the door. Bruce laid you down onto the sheets, the soft silk against your body was relaxing.

“Gonna make me break the bed again yea? My dumb little baby needs to be bred with my cum?” Bruce shifted onto the bed, your body in between his meaty thighs as he looked down at you. Your shirt was riding up towards your breasts, the underside being left out just enough to not reveal your nipples. You yanked off your shirt, throwing it to the side as you looked at Bruce.

He leaned down and kissed you, his arms tightening around your waist as he sat you up. You clawed at his back, angry red scratch marks littering his skin from your nail. “More- please..!” You moaned in between, breaking the kiss to lift your neck. Bruce latched onto your unmarked skin, his canines digging into your skin leaving a large bite mark. He sucked on a sensitive point, leaving you all twitchy and shaky.

There were hickies and red spots all over your skin, as Bruce sat back to admire his work.

“World's best pussy for me..” Bruce sat on the bed as he flipped you around, the small of your back against his front. His cock was out, the tip leaking pre as it ran down his length. He lifted your legs, your feet dangling in the air as his shaft rubbed against your folds. The softness of your boobs and the plush of your tummy was so damn sexy to Bruce, his cock slowly entering your small tight hole. Your wet gummy walls clamped around his inches like a vice, the way you clenched around him was dizzying.

Bruce had you in a full nelson, the position making it easier for him to reach deeply inside your sweet pussy. “Ngh, too! much..!” His hips snapped up against your ass, his balls slapping against the skin of your flesh definitely leaving a mark. Bruce was merciless with his thrusts, his cock making you squirt all over the bed with a wet mess. The sheets were stained with your fluids, as he continued to fuck you over and over.

“Gonna cum inside and you’ll take it all for me, yea?” Bruce was pussy drunk, the way your tits jiggled and your ass rippling from his hips made his mouth water. He buried himself deep into your pussy, biting down on your shoulder as he came inside, the hot flood of cum inside your womb making you shiver. Bruce let you down onto the sheets as he pulled you into his body, basking in the aftermath of your orgasms. “Guess that really was a sex ban.”

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══

A/N Started a new story for fun and kinda getting really into it.. also had no desire to cum but now i have a high libido ◔_◔

#batman smut #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne #i love batman #smut #dc comics #bruce wayne x reader #fem reader #batman #batman x reader #dcu #dc universe #dc smut #bat #batman comics #twt links #ashywashy #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕤𝕗𝕠𝕠𝕕˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

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legendofmorons · 1 month ago

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Little acts of affection the boys give you - blurbs

Sometimes, you just don't have the time for big or long acts of affection when you're traveling with the chain or working. That dosen’t mean the boys don't still show affection

This is written as romantic, so no Wind this time.

Four - linking pinkies

Four falls into step with you as your group pushes through the busy market street. His presence is always something that is welcome.

"Hey," he says as he hooks his pinkie with your own. "Is this okay?"

"This is perfect," you smile at him a little.

Hyrule - secret smiles

It's in the middle of packing up camp to get ready to leave for the day that you meet Hyrule's gaze. He stands across camp, helping Legend but his eyes meet yours anyway and he gives you a soft, warm, adoring smile.

His smile is the one he only uses for you. The gentle curve never fails to make your heart warm.

You aren't sure anyone else sees the smile, but it isn't meant for them anyway.

Legend - fixing clothes/ accessories

It's early when you leave the inn, a yawn still seems to linger somewhere deep in your bones. The sun is still rising to be fully in the sky as you and your group head out to talk to the locals.

"Wait," Legend says as he takes your hand in his so you don't go too far.

You turn to him, blinking a little at the furrow in his brows. "Ledge?"

He reaches out and fixes the cloak on your shoulders so it lays more comfortably and the clip is more secure. He gives a soft smile you aren't sure he knows he wears. "There. Better?"

"Yes."

Sky - tucking you in

Your slumber releases you just enough to feel someone pulling the blanket back up your lax form, tucking you in just so. The night breezes brushes against your face lightly.

"Hope you're having good dreams, sunshine," Sky's voice says in a quiet and fond tone.

You aren't awake enough to answer, but you can't help the vague fluttery feeling in your chest. This feeling only grows when a soft kiss is given to your forehead.

Time - leaving notes

You find the note in your bag as you dig throughout it for your tooth brush. It's a little note but you know who it's from before you read it.

'You looked like you had a lot of fun at the lake today, I hope you sleep well. If you need me at all feel free to come get me. I'm sorry we aren't sharing a rooms this time. If you'd meet me early for breakfast I'd love that bit if you need more sleep I understand. Sweet dreams - Link'

Of course 'Link' is your lover Time. He's so sweet to you. Even now, when he's watching over a hurt Sky, he takes steps to make sure you know he cares.

Twilight - forehead kisses

You sit on a log beside Wild as the champion cooks, warming yourself as you admire the fireflies in the distance. Dinner smells amazing, like it often does when Wild cooks.

Twilight comes over and drops a kiss to your forehead with a smile, standing to your right just a bit. "Hey, darlin'."

"Hey yourself," you grin up at him.

He laughs a little, that deep voice a delight like always.

Warriors - giving you a blanket

The cold creeps through your several layers against your wishes as you sit as close to the fire as you dare. Snow flutters outside the window of the inn room but you can't take being around many people now so in your room it is.

A blanket settles around your shoulders as Warriors sits beside you with his own blanket. He dosen’t speak, but he offers you a real and gentle smile.

You lean your head against his shoulder, "Thanks."

Wild - playing with your fingers

You lounge against a tree with Wild between your legs and leaning back against you. Your hand rests in both of his.

Wild plays with your fingers gently, careful of any sore knuckles or bruises that may cause distress. Any rings are frosting on the cake as he uses the time to slowly commit the lines and marks of your hand to memory.

He never wants to forget any piece of you. Ever.

#misty writes #linked universe x reader #lu four x reader #lu hyrule x reader #lu legend x reader #lu sky x reader #lu time x reader #lu twilight x reader #lu warriors x reader #lu wild x reader

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hxney-lemcn · 4 months ago

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Affection-Starved — The Chain x gn! reader

summary: poor reader isn't used to the casual affection the group offers, but their favorite Link finds himself indulging in giving them some extra love.

a/n: Wind's is obvi platonic, some of these got more out of hands than others...oops. Not 100% romantic but like...lowkey is who am I trying to fool LMAO

wc: 3.1k

Master List

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Legend

As much as Legend liked to pretend he didn’t care, he was probably the one who knew the most about each member of the chain. He found himself watching the others, taking in each member’s small quirks. The way Twilight’s nose would twitch at a smell no one else could perceive, how Hyrule seemed entranced with shiny objects, how you always seem entranced with any form of affection. You were pretty good at hiding it, if not for the way your shoulders would tense or the way your lips twitched to keep your natural expression as Twilight ruffled your hair or Wars bumped your shoulders.

It honestly ate at Legend. You clearly liked the affection, your smile becoming a bit warmer and your eyes hopeful. For someone who was trying to push others away (you especially since you were particularly dangerous), he was doing a terrible job. Once again, Legend found himself watching the others, most chatting happily or playing a game, Time was out patrolling the parameter, and you…you looked…sad. Did the others really not notice? Your eyes looked so crestfallen, even if your usual neutral expression rested on your face. You had isolated yourself from the others, that itch eating away at Legend. You had grown on him, a dangerous prospect to the hero of legend, but he’d be damned if he just let you mope alone.

So, putting his sewing kit away, Legend found himself sitting beside you. His stiffness melted as seconds passed without a word, the fire crackling a few meters away. With a sigh, he finally gained the confidence to wrap an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. He could feel your muscles tense under him, the way you hesitated in his hold. ‘Is this okay?’ he whispered so only you could hear, and the small nod you gave made him relax. Slowly you relaxed with him, putting more of your weight into his side. Legend could feel the stare of the others burn into you both, but he ignored them in favor of feeling your warmth surrounding him.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Twilight

Twi was naturally more affectionate than he realized. Growing up and taking care of the village children, he didn’t notice when he ruffled someone's hair or pulled them into a side hug. That was until he found your startled expression, which you had quickly tried to fix. He tried to apologize, but you cut him off stating that you just weren’t used to…well affection in general. Poor boy's heart split in two at that. Now he had a new mission to accomplish. Getting you used to affection. Hugs, patting your back, holding your wrist, hip checking you…okay so some forms were more teasing than others, and he may have found himself smug everytime he managed to make you crack your cool facade, but he also enjoyed the soft smiles that inevitably spread across your lips.

Twi would be lying if he said he didn’t shower you with more affection than the others. He loved your reactions, the way you shied away, even better when you slowly started embracing it. The first time you had initiated affection had him smiling widely and blushing profusely. It wasn’t much. An uncertain, shy expression rested on your features, you were clearly nervous. Twi found himself anticipating what could possibly make you feel this way, his imagination getting the best of him. Your hand raised up as you patted his mousy hair gently. He felt his cheeks warm at how cute you were, a giant smile overtaking him. He had refrained from teasing you too much, not wanting to scare you off.

This man is so, so smug no matter what, feeling proud that you felt comfortable enough with him. It’s strange how you could make something he didn’t think twice about become something all he could think about. He didn’t mind though, he liked the way you managed to make his heart flutter with every little touch.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Sky

He didn’t really notice at first. In fact, he was dead asleep the first time he pulled you into his impromptu cuddle pile. When he awoke, your form snug into his side, he didn’t think much of it. Sure it was nice, you were warm and he felt sleep call for him once more, but it was normal to find himself wrapped around the other heroes, it was bound to happen with you. With a sleep smile, he found himself nuzzling back into your hair…until he felt how fast your heart was beating…how were you not dead? Sky unwillingly pulled away, you were in fact awake and it looked like you were in pain. Quickly, Sky scrambled back, sleepiness long forgotten in his worry of your comfort.

You apologized, much to his confusion, shyly mumbling about how you didn’t mind, you just weren’t used to such affections. Shaking his head, he sent you a beaming smile, mentioning that if he or anyone else ever made you uncomfortable to let them know. Yet that didn’t seem to be the problem at all. In fact it seemed like you yearned for the intimate acts, always placing yourself beside Sky as he slowly nodded off. You had become his pillow more likely than not, and it almost seemed like you were anticipating it. The thought made his stomach fill with butterflies and a blush coat his cheeks.

It was when your hand had found its way into his hair one night that he knew he was a goner. Your touches were gentle and hesitant, fingers softly carding through his hair making both his eyes droop and heart accelerate. His arms found purchase around your torso, head nuzzling into your shoulder. It had become very clear to everyone just who his favorite cuddling buddy was, and he’s not sure if he’d cuddle with anyone else ever again.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Hyrule

The boy wasn’t as confident as the others, finding himself in awe of their everything. That seemed to be something the two of you could relate to. The other heroes made everything look easy, from swinging a sword showing their care. Hyrule always wanted to join in when Warriors would hug your shoulders when you managed to improve your fighting technique, or when Wind would drag you around by your hand so effortlessly. Little did you know that Hyrule admired you as well, watching in awe as you managed to keep up with seasoned fighters despite being a civilian yourself.

It wasn’t until you found yourself hurt that he finally managed to initiate any contact between you both. It was a small scrape, barely there on your palm and a small frown on your lips. Hyrule didn’t hesitate to heal the wound, finger tips glowing as your skin mended back together. Your eyes widened, cheeks warming at the feeling of his fingers barely touching your palm. You must’ve gotten too used to being with the others as your fingers twitched, intertwining your fingers. Hyrule felt his face burn as you whispered a small thanks, your smile was so warm and you were looking at him so softly…

You were internally going crazy. You had never initiated something like this before, it felt so intimate, but the way Rulie couldn’t meet your eyes but continued to hold your hand confirmed your hypothesis. He was just like you all those months ago when you first joined the rag tag group, and they had helped bring you out of your shell, so you would help Rulie break out of his. It was still hard for you to reach out first, but you made yourself try, starting out small until Hyrule found himself reaching for you first, meeting each other halfway. You never thought you’d be the one to help break someone out of their shell, but you didn’t mind if it meant you had a cute traveller glued to your side.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Time

Time himself was more closed off, with arms crossed and always slightly outside of the group. It was clear to anyone with eyes that even if he was an integral part of the group, he did not see himself fully a part of it. Time noticed that you seemed to feel the same way, watching longingly as the others rough-housed like you wanted to join, or how your face lit up when they’d mess up your hair (no matter how much you grumbled and pouted). Time found himself endeared by you, it was clear you were not used to such affections, but made every effort to act like it didn’t affect you as much as it did. He couldn’t help the mischievous part of him that would reach out for your hand or brush your hair away from your face, soaking up your flustered reactions.

Time was much more subtle with his affections towards you than the others, which only seemed to make his actions all the more special. He wouldn’t admit that the way your stunning eyes searched for him made him feel more smug, or the way you’d walk by his side during your treks warmed him. You were just the sweetest thing, and he found himself having a sweet tooth more often than not. Oh, and when you had jumped one night, the sound of a twig breaking in the forest startled you, causing you to cling to his arm…he was basically putty. Your eyes frantically searched for any sign of a monster as you pushed further into his side. Time decided not to tease you too much, as your world didn’t have monsters like theirs did, and he took his arm out of your hold only to wrap it around your waist.

You tensed in his hold, this was the most affection Time had ever shown you, but when his hand found your hair, gently soothing you that it was mostly likely some sort of animal, you ended up melting in his hold. You could feel the others watching, snickers sounded just over the crackling of the fire, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care at the moment, lost in the comfort that was known as Time.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Four

Another one that isn’t super affectionate, more likely to smack someone’s head than hug them, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care. Four noticed that you seemed uncomfortable with touch. Maybe uncomfortable wasn’t the best word, more like tense. He also didn’t miss the way you would lean into it, trying to act nonchalant. It made him smile, you were sweet if not a bit awkward. When he found himself holding your hand while leading you through a dark cave, he couldn’t help the bright red blush that coated his cheeks, grateful that he was in front of you so you couldn’t see. Four may not be as affectionate as the others, but he didn’t react like this either. Whatever, he didn’t want to think about it.

And when you started to slowly interact with him like the others, patting his shoulder, tugging on his sleeve or hell, even just sitting closer to him than normal, he felt like his heart was going to give out on him. Why were you so cute? Always so hesitant like you were afraid of making him upset, eyes watching him expectantly like you wanted him to hold you as well. Was that what you wanted? Goddesses the thought made his blood boil with how flustered he was. Oh and it was even worse when he woke up to the sound of chuckling snorts, opening his eyes and being met with your chest. He nearly screamed, jumping out of your hold and effectively waking you up. Damn Sky, who had his arm wrapped around the both of you before Four made his escape.

After that you had stopped, taking his reaction as how uncomfortable you had been making him feel, which was not true whatsoever. And so, he found he had to rectify his mistake, trying his hardest to hold your hand without it becoming a death grip or burying his face in your neck every time you hugged. Yet it was worth it with the way your eyes lit up with every touch.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Wind

Wind, as much as he’d like to boast, did not have such a keen eye when it came to someone’s emotions. Not that he was oblivious, but with childlike glee, he found himself more entranced with the thrill of a fight or adventure more than anything. And, as children are known for, he did not have a sense of boundaries whatsoever. Never hesitating to grab your hand and drag you towards danger, or jumping on your back to get your attention. Of course, if you got hurt because of something he did he’d feel guilty, latching onto you until you managed to quell his fears.

He huffed and puffed when the others told him to dial it back around you. Why would he do that? You deserved to be bothered as much as the rest of them! From poking your cheek when he’s bored to cackling when you did something embarrassing, he refused to treat you any differently than the others. The thought was just absurd! You had even shaken your head with a fond smile, muttering that you didn’t mind all that much, leaving the young hero to puff his chest and stick his tongue out at the others. ‘That’s right, losers, you heard them, I’m their favorite!’ Wind cheered. ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’ One of them murmured, but left it at that.

The best moments were when he’d tuck into your lap, listening to you ramble about your own world and how different it was from theirs. It made him feel so warm and safe, you made him feel protected, even if you sucked at fighting. You were like an older sibling he never had, something he didn’t even know he wanted until you pulled him close to you protectively once as some rude adult tried swatting at him. He had never seen you so angry, nor heard you say such angry words towards anyone before. He was a giggly mess by the end, telling the others with an exaggerated story about the events that transpired earlier, leaning into your side with a hug.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Warriors

As much as the flirt liked to make everyone believe he was knowledgeable with love in any form it came in…he very much was not. In fact, it was kind of the opposite. Warriors found your shy reactions to be like those who only cared about his pretty face. He knew you weren’t like that, but something in his gut didn’t feel right, and so he found himself distancing himself from you physically…until he saw you have the same reaction to almost every single one of them. Your eyes darting away when Twi’s hand brushed against yours, how your shoulders tensed when Time patted them, or how you stood stock still when Wind hugged you. It wasn’t because you saw them all romantically…so why were you so shy when it came to even the smallest touch?

Wars got his answer one day while you both were in a small town. You had been walking down a semi busy street when someone brushes past you, causing you to squeeze as close to Warriors side, an uncomfortable look on your face. Due to his confused expression, you explained how you don’t like being touched by people you don’t know, mainly because you’re not used to being touched period. It was then when everything clicked in his head, and guilt for his first assumption slowly consumed him. Biting his lip, Wars threw an arm around your shoulder, keeping you close to his side until your shopping was done.

From then on Warriors found himself more affectionate around you. Everyone noticed the change, you included, but you refused to bring it up, not wanting him to stop. Not only had his actions become warmer towards you, but he found himself complimenting you more as well. Even he wasn’t fully sure where this was coming from. Relief that you weren’t another person swooning over his good looks, trying to make up for the guilt that had filled his gut, or perhaps maybe…just maybe he found himself enjoying the way you reciprocated his touches, something you didn’t do for many others, and the thought of being special to you made his heart flip.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Wild

With Wild’s attention being dragged from something or another, whether it be a crazy idea to what may test the best in a dish, he’s too unfocused to even realize you tense posture when he places a hand on your arm as he slides past or how you refuse to meet his eyes when he feeds you a small spoon of the food to taste test. That’s not to say he doesn’t notice at all, just that it takes him so long that you’re already comfortable with his unconscious touches. He has to bite his lip from grinning too much when you nuzzle into his touch unknowingly, or to stop himself from squeezing the daylights out of you when you hug him so firmly.

Don’t get him started with the way you fret over him. Wild’s always getting himself in danger even when he’s not trying, and you’re always the first one to run over and check to make sure he’s okay. The way your hands hesitate for a split second before gently grabbing whatever you deem was most possible to be injured, how your touch is so gentle when you inspect his skin, or how your eyes melt from concern to fond frustration as you lightly scold him for scaring you. The way you care is so sweet, so scared, like you’re afraid he’ll push you away if you get too close, but Wild would never do such a thing. In fact, he finds himself meeting you halfway, grasping your hand firmly as to quell any insecurity or fear from your mind.

The one time you not only find yourself hurt, but because of Wild’s reckless actions guilt consumes him entirely. He had not only put your safety at risk, but you had gotten seriously hurt, something Wild vowed to protect you from. He tried pulling away, feeling it would be better if you weren’t so close, but you had stopped him in his tracks when you held onto his wrist tightly, eyes silently pleading for him to stay. It was the first time he had ever seen you touch someone without even an ounce of worry, clearly desperate for some comfort, and Wild was at your side in an instant. How could he ever take that comfort away from you?

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holdinggrudges · 8 months ago

Text

what's my flavor? - sam winchester

pairing: sam winchester x reader

content: EXPLICIT 18+, oral (fem!receiving), vampire!sam, blood drinking, bloodplay (surprisingly little though tbh), fem!reader (afab anatomy + the word girl used in reference like three times or so), feeding being explicitly referred to as similar to drugs/getting high, mentions of serious illness (made up for plot reasons but still)

word count: 10.5K

summary: Working your way through college, you find a secretary job with great pay and more than enough downtime on the clock to get your coursework done. The only downside is that it leaves you with no choice but to attend night classes. But it's not so bad, especially with Mysterious Hot Guy attending them as well. Oh, and there's been blood bags going missing, but you're pretty sure that's not going to be relevant to your life any time soon.

notes: this was supposed to be pwp. it was also supposed to be posted on halloween. clearly, neither of those things happened. but fuck it, we ball. @cafekitsune for dividers <3

crossposted on ao3

You don’t understand how anyone could get through college without a job. You hear about people surviving off scholarships all the time, and you try your first year, you really do. But, God, something has to change. You can’t imagine working your way through school could be any more stressful than the budgeting, and the skipping meals, and the cards declining at the grocery store.

So you get a job. A good one, too; a secretary job at an office ten minutes away from your apartment, and only twenty minutes away from campus. The job is easy, with plenty of downtime for you to work on your coursework, and the pay is good. Better than good, even. The only problem is the hours; 9-5 is great, generally, but not very convenient when setting up a college schedule. You’re relegated almost exclusively to night classes. Which is fine. Not ideal, but fine.

You take four classes, two a night, and it leaves your Fridays wide open after work. It would truly be a perfect schedule if it didn’t mean you were on campus until 11 o’clock most nights. But the classes are relatively empty and none of your professors are total hardasses, so it’s not so bad. Actually, you start to really enjoy it.

You make a little game out of studying the other students, trying to figure them out. The woman who sits in front of you in your statistics class is a stay-at-home mom, you think. The older man a few rows down in english is retired military. It’s interesting, and it gives you a reason to actually make it to class everyday. Well, that and Mysterious Hot Guy.

Mysterious Hot Guy (or MHG, for short) is in two of your classes: your 6 o’clock political science class on Mondays and Wednesdays sitting a row down from you, and sitting beside you in your 8:30 biology class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He first caught your eye because, frankly, he looks more like he should be on a movie set than night classes at a dinky community college. He’s drop dead gorgeous, and that’s putting it lightly. Even so, that’s not what has you so intrigued. Something about him is off somehow, strange in such a way that it has you completely captivated. Alluring in a way you can’t quite put your finger on, even outside his appearance.

MHG hardly ever speaks. You’re pretty sure he’s only said one word to you the entire four weeks of the semester so far, and he sits literally a foot away from you every other day. He’s also, apparently, a genius. He never takes notes, never writes a single thing down, he never asks questions and never answers them either, for that matter. Still, you happened to catch a glimpse of his grade on the test your biology professor handed back last week, and he got a perfect score.

He also doesn’t have a car. Or, rather, he doesn’t have a car of his own. Every Tuesday and Thursday as you’re walking back to your own car at almost 11 PM, he’s climbing into the passenger seat of an absolutely gorgeous vintage Chevrolet Impala that makes you simultaneously green with envy and desperate for him to push you up against the side of it. Or push you down against the backseat. Or the front seat, which you find out is a bench seat after some minor googling. Car like that, you’re not exactly gonna be picky about where.

Still, even after all your observing, you don’t learn a single useful piece of information about MHG until six weeks into the semester—two weeks out from midterms—when your biology professor announces that you will be choosing your partners for the midterm project. You barely even let the words leave his mouth before you’re turning to your right, pouncing with what you hope is a normal amount of enthusiasm, although you’re so damn intrigued by this guy that all you can do is pray you don’t come across as a total stalker. “Hey. Would you wanna partner up?”

MHG turns to you, his eyes wide in a way that leaves you a lot less hopeful about how normal your greeting was. “Uh. Me?” he asks, and his voice is…warm in a way you weren’t expecting. He could do audiobooks, or a podcast, or something—he has a nice voice is what you’re getting at.

You laugh. You’re almost a little starstruck—it makes sense; you’ve definitely turned this guy into your own personal celebrity. “Who else?” you respond, holding out your hand for him to shake. “I’m ____.”

He eyes you for a moment before he clasps your hand and gives it a shake. Jesus, this guy must have anemia or something because his hand is fucking freezing. “Sam. Uh, Winchester. Sam Winchester.” His touch lingers for a moment before he tugs his hand back. “And…yeah. Yeah, we can…partner up.”

Sam Winchester. Finally, a name to put to the face. No more thinking of him as Mysterious Hot Guy for you; you and MHG are on a first name basis now. “Awesome,” you say softly, and you really, desperately hope your smile looks less manic than it feels. “So. Sam. Would you mind giving me your number or something so we can set up a time and place to meet up?”

He hesitates, but he does scribble a number down on the corner of his empty notebook page. “I, uh. I can’t do…daytime,” he tells you as he slides it over.

Okay. Weird way to phrase that, but you assume he’s like you, he works during the day or something. So you shrug and take the proffered paper. “Me neither. I have work.” You pinch it between your fingers with a grin. “We’ll make it work.”

He smiles at you, a shy sort of thing that makes your chest ache to draw out more. “Yeah. Okay.”

You plug the number in your phone almost as soon as you get home, but it takes you almost an hour to actually text him. You go through probably a hundred different drafts before you finally land on: ‘hey!! it’s ____. does friday work for you? my only day without classes lol’

Once you press send, you figure you’ll probably have at least five minutes to freak out and overthink. Sam doesn’t really seem the type to be glued to his phone. Which is why, you suppose, that you nearly have a heart attack when your phone buzzes with a response no more than 30 seconds later. ‘Friday works. 7 at the library?’

‘see you then :)’ You debate over the smiley face for a solid minute and a half before finally sending it and then violently throwing your phone across the couch and screaming into your throw pillow.

When you do finally work up the courage to pick your phone up again, he’s sent two texts back. ‘See you then.’ And then another one, a small bubble containing two characters: ‘:)’ Embarrassingly, you giggle alone in your living room. Oh, this guy is going to be the death of you.

You spend the rest of the night googling Sam Winchester and coming up with absolutely nothing. He seems to have absolutely no social media presence at all, not even an old MySpace or a private Facebook account. The only reference you can find to his name at all has it listed as one of two sons of some random serial killer from, like, the 1800s, which is obviously useless.

You give up your fruitless search with a sigh, closing your laptop and shoving it aside. Your tv is playing on some local news station—doesn’t matter which one, they’ve all been reporting the same story for weeks. You click it off, 100% disinterested in hearing about the blood bags going missing from local clinics for the millionth time this month.

You go to bed and dream of brown hair and eyes that you just can’t quite place the color of, but you can swear you see them flash red.

Friday finds you at the library almost a full hour early. You’d agonized over your outfit all day yesterday, and for another half an hour after work to boot. In the end, you’d decided to go casual. After all, it is just a study date—and actually, not a date at all! A study meet-up. A study hangout, at best. The fact that you did your make-up and your hair for it is entirely irrelevant.

It’s 6:45 when a cough draws your attention up from your phone. Sam is standing in front of you with another one of those shy smiles, and two coffee cups in his hands. Coffee cups from your favorite cafe. He shoves one in your direction. “Uh. I’ve noticed that you have drinks from here pretty often. And- I hope you don’t mind, but I…I read one of the cups? So. This is for you.”

Your eyes flick over him, your heartbeat practically pounding out of your chest. So he’s been watching you too. Or—Jesus, not watching, that makes it sound creepy. Observing is a better word for it. He noticed a pattern in your coffee cups. He read one to find out what it was you were drinking. “Thanks,” you tell him, taking the cup from his hand. Turning it to read the writing, you find he’d gotten it right. Maybe you should find it creepy, actually. As it is, you’re sort of having a hard time not swooning. You beam at him. “I’ll…have to return the favor.”

For some reason, that makes Sam laugh as he sits down across from you. “Sure.” He opens his backpack and takes out his laptop. “So, this project.”

Sam, as it turns out, is a genius. Or at least exceptionally smart. A project that would’ve taken you hours on your own is done in record time with him, which leaves the two of you there at 7:30 with a fully completed midterm project and half-empty coffee cups. You don’t want to leave, and it seems Sam doesn’t either, as he closes his laptop and asks, “Why are you taking night classes?” like he’s really, genuinely curious.

So you tell him. You tell him about trying to get through college on your own, deciding you needed a full time job, how it’s probably the best job you’ve ever had. You ask him the same question, and he tells you about his brother, who is, apparently, the one who drives that fucking awesome car. He drops Sam off at classes, and pretty much anywhere else he needs to go.

The two of you chat for an hour and a half before Sam gets a text that says his brother is literally going to leave him there if he doesn’t shag ass and get in the car pronto. So Sam walks you out of the library.

“You know,” you blurt out before you can lose your nerve, “I feel like our classes would be a lot easier if we put our heads together like this. You know, regularly. Like, every Friday, maybe.”

He ducks his head, smiling that same shy smile he’d had when he gave you the coffee. “Sure. Every Friday. Sounds…helpful.”

You don’t realize until you get home that he never actually told you why he takes night classes. It turns out to be a pattern for him, as the two of you meet up week after week. You simultaneously feel like you know everything and nothing about him, and every week you like him more and more for it. Well, for that and the coffee that he gets you every time.

It takes a week before he moves seats in your political science class. The Monday after the second Friday you meet up with him, you almost sit in the wrong seat because you’re so used to him sitting two rows ahead of you. Of course, when you realize what’s happened, Sam’s staring at you with an amused grin on his face, like he’s trying really hard not to laugh at you. So, you decide, you are friends, at least. And as far as friends go, Sam’s a pretty good one.

You and Sam text, constantly. Despite seeming relatively unplugged, he responds to you instantly almost every time. You hate to get your hopes up, but by the time finals roll around, you’re starting to really like him. You’re starting to think he really likes you too.

He finishes his biology final on the last Thursday of classes long before you, but when you leave the classroom, you see him leaning against the wall, waiting. Again, you don’t want to get your hopes up, but when he lifts his head and sees you approaching him, you swear to God, you see his whole face light up. He looks a little pale, maybe. But it also might just be the fluorescent lights of the hallway.

“How do you think you did?” he asks, falling into step beside you.

And, you think, it’s now or never, now, isn’t it? Classes are over. You may never see Sam again (although, you like to think the two of you are close enough now that you would at least remain friends outside of having classes together, but still, the sentiment remains). So you change the subject and ask, “Would you wanna get dinner with me on Saturday?”

He pauses, freezes in place pretty much, and you stop to match him. “Dinner, like…dinner?” he asks, as if that question makes any sense.

You laugh, a little awkward, and adjust your backpack straps. “Uh, yeah. Like, dinner.” You don’t want to explicitly mention it being a date. You feel like he likes you, you really do, but if you’re wrong…that rejection is going to sting. So you don’t say it, not explicitly.

But still, Sam’s face lights up with a grin. “Yeah. I’d…really love to get dinner with you, actually. I’ll have to—I’ll text you. But…yes, yeah. I’d love to.”

You’re pretty sure the smile on your face matches his. “Okay. Then, I’ll see you on Saturday. And you’ll text me.”

“I’ll text you,” he agrees.

The two of you linger for a moment before parting, and you have never been more excited to say goodbye to someone in your entire fucking life.

When you get home, you have a text message. ‘I’ll pick you up. Does 7 work for you?’

You have to take a moment to squeal into your pillow before answering that yes, 7 does work for you, and you’re excited to see him then. And then, as an afterthought, your address.

God, you need to find something to wear.

Saturday comes around, and you’re fully ready by 6. Sam’s almost always shown up early, after all. Your TV plays news footage, stating that the clinics have taken to putting up extra security around their blood banks to no avail. You couldn’t care less, too giddy and girlishly excited to even think about the stolen blood bags.

6:45 rolls around. Sam isn’t there. That’s…fine. He’s not obligated to show up early. You set up a time to pick you up for a reason, right? There’s no reason for the sinking feeling in your gut.

7:00. No sign of Sam. But that’s no reason to worry. Maybe he got stuck in traffic. People are late sometimes, and you don’t need to panic just because Sam’s never been late before.

At 7:30, you shoot Sam a text. ‘are you okay? don’t tell me you forgot about me :( lol’ You don’t get a response.

You don’t change back into lounge clothes until 8, and you don’t take off your makeup until 8:30, and that’s only because you’re pretty sure you’re about to start crying and ruin it anyway.

The real kicker is that you thought Sam, at the very least, considered you a friend. Or at least friendly enough to let you down easy rather than agree to a date and then stand you up. Clearly, you severely misread the entire situation. You entirely misunderstood Sam in general, if he’s really the type of person to do this sort of thing.

Wiping hot tears off your face, you cork open your expensive bottle of wine. Desperate times, right?

Two hours and half a wine bottle later, you’ve swung from devastated to angry. How dare he stand you up? You’re a catch! You’re gorgeous, you’re funny, you’ve ignored all of his weird quirks and red flags, and for what? To cry into a glass or five of overpriced wine on a Saturday night? Screw that. You should call him and give him a piece of your mind.

Or…no, you’re pretty drunk, actually, so you probably shouldn’t call him. But you could text him. Yeah. You fumble for your phone, furiously typing out a text and hitting send without a second thought. ‘if u werent interested in me u cldve just said so. didnt have 2 ghost me’

Next thing you know, you’re opening your eyes the next morning with a killer headache, a damn near empty bottle of wine, and no response from Sam. While you’re curled over the toilet, the alcohol isn’t the only thing turning your stomach. There’s a worry brewing there too.

Because the more you think about it, the more that this really just doesn’t feel like Sam. Now that you’re further out from it, you can acknowledge that much. When you ask yourself if you truly believe that the guy who bought you your favorite drink every time you met up, the guy who remembered every single thing you ever told him, the guy whose face totally lit up when you asked him to dinner—when you ask yourself if that guy would stand you up, you truly, honestly don’t believe he would. So the real question is: why did he?

You fight through the worry until about halfway through your shift on Monday when you realize that with finals over, you have absolutely no idea when, or even if you’ll see Sam again. You call him. It rings all the way through until you get his voicemail, and you wish the sound of his voice could calm you, but it only reminds you that he’s not answering. You don’t leave a message, sending him a text instead. ‘seriously, are you okay? please at least let me know you’re not dead.’ You’re not surprised to find you haven’t gotten a response the next time you check your phone, walking to your car at the end of the day. Desperately, heart-clenchingly worried, but not surprised.

You open your laptop the second you get home, furiously searching anything you can think of. You search for his name again, hoping to find anything that could point you towards family or friends, to the brother he mentioned. You search local obituaries, John Does, anyone who might even bear the slightest resemblance to Sam, but there’s nothing. Nothing, until you accidentally click on one of the articles about the blood theft. There, in a blurry screenshot of footage from the new security cameras one of the blood banks had installed, you see it. You recognize his brother’s gorgeous fucking car.

Your eyes go wide. Holy shit, you’ve been flirting with a criminal. You scroll up through the article, reading furiously, but it doesn’t even mention the car, focusing instead on the blurry, shrouded figure entering the doors. Is this why Sam went missing? Laying low until he can be sure no one will connect the footage of the car to him or his brother? Why the fuck is he stealing blood bags in the first place? Needless to say, the discovery leaves you with more questions than it does answers.

The world, unfortunately, does not stop with this revelation. You go to bed. You get up, you go to work, you come home. You think about Sam. You have no idea what you’re supposed to do in this situation. Should you go to the police? It’s not like he’s killing people but…it’s still illegal to steal blood bags. Also morally wrong, probably. Plus, you now have information that could help forward an ongoing police investigation. You’re not entirely sure what counts as aiding and abetting, but you’re not exactly itching to find out where the line is.

On the other hand, Sam never seemed particularly…criminal-like to you. Strange, sure, but he was nice. Kind, even. You never in a million years would’ve pegged him as some sort of criminal mastermind. That’s got to count for something. Right? At the very least, you think it allows him the benefit of the doubt. So…late Tuesday night, you send him another text, the last one you’ll ever send him. Probably. ‘hey so keep ignoring me if im wrong but are you the one stealing blood from the clinics?’

He doesn’t text you back, and you pretend that means you’re wrong. That you can clear your conscience and go to sleep. That you can go to work and stop worrying about vintage cars in blurry security footage.

Then the sun goes down on Wednesday, and someone knocks on your door.

The man on the other side of it is unfamiliar to you. He’s wearing a leather jacket, an amulet hanging off his neck. There’s absolutely no reason you should recognize him as quickly as you do. Except that he has this quality about him, something unreal or maybe inhuman, and you’ve seen it before. You can’t quite tell what color his eyes are.

He smiles at you, and confirms it. “You’re ____, right? Sam’s told me all about you.” This is Sam’s brother, the one with the car. The car that you recognized in the blood bank footage. “I’m Dean. Can I come in?”

You keep your hand on the edge of the door, ready to slam it in his face if need be. “How’d you get my address?” you ask, instead of answering the question. This man could be dangerous. You trust Sam, mostly, but his brother…that’s a different story.

“Sammy had it. Remember? For your little date.” Dean says, taking a step towards the threshold. You take a step back. “Can I come in now?”

You ignore the fear raging down your spine, the urge to turn tail and run away. Sam carries himself differently than Dean, presents himself in such a way that instead of cowering away from him, you want to keep looking. His strangeness is intriguing, not off-putting. Dean, though, he takes those same qualities and twists them on their head. Dean looks at you, and your entire body screams Danger! Like he’s some sort of predator. “Why are you here?”

“Look, I don’t have time for this,” he snaps. He takes another step forward, but stays notably on the other side of the door. Just barely. “Sam needs help. Are you gonna invite me in, or not?”

He could be lying. He could be manipulating the affection you already have for his brother to get you to let him in so he can off you, maybe the only person who’s connected him to his crimes. But, if that was the case, why wouldn’t he have just forced his way in? And also, why the fuck would he go that far just to cover up some stolen blood bags? “What’s wrong with Sam?” you ask, stepping back from the door to allow him inside. When in Rome, right?

His lips press together, like he’s irritated, though you can’t imagine why. You’re letting him in, which is what he wanted. He stares at you for a moment before sighing, world weary, like he’s holding the weight of a hundred lifetimes of idiocy on his shoulders. Jesus, this guy’s dramatic. “You have to invite me,” he grits out.

Your confusion only grows, but you oblige anyway. “Okay…come in, then.”

Dean steps into the apartment almost as soon as you’ve said it, like you’ve only just now opened the door. You back up a few steps further.

“Just so you know,” you say, standing up taller and trying to act less terrified than you feel, “I have a gun. So don’t- don’t try anything ‘cause I’ll shoot you.�� You’re completely bluffing, of course, but there’s no way Dean could know that.

“No, you don’t,” Dean says, like he definitely knows you were bluffing. Well, great. “Besides, I’m not here to hurt you. My brother needs help, you think I’m gonna kill the only person who can help him?”

He doesn’t look like he’s lying. Then again, you’re pretty sure this man is a criminal, so maybe he’s just a really good liar. “Yeah, you said that before. If he needs my help so bad, why didn’t he just tell me himself?” It’s not like you slammed the door in Sam’s face and told him to leave you alone. You’ve sent him four texts and a phone call since he dropped off the face of the earth last week. He’s had every opportunity to ask for your help.

“Cause he’s sick,” Dean tells you. He lifts his hands before he approaches you, like you’re some sort of wild animal that he doesn’t want to spook. Embarrassingly, it works. “Really sick.”

You shake your head, bemused. “I don’t understand—what does that have to do with me? If he’s sick, he needs a doctor. Not…a random college student.”

Dean nods. “Yeah, he would. But he’s got…it’s complicated.” He pauses in his approach and nods his head toward you. “Can I come closer, or are you gonna shoot me, tough girl?”

You roll your eyes, but gesture him closer. “Be my guest, so long as it means you’re gonna tell me something that actually makes sense.” You’re tired of the riddles, frankly. If he doesn’t give you real answers soon, you don’t care how terrifying he is, you’re gonna have to do something drastic.

Dean scoffs. “Yeah, I can see why Sam likes you,” he mutters, shaking his head. “See, me and Sam…we’re not exactly normal. If I took him to a doctor, not only would they not be able to fix him, they’d probably kill him.” He stops beside you, forcing you to look up at him as he speaks. He cuts an intimidating figure, even without the air of a predator about him. You really, really wish you actually owned a gun.

“What do you mean by that?” you ask, voice quiet in the face of this hunter. “That you’re not normal?”

He grins, big and sharp and toothy. And then his illusion drops. Your eyes seem to fail you, like someone’s dropped the floor out from under you and then told you the floor was never real in the first place. His eyes catch your attention first, blood red and striking. And then, of course, you see his teeth—no, his fangs. Two long, sharp, killer fangs where his canines used to be. “Welcome to the night of the living dead, sweetheart.”

Vampires are real. There’s a monster in your fucking living room. This is crazy. You should be screaming. You should shove this man out the door and lock it behind him and maybe never leave your apartment again. Instead, you blurt out, “So that’s why you were stealing blood bags.” Honestly, a lot of things are starting to make way more sense now. You’re almost embarrassed you didn’t think of it before.

Dean laughs. “Right on the money.” You flinch as he claps you on the shoulder, and he laughs at you again.

“So…I’m guessing Sam doesn’t just have a regular old stomach bug, then?” You really feel like you should be having a more extreme reaction to this situation. You just found out that not only are vampires real, but you’ve been actively flirting with one. You think maybe you’re in shock. “This is some sort of weird…vampire virus, or something?”

“Smart girl,” he says, pointing at you approvingly. “Though it’s not exactly a virus, more like…food poisoning. Actually, we call it blood poisoning. Comes from drinking stale blood—bagged blood, for example—rather than fresh from the source.”

You frown. “Why drink bagged blood, then, if it makes you sick?”

“Why do people go vegan even though they need protein?” Dean counters. “Harm reduction. Plus, it doesn’t always make us sick. It’s pretty rare, actually. More common now than, you know, the olden times, but it happened back then too. Storing blood in vials, bottles, anything can make blood go stale, but it means you don’t have to hurt as many people getting it. Some things are worth the risk.”

That much, at least, you can understand. “So this…this stale blood, whatever—it makes you sick,” you repeat, that same worry for Sam from before roiling in your stomach again. “How sick?”

Dean grimaces, so whatever it is is clearly not good news. “It can kill us. Pretty easily, too. I have to tell you, I don’t know exactly how it works. Sam’s way better at this sort of thing.” He taps his fingers against your coffee table. “But I do know how to fix it.”

It’s pretty easy to guess. Dean’s here, despite the fact his brother is apparently dying, and there’s really only one thing you have that they don’t. “He needs blood,” you say quietly, beating Dean to the punch. “Fresh blood.”

He nods and shoots you a stilted smile. “Quick on the draw, huh?” The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he sighs, shaking his head. “Sam hates what he is. Doesn’t matter that he’ll die without it, he won’t hurt anyone. He just won’t.”

You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly uncomfortable with Dean’s intense stare, like he can see straight into your soul. “So- so, what am I supposed to do about it?” you ask, your shoulders shrugging helplessly. “I’m still a person. I can’t force him to do something he doesn’t want to do.”

Dean takes a step toward you, and this time you don’t step back or shrink away. He’s dangerous, sure, but not to you. Not as long as you’re the only thing standing between his brother and certain death. “Look, Sam really likes you. If he knew I was here right now, and he wasn’t on his deathbed, he’d kill me. But I just—I’ve tried. It’s been a week, and I’ve tried so hard—” He ducks his head as he cuts off, his jaw working over clenched teeth. “I know that you care about him, right? I mean, I saw the texts; I know—I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t desperate. I can’t just sit around and watch my little brother die. I had to try. I have to try.”

Seeing him now, you almost can’t believe you were afraid of him. He looks almost terrified himself. And despite the uncertainty you feel, the fear, well…there’s a clear answer here. Yes, there’s a chance Sam refuses to feed from you, but there’s also a chance to save him. You can’t just stand back and let him die because you’re scared. “Okay.”

Dean’s eyes snap to yours again. They sparkle with hope, and even though the illusion is dropped, even though his eyes are red and his teeth are viciously sharp, for the first time since you first saw him, he looks human. “Okay?”

“Take me to him,” you tell him, moving past him to grab your coat off the hanger by your door. “Let me try to save him.”

Dean gives you the key to the apartment and a wish good luck, but stays in the car (which, yes, is just as nice as you imagined, though you wish you’d gotten to experience it under different circumstances). He tells you as you climb out the passenger door, “If this goes the way I hope it does, you two aren’t gonna want me there. Trust me.”

Apprehension keeps you rooted outside the locked door, biting a hole through your bottom lip. There’s a lot of ways this could go. Quite a few of them could end up with you dead, and you’d be a fool not to acknowledge that. Then again, you’d also be a fool not to acknowledge what you know about Sam, what Dean’s told you about him today. Kind, gentle Sam, who is sick and dying, but apparently still refuses to hurt anyone. Who drinks from blood bags, despite the risk, simply because it means he can live without harming others. He doesn’t deserve to die.

You take a deep breath, and unlock the door.

The apartment is…Well, it’s a little dingy, but it’s cozy. Homey. There’s clutter and trinkets on every shelf, books that look so old that you fear they’d disintegrate if you touched them. It occurs to you, then, that you don’t know how old Sam actually is. A memory flashes in your mind of his name mentioned in records from the 1800s. Holy shit.

“Dean?” You recognize Sam’s voice, but it’s thin and croaky. Weak. Really sick, Dean had said. “Are you home?”

You follow the sound of his voice into a bedroom, and the stale smell of illness almost makes you stumble back from the doorway. It doesn’t smell bad, necessarily, so much as still and wrong. Sam’s been in this room, wallowing in sickness, for a week. Your heart aches for him. “Not Dean,” you say quietly, hoping not to spook him. You approach the bed, and only just keep from gasping at the state of the man curled up in it. Sam is pale and sunken, visibly weak and malnourished. He’s trembling, shaking all over with chills, maybe, or just tremors in general.

His face changes when he hears your voice, his brows furrowed in confusion. He opens his eyes and peers up at you over his cocoon of blankets. His eyes, like Dean’s, are red, but unlike Dean’s, they’re glassy and tired, his eyelids fluttering like he’s struggling to keep them open. “____? What…what’re you doing here?” He pushes himself up to sit, and you can see the effort it takes him to do even that, his arms shaking under his own weight.

You sit gingerly on the edge of the bed beside him. “Dean sent me,” you tell him, ratting Dean out immediately.

Sam groans, rubbing his hands over his eyes. The veins in his hands are standing out, ugly, mottled red under pale skin. As if the blood really had poisoned him. “I’m gonna kill him.” Wow, Dean hadn’t even exaggerated, huh?

“Not like this, you’re not,” you mutter, reaching out to take his hand in yours. “Jesus, Sam…” He’s ice cold to the touch like he’s been out in the snow for hours. You curl your hands around his, trying to warm him.

His gaze flicks to them, your hands barely covering his. “Sorry I missed our date,” he says, mournful like he really is repentant, like standing you up is the worst sin he could’ve possibly committed. “It…was a date, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it—I meant for it to be.” You huff out a laugh, sympathetic as you smile at him. “And, you know, somehow I can’t find it in myself to hold it against you.”

Sam laughs, and for the first time, you catch a glimpse of his fangs. They’re just as viciously sharp as Dean’s, but they somehow look less dangerous on Sam. You’d worry you’d been charmed or something (isn’t that supposed to be something vampires can do? You have to admit, you’re a little out of the loop of vampire lore), if you weren’t certain that Sam would never do something like that. No, not charmed, not in any sort of magical sense. “I’ll die happy then.”

Wow, you see the dramatics run in the family. “You’re not going to die,” you say firmly, releasing Sam’s hand to brush his bangs out of his face. He’s freezing all over. It makes you want to wrap him up in your arms, make sure he never goes cold again. You settle for pressing your palm against his cheek, your fingers cupping around his jaw.

“I am, though,” he shoots back, like he’s arguing about who’s answer on the homework is right, not about his actual, literal life. “I’m going to die. But that’s—it’s okay. It’s been a week, so I’ve sort of come to terms with it.”

“Screw that.” You turn more firmly towards him, pulling your legs under you to kneel on the bed. “Seriously, screw that. I can help you. If you think I’m just gonna- what, stand aside and let you die, then you really don’t know me at all.”

“Sure. And you’re just gonna fix me, huh?” He shakes his head, turning it away from you with a huff. “All sunshine and rainbows after that. Not like I’ll have to bleed you to get better, right? Oh, wait.” Oh, he’s such a fucking diva, even on his deathbed, apparently.

“Oh, my God—yeah! I sort of figured it wouldn’t exactly be pleasant.” You didn’t spend all that time hesitating at the door because you thought it would be a walk in the park. “But if the choice is between that and letting you die, there’s no contest. I don’t understand why you’re so set on it when I’m sitting here offering you a solution!”

“Maybe I don’t want to be saved!” His outburst silences you, especially because it seems to take a lot of energy from him to snap at you like that. He stares you down, red eyes meeting yours, and you…you don’t know what to say to that.

You can lead a horse to water, but… “Sam—”

He cuts you off with another shake of his head. “Dean…he used to tell me that what we are doesn't make us monsters, it’s what we do. And I really wish I believed that, but the thing is, I…am going to die if I don’t feed from someone, like- like a fucking parasite. What is that if not monstrous?”

“I don’t think you’re a monster,” you tell him. Slowly, cautiously, you reach for his face and replace your hand on his cheek, turning his gaze to meet yours. “I actually happen to think you’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. I don’t know what kind of monster would’ve apologized for getting deathly ill and accidentally standing me up.”

His eyes flick over your face, like he’s searching for something. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.” His voice, thin and mournful, is heartbreaking. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t know—I’ve never been sick like this before. It’s possible I won’t have a lot of control if I feed on you like this.”

That’s sort of what you were afraid of. But that’s the benefit of him feeding from you, rather than some random person off the street, right? You know what’s going on. “I won’t let you go too far,” you assure him. “Sam, please. I want to do this for you. Let me…let me help you.”

His eyes meet yours, and he seems to find what he’s looking for. He lifts his hand and brushes your hair back off your neck. “If I do this—if—it’ll hurt, at first,” he tells you, placing his hand on your shoulder. Just resting there. It sends sparks down your spine all the same. “But not for long. It’ll start to feel good, kind of like getting high. But if I—I’m not going to bite you if I’m not sure you’ll be able to stop me if I take too much.”

“I’ll stop you. If I have to.” You trust him, mostly. But you’re also aware that he hasn’t fed in a week, so you’re prepared to have to at least alert him to your blood loss.

His fingers trail along your neck, goosebumps following in his wake. His eyes follow the path of his touch, and his hands may be hesitant, but you can see the hunger in his eyes. Maybe you can make the horse drink, after all. “Are you sure?” he asks, and his hand moves to the back of your head. Bracing.

“I told you—” you say, your voice coming out almost as quiet as a breath— “I want to do this for you.”

“Okay.” He leans forward until you can feel his breath on your neck. It’s almost cold, unnaturally so. “Tilt your head a little more, that way—there you go,” he instructs, and that tone in his voice is…yeah. You are definitely glad Dean didn’t come in with you. His lips brush your skin when he speaks next, “Ready?”

“Yes.” You’re not sure how you manage to get your voice to come out as stable as it does. You bring your hands up to brace on his shoulders, and your grip goes a bit tighter when you feel his fangs press, just barely, against your skin. “Yeah, I’m—go ahead.”

You’ve never been bitten by a vampire before. You have no frame of reference of whether this is what it’s like every time, or if it’s just a Sam thing. Or if it’s just a you and Sam thing. But the whole process is intensely intimate in a way you weren’t expecting. Even when he first sinks his fangs in and it stings, makes you draw in a sharp breath. He’s a little uncoordinated, you think, and maybe goes in at a weird angle, because he draws his teeth out to sink them in again, but not before his tongue flicks out to catch the blood that drips down the side of your neck. The gasp that escapes you this time is not just from the pain.

He was right, of course. It does hurt at first. But the pain is offset by his hand on your head, his fingers curling just so to grip your hair. You swear you can feel in real time as he gets his strength back. As your blood flushes the sickness out of him. You’re not sure there is anything more intimate than that.

You think maybe you expected a transition between pain and euphoria, but there is no slow fade. In between one blink and the next, the pain disappears, replaced with a floaty, echoing pleasure that has your fingers clutching at Sam’s shirt. Everything around you goes a little unfocused, fuzzy, except for everywhere Sam touches, where you swear your nerves are lighting up with sparks and ecstasy. You might be making noises. It’s a little hard to tell, your senses dampened as they are.

“Sam…” You shove a little at his shoulders when you notice your hands start to shake. He hums, and you feel it on your skin. You can see, now, why he likened this feeling to getting high, although you’re not sure it’s the feeding that you can see yourself getting addicted to. You shove him a little harder. “Gettin’ dizzy here.”

He pulls back from your neck, and your senses return to you in a rush of sound and a pinprick sort of ache where his teeth had sunk into your skin. You watch, full focused vision returned, as Sam wipes at his mouth and then drags his tongue over his hand, now free of mottled veins, to catch the blood that had, you assumed, spilled as he drank from you. Like he can’t bear to waste a single drop. You swallow thickly, your mouth suddenly very dry.

“You taste like…” He trails off, and then his mouth is on you again, but not biting. No, his tongue drags up your throat, and it occurs to you—vaguely, through the fog of earth-shattering, soul-bending lust that settles over you—that if blood had spilled down his mouth, then it stands to reason that it had made a mess of your neck as well. Not that you’re complaining, if this is the result of a little mess. He makes a soft noise against your skin, his breath hot now in a way it hadn’t been before. “Taste like…” His voice peters off again, distracted or just unable to find the words to describe it.

Yeah, screw this. “Let me find out for myself,” you murmur, your hands moving from his shoulders to his face—and his skin, too, is warmer now, almost the temperature you would generally expect it would be—until you can drag him into a kiss. The answer, as it turns out, is blood. You taste like blood, although you sort of assume it tastes different to him. Strangely, the flavor isn’t as off-putting as you would assume, especially not when he groans and uses his grip on your hair to tilt your head, kiss you deeper. You lick into his mouth, tasting your actual, literal blood on his tongue, and you…don’t have the words to describe how absurdly hot it is.

He’s not careful with his fangs, not really, lets them catch on your bottom lip and draw out pinpricks of blood that he soothes with his tongue. It makes the whole thing a little messy; he’s got blood smeared over his lips when you pull back to breathe. Your eyes track his tongue as he licks it up.

His hand, the one that’s not braced on the back of your head, brushes against the skin of your waist under the hem of your shirt. “Is this okay?” he asks quietly, still so close that you can feel the words on your lips.

Is this okay? You almost have to laugh at the question. As if you hadn’t wanted him since the first moment you saw him. “Yeah,” you tell him, a little smile tugging at your lips. “It is so absolutely more than okay.”

At your confirmation, he smiles too, and his hand rests more firmly on your waist, almost grounding. “Well, I didn’t buy you dinner first. Wouldn’t want you to think I was ungentlemanly,” he says, drawing a soft laugh from you.

“Aw, well. You did try.” You press forward, leaving a short kiss on his lips as your hand shifts from his face to tangle your fingers through his hair. “Plus, I mean…technically, I—”

Sam cuts you off with a kiss, but you can feel his grin against your mouth. “That does not count,” he protests.

“I dunno,” you say, a little sing-song in your voice as you grin at him. “I did quite literally just save your life. I think we might be a little past dinner.”

He scoffs, shaking his head at you. He’s not annoyed though. You can tell, because his fingers flex on your waist and then move, brushing up your side. “Uh-huh. Sounds to me like I’m slacking.” He ducks his head and presses two short, soft kisses to your neck, right on top of the pinprick aches. “I’ll have to repay you. You did just save my life, after all.”

Almost subconsciously, your fingers tighten in his hair. Anticipation settles in the small space between you, a space that grows even smaller when his hand presses against the small of your back and tugs your closer. “I did just save your life,” you repeat, your voice significantly breathier than it was before.

He laughs, a little puff of breath against your skin, and his lips drag down your throat in a line of open mouthed kisses until it lands at your pulse point. You swear to God, time slows down as he breathes in, slow and deep like he’s smelling your blood beneath your skin, and then presses his teeth to it until you can feel the points of them, precarious like water pooled on top of a penny. He doesn’t bite down, doesn’t break the skin, but fuck, you almost want him to. It seems like he wants to, too, as he closes his mouth with a snap. “Fuck…” He pulls back and lifts his eyes to yours. “Can I taste you? Please?”

It takes you a second to understand what, exactly, he means. He’d already tasted you; if he wanted more blood, he could’ve just bitten you again. Then, it clicks, and you…well, what are you supposed to say to that? Sam Winchester, all big, cow eyes and mouth smeared with your blood, so politely asking to eat you out, like you’d be giving him a gift. How could you possibly turn that down? “Yeah. Yeah, fuck, that’s—yeah.”

You only see his answering smile for half a second before his lips are on yours again, kissing, biting, while his hand caresses over the bare skin of your stomach. His kiss, his touch, is almost overwhelming, doesn’t leave you much room to think about anything else but him. Not that you really want to. He tugs at the hem of your shirt, pulls back just far enough from you to speak, and even then you can feel his lips move against yours as he asks, “Can I take this off?”

You really do laugh this time, drawing your hands down his neck and over his shoulders. “I appreciate the whole gentleman thing, I really do, but Sam, baby, I’ve wanted you since before I even knew your name. So let’s just assume that whatever you wanna do, I really fuckin’ want it, too.”

His eyes flick over your face, and you can literally feel the cocky ass grin he gets at that. It is, unfortunately, like everything else he does, ridiculously sexy. “That long, huh?” He’s such a dick. You want him more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your entire life. He tugs back and drags his gaze down your torso, his hand leaving your hair to join the other in toying with the hem of your shirt. “Guess I shouldn’t keep you waiting any longer, then.” His hands brush against the skin of your stomach as he pulls your shirt up and over your head before tossing it aside, not caring where it lands. You’ll find it later. Or you won’t.

His eyes lave over your newly bare skin, his hands following shortly behind. “You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing his palms flat against your stomach and dragging them up your ribs. “Can you lay back for me, darling?” he asks, even as his hands press you back against the mattress before you can respond.

You go easily, not in the least because the name knocks the breath out of you. “Darling?” you echo, shifting until you’re resting comfortably against the nest of pillows at the head of the bed.

Sam climbs over you, his knee nudging yours until you spread your legs to make room for his hips to settle between your thighs. “Is that alright?” he asks, ducking his head to press his lips to the hinge of your jaw.

More than alright, if the fluttering in your stomach is anything to go by. “It’s fine,” you say, playing it cool. Then, because his hands are rubbing up and down the bare skin of your sides and his teeth (the blunt ones, not the fangs, because he has much more self control than you do) are nipping at the skin of your neck, you play it decidedly uncool and continue, “Darling.”

You feel his answering smile against the skin of your collarbone as he and his kisses and his teeth travel down the line of your neck and chest, pausing at the edge of your bra. He lifts his eyes to meet yours through his lashes as his lips press the softest of kisses there. “‘M gonna take this off, now,” he tells you, his voice deep and rumbling. His hands move up your back, and you arch your spine to allow him room to do so. He undoes your bra clasp without removing his lips from your chest, tugs the garment down your arms and tosses it vaguely in the same direction as your shirt without a second thought.

“I thought about this, you know,” he says, softly, against the skin in the valley of your breasts. “Getting my mouth on you. How it would feel.” He shifts his attention, his lips closing over your nipple while his hand palms your other breast. It draws a soft gasp from your lips, your fingers twisting in his hair. “How you’d sound,” he continues, his voice a little cocky now.

“Sam…” His name falls from your lips on an exhale, like you’re breathing him in, like he’s pumping through your veins the same way you’re now pumping through his.

He smirks. If you thought he was cocky before… “Yeah, pretty much—” He presses that smirk against one nipple and brushes his thumb over the other, and while your head is dropping back onto the pillows with a moan, he laves his tongue over it to make you moan even louder— “just like that.” He's got you so distracted, you almost don't notice his free hand trailing down your stomach, brushing along the waistband of your jeans, not until his fingers undo the button with practiced ease.

“Oh, God, you are so unfairly hot.” You lift your head to watch as he kisses his way down your stomach until he finally reaches your waistband with his mouth, too, and leaves a nippy little bite there.

He laughs, glances up at you with that fucking smirk as he drags your jeans down your hips. “Unfair to who? You?” The two of you maneuver a bit until he can tug your pants off your ankles and toss them aside, another clothing casualty lost to the war on your sanity led by the swooping in your gut whenever Sam looks at you like that.

“Not me,” you elaborate, although it’s hard to do so when Sam’s hands are settling on your hips and his thumbs are rubbing slow circles on your skin and dipping just so under the elastic of your panties on every other pass. “But, like, every other guy. How is anyone supposed to compete with…this?”

This being Sam motherfucking Winchester, who had spent months shyly testing the waters and cautiously flirting so subtly that you were terrified you’d read him wrong, suddenly suave and confident and practically begging to eat you out. Oh, and also being, objectively, the hottest monster. This man has been terrorizing the dating pool for maybe centuries. You shudder to think how many women’s standards he has completely obliterated.

Continuing the streak of obliterating your standards, he ducks his head, that shy smile on his lips again. “I mean, I should hope no one is competing with me in this particular instance,” he says, voice hesitant as if there’s a chance on Earth you’d ever turn him down.

You shake your head, and honestly, you can’t help but laugh because a literal vampire is about to go down on you, and somehow the most unbelievable part of this situation is that he thinks he has an ounce of competition. “Are you actually asking me if I want to be exclusive right now?” you ask, drawing a hand up and through his hair, brushing his fringe off his forehead. “Because I feel like I made it so obvious how much I like you. Obviously, there is no competition.”

You have the honor of watching Sam blush for the first time, and knowing that you made it possible. Your blood flushes his cheeks, makes his face go the prettiest shade of pink you’ve ever seen.

“Obviously,” he echoes, his words brushing against the skin just above your panties. His hands brush down your thighs, and he pulls one of your legs up and over his shoulder so your heel rests against his back. He turns his head, and with your thigh now bracketing his head, it’s easy for him to press an open-mouthed kiss there, and then another, and then another until he’s brought you back practically to panting again.

“‘M gonna make you see stars,” he tells you, his lips pressed against the crease where your thigh meets your hip. “And then, because I am a gentleman, I’m going to buy you dinner. And I’m gonna be thinking about this—” He nips at your skin, bares his fangs this time and draws a well of blood and a gasp from you simultaneously— “The way you taste; the way you feel—I’m gonna be thinking about it the whole time.” He draws his hands back up to your hips just to tuck his fingers under the elastic of your panties, lifting his eyes to yours as he tugs on it. “Can I take these off?”

You think you might die if he doesn’t. “Please.”

His fangs seem to glint in the light when he grins, but he ducks his head before you can look again, a sort of hyperfocus to his posture as he shifts your hips and legs until he can pull your underwear off your ankles, and finally, finally, leaves you bare to him. He doesn’t waste a second, his hands dragging up your thighs and then spreading them further, his eyes roving over you like you’re the most beautiful work of art he’s ever seen. “Gorgeous.” His voice, breathy and sweet, washing over you is the only warning you get before his lips press against you in a surprisingly gentle kiss.

Your lungs expand on a gasp, and then deflate on a moan as he laves his tongue between your folds, the muscle pressed flat and soft like a tease. Or a preview. You’re not totally sure you’re going to survive this actually. You might die with Sam’s tongue licking over your pussy, and honestly, what a fucking way to go.

“Taste so good all over, huh?” Oh, holy fuck, he’s still talking. His lips brush over your skin and make you whine, and you’re pretty sure you can feel the vibrations of his voice better than you can hear him. “Feel like I should thank you. Letting me feed from you, and now this?” He makes it sound like it’s some sacrifice to let him go down on you, like you’re not gripping his hair so tight you’re surprised you’re not pulling it out. “You’re perfect.”

“Oh, my God,” your voice comes out high and tight as he closes his lips over your clit and sucks. Your back arches off the bed, but as your hips shift to press up against his mouth, you find his hand pressed low on your stomach, pinning you down. “Sam—oh, my God.”

You can feel as much as hear the soft, contented hums he’s making, like he’s never wanted to be anywhere more than with his head between your legs and his tongue drawing circles over your clit. His fangs, sharp and dangerous, are almost artfully pressed against your skin, just barely enough to feel the points of them. His free hand, the one not pressing you down against the mattress, keeps trailing up and down the outside of your thigh, making you shiver and press your heel into his back. And it’s so obvious he’s loving this maybe even as much as you are, his whole body shifting as he grinds down against the mattress, and God, that feels almost as good as his mouth on your cunt does. He’s getting off on the taste of you, on making you squirm and whine and moan.

It’s over the second he presses his tongue against your entrance and his nose smushes against your clit—everything after that is a jumble of sensation. The feeling of his tongue fucking in and out, his nose rubbing against you with every movement of his mouth, his hand grabbing at your thigh and holding your legs open when your muscles go tense and tight and anticipatory.

He draws his tongue out of you with an obscene slurping sound that just has you hurtling even faster towards the edge, your hands grabbing at his hair for dear fucking life, white knuckled. “Are you gonna come?” he asks, his voice low and gruff and almost fucked out. You squeeze your eyes shut, nodding as if it wasn’t obvious from the constant stream of noises spilling from your lips. “Yeah? Go on, come on my tongue. Give it to me, darling, let me taste it.”

How could you resist that? His words and his stupidly talented mouth draw you over the edge, your pussy spasming as you do exactly as he asked and come on his tongue. True to his word, he does, in fact, make you see stars, lights sparking behind your eyelids. His mouth works you through it until you’re whining and using your grip on his hair to tug him away, oversensitive as you come down from an explosive fucking orgasm.

He presses kisses on your inner thigh as he shifts it off his shoulder, your body loose and pliant now. “There you go, good girl.” The words make your cunt give a valiant twitch, even as he draws himself up your body until he’s laying beside you and pressing kisses over your face. “Was that good?”

You peek one eye open to look at him, incredulous. “Was that good—you’re so ridiculous, c’mere.” You turn your head to draw him into a slow, lingering kiss. Much like the taste of your blood in his mouth, the taste of your pussy on his tongue is, frankly, life-changing. You’re addicted already.

He draws back with a soft laugh, his eyes traveling over your face with such obvious fondness that you have to press another quick kiss against his lips. “Okay, understood.” He brings his hand up to brush over your face, soft and gentle and such a contrast to the obscene pleasure he’d taken in going down on you that it makes your cheeks go warm. “So when can I buy you that dinner?”

The question gives you pauses, and your eyes flick down his body, curious. “Did you not want me to…”

You watch your blood, again, flood his cheeks as he laughs and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “That’s not—I really like giving head,” he explains, as if that is not literally the hottest thing he could’ve possibly said.

Fuck dinner, you wanna go five rounds with him back to back right now. “Okay,” you say, because he’s very sweet and he wants to be a gentleman and who are you to take that from him? “You can take me to dinner, if you swear you’ll let me suck you off when we get back. Deal?”

The way his face lights up is worth having to wait. “Deal.”

“And,” you continue, your hand smoothing over his hair where your grip had mussed it up, “next time you need blood, let’s just skip the whole ‘I’m a monster’ thing. I am more than willing to supply you; I have a vested interest in keeping you around.”

He rolls his eyes, but the way he kisses you, fangs and all, tells you he gets it.

#sammy !!#grudges writes ;#sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #x reader #sam winchester #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #vampire smut #sam munchester love of my life #smut #sam winchester smut #sam winchester fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 link #alternate universe #vampires

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gliphyartfan · 5 months ago

Note

Scenario where we stray a little to close and die in battle. Everyone is grieving, only for Time to grab all his boys and play the Ocarina of Time, bringing them back in time to like that morning well before the battle. Everyone is gushing and relived out of their mind all while we’re super confused and panicking because “why does everyone look like they went through HELL?! You all looked fine a second ago why are half of you injured?!?!”

I tried to make this a hint funny but quite frankly, those boys wouldn’t make even the slightest effort to smile after such a tragedy.

Anywho~ let’s begin!

——-

The battle had been dragging on too long.

They were too close to camp, too close to where (y/n) was supposed to be safe. The usual chaos of fighting monsters had turned into something coordinated, attacks coming in waves, blocking off paths, forcing them to keep moving rather than pushing back.

Something wasn’t right.

Then they heard it.

A scream.

(Y/n)’s scream.

Wild and Legend ran.

They didn’t hesitate, didn’t call out to the others, didn’t stop to think. Their feet moved before their minds could catch up, hearts slamming against their ribs like they were already too late.

(Y/n) should be safe. They should be fine. That scream shouldn’t have happened.

Please be safe.

Please be okay.

Please—

A monstrous roar cut through the air, deep and furious, shaking the ground beneath them.

The camp was in sight.

It was wrecked.

Torn fabric from their tents flapped uselessly in the wind, supplies were scattered and broken, blood smeared the dirt like something had been dragged—

And standing in the middle of it all was a Lynel.

(How. HOW did they not notice such a beast?! to think it got so CLOSE to camp!!)

Huge. Breathing heavy. Sword dripping red.

Wild and Legend didn’t need to search for (y/n).

They were there.

Collapsed. Motionless.

Blood pooling beneath them.

Their hair was covering most of their face, but from here—Wild could still see their eyes.

Wide. Unmoving.

No.

No, no, no, NO—

Wild’s body reacted before his mind did, a sound ripping from his throat, something raw and enraged and desperate. He charged, drawing his weapons as he moved, his body running on instinct, on muscle memory, on rage.

Lynels. He knew how to kill them. He knew their movements, their patterns, their weaknesses.

And he was going to tear this one apart.

Legend barely noticed.

He was already on his knees beside (y/n), hands shaking as he scrambled for whatever potions he had left, pouring them onto their wounds, pressing down with trembling fingers.

Too much blood.

Too deep.

Too still.

“(Y/n)?” His voice cracked. “Hey, hey, come on. Stay with me.” His hands pressed harder, his magic flickering between his fingers as he tried, tried, tried to heal them. “You’re fine. You’re gonna be fine. You have to be fine.”

No response.

Their chest wasn’t moving.

He wasn’t losing them.

He wasn’t.

“Please, please, don’t do this.” he whispered, his fingers gripping too tight, as if he could physically keep them here.

As if he could stop them from slipping away.

Wild was still fighting, hacking, killing. The Lynel barely had time to react before he was tearing it apart, his strikes vocious, his movements fueled by something beyond anger.

But Legend didn’t look up.

His entire world had narrowed down to (y/n).

And those unseeing eyes.

——-

——

The battlefield behind them was eerily quiet, the last of the monsters taken care of. But there was no relief. No victory. Just a sick feeling crawling up their spines, twisting their stomachs.

They quickly followed the path Wild and Legend had taken, weapons still drawn, bodies tense. They felt something was wrong before they even saw it.

Then they reached the camp.

And the world stopped.

Wild was still hunched over his blade, tbe Lynel collapsing from the final stroke through it’s head, Wild’s breath ragged, blood, his or its, no one knew, dripping from his blade.

His eyes were wild, teeth bared, the rage that had driven him still bubbling beneath the surface. But he wasn’t moving.

Legend was crouched beside (y/n, arms clutching them close, his expression twisted with desperation.

And then there was (y/n).

Still. Too still.

The blood around them was so much.

No one spoke. The air was thick with a suffocating silence, as if even breathing too loud would make this, this awful, sickening nightmare, more real.

Hyrule was the first to move.

A single step. Then another.

Then he was running.

He dropped to his knees beside them, his hands already glowing with the familiar light of his Life Spell, fingers trembling as he pressed his hands to their skin.

The magic flared.

Then sputtered.

Didn’t take.

His breath hitched.

“No-” His voice cracked as he pushed more, pleading with the magic, with them. ‘Nonononono…”

The others started moving, drawn in like gravity itself was pulling them toward the only one that mattered to them. Slowly, cautiously, terrified.

One by one, they gathered around, forming a tight circle, as if their presence alone could keep you here.

No one said anything at first. There was nothing to say.

Twilight hovered close, hands clenching and unclenching, like he was barely holding himself together. Sky was shaking, his entire body rigid, fists curled so tight they were white. Warriors swallowed thickly, his usual composure gone, replaced with something raw and unreadable.

Wind’s lips were pressed together, his expression tight, angry in the way one locke in denial and grief often is. Four’s fingers twitched at his sid, his eyes locked onto (y/n)’s like looking away would make this worse.

Time was silent, his face unreadable but his hands shaking at his sides.

Someone, maybe Sky, let out a quiet, broken sound.

Then Warriors knelt beside (y/n), one hand gripping their shoulder, his voice hoarse. “Hey. Hey, come on.”

Like he was expecting them to just open their eyes and tell everyone this was all some cruel joke.

Like they’d wake up if he just held on tight enough.

Legend had stopped speaking altogether, his shoulders shaking as he bit down on his lip so hard it nearly bled.

Hyrule’s magic flared again, fighting to work, his breathing harsh.

“Please…” he whispered.

The others stayed so still, the air around them too fragile, as if any wrong move would send it all shattering into something worse.

They couldn’t lose them.

They…they simply couldn’t.

—-

Time stood frozen, staring down at their still body. The world around him felt distant, the sounds muffled, like he was underwater, like he was drowning.

His breath came fast, shallow, the rush of blood roaring in his ears, drowning out everything else. His heart slammed against his ribs, a relentless pounding that rattled through his chest.

It was a feeling he hadn’t felt in so long.

Like he was a child again.

Like he was powerless.

He had spent his entire life fighting against fate, defying it, clawing his way through trials no one should have to endure.

He had walked through time itself, lived two lifetimes, shouldered the burden of Hyrule’s expectations. He had worn a mask that turned him into something beyond mortal, something that should have made him strong enough to protect what mattered.

And then that Sorcerersss had dragged him and many others into that war, he had fought alongside other legends, both old and new, had witnessed firsthand what it meant to lead, to command, to win.

He had survived all of it.

And yet here he was, standing over their body, feeling helpless.

His hands clenched at his sides, trembling.

No.

No, this wasn’t happening.

This couldn’t be happening.

They were supposed to be safe.

He had watched over them, he had promised.

His vision blurred, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts.

It wasn’t supposed to be them.

He should have been faster.

Should have been stronger.

Should have-

He took a step forward, his foot landing in the pool of blood. Their blood.

His stomach twisted violently, bile rising in his throat.

He couldn’t do this again.

Not another person. Not them.

The others had gathered around now, their grief tangible, suffocating. Hyrule was desperately pushing his magic into them, his hands glowing too bright, his breaths too fast.

Time felt himself sway slightly, like the weight of it all was pressing down on him, crushing him.

A quiet voice, from somewhere deep inside, from the child he had buried long ago, whispered, Not again. Not again. Not again.

And yet—

They weren’t moving.

The world felt too small, like it was closing in, like his ribs were collapsing in on themselves.

He could hear Sky muttering something under his breath, Warriors pressing down harder on their shoulder, like he could just shake them back awake.

Wild was still kneeling beside the Lynel’s corpse, his body hunched over, his entire frame shaking with something between rage and despair.

And Legend was curled over them, his head bowed, his shoulders trembling.

Time forced himself to breathe, forcing back the panic, the nausea.

He couldn’t afford to break down.

Not now.

Not here.

Because if he let himself slip, if he let himself grieve, it would be admitting that they were already gone.

Time barely noticed when his hands started to shake.

His breathing was uneven, shallow, like he couldn’t get enough air. His heart hammered in his chest, erratic and painful. His mind was slipping, too many thoughts at once, too many emotions clashing and screaming inside him.

His fingers curled, nails digging into his palms, his hands trembling so violently that he could barely control them. He needed to do something, needed to act, needed to fix this-

His hand brushed against something within one of his pouches.

Smooth. Familiar.

His breath hitched. His fingers twitched, hesitant, before reaching in and slowly pulling it free.

He held it with both hands, staring down at it like it was something foreign, something he didn’t recognize. But he did. Of course, he did. (Was this disassociation?)

This was his.

This was a power he desperately needed.

His vision blurred, he wasn’t sure if it was from grief, from desperation, from the pressure crushing down on him. But his mind… his mind was erratic, scattered, racing in a dozen different directions.

To undo.

To change.

His breath came faster, harsher.

What if he could undo this?

His grip tightened on the ocarina, knuckles going white, his entire body trembling.

He could fix this.

He could make it right.

He could bring them back.

His heartbeat pounded so loud it drowned out everything else.

He lifted the ocarina to his lips, fingers poised, ready to play.

Only for a hand to grab his arm and yank it away.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Twilight’s voice was raw, edged with something frantic and desperate. His grip on Time’s arm was bruising, fingers digging in as though physically stopping him would undo the sheer horror of the moment.

Time barely turned his head, the motion sluggish, his mind still caught in a haze of grief and erratic thoughts.

Twilight’s chest heaved, his breath ragged, eyes wild. “You-You can’t just-” He choked, his voice catching like the words physically fought him to leave his throat.

Warriors was there too, stepping in, his face tense, unreadablex but there was a sharpness in his gaze as he stared down at the instrument in Time’s hands.

Twilight’s grip on Time tightened. “You don’t—You don’t get to play that song! You don’t get to—” He cut himself off, his breath hitching as he visibly struggled to get his words under control. “That song—it means—”

He stopped again, shaking his head furiously, his grip still locked on Time like he was terrified of letting go.

Time exhaled, slow, measured. “This is the only way..”

His voice was steady, but it wasn’t him. It wasn’t the leader of the Chain speaking, it was something worn. Something dangerously close to the child he had long since buried.

But Twilight barely heard him.

“You don’t get to just—You don’t get to—!”

His hands curled into fists, his breathing was shallow, his body was locked so tight he looked like he was on the verge of breaking into pieces.

He couldn’t say it.

Couldn’t say the word.

Because if he said it, it would be real.

And he didn’t want it to be real.

Twilight was unraveling. He felt himself unraveling, his body too tight, too tense, like if he let go for even a second, he’d completely fall apart. His breath was coming in short, panicked bursts, his throat tight with something raw and unbearable. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking, gripping Time’s tunic like it was the only thing keeping him standing.

“You—” Twilight’s voice cracked, his words slipping out, desperate and broken. “You can’t just—You don’t get to do this, Time!”

Time remained still. His expression unreadable. His hands, tight around the ocarina, steady in a way Twilight’s weren’t.

“Twilight.”

It was calm. Too calm. Like he was trying to soothe a cornered animal.

It only made Twilight’s breathing worse.

“No! Don’t—don’t say my name like that! Like you—like you know something I don’t! Like you’ve already decided—” His chest was heaving, his grip tightening before loosening again, his body betraying him, caught between fight and collapse. “You think you can just play that song and..and—” His voice broke, “They’re NOT gone, Time, you can’t just act like their soul needs peace! T…They’re just—” He shook his head, “they aren’t gone, they..they need help! ..w-we need to find a healer! A fairy! S-someone who can…can...”

A beat of silence.

Then—

Time exhaled and looked properly at Twilight.

And Twilight froze.

His whole body locked up, something primal inside of him screaming run but keeping him rooted in place at the same time.

He’d seen that gaze before. Seen it on him, when the moon was full and seemingly burning and the weight of something much older, much more terrifying, resting against his shoulders. White. Cold. Empty.

Not human.

Twilight’s breath hitched. His grip on Time’s arm vanished, hands falling away, shaking as he stumbled a step back.

Time’s voice didn’t waver.

“I will fix this.”

The words settled over them like a death sentence.

Final. Unwavering.

Twilight couldn’t move. He felt paralyzed, his whole body fighting between panic and something almost instinctual, something telling him that this wasn’t his mentor, this wasn’t the man he knew.

The air was thick with something they couldn’t name.

Then—

“How can you fix THIS?”

Legend.

His voice was sharp but quiet, words slow, careful, as if afraid of the answer.

His bloodied hands were still on (y/n), fingers curled, knuckles white. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, his face pale, his body unmoving.

And he was staring at Time.

So were the others now. Minus Wild who remained on his knees where he was.

Time’s grip on the ocarina never wavered.

He was looking ahead, staring at something they couldn’t see.

Then—

“What are you about to do?” Legend asked.

“..The Song of Time.”

The words left Warrior’s lips before he could even think to stop them.

And then everyone was looking at him now, including Wild.

every single one of them turned to Time in a split second.

Because they knew what that meant.

Time’s fingers tightened around the ocarina.

“You—” Warriors took a step forward, “You were going to play the Song of Time?”

Time said nothing. He just looked at him.

And that was enough.

Hyrule’s breath hitched. “Wait—wait, could he—”

“Twilight jerked like he’d been hit, his mind finally catching up to the weight of what was happening.

“You—” his voice cracked, “You were going to undo this? You weren’t…?”

Time finally blinked. The weight in his gaze lessened just enough for Twilight to suck in a sharp, shuddering breath.

But Time still didn’t waver.

“I will fix this.” He said it again.

Warriors’ breath was uneven, his mind racing, hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to rip that damn ocarina from Time’s grasp.

But he didn’t.

Because deep down, some part of him wanted to believe.

He swallowed hard. “Will it work?”

Time’s fingers curled tighter around the ocarina. His jaw tensed, his throat bobbing as he exhaled slow. “It will.”

And that was it.

That was all he said.

That shouldn’t have been enough.

But the way he said it, steady, certain, absolute,’like the sky was blue, like fire was hot, like the sun would rise tomorrow-

It made the air heavy.

It made belief an inevitability.

Sky’s breath hitched. “But—”

“How do you know?!” Wind cut in, shaking, desperate.. “How do you know it’ll be far enough?!”

“What if it only sends us back before the battle?” Wild snapped, voice raw. “We’d be dragging the beasts right to them! What if it doesn’t change anything? What if we just—” He broke off, his whole body trembling, his fingers digging into his arms like he was holding himself together with sheer force of will.

Time’s gaze flicked to him.

Then to Wind.

Then to Warriors.

To Twilight.

To everyone.

“It will.”

Like this wasn’t a question.

Like it was already decided.

Legend exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “And if you’re wrong?”

Time didn’t answer.

Because he wasn’t.

Because the idea that he could be was never an option.

Not when it came to (y/n).

Never when it came to that one person.

“Time-“ Twilight’s voice cracked, his whole body tensed, barely keeping himself from shaking apart. “Do you even know how far it’ll—”

“I do.”

Twilight flinched.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t forceful.

But it was final.

It was a fact.

Like the way he breathed. Like the way he fought.

Like the way he had always been the Hero of Time.

This would work.

Because it had to.

“Now gather close, or you will be left behind.”

Time didn’t wait for another argument.

Didn’t give them another second to question him, to hesitate.

He just pressed the ocarina to his lips and played.

The first note rang out, trembling through the air, and the world shifted.

The melody poured from him like second nature, each note pulling at something unseen, unraveling the fabric of reality, tugging at the very threads of time itself.

The air around him hummed, thick with power, and he barely noticed when the others moved closer. Whether it was instinct or trust or sheer desperation, he didn’t know. Didn’t care.

All that mattered was the song.

All that mattered was fixing this.

The ground beneath him vanished. The sky unraveled like ink spilling across parchment. He was falling, weightless, the notes still lingering in the air as time itself bent.

And he knew this feeling.

Had lived this feeling.

He was used to it, the way time peeled away like layers of an old tapestry, the way the past reached up to swallow him whole.

But the others-

Some of them gasped, sharp and breathless, the weight of the shift hitting them like a punch to the gut. Some gritted their teeth, held onto each other, held onto him.

But Time didn’t focus on them.

Didn’t let himself get distracted.

Because there was only the song.

Only the pull of time wrenching them backward, dragging them through the currents of the past, demanding they return to where they were supposed to be.

He felt the moment it worked.

The moment the world clicked back into place.

And when his boots hit solid ground againc when the weight of his body settled into the morning light, into the world that had not yet seen blood,

He exhaled.

And opened his eyes.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

The morning sun filtered through the trees, golden and warm, birds chirping in the distance like nothing had changed—like everything hadn’t changed.

The smell of cooking drifted through the air, something light and familiar, the scent of simmering stew bubbling away in the pot that Wild—the past Wild—had left unattended just moments ago.

The camp was… whole.

No shattered remains of their tents, no bloodstains in the dirt, no lingering stench of burnt wood and monster corpses.

No… (y/n) lying broken on the ground.

Time let out a slow breath, calm and steady, as if this was exactly what he’d expected. And it was.

He knew it would work.

The others, though…

They were stiff, wary, shifting in place like the ground might give out beneath them at any second.

Legend was rubbing at his face, as if trying to wipe away the exhaustion that still clung to him. Wild was staring at the bubbling stew like it was some kind of hallucination.

Twilight stood a little ways off, staring at his hands, clenching and unclenching them like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Warriors was the first to speak. His voice was hoarse, his throat raw from all the shouting and grief of before, of a future that no longer existed.

“…We actually did it…” he muttered, like he barely believed it.

Wind swallowed hard. He looked down at his boots, scuffed and dirty from the battle that technically hadn’t happened yet. “We’re still—” He hesitated, gesturing at himself. At all of them. “Like this.”

Blood. Dirt. Scrapes and bruises from a fight that hadn’t even started. Evidence of what they’d just lived through, proof that it had been real.

That (y/n) had been-

Time exhaled slowly.

“It doesn’t matter.” His voice was even, firm. Grounding. “We’re here.”

He didn’t need to say why.

Didn’t need to remind them of what they needed to do next.

Because their heads all turned, almost in unison, toward the only tent still closed up for the morning.

The one where (y/n) was still asleep.

Still safe.

Still alive.

For a long, long moment, no one moved.

They just stood there, frozen in place, staring at the closed tent.

The urge to rush forward was almost unbearable, like a rope yanking at their chests, but no one made the first move.

It was too much.

The blood was still fresh in their memories. The sight of (y/n) lying there, unmoving, unbreathing—

They couldn’t go through that again.

So they stood there, tense and waiting, barely breathing.

And then—

Soft murmurs. A sleepy sigh. Rustling blankets.

The sounds hit them, sharp and painful in a way they couldn’t describe, their hearts all slamming against their ribs as the tent flaps finally shifted—

And (y/n) crawled out, rubbing their eyes, hair a mess, voice groggy as they blinked up at the group.

“…Mornin’,” they mumbled, completely oblivious to the way everyone stared.

No blood. No pain. No lifeless eyes staring up at them.

Just… sleepy, alive (y/n), squinting at them like they were the weird ones.

They yawned. “You guys okay?”

No one answered.

Because no one could breathe.

It was Hyrule who moved first.

Slow, cautious, like he was afraid to startle them. His hands trembled as he reached out, fingers barely ghosting over (y/n)’s arms, their shoulders, their face—checking for wounds that weren’t there anymore.

It was like his body was working faster than his mind, the overwhelming need to confirm pushing him forward before he could even think about it.

And then, as if his movement snapped a thread holding everyone back, the others surged forward.

They were on (y/n) in seconds, surrounding them, crowding close, hands reaching and grasping, pulling them into checks and touches that were both frantic and careful.

(Y/n) barely had time to react before they were trapped in a wall of bodies, everyone brushing over their arms, their back, their face—looking for injuries that didn’t exist.

“What— guys, what the hell—?” (Y/n) yelped, blinking fast as they suddenly registered how dirty everyone was.

Blood. Scrapes. Dirt smeared over their clothes and skin, like they’d been through something.

Like they’d just come back from a war.

(Y/n)’s breath hitched, their drowsiness vanishing.

“What happened to you guys?” Their voice was cautious now, eyes darting between the wild, desperate looks on their faces.

No one answered right away.

They were too busy touching them, reassuring themselves, trying to make sure this wasn’t some cruel trick—

That (y/n) was here. Alive. Whole.

Time, standing back from the chaos, finally let out a breath.

It worked.

——

It took a while for things to settle down.

At first, (y/n) was just confused,rightfully so. One minute they were crawling out of the tent, rubbing the sleep from their eyes, and the next, they were practically being smothered by the Chain.

And not in the usual overprotective way.

This was different.

It was desperate.

It took a lot of reassurance,(y/n) reluctantly eating breakfast while Wild kept glancing up like they’d disappear if he looked away, Warriors and Legend hovering nearby, and Twilight sticking close as if physically shielding them from something,before the group finally got moving.

Time made the call.

They weren’t staying here.

(Y/n) didn’t get why,nothing seemed wrong, their camp was fine, their usual routine untouched,but there was no arguing with him. He wasn’t going to change his mind.

So they packed up and left.

They moved far,not stopping until the area around them was completely unfamiliar, setting up camp in a much safer place, where there were no signs of monster dens, no ruins where enemies could be lurking, nothing.

And still, the paranoia remained.

No one relaxed.

Even after the fire was lit, even after dinner was done, even after everyone was settled in for the night, there was an edge to the air. Like the whole group was waiting for something.

(Y/n) had questions. So many questions.

But the longer they stared at the exhausted, shaken faces around them, the more they decided they didn’t want the answers just yet.

Eventually, one by one, the others turned in for the night. Even if they wouldn’t truly rest, they at least tried to pretend to.

(Y/n) was in their tent, laying down, half-expecting Twilight or Wild to come and insist on sharing their bedroll like they sometimes did when they got particularly clingy—

But instead, it was Time.

They blinked as the tent flap shifted, his tall form stepping inside. He moved slow, deliberate, like he was testing the space between them.

(Y/n) sat up, eyebrows raising.

“Uh… hey?” They greeted cautiously. “Something wrong?”

Time didn’t answer right away.

He just looked at them.

Really looked at them.

Like he was memorizing them all over again.

(Y/n) shifted under the weight of it, that unsettled feeling creeping back into their gut.

“… Time?”

Time sat down next to them without a word.

Not across from them, not a small distance away—right next to them, close enough that (y/n) could feel the slight shift in the bedroll beneath them.

He was silent.

Not just the usual quiet, the comfortable, thoughtful kind of silence Time carried.

This was heavy.

Thick.

Suffocating.

(Y/n) shifted awkwardly, the unease crawling up their spine. The others had been acting strange all day, but Time’s presence right now felt even worse. Like the weight of a storm about to break, something pressing down on them, making their stomach churn.

They hesitated.

Then, quietly, “Time… what’s going on?”

Still, he didn’t speak.

Didn’t even move.

Just sat there, shoulders stiff, hands clasped loosely together.

(Y/n) swallowed, forcing a nervous chuckle.

“Okay, you’re really starting to freak me out, old man. Did something happen?”

Finally, Time exhaled, slow and steady.

“…Something happened.”

(Y/n) perked up a little. “Yeah?”

Time nodded.

“I fixed it.”

(Y/n) blinked.

“…What?”

Another pause.

(Y/n) narrowed their eyes, the hairs on the back of their neck standing on end.

“Fixed what? What—”

“Don’t.”

The firm edge in Time’s voice startled them into silence.

It wasn’t a command.

It wasn’t an order.

It was a plea.

Time turned his head slightly, his jaw clenched, his good eye dark in the dim light of the tent.

“If you keep asking me…” he said, voice low, slow, measured, “I will tell you.”

(Y/n) stared.

He swallowed, his hands tightening into fists against his knees.

“And I don’t want to tell you…” He admitted, not wanting to te them how they all failed in protecting them. How their blood pooled beneath their cold body.. “So please… don’t ask me.”

(Y/n) felt their pulse in their throat.

Something was wrong.

The others had been acting strange, paranoid. Wild had barely let them breathe all morning. The whole group had been on edge, even after they had moved camp.

And now Time was sitting beside them, heavy and tired and quietly begging them not to dig any further.

(Y/n) licked their lips, their voice small.

“…Was it that bad?”

Time inhaled sharply.

His fingers twitched.

His mind flickered back-

The torn camp.

The blood.

(Y/n), limp and still, their lifeless eyes staring at nothing.

Time closed his eye.

“…Yes.”

(Y/n) barely had time to process the answer before they found themselves moving.

Their body acted before their mind, before they even realized what they were doing, reaching out, wrapping their arms around Time, holding onto him firmly, as if trying to ground them both.

For a moment, there was nothing.

Time sat stiffly beneath their hold, unresponsive.

Then his shoulders shook.

A breath hitched.

A sharp inhale, one that he tried to keep quiet, but (y/n) felt it against their shoulder, the way his body trembled, the weight of his grief pushing against them, too much to fully contain but held back just enough.

(Y/n) held him tighter.

They didn’t understand what happened.

They didn’t know what Time had done.

But whatever it was…

It had hurt him. Hurt them all. badly.

(Y/n) pulled back slightly, hands still resting on Time’s shoulders as they looked up at him.

His head was bowed, breath uneven, his expression twisted with something too heavy to name. The dim light of the tent only made it worse, casting shadows over the worn lines of his face.

Without thinking, (y/n) reached up, cupping his face gently and tilting it so he’d look at them.

Time’s good eye met theirs, surprise flickering through the grief.

(Y/n) gave him a determined look before brushing their thumb over his cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

“I won’t ask again.” they murmured.

Time exhaled shakily, the tension in his shoulders softening ever so slightly.

(Y/n) let their expression ease, giving him a tired little smile.

“But,” they continued, tilting their head, “I at least hope you and the others got revenge before you fixed it.”

A weak chuckle left Time, his voice rough.

“I think…Wild handled that part.”

(Y/n) huffed a laugh.

“Figures.” They let their hands fall from his face, nodding in satisfaction. “That’s all I need to know.”

Silence settled between them, but it was more relaxed now. The weight in the air wasn’t as suffocating, no longer pressing down so hard it was unbearable.

(Y/n) shifted, glancing towards the tent entrance, then back to Time.

“…I kinda don’t wanna sleep alone tonight.”

Time turned to look at them fully, his eye scanning their face.

(Y/n) rubbed the back of their neck awkwardly.

“Would you… stay?”

Time blinked.

Then, slowly, he nodded.

A small smile grew on his lips, the kind that carried warmth despite the exhaustion in his gaze.

(Y/n) returned it, letting out a breath of relief.

“…Good.”

Without another word, they shifted to make room, patting the spot beside them.

Time followed, moving to lay down beside them, a bit nervously but eagerly.

And as (y/n) settled next to him, still for a moment before arms wrapped around Time, he tensed before slowly wrapping his own arms around them.

Eventually, Time let out a deep sigh, his whole body relaxing as he feels their heart beat (alive, strong, such a wonderful rhythm) feeling their presence close, steady and real.

It was exactly what he needed. (He had a feeling the others will also get their own nights with their darling soon enough. (y/n) was just like that to be so considerate.)

It took no time at all for him to sleep.

#does it count as straying into battle if the battle comes to you??#yandere linked universe #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu #lu wind #gliphy answers anon #lu warriors #lu time #lu sky #lu legend #lu hyrule #lu twilight #lu four #lu wild #yandere linked universe x reader #linked universe x y/n #linked universe x reader

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