#the trust and tenderness. the unspoken love and respect between them

[impossible-rat-babies]

vierapril day 20--rest

distance sounds of me slamming my head into the wall bc i love them so much

[misswynters]

Aemond Targaryen as your husband: headcanon

[a/n: there are some sensual undertones here so if you don’t wanna read that you can skip it. it’s after the seperator

[note | pls don’t just like, reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned

similar | jace | aegon | cregan | daeron | gwayne

Aemond is fiercely protective of you. His intense loyalty means he is always by your side, ensuring your safety and well-being. He often places himself between you and any perceived threat, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword.

Aemond isn’t one for grand romantic gestures, but his love for you is evident in the small things. He brushes your hair out of your face, ensures your chambers are always warm, and leaves books he thinks you’d enjoy on your bedside table.

As your husband, Aemond values your opinion on matters of state and politics. He seeks your counsel in private, trusting your judgment and treating you as an equal partner in all decisions.

Aemond admires your intelligence and enjoys engaging in deep conversations with you. Whether it’s discussing the histories of Westeros, strategy, or philosophy, he relishes the intellectual stimulation you provide.

Aemond respects your strength and encourages you to train with him. He enjoys sparring sessions where you both hone your skills, often leading to playful banter and mutual admiration.

You and Aemond have an unspoken bond, sharing secrets that no one else knows. He trusts you implicitly and confides in you about his deepest fears and ambitions.

Despite his stern exterior, Aemond has a soft spot for you. In private, he’s tender and gentle, often holding you close and whispering sweet nothings that contrast sharply with his public demeanor.

Aemond enjoys gifting you rare and precious items, from intricate jewelry to exotic silks. He takes pride in finding unique treasures that reflect your tastes and interests.

One of your favorite pastimes is riding Vhagar together. The thrill of soaring through the skies, feeling the wind in your hair, and the shared experience of dragon riding brings you closer. Aemond often points out landmarks and recounts stories from his childhood as you fly.

Aemond’s loyalty to you is unwavering. He defends your honor fiercely and would go to great lengths to protect you from harm. His love is intense and all-consuming, leaving no room for doubt.

Through your relationship, Aemond learns to open up more emotionally. Your patience and understanding help him grow, allowing him to express his feelings more freely and strengthening your bond.

Aemond is your biggest supporter. Whether you’re pursuing a personal project or navigating court politics, he’s always there to offer encouragement and practical advice.

Aemond is devoted to your future children. He takes an active role in their upbringing, ensuring they are well-educated and trained. He often tells them stories of his own adventures and the legacy of House Targaryen.

Despite the challenges you face, your bond with Aemond is unbreakable. Together, you are a formidable team, facing the world with strength and determination. Your love for each other is a constant source of comfort and inspiration, guiding you through the trials of life in Westeros.

Aemond’s eye always finds you in a room full of people. The way he looks at you, with a mix of desire and admiration, sends shivers down your spine. His gaze alone can make you feel cherished and wanted.

In private, Aemond’s touches are gentle and deliberate. He traces his fingers along your skin, memorizing every curve and line. Whether it’s a light touch on your hand or a caress along your back, he makes you feel treasured.

Aemond’s kisses are a mix of urgency and tenderness. He captures your lips with an intensity that leaves you breathless, his hands cradling your face as if you’re the most precious thing in the world.

Late at night, when the castle is quiet, Aemond whispers sweet and sultry words in your ear. He tells you of his desires, his dreams, and how deeply he loves you. His voice, low and husky, wraps around you like a warm embrace.

Aemond takes his time when you’re having sex. He believes in savoring every moment, exploring your body with a careful and practiced touch. His focus is entirely on your pleasure, ensuring you feel loved and satisfied.

There’s a powerful, unspoken connection between you. A single look from Aemond can communicate a thousand words. In moments of intimacy, you don’t need to speak; your bodies and souls understand each other perfectly.

After a long day, Aemond loves to hold you close. He wraps his arms around you, his body shielding yours. The warmth of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart are the ultimate comfort, making you feel safe and adored. Giving you the love that his mother didn’t give him.

Aemond is particularly affectionate in the mornings. He wakes you with soft kisses on your neck and shoulders, his hands gently exploring your body as he whispers good morning. These moments set a loving tone for the day ahead.

Aemond enjoys sharing baths with you. The intimacy of washing each other, feeling the warm water and his hands on your skin, creates a deep bond. He loves to see you relaxed and content, and he takes his time, making sure every touch is soothing and sensual.

Despite his duties, Aemond finds time for secret sex. Whether it’s a secluded garden or a hidden room in the castle, he ensures you have moments of privacy to express your love and passion freely.

banner by: @cafekitsune

[jackles010378]

No Kissing Allowed!

When y/n agreed to start sleeping with Dean Winchester, she had one specific rule he had to follow. he was never allowed to kiss her. After Dean had returned from a hunt that had gone wrong, he ended up in y/n's bed, he decided life's to short to live by rules...............

Dean Winchester x Y/n

No warnings needed 🥰

In the midst of the moonlit night, Y/N lay in bed, her thoughts consumed by the agreement she had made with Dean Winchester. She had agreed to start sleeping with him, but with one crucial rule: No Kissing was allowed. It was a rule she had set in place to protect her heart from getting entangled in something she knew could never be more than a physical relationship.

Y/n always saw kissing more intimate than sex. She saw it as an intimacy that involved close face to face contact. Staring into each other's eyes, searching each other's souls. She thought of it as a tender expression of affection and emotional closeness. To y/n kissing was a deeply personal act that required trust. Something that could convey a sense of connection that went beyond physical interaction. She knew that if she kissed Dean, her walls would fall and she would drown in her feelings towards him, because deep down she knew he didnt feel the same for her.

Dean had always respected her rule. He would come to her after hunts, seeking solace and comfort in her arms without ever crossing the line she had drawn. But one fateful night, after a particularly horrific hunt that left Dean battered and emotionally drained, he found himself in Y/N's bed, his resolve wavering.

As he lay beside her, the warmth of her presence soothing his troubled mind, Dean couldn't shake the feeling that life was too short to live by rules. His heart ached to express the depth of his feelings for Y/N, feelings that went beyond mere physical desire.

Unable to resist any longer, Dean turned to face Y/N, his hand reaching out to gently cup her cheek. The softness of her skin beneath his touch made his heart race, his fingers lightly tracing the lines of her face as if committing every detail to memory.

Y/N's eyes fluttered open, meeting Dean's intense gaze with a mix of surprise and uncertainty. Before she could protest, Dean closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a tender and passionate kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as their worlds collided in a whirlwind of emotions. The warmth of Dean's lips against hers sent a jolt of electricity through Y/N's body, igniting a fire that neither of them could deny.

In that moment, all the barriers they had carefully constructed came crashing down, leaving them both vulnerable and exposed. The unspoken words that lingered between them for so long found a voice in the silent language of their kiss, speaking of love, longing, and the promise of something more.

As they broke apart, their breaths mingling in the darkness, Dean searched Y/N's eyes for any sign of regret. Instead, he found only acceptance and a glimmer of hope shining through the tears that welled up in her eyes.

In that quiet moment of understanding, they both knew that they had crossed a line from which there was no turning back. And as the first light of dawn crept through the window, Dean whispered words of love and devotion to Y/N, sealing their newfound connection with a promise to never let go.

From that day forward, Dean and Y/N's relationship blossomed into something far greater than either of them had ever imagined. And as they faced the challenges and dangers that came their way, they knew that their love would always be the guiding light that led them through the darkest of nights.

TAGLIST: @k-slla @cevansbaby-dove @kaleldobrev @janineb86 @deans-daydream @alternativeprincess94 @nescavaneck @angelbabyyy99

[yuff7e]

Hii !!

Could you please write lady muzan with a his s/o male uppermoon reader that loves his boobies ?

𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐍’𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐒, 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔?

𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

hello anon, i love this request .. i am also obsessed with lady muzans boobies, js wanna squish em (ofc he would crush my head if i ever put my hand near his beautiful chest) hope you enjoy this one shot + headcanons :) ఌ︎

♬♪ -> lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıı

muzan wasn’t unaware of your obsession; in fact, it was quite the opposite. your relationship with muzan had blossomed over favoritism, rooted in mutual respect. he admired your strength, your capabilities, and the unwavering loyalty you displayed towards him. he found himself drawn to these qualities, yearning to possess you as his most trusted servant.

muzan regularly rewarded you with generous amounts of blood in exchange for your dedication and hard work. one day, however, he decided to give you his blood in a different manner. assuming his female form to conduct a unique set of tests, muzan summoned you urgently. as you appeared before him, he turned to face you, gazing down with a tender expression.

“my, my, [name], how beautifully you’ve grown.” muzan remarked, observing you with a sense of pride. “i trust the eliminations of the remaining hashiras are proceeding well. have you brought me the samples?” “yes, master.” you replied promptly, bowing before him. with a graceful motion, you raised your hand, presenting a small, glistening tube containing a sample of blood.

muzan hummed in appreciation as he delicately took the tube from your hand, causing a shiver to run down your spine at the lingering touch. each contact with him felt like pure ecstasy, even if it was fleeting. muzan delighted in teasing you, savoring the effect he had on you.

“you’re very good, [name].” he purred, his voice laced with allure. “i might just have to reward you with some of my blood.” with a tantalizing smile, he began to make his way toward his nearby table, leaving you with a mix of anticipation and desire in his wake.

with each passing moment, your yearning for further contact with your lord grew more intense. you hungered for his touch and approval, the very sound of his voice was enough to send you over the edge. the cold blood he had shared with you coerced through your veins, driving your longing for more of his attention.

sensing your unspoken plea, muzan placed the tube of blood down before returning to your side. seating himself in the chair facing you, he exuded an aura of power, his presence captivating you.

as muzan signaled for you to meet his gaze, you obediently lifted your eyes to meet his. locking your gaze with his mesmerizing presence, a smile naturally graced your lips as you admired his perfection, your thoughts swirling with desire; causing a grin to tug at the corners of muzan’s lips, acknowledging the unspoken admiration.

in a swift motion, muzan slowly folded back his yukata, revealing his impressive chest as it spilled out of the fabric before you, a symbol of his power and dominance laid bare in your presence. the action alone would’ve made you fall to your knees if you weren’t already on them.

your mouth went dry as a lump formed in your throat, causing you to stutter out, “master, i—” before muzan interrupted you with a raised hand, signaling for you to approach him. your legs felt like heavy weights as each step you took a struggle as you slowly made your way to kneel right before your master. muzan moved a hand towards your jaw, his grip tight. he gazed intently at your face, a moment of silent communication passing between you.

without a word, he guided your face to hover just above his exposed breast, his commanding presence leaving you eager. “i want you to drink the blood from here.” muzan’s directive was clear, his voice hung with authority as you puckered your lips against his areola.

slowly, your hot mouth engulfed his nipple, causing muzan to twitch; which only fueled your desire more. you bit down lightly, being careful in order to not hurt your master. you sucked in, and that’s when the ecstasy hit you, his thick blood coerced throughout your mouth, over your tongue and down your throat. you couldn’t help but flick your tongue over his nipple every now and then as you sucked, a new lustful feeling taking over your senses.

muzan placed a gentle hand against the back of your head, soothing you as you drank from his chest. he usually didn’t hold back on how much blood he gave you, since you were his favorite. he leaned his head back slightly, brows furrowed, reveling in the feeling of your mouth on the sensitive area.

you bring a hand up to massage his soft, tender breast, encouraging more blood flow. you tremble with pleasure and power as you feel it coursing through your body. eventually, muzan has to push you off, a prominent bite mark surrounding his nipple, which quickly heals. he looks at you with his dark, feminine eyes, gazing deeply into your very being.

“my dear, you just can’t resist my breasts, can you?”

˗ˏˋ ✨ 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 ��� ´ˎ˗

— ever since muzan let you drink from his nipple, you’ve been obsessed.

— and honestly, muzan has too.

— the way you instantly attach to him, massaging them as you drink…

— he’s mesmerized by your dominant behavior and proceeds to let you drink from his chest more often.

— at times, he may just alter his chest and not his actual appearance, allowing you to truly behold your lord and experience his aura as you drink from such an intimate place.

— one day, you asked your lord if he allows anyone else this privilege .. wether it’s just you and him, or shared with others ..

— he attentively considers your question as he senses the pressure on his chest intensify, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

— "my dear, do not ponder such matters so naively. you are aware that this is a highly intimate gesture that i would only permit you to partake in. you’re a good boy, [name]."

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒 : 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍

[vilentia]

could you make a daryl dixon x reader where he’s scared to show her his back because of his scars and thinks she’ll be repulsed by him but she’s not and she kisses over every scar and it’s just super fluffy and shit?

if not that okay ❤️

A Kiss for Every Scar

Daryl Dixon x reader

You could feel the tension in the air as you and Daryl sat together in silence. The atmosphere was thick with an unspoken weight that seemed to hang heavily between you. You knew something was wrong, but you couldn't put your finger on it.

It wasn't until Daryl stood up to grab something from his bag that you saw it. The scars on his back, jagged and angry, marred his otherwise smooth skin. You could tell they were old, but they were still fresh enough to stand out starkly against his pale flesh.

You reached out to touch them, but Daryl flinched away from your touch. "Don't," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You could see the fear in his eyes, the fear that you would be repulsed by the scars on his back. But you weren't. In fact, you found them beautiful in their own way. They were a testament to the strength and resilience of the man you loved.

Without a word, you stood up and gently urged Daryl to sit back down. As you looked at Daryl, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness deep in your heart. You had known him for a while now, and you knew he was a man who had been through a lot. His rough exterior was just a shell that he had built to protect himself from the harsh realities of the world around him. But now, as you looked at the scars on his back, you realized that there was so much more to him than what met the eye.

You wanted to know what had happened, what had caused those scars to form. But you knew better than to push him. Daryl was a man who didn't like to talk about his past, and you respected that. Instead, you decided to show him how much you cared in your own way.

As you sat behind Daryl, tracing your lips over each scar on his back, your heart ached with the knowledge of what he must have endured to bear such marks. The scars were jagged and rough against your lips, a testament to the battles he had fought and the hardships he had faced.

You could feel the tension in his body slowly melting away with each kiss, and you knew that this was a moment of trust and vulnerability. Daryl had always been guarded, always keeping his emotions close to his chest. But now, with you, he was letting down his guard and showing you a side of himself that he had kept hidden for so long.

Your own emotions were a mix of sadness and love. Sadness for the pain that Daryl had endured, but also love for the strength and resilience that he had shown. You knew that it must have taken immense courage for him to show you his scars, to let you in on a part of his life that he had kept hidden from everyone else.

As you continued to kiss each scar, you could feel the tension in Daryl's body slowly dissipating. His breathing became more even, and his body started to relax in your embrace. You could tell that he was finally allowing himself to be vulnerable with you, to trust you with his deepest fears and insecurities.

The moment was intimate and raw, filled with unspoken emotions and unexpressed feelings. You could feel the weight of Daryl's past, the weight of his scars, but you also felt the weight of his love for you. It was a love that transcended physical imperfections and scars, a love that saw the beauty in the broken.

You continued to kiss each scar with a tenderness that surprised even you. Each one told a story, and you wanted to know them all. You wanted to know everything about the man you loved.

Finally, you had to stop to tend to the scratches on his back. You tried to ignore the pang of disappointment that came with it, but you couldn't help but feel like you had just scratched the surface of something deeper.

As you finished up, Daryl turned to look at you, his eyes full of emotion. "Thank you," he said again. "I never thought anyone could love me like this."

You smiled at him, hoping to convey all the love you felt in your heart. "I love you, Daryl," you said softly.

For a moment, he just looked at you, his eyes searching yours for something. Then he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a sweet and tender kiss. It was a moment of pure love and passion, a moment when you both knew that your love was real.

As you pulled away, Daryl reached up to stroke your cheek. "I love you too," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "More than you'll ever know."

You smiled at him, feeling your heart swell with happiness. You knew that there was so much more to discover about Daryl, but for now, you were content to just hold him in your arms and cherish the moment.

As you sat there, wrapped up in each other's embrace, you knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful journey together. A journey filled with love, trust, and a deeper understanding of the scars that had brought you both to this moment.

[jounosnumberoneslut]

"You look so much better with my cock in your mouth"

Dazai Osamu x reader NSFW

Sorry for the grammatical mistakes english isn't my native language!!

Pairing... Dazai Osamu x fem!reader

Contains... gentleman Dazai, fluff, smut!, dirty talk, dry humping, oral (male receiving)

You've been dating Dazai Osamu, the suicidal, handsome investigator, for two weeks. You met by serendipity as you sat down at a coffee shop after work, and he asked you to join your company. It turned out that the man working at the office above the cafe and you talked so well that you two discussed the next time to meet. You were already attracted by his wit and charm.

As your relationship progressed, you discovered that beneath Dazai's enigmatic persona, there was a vulnerable side that he rarely showed to others. Despite his troubled past, his dark humor and intelligence continued to captivate you, making you even more drawn to him.

You didn't want to go ahead of schedule due to the fact that you've already been disappointed by men as well. You never told him, but you were worried that if you let him into your bed, Dazai would leave you alone like the others. He understood this and waited patiently for your small signs that your relationship was ready to advance.

Even though he was aware of how much you desired it, he refrained from acting out of respect for your request. You allowed Dazai to kiss you after the third time you two met. It was a tender and gentle kiss, filled with unspoken promises and reassurance. In that moment, you realized that Dazai was different from the others; he was willing to wait for you and earn your trust.

The kiss marked the beginning of a deeper connection between you both, slowly erasing the fear of disappointment and replacing it with hope for a love that could withstand any challenges. As your relationship deepened, he continued to show patience and understanding, earning your trust day by day. It was only when you felt completely comfortable and secure in his presence that you finally allowed yourselves to take the next step in your relationship.

After two weeks of dating, you made the decision to invite Dazai to your place. You've always met in public places—the cinema, dining out, shopping, or strolling through parks. But today is the day you cleaned your house while awaiting your partner to arrive and listening to your favorite playlists. As you put the finishing touches on your home, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. You had other plans with him tonight.

A bell went off. When you opened the door, Dazai was standing there with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. He wasn't wearing his trench coat and had one side of his hair pulled back behind her ears. His eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as he extended the bouquet towards you, his lips curving into a warm smile. Suddenly, he caught your lip. You gently placed your hands on his face while kissing him back. ''These are my favorites! Where did you know it?'' You asked him while inviting him inside. ''Just guessed, so can I come in Bella?''

You nodded and stood at the door, allowing Dazait to enter your home. You shut the front door and went into the kitchen while he removed his shoes. You took out a vase, filled it with water, and placed in it the flowers you received from him. You cooked cupcakes during the day and prepared them for your boyfriend. As you set the cupcakes on a tray, their sweet aroma filled the kitchen. You couldn't help but smile, excited to surprise your boyfriend with this thoughtful gesture.

Meanwhile, Dazai followed you and stood gently behind you, his arms from your back to your waist and his head between your neck and shoulders. His flossy hair slid to your exposed skin, and you felt as if he smiled into your neck. “Ohh cupcakes! Is them for me?” He suddenly took one and ate it. “Mmmm so sweet! Sweet like who made them!” You blushed at Dazai's playful comment and playfully swatted his hand away from the tray. "Well, they were supposed to be a surprise, but I guess you ruined that," you teased, pretending to pout. Dazai chuckled and pulled you closer, whispering in your ear, "I can't resist anything made by the sweetest person in my life."

You were just standing there with a flushed face; Dazai can even make you confused at your own home. He turned to face you and gave you a quick kiss. You licked a small piece of crumb that stuck to your lips. You tasted Dazai as well as the cupcake's sweet paste. He grabbed the cupcakes' tray, slipped his other arm around your waist, and then walked toward your living room. "Let's go in love." As you followed him into the living room, you couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth and affection towards Dazai. The way he effortlessly made you feel at ease, even in your own home, was something you cherished about him.

Dazai held your hand and placed the tray on your cigarette table before falling to the couch and pulling you onto himself. You laid on him a few centimeters from his face while he lay on his back with his legs spread out, gazing into each other's eyes. He smoothed your back with one hand and removed the hair from your face with the other. "My beautiful Bella, you are so magnificent without makeup and these comfy clothes; I love it." You blushed at his compliment, feeling a warmth spread through your body. The intimacy of the moment made you realize just how deeply he cared for you, appreciating your natural beauty and the comfort you shared together. This is the first time you didn't put on any makeup or dress up elegantly before him.

You slowly got closer to him and pressed your mouth on his own. He kissed you back; you licked his lower lip first, then entered his mouth. His hand softly grabbed your hair, while his tongue worked on yours more confidently. Your body started to move on his; your tits were pressed onto his hard chest. Dazai blushed as you, panted in your mouth, tried to restrain himself, not grabbing your ass. As you drew nearer to him, you put your mouth on his own. He returned the kiss, and you licked his lower lip before moving your tongue inside his lips. His tongue worked on yours more boldly, while his hand gently gripped your hair. Your tits were crushed against his sturdy chest as your body began to move on his. Dazai now reddened as you quietly panted into your mouth and struggled to hold back and refrain from touching your ass. "Dazai, I want to show you something." You purred, didn't break the kiss, and grinded your thigh to his half-hard bulge. As the intensity between you grew, Dazai's breath hitched, and his eyes darkened with desire. The anticipation in the air was palpable as you whispered, "I want to show you how much I crave you." With a mischievous smile, you pressed your lips against his once more, teasingly nibbling on his lower lip before continuing your tantalizing movements.

Before slowly getting off of him, I gently bit his lower lip and touched his body while crawling away from his handsome face. You didn't forget to touch his body at all, from his neck down to his chest, then finally massaged his member a little. He groaned because of your touch. "You don't have to... if you don't want it." You whispered softly, your voice filled with desire, "But I want it. I want to explore every inch of you, to make you feel good." His eyes locked with yours, a mixture of anticipation and consent shining through. "Please, sit up... love"

As Dazai sat up on the couch, you kneeled down before him on the floor. He was so speechless. I didn't expect that you wanted to suck him off the first time you invited him to your home. You ran your hands through his thighs up to his skinny hip, grabbed his waistband, and untied it. He didn't say anything; all he did was assist you in removing his pants. The only piece of clothing blocking your path was his boxer. His already hard cock was perfectly outlined under the fabric; you had to touch it. He hissed when you ran your fingers along his length. With a mischievous smile, you slowly slid his boxers down, revealing his throbbing cock. "Why are you so quiet, Osamu?" You whispered, your voice filled with desire. As you continued to tease him, he finally managed to find his voice, breathlessly responding, "I've been waiting for this moment with you for so long."

You smiled, then slowly pulled down his boxer to free his cock. It leaned down to his abdomen and twitched when you smoothed your fingers up and down on it. Not only his face but his cock too are beautiful, longer, and not so thick, with some bulging vessels. You kitten licked some places only on his length, which he rewarded you with deep but quiet moans. You sank down, gently bit his balls only with your lips, and pulled his sack a little. "Hah babe! You are so dirty; I love it." He grabbed your hair in a ponytail and looked into your eyes. "Finally, I can hear your voice." You teased him, and oh, how much he liked it. A cocky grin appeared on his face, then he gently pushed your face down to his throbbing cock. You kissed his tip, wrapped your lips around it, sucked it, and circled it with your tongue. "I had such a feeling that my Y/N is a dirty girl... ahh." He groaned as you took him deeper into your mouth; his moans grew louder and more desperate. The salty taste of him on your tongue drove you wild with desire, and you eagerly continued to pleasure him. "You don't have to restrain yourself, Osamu." You stroked his length, which didn't fit in your mouth, with both of your hands. His cum, mixed with your saliva, flowed down under his balls; these slipping noises made Dazai closer to his climax. He couldn't control himself; he was a whimpering mess; his hips moved faster; and he fucked your mouth and hands.

"I'm... I'm going to cum honey, ahh, can I?" You gagged as you sucked in as much of his length as you could and felt it throbbing in your mouth when his warm cum shot down to your throat. He pushed his head not so hard on his cock and felt his member still pulsating. "Stay a little bit, please." When his breath was restored, he let go of him. You stood up, sat on his naked lap, and touched his face with one hand. "Was it good, Osamu?" He looked at you with a satisfied smile and replied, "Better than good, my love. You know what?" You slowly rolled your hips against his still-hard cock, cocking your head in a curious manner. "I swear, honey, you look so much better with my cock in your mouth." He chuckled and slapped your ass. "I look better in other positions too; let me prove it." He suddenly picked you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and let him carry you into the bedroom.

500 followers event

[aizenette]

ᴀɪᴢᴇɴ x ᴛᴀɴɪsʜᴀ ғʟᴜғғ! ᴏɴᴇ-sʜᴏᴛ

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ - ᴛᴀɴɪsʜᴀ ᴄʜᴏ̄ᴅʜᴏʀɪ ɪs ᴀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴇᴀᴄʜ ғᴀɴ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ 'ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴏʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀᴘᴛɪᴠᴇ's ʟɪʙᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴍᴜ̄ᴋᴇɴ' ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ғᴏᴄᴜsᴇs ᴏɴ ʜᴇʀ sᴛᴏʀʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɪᴢᴇɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪs ʀᴇᴅᴇᴍᴘᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ɪs ᴀ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴀɪᴢᴇɴ's ʟɪғᴇ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ʜɪs ᴍᴜ̄ᴋᴇɴ sᴇɴᴛᴇɴᴄᴇ.

'ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ?' - sɪx-ʜᴜɴᴅʀᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴡᴏʀᴅs

The moon cast a soft glow through the windows of the hidden estate, bathing the room in gentle light. Aizen lay beside Tanisha, their bodies entwined in a comfortable embrace under the covers.

Despite the tranquility of the moment, an unspoken tension lingered in the air. Tanisha shifted slightly, breaking the silence that enveloped them. Her voice, usually composed and firm, now carried a hint of vulnerability.

"Aizen," she began softly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. "Do you... truly love me?"

Aizen's expression remained serene, his gaze steady as he looked at her. He didn't respond immediately, as if weighing his words carefully.

Finally, he spoke in his usual calm tone, "Love is a complex concept, Tanisha. It evolves and changes with time and circumstance."

Tanisha's brow furrowed slightly at his response, her onyx eyes searching his face for any hint of emotion. "But what about us, Aizen?" she pressed gently, her voice barely above a whisper. "After everything we've been through... after the battles, the betrayals, the struggles... do you feel anything for me?"

Aizen's hand moved to gently caress her cheek, his touch warm against her skin. "You know as well as I do, Tanisha," he murmured, his voice laced with sincerity.

"Our bond goes beyond simple affection. It's a deep connection forged in mutual understanding and respect." Tanisha closed her eyes briefly, absorbing his words.

"Yes, but... do you love me?" she insisted softly, her heart pounding in her chest. Aizen's gaze softened, a faint smile touching his lips.

"Love, in its conventional sense, may not be the right word," he admitted, his thumb brushing against her cheek. "But what we share... it transcends conventional notions. It's a partnership built on trust, admiration, and a shared vision for the future."

Tanisha listened intently, her mind processing his words. "A partnership," she repeated thoughtfully, her voice tinged with a mix of acceptance and longing. "I understand, Aizen."

A moment of silence passed between them, filled only by the soft rustling of the sheets and the faint hum of the night outside.

Tanisha shifted closer to Aizen, seeking comfort in his embrace. His arms instinctively tightened around her, pulling her closer against his chest.

"I know it's not easy for you to express emotions," Tanisha said softly, breaking the silence once more. "But sometimes, I wonder... if you truly see me as more than just a partner in your plans."

Aizen's expression grew thoughtful, his fingers tracing light patterns on her back. "You are much more than that, Tanisha," he assured her quietly, his voice gentle yet firm.

"You are my equal, my confidante, and the one person who understands me better than anyone else."

Tanisha's heart swelled with warmth at his words, a small smile playing on her lips. "And you, Aizen," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do you trust me?"

Aizen's eyes met hers, their depths reflecting a myriad of emotions. "Implicitly," he replied without hesitation, his voice resonating with conviction. "With my life, my ambitions, and my heart."

A faint blush spread across Tanisha's cheeks, the sincerity in his words washing over her like a soothing balm. "Thank you, Aizen," she murmured gratefully, leaning in to press a tender kiss against his lips.

Their kiss was gentle yet passionate, a silent affirmation of the bond they shared. As they pulled away, Tanisha rested her head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear.

Aizen's hand moved to gently stroke her hair, his touch comforting and reassuring. "We've faced countless challenges together," Aizen said softly, breaking the quiet intimacy that enveloped them.

"And through it all, you've stood by my side with unwavering loyalty." Tanisha lifted her head to meet his gaze, her eyes shining with unspoken emotions. "Because I believe in you, Aizen," she replied earnestly, her voice filled with conviction. "And in the future we envision together."

Aizen nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. "As do I, Tanisha," he admitted quietly, his hand moving to intertwine with hers.

"Our journey is far from over, but I have no doubt that together, we will achieve greatness."Tanisha squeezed his hand gently, a sense of peace settling over her.

"I love you, Aizen," she whispered softly, her voice barely audible in the quiet of the night.Aizen's eyes softened, his gaze meeting hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

"And I, you," he murmured in response, his words carrying a depth of feeling that surpassed any declaration of love.

They lay together in silence, their hearts and souls entwined in a bond that transcended words. In that moment, amidst the tranquility of the night, Aizen and Tanisha found solace in each other's presence, knowing that their love, though unconventional, was as steadfast and enduring as the moonlight that bathed them.

ᴇɴᴅ

[princess-sof-time]

Hiiii! can I request an College student!Aqua hoshino x GN!reader smut? Like a first time kind of thing?my idea was like.. they've been since senior year of highschool and the reader wants to take the relationship to the next level ? its ok if this isn't something your interested in! take your time and stay healthy!

-Seagreen anon

Thank you for worrying about my health and for being so kind to me! And almost my first time writing obscenity, it's something I'm trying. It just won't be an obscene or very graphic smut because I write for soft smut.

*♡*☆*♡*☆*♡*☆*

🄰🅀🅄🄰 🄷🄾🅂🄷🄸🄽🄾

*♡*☆*♡*☆*♡*☆*

• As they embarked on their college journey together, their bond only grew stronger, deepening into a love they both cherished. You have shared laughs, tears and countless memorable moments. Now, in the midst of a new phase in your lives, you feel it's time to take your relationship to the next level.

• The reader found his heart yearning to take his relationship with Aqua to the next level. They shared stolen kisses and innocent hugs, but tonight they craved something more intimate, something that would solidify their love and commitment.

• The anticipation coursed through their veins as they prepared for this significant moment. They had meticulously arranged their room, ensuring it reflected the warmth and tenderness that enveloped their connection. Soft fairy lights cast a gentle glow, casting an ethereal ambiance upon the space they were about to share.

• When Aqua walked into the room, his eyes widened, taking in the sight before him. The intimate environment reflected her heartbeat, and a tender smile graced her lips. The love he felt for the reader welled up within him, and he felt the same desire to take their relationship to new heights.

• Without a word, their eyes met, speaking volumes in silent understanding. The air between them was charged with affection, and the room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for their next move. Aqua approached the reader, his steps deliberate and filled with a mix of anticipation and reverence.

• Gently, he took their hands in his, intertwining their fingers. The warmth of their touch sent sparks of electricity shooting through their bodies, intensifying their connection. Aqua's voice, barely above a whisper, spilled with vulnerability and love as he expressed his adoration for the reader.

Aqua: (whispering) "You are my world, my love. From the moment we met, my heart belongs to you." Reader: (feeling overwhelmed) "Aqua, I feel the same way. You've brought so much happiness into my life." Aqua: (smiling softly) "I want to be with you, grow and build a future together. You complete me." Reader: (sincerely) "I can't imagine my life without you, Aqua. You are my best friend and my soulmate." Aqua: (leaning closer) "Let's take this step together. Let's make our love even stronger." Reader: (nodding) "Yes, Aqua. I want that too. I want us to be forever." (They share a lingering look, their love and commitment palpable in the air.)

• Moved by his heartfelt words, the reader's eyes welled with tears of joy and affection. They reached out, cupping Aqua's cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath their fingertips. A radiant smile graced their face, a testament to the love they reciprocated.

• With unspoken agreement, they closed the distance between them, their lips meeting in a tender, passionate kiss. It was the culmination of years of respect, love, trust and an unspoken understanding. Their bodies gravitated toward each other, seeking solace and unity in his embrace.

• As the night unfolded, they explored new territory, their bodies moving in sync, guided by the rhythm of their love. Every touch, every whisper, and every shared moment deepened their connection, intertwining their souls in a dance of ecstasy and vulnerability.

• In the afterglow of their union, they lay entwined in each other's arms, their hearts beating in harmonious rhythm. Aqua's fingers traced delicate patterns along the reader's skin, leaving a trail of tender affection in their wake. Words were no longer necessary, as their love transcended the realm of language, enveloping them in a cocoon of warmth and contentment.

• With the dawn of a new day, they gazed into each other's eyes, knowing that their love had reached a new level of intimacy and understanding. Bound by the youthful love that had blossomed in their hearts, Aqua and the reader embarked on a new chapter of their lives, knowing that they would forever be each other's sanctuary, support, and unyielding source of love and happiness.

Pinterest: Credits of used icons : AkeruHs

[rascal-xo]

Bittersweet - Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Reader

Summary: You take in the last moments with Ghost before you are both deployed.

Warnings: FLUFF, angst, tooth rotting sadness and fluff and love i’m sorry 😭

Tags: @pukbadger @fiveshelmet @myguiltypleasures21 @madamemelaninn @emmaadlerrichtofen1 @swissy23 @thatchickwiththecamera @glitterypirateduck @glitteryeggalmondherring @allaboutirem0 @kittyoonsstuff @guiltgoreglory

The warm water surrounds you, cocooning you in a soothing embrace as you lean back against his solid presence. Ghost, Simon Riley, sits behind you, his muscular arms encircling your waist, drawing you close. The scent of lavender bubbles wafts through the steamy air, and the gentle hum of the bathroom's dimmed lights adds to the atmosphere of tranquility.

Your fingers trace idle patterns on Ghost's forearms submerged in the bathwater, the contact grounding you both in this fleeting moment of respite. You can feel his steady breath against your neck, a quiet reassurance that everything will be alright.

The bittersweet truth lingers in the air like an unspoken promise. Tomorrow morning, duty calls, and the two of you will be deployed once again, but this time, there's uncertainty in the air, a lingering fear that you might not be reunited for a long while.

Ghost's lips brush against your temple, a tender kiss filled with the weight of words left unspoken. You don't need to voice your fears; he understands them as intimately as if they were his own. His grip on you tightens, as if he could hold onto this moment forever, keep you close, and shield you from the dangers that await on the horizon.

The water laps gently around you, a soothing lullaby that accompanies the ache in your chest. "I can hear you thinking." He speaks softly against the back of your neck. You feel his bare face on your skin, imagining what his features would be like in front of your own eyes.

It's been an unspoken rule between you two from the beginning. Ghost's mask is a part of his identity, his protection, and you've always respected his wishes to keep it on. You feel peace in knowing he trusts you enough to be without it even if you can't see it.

Despite the warmth of the water and the comforting presence of Ghost behind you, an unsettling feeling gnaws at your gut. It's like a persistent itch you can't scratch or a whisper of foreboding that refuses to be ignored. You try to shake it off, attributing it to the natural anxiety that comes with every deployment. But this time, it's different.

You take a deep breath, trying to dispel the unease, but it lingers, in the back of your mind. "It feels different this time." You finally say.

"What does, love?"

"Leaving." He falls silent for a moment, his fingers pausing the pattern he traced on your collarbone.

"We'll be back, Y/N. We always come back."

"I know," you whisper, leaning back into his embrace.

Ghost's thoughts drift as he holds you in the warm embrace of the bathtub, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your skin. The water laps gently around you, but his mind is far away, lost in a whirlwind of memories and emotions.

He never expected any of this. When he first met you, you were just another member of the team, another soldier in the fight against chaos and terror. He had been trained to keep his emotions in check, to stay detached, to be the unflinching sentinel in the shadows. Yet, here he is, completely and utterly attached to you in ways he never imagined.

He didn't think he would be capable of feeling so much for one person. But he would never find the right words to say it out loud. The unspoken ones did the job for the both of you.

You put your hand around one of his, brining it up to your lips. "Come back to me, Simon." You spoke softly against the soft skin of his palm.

As you put your hand around one of his, bringing it up to your lips, Ghost feels a lump form in his throat. Your lips against the soft skin of his palm send shivers down his spine, and he can't help but close his eyes, savoring the moment.

"Come back to me, Simon," you speak softly against his hand,

It was a promise he intended to keep...

[thatgirl101blog]

Secret Wife

Request by anonymous

In the world of wrestling, where alliances were forged and rivalries ran deep, Y/N navigated the ring with a grace and power that captivated audiences. Known for her skills and resilience, she was a force to be reckoned with, a formidable wrestler in her own right.

Unbeknownst to many, Y/N shared a deep bond with fellow wrestler Bret, a connection that transcended the boundaries of the ring. As friends and colleagues, they had grown close over the years, forging a relationship built on trust and mutual respect. However, their romantic involvement remained a guarded secret, hidden beneath the facade of professional camaraderie.

Despite their efforts to keep their love concealed, a shadow loomed over their happiness in the form of one of Bret's friends, a rival wrestler who harbored animosity towards Y/N. In the heat of competition, this individual targeted Y/N with malicious intent, seeking to undermine her and tarnish her reputation within the wrestling community.

Each attack inflicted upon Y/N tested her resolve and strength, leaving her bruised and battered but never broken. As the assaults mounted, Bret struggled with conflicting loyalties, torn between his allegiance to his friend and his duty to protect the woman he loved.

One fateful night, during a high-stakes match, tensions reached a boiling point as Bret's friend issued a sinister command, commanding him to deliver a final blow to Y/N in the ring. In a moment of clarity, Bret's gaze locked with Y/N's, and in that unspoken exchange, a silent understanding passed between them.

With unwavering determination, Bret refused to carry out the treacherous order, choosing love over loyalty, truth over deception. In a bold and defiant gesture, he stepped forward, cupping Y/N's face in his hands before pressing a tender kiss to her lips, a declaration of their forbidden love that reverberated throughout the arena.

As the crowd erupted into a mixture of shock and applause, the truth of their relationship was laid bare for all to see, shattering the facade of secrecy that had veiled their romance. In that moment of defiance and passion, Y/N and Bret stood united, their bond stronger than ever, a testament to the enduring power of love in a world consumed by rivalry and betrayal.

[denimbex1986]

'In "All of Us Strangers", a lonely screenwriter from London named Adam decides to visit his childhood memories, for the needs of his work, and return for a while to the neighborhood where he grew up. There he finds his father's house and meets the ghosts of his parents, who were victims of a fatal car accident when he was twelve years old. By talking with them, Adam has the opportunity to share the loves he didn't have time to express to them, the thoughts, fears and feelings that for so long remained unspoken. Their meetings become more and more frequent and thus Adam slowly manages to come to terms with himself, his sexuality but also the loss of them, coming out of his shell to meet the other lonely tenant of his apartment building, the mysterious Harry.

Drawing inspiration from the novel “Strangers” by Taichi Yamada, Andrew Haigh (“Weekend”(2011), “Looking”(2014-2015)) writes and directs a love story dedicated to the lonely, the different and the outcasts, those who they get lost in the noise of the big city and drown in the quiet of urban isolation. A touching reunion with the bittersweet aspects of a tragic past and a liberating love affair that illuminates two cloudy and exiled existences evolve in parallel, in a surreal cinematic journey that oscillates between harsh reality and the healing imagination of a desperate mind. Heigh takes us atmospherically through the life of his protagonist, Adam, revealing little by little, the scars left by the death of his parents, his battle with grief and the weight of his unaccepted sexual identity. His need for acceptance, his fear of rejection, the wounds that have remained open for decades bring the ghosts of his past and present to life and become the occasion for a liberating and painful self-exploration full of tearful twists and emotions.

Between the suffocation of the concrete jungle of London and the idyll of the suburbs of 1987 - as characterized by the protagonist in the script he writes - Adam rediscovers a deeply buried part of himself and relives his past, this time on his own terms . With an excess of nostalgia that effortlessly conveys the sweet melancholy of faded childhood memories, Haigh casually transports us back in time, to times of childhood innocence only to remind us, with the most violent shifts, of the bleakness and misery of a lonely adult life. . Only balm for the abysmal nights and bored days is love, the romance of Adam and Harry, a refuge of love and tenderness that teaches the importance of companionship in the greatest darkness of our days. The authenticity and spontaneity that governs the relationship between the two protagonists, but also the effortless connection that develops through their imperative need for human contact, shines like a beacon of optimism, mutual understanding and trust in a time when, as the title testifies, we are all between us strangers.

The iconic priest from "Fleabag" (2016-2019), Andrew Scott stars alongside Paul Mescal of the excellent "Aftersun" (2022) and together they give two riveting performances, in the roles of Adam and Harry respectively, bringing to life a multi-faceted duo , two tortured aspects desperately looking for some hope, in a world that is consuming more and more of them every day. The lack of family comfort and the thirst for love, without inhibitions and criticisms is their common denominator calling them to unite their solitudes and turn their backs on everything that hurts them. As Adam visits his parents, Claire Foy (“The Crown” (2016-2023), “Women Talking” (2022)) and Jamie Bell (“Billy Elliot” (2000)), stuck in space and time of their death, he finds his twelve-year-old self and sheds the seriousness and harshness that his age imposes on him. The most impressive thing is that while parents and child look the same age, the dynamic that exists between the three characters so clearly highlights the roles that we immediately understand the relationship between them, even the condition that exists is completely paradoxical and unnatural.

The Verdict

In “All of Us Strangers”, Andrew Haigh invites us to a tender story of love, self-discovery and self-acceptance with hints of surrealism, which draws attention for its performances, its immersively melancholic atmosphere and the authentic emotions it conveys, bending even the most calluses. Traveling from busy London to the idyllic suburbs of the 80s, the film balances between the nostalgia of childhood memories and stifling urban isolation of the big city, dragging us on a bittersweet journey between the present and the past. The authentic love affair of the extremely talented leads Andrew Scott and Paul Mescal and the touching reunion of a child with the parents he lost before he could enjoy them make "All of Us Strangers" an incomparably moving psychological drama that will be remembered for a long time to come. .

All of Us Strangers Review

Great 8 A melancholic psychological drama from Andrew Haigh, colored with notes of nostalgia and surrealism, which steals the show for the intensity of emotions and the honesty of its performances.'

[its-chelisey-stuff]

Vincenzo (final thoughts)

For me, this show was always best enjoyed by laughing at its sheer craziness and randomness, reblogging the hell out of all the gifs of my favorite moments/scenes and just posting silly comments about the eps. It was never a show I had much meta about and even if I had it, a lot of people had better input than me lol and I actually didn’t have the time to write about it. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t love it. Because I did, a lot.

I think the strongest point of the show was always the consistency in its writing (the writer always stayed true to the tone of the drama, balancing -to a degree I almost never get to see in kdramas- the humor, the tragedy, heartfelt moments, the development of the plot, use of side characters, the villains’ plans and the romance with two characters that I adored together and individually), but the directing, acting and the chemistry between actors made everything perfect to me.

I just loved the show. So far, it’s my favorite 2021 kdrama. I know, it’s barely May, and there are tons of kdramas starting this week, but what can I say? Vincenzo stole my heart. The dark random and silly humor of the show it’s exactly the kind of humor I enjoy and one that fits perfectly if you absolutely have to put jokes and plot twists with big evil conglomerates, dirty politicians, a messed up law system along with a bunch of crimes and murders (seriously how many people got killed in this drama? I lost count.) The side characters, who I rarely care about in kdramas, were super fun and I actually loved the whole Cassano Family. I even liked the villains because, while not the most brilliant or complex, they succeded at being bad and totally unhinged, with no boundaries.

And the romance? Man, I can’t believe that I’m saying this but I never cared too much about the “little” focus it received. Because it was there, every episode (even from the start, you can see Vincenzo’s reaction when he sees ChaYoung for the first time): they had trust and respect for each other, they had these gentle touches, these unspoken tender moments, soft looks, amazing hugs, a GREAT first kiss, they cared for each other... and they were literally ready to die for each other.  And I said this before, but their romance, their bond, was even better portrayed than any 16 ep romcom would’ve ever done. No silly arguments, no unnecesary separations, no Noble Idiocy, no love triangle, no petty fights, no stupid jealousy moments... the list goes on. The romance was not even the second or third most important plot in the story, but it didn’t need to be. It was perfect as it was. Yes, I would’ve loved to see more romantic moments, and kisses, but it was not neccesary for the audience (not for them for that matter) to know what Vincenzo and ChaYoung had. 

And a drama (that doesn’t sell itself as a romance) that manages to show me how much OTP love each other without ever using the words “I love you” although Vincenzo did say it before their 1st kiss or doing grand and explicit romantic gestures, it’s a hell of a good drama in my books as a romance lover.

Am I sad for the ending? Nah. I think it was perfect. I was never expecting a super happy ending and Vincenzo was, at best, an antihero, so I knew he wouldn't get a HEA. Hell, he even said he didn't want to live obeying justice, because he didn't believe in it. The ending for him, for the OTP, was as good as it was gonna get. In my mind, ChaYoung will visit him on his island from time to time and Vincenzo will try to go to Korea as much as he can. It was basically the CLOY ending all over again.

I will always be sad by HanSeo's death, but I understand why the writer did it, even if I didn't like it. Choi MyungHee and HanSeok's deaths were just *chef's kiss* a delight to watch. They were monsters so there was no question that they needed to be gone, but of course a quick and peaceful death was something they didn't deserve. The cruelty of their final moments was the karma they brought on themselves.

I still remember when I decided to sit and watch the first episode, wanting to laugh about how bad it was gonna be because I’d read many comments saying it just didn’t make sense and the biggest joke was on me when five minutes in I knew I was loving the show, and after the first 2 eps, I knew I was gonna watch it till the end. And here we are. It’s been a long time since I got withdrawal symptoms from a kdrama, but I’m already feeling them with this one.

[bonjour-rainycity]

Double Heart | Chapter One ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: G

Word count: 2100

Warnings: None

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour-rainycity” if you like!**

A/n Thanks for the love on the prologue <3 also, this is the first time I’ve scheduled a post, so please let me know if something looks weird!

Translations: Av-‘osto = Don’t be afraid // Odúlen le natho = I’m here to help you // Pedil edhellen = do you speak Elvish

I was right — the peace deserts me instantly.

A sharp pain pierces my chest, my lungs ache, and my brain throbs inside my skull. A man leans over me. His long, dark hair tickles my neck. He is beautiful and smiling, but I do not know him. Fear quickens my breath. I try to jerk away from him, but he keeps a firm pressure on my shoulders, holding me in place. He meets my wide, panicked eyes with calm, reassuring ones of forest brown.

“Av-‘osto. Odúlen le natho.”

What? I shake my head at him, fear temporarily making room for confusion. The words he speaks, which had proven so irresistible when I was under the weight of the water, now sound only strange and indecipherable.

I stare at him, uncomprehending and very much on my guard.

His brow furrows, and, when he speaks again, it is with a note of hesitation. “Pedil edhellen?”

“I don’t think she does.” Another voice—confident, commanding—comes from my right. I turn my head just in time to see a tall man in peculiar armor slide off his horse. He takes quick strides towards me, then crouches near my side. “What is your name?”

I find myself momentarily silenced by his proximity, as well as his eyes. They are a clear ice blue—beautiful, depthless—but cold and calculating. They hold none of the warmth the other man’s eyes do, only suspicion. As much as I don’t like behind held to the ground by him, I turn my head, searching for the deep, honest brown I met upon awaking.

He meets my gaze with a soft smile. “Do not feel fear, we are not here to harm you. We found you unconscious and alone near the river, and stopped to help.” His voice is light, unsure, and strangely accented, placing emphasis on the wrong part of the words, but I am pleased that I can understand him now. As if to illustrate his point, that I am not in danger from them, he releases his hold on my shoulders and allows me space to sit up.

“Slowly,” he cautions. “I worry you have hit your head.”

That would explain the pounding. I grimace, supporting myself on my forearms, and turn my head to observe my surroundings. It’s all very green and brown, I suppose, though vibrant, not at all like the waters I found myself trapped under. Tall grass, puddles of mud, a river behind me. I see no roads or signs to indicate where I am.

The man to my right answers my unspoken question. “You are near the Gladden Fields on the bank of the River Anduin.” I recoil. None of those words mean anything to me. I search my mind, trying to conjure up an image, a memory, anything that would give me context as to where I am.

But I come up blank.

“I will ask you again,” the man continues. His voice is hard, completely devoid of patience, and though I don’t exactly want to, I find myself turning my head to look him in the eye. “What is your name?”

Well, that answer, I know. “Cosima. What’s yours?” I raise an eyebrow, unable to stop myself from challenging him a little. I don’t like his attitude, how he acts like he doesn’t have the time to deal with me. He is the one who stopped, after all.

“So she does speak,” an amused voice remarks from over the shoulder of the brown-eyed man. I jump, not previously noticing the two others—blond like the man to my right—who sit high atop large horses.

Okay, that doesn’t seem right.

Fragments of memory come to me, brief flashes of tall buildings, busy sidewalks, and honking yellow cars.

America.

The name comes to me just as my own did—suddenly and detached from other clues. I piece together what I can, and am left with only the feeling that this is wrong. There should not be deserted, untouched land, nor men in armor who travel on horseback.

I should not be here, I realize. Wherever ‘here’ is….

The blond to my right stands, and I shrink back, intimidated by his height. The sword at his hip and the bow on his back make me even more wary.

“I am Haldir, Marchwarden of Lothlórien. The ellon to your left is Baranor, a healer respected by the Lady herself. The ellyn on horseback are Rumil and Orophin—my brothers, and wardens of our realm. Where do you come from? Were you traveling somewhere?”

I don’t recognize half the words he says. Their language and phrasing is unfamiliar to me, which gives me reason to believe that I am not in America. My limited worldview expands slightly, and I become aware of the existence of other countries, vast seas and expansive continents. A theory begins to take form. I must be in another country. Perhaps I was traveling, and hit my head, and now I’ve gotten separated from my group. Though, I don’t have any memory of a group…perhaps I will remember them in time. I did hit my head.

Haldir clears his throat impatiently.

“I…think I’m from America. Do you know if I’m close? Or at least which country I’m in?

For the first time, I see the irritation in his eyes break, giving way to something akin to concern. “You are in Arda.”  

I wrack my brain, searching for anything that even remotely sounds like Arda. Africa? Armenia? Nothing helpful comes to mind.

Baranor, still crouched at my side, brings a gentle hand to my temple, brushing his fingers lightly over the tender skin. He notices my wince, and turns back to Haldir. “She definitely hit her head. Her mind is not fully with us…I think that, as she heals, she will speak with more sense.”

“Excuse me,” I huff, annoyed at his assessment of me and them talking as if I weren’t here. “You’re not exactly making much sense, either.”

Haldir purses his lips but gives no other indication that he’s heard me. He turns to his brothers and the three of them engage in quick conversation in that language I do not know.

I keep the three of them in the corner of my eye—just because they haven’t hurt me yet doesn’t mean I should let my guard down—and catch Baranor’s attention. “I can’t remember much—anything, really.”

He nods, looking at me with clinical concern. “I guessed as much. You remember your name and seem to have some idea where you are from, even if I do not recognize the realm. It’s better than nothing—encouraging, even. I believe your memories will return to you with time.”

That’s something, at least.

The one called Rumil hops off his horse and swaggers up to me, crouching low like his brother did. “Are you human?”

I recoil. What kind of question is that? “Of course I’m human.”

He shakes his head, a coy smile on his face. “Do not say, ‘of course’. There are many races in this realm, some much more interesting than the race of men.”

I swallow, pieces of information that I’ve gathered since waking clicking into place.

I don’t want to ask.

Asking might mean confronting, and I’ve only just woken up. I’m not ready for that.

But I have to. Because I’ve woken up in an unfamiliar place with people who don’t speak my language, don’t seem to know anything about the existence of my country, travel on horses, wear armor and, Rumil has just tilted his head to the side, revealing an ear that comes to a point. I bring my hand up to my own ear, checking. Yep. Not pointed.

A sinking feeling settles in my gut. I gather what courage I can. Just ask. There’s probably a perfectly normal explanation. Maybe they’re playing a trick on me. “Are you…not human, then?”

His teasing smile never falters and he gives a sort of mocking bow. “No, my dear lady. You have the pleasure of encountering four of the eldar. We are elves from the realm of the Lady Galadriel. We have been here long before the time of man, and we will be here long after.”

This is ridiculous.

I push myself to stand, Baranor rushing to help. The world sways before me, and I wilt against the cool surface of his chest place. He holds me awkwardly—trying to keep as much distance between us as possible while still supporting my weight.

“I’ve hit my head,” I mutter, trying to fight through the fierce onset of dizziness and nausea. “I-I’ve been in some sort of accident, or had a strange reaction to medicine. Or maybe this is a bizarre dream, and I will wake up and laugh at myself and all this will have been in my imagination, or…or…” My breathing quickens, and I bring a hand to my forehead. My hand is so cold. Is it meant to be that cold?

I pitch forward, and Rumil darts a hand to grip my shoulder and keep me in place. His teasing smile disappears, and he turns to Haldir, looking alarmed. He calls out in that unknown language, and I can’t help but roll my eyes, though the motion makes me feel worse.

“Come on, you’re in my dream, so you can at least speak a language I understand!”

Baranor twists to study my face, his frown deepening. He joins the indecipherable conversation.

“Not you, too,” I whine, glaring accusingly at him. Stupidly, I had already come to see him as a sort of ally. All four of them ignore me which is quite rude, considering they’re obviously talking about me. Their discussion grows heated—they’re arguing.

Dark spots dance in my line of vision and I groan, wanting to lie down. Baranor tightens his grip around me, and his voice rises in volume. Does he have to be so loud?

Haldir barks out something that sounds very much like an order, and I focus long enough to see him mount his horse. Rumil releases my shoulder, sparing me the quickest of looks before returning to his own steed. Before I can process what’s happening, Baranor uses his grip on me to guide me towards the tall chestnut stallion.

I guess his intent.

“No!” I begin to fight against his hold. “I don’t want—”

“Hush now, it will be alright,” he soothes, his hands tightening on me as I try to get away. “We do not know of the realm you speak, but we are on a journey to a trusted friend—a wise friend—who may be able to help you. We will take you with us.”

I go stiff in his arms, weighing my options.

I have no reason to trust his word. But they haven’t hurt me yet, and the fact remains that I have no idea where I am. I probably wouldn’t fare any better on the riverbank. I don’t have food, or supplies, or a map. And traveling with them would allow me to see more of the landscape. Maybe we’ll pass a city, and I can sneak away. And from there…

Well, that’s a problem for later.

So, resigned to my situation for the time being, I nod. Baranor gives me a look of relief—I imagine he has no desire to lift a kicking woman onto a horse—and releases my shoulders to kneel and lock his hands together. I don’t particularly like heights, and this animal is much too tall for my liking, but everything about this day has been absolutely insane. I may as well get on the unpredictable beast. Baranor pushes on my foot as I pull on the horses’s mane. A second later, I’m sat firmly on the animal, Baranor in front of me. I look down to see how high up I am—a clear mistake, especially given the dizziness that hasn’t quite receded—and immediately wrap my arms around Baranor’s stomach. It’s difficult, given the armor he wears, but I manage, seeing as it gives me extra insurance that I won’t go tumbling to the ground.

“Get my attention if you feel faint,” he murmurs, taking the reins in his hands. “There is a canteen of water near your right foot if you get thirsty.”

And, before I can contemplate if I have the core strength to reach for the water and stay on the horse, we’re off, racing along the riverbank and leaving behind any chance I have of turning back.

A/n Thanks for reading! As always, comments, likes, and reblogs are so appreciated. Let me know if you would like a tag! See you on Thursday with Chapter Two :)

|next part - to be posted|

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19. things you said when we were the happiest we ever were for fauson? love what you did with the last prompt :)

well hi there! :D oh thank you for giving me a fluffy prompt. there’s a WEE bit of hurt but trust me, faustus is at his happiest and most in love here. :D 

19. things you said when we were the happiest we ever were

---

On long summer nights when the skies are clear and the air heavy with heat, they visit the lake.

The edge of lake included in the Warehouse property is as poorly maintained as the rest of the grounds: the remnants of a dock jut out like a jagged, woody tooth, long grasses line the perimeter, rusted cans of beer and faded chip bags crowd the bases of trees that linger closeby. It’s far enough that Mason knows the others won’t hear them and close enough that if he’s needed he’d be back in seconds.

Mason and Faustus both work to unlace their boots in shared, comfortable silence. A good chunk of their time is spent like that now. Both focusing on their own busy work, Faustus scrawling new lines of song, Mason browsing the internet on his laptop. Separate in task. Undeniably together.

Their boots and socks set aside, they recline back and dip their feet into the water. Its coolness shocks the warmth of his skin and sends an initial, slight shiver through him. Faustus’s hand ghosts at the small of his back, hovering. An unspoken concern.

You okay? 

The chill has already subsided, leaving him with only the pleasant sensation of water lapping at his ankles. Mason turns his head, curving a line across Faustus’s bare shoulder with his nose and pressing a light kiss to a mole that sits at the top.

I’m fine.

Faustus sighs at the touch, one he knows comes accompanied with a smile. Loose sand shifts and long fingers graze the back of his hand. They stay like that, barely touching, watching the moonlight ripple and distort on the surface of the water. Listening to the music of the humming summer night.

It’s Faustus that breaks the silence first.

“Ever think about getting hitched?” Faustus murmurs. “I always kind of did but I think I like the idea of making a spectacle out of it more than anything.”

Mason chuckles. Turns his hand so it’s palm up to let Faustus slide his fingers between the gaps of his. “Nah. Never crossed my mind before you, songbird.”

“What a shocker.”

“You’ve got no ground to stand on either.”

Faustus squeezes his fingers lightly. Look at me.

He does. Faustus is already looking back at him, all humor shoved aside in favor for something more imploring and earnest. This is how Faustus dances around the real conversations he wants to have after all: honesty may be delayed but never withheld. Faustus hasn’t lied to him in years but he’s still not direct right out of the gate. Mason respects he needs humor to warm himself to weightier topics.

“Sure, but I’m asking what you think of it now, Mason,” he leans forward until their thighs are touching. “I won’t if you really don’t want to. It’s just,” Faustus tugs his lip between his teeth, brow furrowing slightly. “I realized I did want to get married…” quieter now. “...if it’s to you Mason. I want to feel the weight of a ring on my finger and know you have one to match.”

Sentimentality is rare for Mason. Not for Faustus, who keeps a faded pet tag on his ring from his favorite cat or who puts on his father’s leather jacket every day to keep a sense of his spirit present around him. Yet even for those he would try to cover them up: the pet tag was expensive and would be a waste to discard, the leather jacket is sturdy and keeps him warm.

Instead Faustus has turned to his side and has shown him his tender belly. He is scared, he can feel it in the tremble in his hand and see it bobbing in his throat. He is scared, but he will not cower.

His heart jerks from the force of it. He scowls and tosses his glare to the dirt instead. How could he think he would ever--?

Mason doesn’t even have a ring to give him.

Automatically his fingers go to fiddle with the velvety roughness of the cords around his wrist. Aggravation roils through him. He needs to offer him something. If Faustus is looking for some physical sign of his commitment to him he needs to give it. Shit.

Then he realizes what he can use in place of a ring.

Mason rips at the end of the sliding knot. This piece of leather cord is already old, the edges of it dry and starting to crack where it curved around his wrist. The knot gives, falling away, maintaining its coiled shape. 

It’s a clumsy navigation of reciprocating the softness that Faustus is asking of him. Just a bit of old leather still warm from his body heat. Faustus stares at him, bewildered, when he jabs out his hand. Slowly though, recognition washes over his face, beginning with the widening of his eyes and leaving with a faint blush across his cheeks and his mouth agape in awe.

Silently Faustus rests his fingertips on Mason’s palm. Mason sets to work, carefully winding the leather around his wrist and keeping it just loose enough for comfort when he secures it. 

“The idea of me and you tied together in matrimony, huh,” Mason cups both of his hands around Faustus’s smaller one, his thumbs finding the flutter of his pulse. Bright and alive. Jumping towards his touch. “Husbands.”

Faustus raises shining, imploring eyes to meet his own stormy ones. Clear blue, clearer than the lake lapping at their ankles and pitching deeper than it too. Quivering and nervous but open nonetheless. Laid out for Mason to see.

Tell me you choose this. 

Mason tugs his hand to his lips. Where a ring should be, he presses his mouth to his finger instead. A kiss. A promise.

“I’ve already tied my life together with yours, Faustus. In every way. Might as well check off the ‘legal’ box too, yeah?”

I’ve already chosen you. I choose you every day.

[abizarreyodelingincident]

Our Nightly Confidant 9

Lightest before Dusk

Her dresses flutter as she strides into her throne room. The hushed whispers die down at her entrance, her courtiers startled and her guards standing at attention.

When they had mentioned a tear in space, Zelda's heartbeat had picked up. There were only so many explanations, and some of her agents had already confirmed that they felt no hostile power in the spell. Was her Hero back? He'd been gone for weeks now. It seemed only right that he returned to her sooner than later.

(She forbid herself the thought that it might have been-)

But on her way, another servant had come to greet them. Link. Link had returned. And so she had entered with her queenly mask in place and her thoughts light.

A few of the heroes still groan as they try to get back their bearings. By the looks of surprise, it might not have been a very graceful landing. Her people shuffle about, nervous by the presence of armed strangers, and those that recognize Link amongst them... stiffen. She makes a mental note of their faces and allegiances, for later review.

The hero with the blue scarf notices her first, and he goes on one knee with a smooth, practiced motion. A knight, that one, she immediately knows.

The rest imitates the motion or pay her respect in whatever custom their era holds. The youngest is amusingly the stiffest, his eyes not on her but the knight. A touching bond, she imagines.

With pose, she greets them all, until Link's nearest companion – scarred, a little younger, naturally sticking close to Link in the middle of a crowd – seems to realize that she is Queen over Link. His expression turns from respectful to impish, mischievous and far too triumphant.

Link cringes as if he realizes exactly what goes through that one's mind.

… And he put that one's neck in a sidehold, trying to stifle the barks of laughter without much success.

“Oh, hey, your majesty, did you know what Twi sa-?”

Link's hand slaps on top of the exuberant one's mouth. A tad desperate for his silence, and though she knows no words her Hero had spoken would be truly damaging, she cannot resist the urge to tease him. With her best, coldest mask, she arches a single eyebrow. Link's face takes on a cherry red color, one she had yet to see from him.

Muffled and swallowed snickers abound from the group of heroes. Poor Link shushes them, and it is when the knightly one reminds them of her presence that they settle, somewhat. Link looks grateful, and a little torn. What relationship does he share with this hero? One of surface level friction, she muses, that cannot reach the core of their trust in one another.

Link schools his expression into a solemn look.

“My Queen,” he says, a hand over his chest and his head bowed.

“My Hero,” she replies, so perfectly even. “Have you travelled well?”

He has a dark glare for the scarred hero.

“It's been... an adventure.”

Yes, she pictures it nicely now. And part of her warms to the image of her Hero so well looked after.

“Is there need of my assistance for any of your companions, My Hero?”

Link pauses, then quickly glances back. “Right this second? No, we could use a moment to rest,” he says, and rolls his shoulder for show.

She allows herself a small smile.

“I bid you all welcome into the kingdom of Hyrule, brave heroes of time past and to come. Accommodations will be arranged for all of you tonight. Refreshments and food will be brought to you. You need only ask. The Royal Family does not forget the debt owed to its saviors.”

“We would be thankful for such generosity, My Queen,” he says, and the relief in the others is badly hidden.

She gestures for her guards to show them to chambers being prepared by some poor, rushing maids. Circumstances oblige. They'd be compensated in some way later. As the heroes move to obey, however, she raises her voice once more.

“My Hero, I would have you share some tea with me. We have much to discuss.”

A few of them misstep, and shoot Link curious glances.

The one-eyed soldier lifts an eyebrow.

But Link shakes his head at his commander. He lands a strong clap on the man's back and juts his chin at the exit. Silent words are exchanged without even a twitch, and, on cue, eight heroes leave the throne room through the front doors, led by an honor escort. Link, however, breaks the distance between them and offers a second bow.

“I am at your service.”

That you are, she thinks to herself. Her courtiers do not notice. Not the irony of her thoughts, nor the displeasure she must hide from them every other week.

They disappear together through the passage only the royal family may take, and together they climb the staircase to the highest point of the castle. Few members of her forces patrol the area, all of which pay her their respect, and try to hide some contempt for Link. It cements her plan in her mind.

She waits two heartbeats after the doors to her chambers close, then rushes into his arms.

“Zelda,” he whispers, at first, his arms strong around her, “it's not proper.”

She knows. Of course she knows. Many like to remind her. But queen she might be, she is also Hylian, and she missed him. Him and his lack of decorum, care for propriety. She never asked it of him. Not as themselves.

“Farore has blessed many of my court,” she replies, pulling away from him.

Tea and biscuits have been laid out at her orders, and she invites him to sit.

“To think they would still suggest you to be too lowly for any association with me.”

Link hums in his teacup. “They do say Farore loves her fools.”

Zelda shoots him a sharp look. “Do not insult yourself so.”

For all of a second, her knight looks sheepish. Then: “But...?” he asked, his fangs shining in the corner of his mouth.

She lets out a sigh. “But those people specifically are, indeed, fools.”

His chest rumbles with an unspoken hum, a melody from home. Ordon. Zelda has rarely visited, and not once in recent memory. For all Hyrule rules over Ordon, that province is marginal at best. Out of sight and out of mind to most her subjects, she knows. How ironic that the Golden Three would pick their Hero out of this forgotten corner of Hyrule. A reminder, it would seem, that none of her subjects deserve to be neglected. She took it seriously; she wonders more often than not if her nobles have.

Link does not speak right away. He samples the biscuits, always a little wary of food he cannot identify at a glance. A remnant of the life of the traveler, she had long guessed. But after the first bite, he nearly swallows the next two whole. They must have gone without rest for some time before the portal brought them to her. She is glad the kitchen had been forewarned to cater to their whims.

Her first sip of tea coats a floral flavor on her tongue. It is one of Link's favorites, and she can appreciate its subtle qualities beneath the light, almost perfume-like fragrances. She had not cared for it before, but now she is away from public eyes, she is quite famished herself.

Link looks at her like he knows, and it prompts her to, in more delicate words, play with him.

“The scarred, insolent one,” she starts, her tone neutral to hide her teasing, “he is the one the goddesses sent you to help, isn't he?”

Link pales a bit. “My Queen, he meant no-”

“Peace,” she says with a smile. “I care not, My Hero, for protocol beyond its use in social gatherings. Least of all for one I see dear to your heart.”

Reassured, Link relaxes, settling back into his seat with an equally tender smile. His eyes flit to her window, to the rolling clouds and the splatters of rain on the glass. So many tears from the heavens.

(They do not shatter two hearts.)

She banishes the thought. Her Hero is here, and followed by eight others across time and space. The very idea fascinates her. Makes her wish for time to speak with them and show them what records the kingdom has kept. The Chosen Hero, the Hero of Light, the Hero of Time. Hyrule only remembers so few, and there is temptation all on its own, to know that some may come from times yet to come.

But her desires do not weigh enough for the indulgence. Other matters are of greater import.

“Those heroes of legend. You trust them, then?”

“With my life.”

No pause. No consideration. Yes, she had thought as much. If no one else, Heroes of Courage could only be trustworthy. The Goddesses would never tolerate otherwise.

But in truth, that judgment, she had already decided upon witnessing the easy manners Link displayed around them. Link suffers no false-faced turncloaks. There had been nothing begrudging in their interactions. Rather, the brotherly banters they had shushed upon her arrival had amused her as much as it had enlightened her.

“Can you tell me about them?” she asks, gently. Not an order, but a request from a curious mind.

He lights up, and his earnest joy shines above the drab atmosphere of the late afternoon. He speaks exuberantly, familiarly, as if they are old friends. He even manages to snatch a laugh out of her, something she is well aware her court desperately tries ever still. Ice queen, they murmur out of her sight. A few hinges their courtship on their charm, and for the life of her, Zelda knows they cannot equal this simple man speaking of the love he has for these newfound brothers-in-arms.

He speaks of them like Ordon, like home, and perhaps it is what emboldens her to ask, after a delicate bite of her biscuit: “Do they... like their Zelda?”

He raises an eyebrow, his smile smaller and somehow more mysterious. Puzzling. It is not a mannerism he used to have. She wonders which heroes he picked it up from. Perhaps the scarred, one-eyed hero. Link had stood by him with a deference he is loath to show any he doesn't believe deserve it. And that man had been the stoic sort, at least on a surface level. If her suspicions about their respective identities proved correct...

Well. It matters not, she supposes.

Link takes the time to swallow another swing of his tea, the impudent farmboy that he is, and looks at her knowingly.

“The Chosen's smitten.” Link wipes some breadcrumbs from his mouth, which then turns upward into a smirk. “You should hear him when he tries to write her songs. It's adorable.”

“Yes, adorable,” she repeats to herself, willing her cheeks not to burn.

Quick as it came, the amusement drains out of him, and he sounds more apologetic next. “The truth is, I don't know, my Queen. Some of them are fond, some are a bit like strangers, and some are like us.” He points at her and himself a few times. “In-between. What do you think of that?”

“In some ways... reassuring, I would say. Part of me worries that I have not done enough for my kingdom in its time of need.”

He opens his mouth, indignation naked on his face, and she preempts him with a raised hand. He silences his reply, and she does not back down from his glare.

“She was always more important to your quest than I.”

With a grimace, he sits back down.

“True.”

He does not lie to her. She appreciates that, on the heels of a meeting with courtiers who are never honest with her. When they had barged in this very room, during the Twilight Invasion, one cursed, one mortally wounded, she had known that it would be her choice. Her choice, and her chance to save her kingdom. When Link speaks of her, he softens at this part, at the sanded out edge of her wits and quips.

There's a faint hurt in Zelda's chest. A longing, phantom, mere daydreams that do not belong to her. To give part of one's soul is to accept part of someone else's in return. In that way, it is quite like love. She had known it would hurt, and had done it anyway, for her hero needed another princess. But Nayru, at the very least, blessed her too much to let those visions of a brave wolf and braver man cloud her reason. No union could be successful from a pair of fools chasing shadows.

“You were important though, My Queen. Don't underestimate yourself.” He holds out her gaze with the strength that let him challenge the King of Evil. “You were our goal, our salvation – more than once, the last one to give me strength against Ganondorf. You brought the Light Spirits' blessing to that battle, and the Three know I wouldn't have managed without it.”

She finishes her cup. “One's advices are so much more convincing when equally applied to oneself.”

“Fair. We were meant to do it together, My Queen. Believe me, it's like history told me eight times over.”

Her lips curl up faintly. “Only eight times? And to think you could be told a hundred times without moving before. Nayru has finally seen you fit to receive some of her blessing,”

His indignation flashes in his eyes, and settles in his innocent, wolf-like grin. “Aww, shucks. Your Majesty, don't you be using big words to insult lil' ol' me.”

“It was no insult. Your determination often forces admiration, My Hero.”

He chuckles under his breath. He says something that might be 'wolf boy'.

This is what they are to each other: a way to remember one they do not wish to forget and whose hearts long to, so they may at last heal. They are. Healing. She knows this. Just as she knows the process is slow and grueling, but every meeting they hold in her chambers, every teacup shared by the window, their gaze overlooking Castle Town... she feels closer to it.

And by the gentleness in Link's eyes, she thinks he feels the same way. That even away from her, gallivanting through time and space, he has progressed as well.

Naturally, with none of the terrible awkwardness that plagued their early conversations, their words drift away to more casual topics, the health of the servants, the network of the resistance, the state of the kingdom. Easy words for her to speak. They drift from anecdotes about the castle's kitchen to the latest nobility gathering to her bemoaning of the state's newest budget.

At his request, she produces the copy for him to skim, which he does with a ferocity that is rather inappropriate for questions of maintaining bridges and holding the annual solstice celebrations. And therein lies the problem. He begins his commentary.

Link, it must be said, is also a miser of the worst sort. He would never let her exceed budget and does indeed question anything but the strictest necessity. It is as useful an attribute in an advisor as it is prodigiously irritating.

“My Hero, whilst the people can survive perfectly well on a tight purse, they do not want to. I must consider... certain sensibilities.”

“Why?” he finally asks, standing and disturbing his cup on the desk. “Why must you when it seems none of them ever do? How can they bow to you and then demand? You're their queen! Everything you've done has been to help Hyrule recover and thrive. Why can't they put their darned wants aside for one season?!”

If only her nobles could be half as loyal, she might actually enjoy the administration of her council. “It is my queenly duty, Link.”

His stubborn, darkened look recedes. “Aye, aye, I know. Big part of why I believe in you, Zelda, but...”

Her hand catches his, and through her glove and his gauntlet, warmth reaches from and to the divine mark they share.

“You wish it was not so. That others might be willing to sacrifice for the good of their brethrens.”

His ears droop.

To be a hero is to walk a lonely road. To have the world at your feet and its weight on your shoulders. And Link is strong, so strong to have done it.

In her hearth, the fire crackles and spits out dying ember. The dregs of tea in her cup have gone cold. They have been at this long, long enough for the gossip to come back to life, and momentarily, she dares imagine the ribbing Link will be subjected to when he meets back with his companion.

But, Zelda regrets, that would come to a quick stop, once they notice.

She has delayed as much as she could. But, again, duty demands it of her, of him.

“Forgive me, my Hero, for what I must ask of you.”

She sees it in his gaze. The surety, the sturdiness that is a man of the land. Stubborn and decisive. Less delusions than most. He knows, then, that she means it. That it is no idle speculation, and that he will suffer in the course of his duty.

Yet he nods, once, a short thing. “You already are.”

There is no doubt in him.

Not yet.

She names the place she must send him to, and so rises the shadows of his regrets in his sky blue eyes.

He does not hear much of her explanation. She proceeds as if he does, as gentle an offering of time for him to gather his Courage she can afford to give.

“My Hero,” she whispers to him at last, her touch light on his chin, “Link, return to me whole.”

It's as much an order as she dares give, and the ghost of his smile lets her know he understands her feelings.

“As long as you need me, My Queen.”

Need me forever, don't let me go, not you too, is the prayer he will never voice. Nayru help us both.

***

Flecks of sand grates against his skin as harsh winds pick up. He wants to say he doesn't notice, but it would be a lie. He'd rather focus on the irritating grit, on the whistle of scorching dry air. On the glare of the sun even as the shadows of pillars inch closer to them.

Yet, he can't quite manage.

He stares ahead at the place he most hates in his Hyrule.

He loves his country. Loves the beauty he found in every corner, in the smile of strangers and the purr of beasts. From start to finish, Twilight had simply loved the world he was born in. But this place, he can't bring himself to feel anything for it.

(he would be swallowed)

(torn from the inside, darkness spreading, a mask with tendrils forced on his face like those poor people he couldn't save)

“Sky... You probably don't want to get inside that place,” he hears himself say.

The patient wait twists into a knot of tension. The ring of silent question bears on his back, and he turns, comes face to face with a Sky that is stone-faced, all but daring to be left behind. His eyes are more steel than the sword in Twilight's hand.

A nod.

It was a futile hope. Sky was the first to incarnate the Hero's Spirit. He never lacked in Courage. But this will hurt. Hurt so bad to show Sky a glimpse of the darkness that the dream shared with his love will unleash.

(it's not on him, never was on Sky, their sweet knight from above, but Twilight knows too much about heroes not to predict what one feels about responsibilities)

Time stalks forward, diffusion some of the tension.

“Is this one of your world's temples, Pup?”

A temple? He wants to scoff. This place is no temple. Nothing sacred, not anymore. It's a place of misery and pain and grudges never allowed to rest. It's a testament of sin and it's the place he wakes up to in his nightmares, one prisoner amongst many, chained with a spiked collar, Hylian or wolf.

The others wait after his words, and he hates the honest curiosity he sees in their gazes.

He should find a gentler way to say it.

But simply standing in the shadow of this place drains him of his energy. He already feels the weight of memories pulling at his limbs. It takes a mild effort to look back to the old man.

“... No, but I believe it is where one used to be. This is the prison they built when they exterminated the Gerudo.”

Blood rushes out of Time's face. He looks pale, horrified. There's no real need to elaborate, is there? The Hero of Time knows why and how Hyrule and its Gerudo neighbors would go to war.

Something like guilt and disgust twist inside Twilight's stomach. Why did he say that?

“Twi!” Wild shouts, his objection all too obvious.

“Those that stayed died. The warriors. The zealots. Those that didn't believe the kokiri seer had been truthful about Ganondorf's reign of terror.”

Time looks on the verge of being sick. “They weren't meant... ” he trails off, his one good eye staring at the torture complex.

Twilight puts a hand on his shoulder. “I don't know the details. You'd have to ask my Queen for the records of the kingdom's history.” – He sighs, squeezes gently. – “But peace didn't last, and that's why this place was built out of the ruins of a sacred place. A desecration of the worst kind. To let the torments of the regretful last.”

He wants to ease the pain on Time's face so bad, but... he can't. Whatever else happened, Time had been a child at the time. He'd saved the kingdom. The cost...

Twilight fumbles with a match to light his lantern. He can't think of costs right now. It's not the place. The flame from his lantern illuminates the first few steps into the broken doors of the prison complex.

“Be careful inside. This place is haunted by more than just the horrors of Hyrule's dark past. Lost souls and living corpses are trapped inside.”

“Gloom and doom, much?” Legend snarks.

It takes effort not to snarl.

“Just don't get paralyzed by a scream when you're standing on quicksand, Bunnyboy.”

The others straighten at his uncharacteristical snap. That, or the image he suddenly conjured of them, slowly engulfed by torrents of sand, unable to move but all too aware of what was happening. Back then, if it hadn't been for...

Not the time to be losing himself in old memories.

His chest pangs with guilt. The way the others look at him. The surprise. The shock for his poor manners. He mumbles an apology. Turns away quickly to face the dried out shadows of the unlit tunnel.

Farore, he hates how the Arbiter's Grounds empties him from the inside out.

***

There were, to Twilight's knowledge, two likely locations for what his queen asked him to investigate. He had been silently praying when he'd opened the gates to the inner sanctum. Had come close to begging as Hyrule and Legend examined the dusty remains of the paper talismans, and though repulsed confirmed their power long lost, alongside what they had been made to restrain. The Lense of Truth hadn't revealed anything else, and

– he couldn't turn into a wolf, not here, not where she –

it had been a waste of time. Unsurprising.

“Why go for the least likely first then?” Warriors had demanded, his stance a bit more defensive.

Because the Death Sword had been sealed in the middle of the prison complex, and if he was wrong, then Twilight would rather avoid having to backtrack through this accursed place. Upon that reasoning, the rest conceded that he had a point, even if they had some complaints.

“If the source of that dark magic flare wasn't in that creepy cell, why are there some many monsters here?” Hyrule asks, off-hands, as he locks swords with a stall captain.

There's no reason to worry, not quite.

“This place is never empty of monsters!” he shouts over his shoulder, crushing some of the smaller skeletons under a broad swing of his sword. “It's been soaked in blood and torment. No one rests in the Arbiter's Grounds.”

Legend, balancing on a near sunken platform above sinking send, kicks away a moldorm with trained ease. He seems pleased for all of a few seconds, before Wind points behind him at a shambling shadow emerging from an alcove in the walls.

Legend's sword seizes midswing, a piercing shriek tearing through the air with the force of a waking nightmare. The scream bounces in their heads, bites into bones and wraps around flesh. It strikes and tempers, and leaves all nine of them fighting their own bodies for the right to move as it inches ever closer to its target. He hears strangled grunts from his left, clatters of metal on the ground from his right. Struggles to break free.

And all Twilight knows is he'll be damned if this place steals another loved one from him.

He stumbles forward, amongst the first to do so. He doesn't waste precious time thinking, assessing. The shadows swallow him, and he dashes on four legs.

Paws stomp over sand, bugs and spikes as he bounds and leaps.

His fangs tear through the rotten flesh with ease. The revolting taste used to make him retch. The decay, the dry leather, the sandpaper texture of bandages. He's not sure if he's imagining it right now, so numb his whole body feels.

He gnarls on the monster's throat till he hits bone, then leaps off. The thing can't scream anymore. It's barely a threat without that power. It's slow, cumbersome. It drags its claymore through sands, but it doesn't get a chance to swing. He steps out of shadows with his sword in hand.

The mummified head rolls on the quicksand, soon sunken and no more than a troubling memory. The rest collapses, and they can breath again.

He's not sure what his are called. They have elements of both Gibdos and Redeads. The massive sword is only in his Hyrule though. Lucky him.

He spits to the side, the glob black and green, and the taste, worse. “Vet, you good?”

Legend's pale, his fingers twitching, and his feet pull him back closer to the center of the platform. Startled is the word that comes to mind. It comes, and goes. Legend's too – wearied – seasoned to let a mere close call shake him.

“Yeah. Thanks, wolfboy. That beast's out of the bag now,” he says, leaning toward the rest.

Despite the spill of sand, the room feels oppressively silent. Tension knots into his back. He's had nightmares of this exact moment, he suddenly realizes. The moment when the secret is out and it is time to face their judgment, be it words, disgust or drawn swords. But the silence doesn't press onto him, doesn't stifle. Warriors gauges the others, Sky looks about ready to speak up, the same way Wild does. Time looks the most wary, and Four sighs with something like relief. An incredulous chuckle building in the back of his throat, it occurs to Twilight that he never told anyone which of them knew his secrets. He's never been one to parse them out, after all. And now...  

Now, Wind's shock simmers into something else as he looks to the other Links and sees little surprise or even wonder.

“Oh,” Hyrule says, the only one dazed, “I had a feeling.”

It's too muted a reaction. It sparks the flurry of feeling boiling just under Wind's skin. “Really?! We're the last two to learn?”

The way he glares at him, at the others. The accusation is clear. He thinks they don't trust him. That Twilight doesn't trust him. That... that he tricked him. Got the feelings out of him, then mocked him behind his back.

Twilight quiets the 'beast!' his mind screams. “It's not like that, Sailor. I never sought to reveal it to anyone. I” – fear – “dislike talking about it. It just happened.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Wind bites out.

“I mean it, Sailor,” he tells the kid, hoarse. “I'm sorry.”

His tone gives Wind pause. The teen frowns, looks up at him with suspicion. “This isn't over. I'm gonna ask for more later.”

“Of course.”

“Twi,” Wild suddenly calls, his eyes flashing with worry, “are you okay?”

They can't do this inside the Arbiter's Grounds. The traps alone would be too much of a risk.

He shakes his head, then wipes the congealed blood off his blade. “I'm fine. I just hate this place.”

Warriors, with deliberate timing, clasps his hands. “Great. Finally a point in common between the two of us, Rancher. How about you lead us out of here?”

“I'd be more at ease somewhere with less chances of an ambush,” Time adds, still scanning their surroundings.

He nods. Wrestles with himself. They need him. Him, he can't fail now.

“It shouldn't be too far. Let's go.”

Sky's face twists, something like guilt, something like determination. Twilight doesn't regret following his queen's order, but he does bury the sorrow he feels at seeing his brother's dreams further crushed. Hyrule was... is... a country with a long history, and some of it unworthy of the glory it received.

There's frankly nothing Sky can do to prevent this outcome.

The thought flares with guilt. Look at him, giving lessons about making peace with the inevitable.

He ducks his head and turns back to the traps they will need to navigate.

“We'll need some creative solutions, heroes. This place is best travelled with a very specific item, and I only have the one...”

But though Warriors is the only one to share the spinner item with him, the others all have access to impressive resources to play around the traps that litter the Arbiter's Grounds. And even for the few that look perplexed, Sky's whip, Wind's hookropes or their hookshots allow them to swing back and forth over dangerous obstacles to link the groups together.

All that being said, he will keep a closer eye on his spinner for the next couple of days, because Wild's starry eyes at the sight of Twilight bouncing around on complex rails had left him chuckling for the first time today. And he wasn't blind to the intrigued glances Legend and Four had had for the item either.

Were he in a generous mood, Twilight would advise Warriors to keep a close eye on his stuff too. Kleptomania was apparently a shared trait of the Hero's Spirit.

The skull's fragments are unmoved, and their path takes them past even the boss chamber.

Light washes over them, wonderful thing that chases half the ghosts that linger in his mind after a trek through the cursed prison. Cooling winds makes him want to shout after the dusty, heavy air that mummifies every corpse down there. He wants to celebrate with the others, but in the corner of his eyes, he sees the monolith.

Tears spring to his eyes unbidden. Why? Why is he like this? He tried so hard to heal, to get over it! He's an adult, not a lovesick teenager. He's done his best to deal with the pain. So why is it that he can go months right as rain and then, one day, he just hears the wrong thing, sees the wrong shades, and his whole chest crumbles on him?  

On a shaky breath, he attempts to steel himself, to dry the tears. In vain.

He is, Twilight decides there and then, pathetic.

***

How long does he sit in front of the black stone?

The sun started to set whilst he was here. Red light over sand cast lengthening shadows, and it's too easy for him to get lost in his scrutiny of them. None ever came to life. But he still looked, wondered, ached.

With no real hint to direct their searches, the group had commonly decided that they ought to rest for now, with double watch tonight to make sure they weren't taken by surprise in an ambush. Twilight had agreed, and pretended not to feel Time's insistent stare when he slipped away to...

To do what, exactly?

He's not even sure. He's been sitting there, legs hanging by the edge, scrutinizing the stone as if it would come to life.

Eh. A callback to a bitter period of his life. Damn it! He's over this. He is!

So why aren't you facing the others? Didn't you tell Wind you'd explain everything?

He knows his conscience is right. He still doesn't stand. It seems, on top of everything else, Twilight might also be a hypocrite. Goddesses, why did Farore ever look his way?

They're eating, he tells himself. He can smell the hints of Wild's spice mixes from here. Can hear, vaguely, the conversations, and could even guess the contents if he strained to catch the words. He'll have to apologize. To come clean. And that's enough to root him in place. Just a few hours longer, before they can no longer bear his presence.

The idea sends pricks of ice under his skin. Any of them would be a stab wound, but it's when his mind lingers on Wild, that silly brother of his, that the rage hits.

He doesn't know many tricks, not yet. He's still learning, but on anger alone, he feels as if he could suddenly disintegrate the black stone from his glare alone. He wants it gone. He wants to be freed of it, and it's that thought that flashes last when on the canvas of ink flashes shifting oranges and yellow.

Twilight's already upright. That glimpse of fire... It hadn't been the setting sun!

He wishes he could have said he moved with purpose, his mission still in mind, not a short walk that had his heart beating out of his chest. The closer he gets, the easier it becomes to define the impression. There is someone looking back at him from beyond the stone's reflective surface.

His stomach drops when he reaches the steps.

Only himself.

He knows his queen would have something to say if she knew he felt disappointment at his own reflection. With a surly, self-deprecating smirk, he lets his fingers run over the sharded texture. Presses his palm against the ice cold material.

Imagines that the skin is a paler, greyish shade, splattered black instead of his tanned pink. The fingers would curl into his, intermingles. He holds onto the feeling.

Then yanks.

A hand cut from starless night emerges from the stone, and Twilight throws down a dark copy of himself onto the ground. The doppelganger blinks in shock, momentarily dazed.

The expression hardly improves when the Ordon Sword skewers it to the ground.

“The Prison Gate?” he drawls. “Did you think I wouldn't see a temptation coming?”

That you'd be the first one I faced here? he doesn't say. Twilight has always been good at connecting with accursed things. With forbidden practices and tricks played out in the dark. Even before his quest, before all the things that turned him from goatherd to hero, there had been the book he'd taken a fancy to. The mirror in his basement. Old dreams of a dead wolf and a dead hero.

There's a lot Twilight doesn't say, not in front of some dark apparition.

“Queen's dog,” it spits, ink blood sprayed from the corner of its mouth.

Twilight watches, unmoved, as the shadowed being melts back into the sand by the black stone.

They both know which queen it referred to. Twilight, with a faint smirk, shakes his head. Despite his heart's desires, despite the pangs of the chains in his chest, he is the hero of the Light Realm. And his queen will be pleased to know that her Wolf took care of the problem with the Arbiter's Ground.

He casts his gaze over the desert, the setting sun. It's a shame then, that they will have to spend the night anyway.

***

Time gives up pretense. He has polished his biggoron sword and unclasped some layers of armor and fiddled with his ocarina, and none of this let him clear his mind enough to pretend he wasn't worried out of his skin.

Their evening routine is off. Even in dangerous circumstances, they had always managed to build an atmosphere of safety, of care. The ideal that none of them were at risk so long as they looked after one another.  

Tonight's akin to the long nights he spent with Hyrule watching over wounds and illnesses that he knows he could have prevented somehow. Everyone is of a second mind, and it boils over right after Wild finishes scrubbing his pots.

There's one bowl still full, untouched, a little to the side of their campfire.

The last of the pots vanish in a flash of blue lights. Wild knocks over his bedroll standing. “Okay, I'm done. I'm going to check up on him.”

“I'm coming too,” Four jumps to his feet, a split second faster than Sky, Warriors and Hyrule.

“Like hell I'm getting left out again,” Wind says fiercely.

Time wants to sigh and smirks. Goddesses, he never signed up to feel so much pride for these insane boys of his. Even if one of them takes the route of the electrified chu-chu instead, whom Time has to nudge with the tip of his boot.

“Probably doesn't want to see anyone,” Legend explains, arms stubbornly crossed over his chest, but he ends up on his feet too.

“We'll tell him you were worried too, don't worry,” Warriors drawls, and gets flipped off for good measure.

They find Twilight almost immediately. By common consensus, they'd agreed to begin their search with the chained black stone. Twilight had gazed upon it with the melancholy of an old man reminiscing about his lost wife and children. It had to be a direction, if nothing else, they reasoned. More so from the dark vibes Hyrule picked up from the strange object.

But for all their speculations, they find Twilight as soon as they set out to do so, sitting on some small steps in front of the monolith, facing away from them.

“You don't need to be here,” he says, not looking back.

“I think we do,” Wild snipes back, his stubborn expression eerily familiar. (Twilight's.)

“Thank you, but I'm fine.”

“You sure seem fine to us,” Legend can't help snark.

“I. Am. Fine.”

Clipped words against the bars of a cage.

“Don't bullshit us, Rancher.” Warriors calls out, worry too sharp for calm.

The sand near the pedestal swirls against the wind, then dies down.

Behind Time, Hyrule's breath hitches up. Time understands. He knows enough magic to recognize it and its flares when emotions run high.

“Enough. All of you. We're not here to corner him. Pup, we just want to talk with you. You haven't been yourself since we arrived here and we want to know how we can help you.”

Twilight whirls around with a feral snarl. “I SAID I'M FINE!”  

For the first time since meeting Twilight, Time feels the urge to take a step back. He doesn't give in, never has, but part of him is shocked that a hero gave him the feeling.

It's wrong. So very wrong, to see softness sanded away by pain. The glare sent back is raw, unfiltered, untempered. A sliver of flame through a cover of shades.

And... quick as it flashed, the fury drains out of him, the edges gone and the scowl lifted into a guilty grimace. Shades cup around the flames like hands on candlelight, to protect others from its rays. Twilight's ears droop slightly. The look alone is an apology, and it's so obviously the word on his tongue.

But Twilight says nothing, huffs a little breaths and turns away from them.

It can't be a coincidence that he dangles his cursed amulet just far enough from himself that they get a glimpse of it. He's still not looking back.

“It's dark magic, Wind. I take the form of a wolf by using dark magic. And that stone...” They can see his fists clench. “That stone was the pathway to their world. Not the gate, not the key, just... the path.”

Time wants to urge Wind to err on the side of caution, but he can't without tipping off Twilight, and even the casual confession seem too important to mess up.

Wind only looks thoughtful for a split second. “So where's the key?”

“It's gone now. Goddesses know I've looked.” The admittance sounds like old shame. “But the sages of old used it often enough that the mirror left its mark on it.”

“You're...” Hyrule starts, getting looks from the rest. “You're connected to it.”

Twilight hunches, just enough that it's visible. “Yeah. Collected the shards in the sand, bled on the stone, prayed to the Goddesses. Anything that wouldn't hurt someone else, I guess.”

The glaring omission in that statement makes Time's heartbeat accelerate. What did his pup do?

“Anyway, it was foolish. The path can only open for the true ruler of the Twilight Realm, and boy, is it not me. But the experiments did have a few side-effects.” – a hand gestures vaguely to his forehead – “Uli did say the tattoo fit, in a rugged, strong man kind of way.”

That forced cheer gets a cringe out of Four. Time has to file the observation for later. He cannot turn his focus away from the pup now. Not when he's bleeding pain right in front of him.

“A mother's love is blind,” Wild croons.

“Brat. She'd love you all.” They can hear the grin on his voice. “Not that she wouldn't pull your ear to teach you good manners, but she would love you anyway. Her, Rusl, Colin, even little Lumi, they'd love you guys. I'm so lucky...”

His sigh floats away, forlorn, like a love letter on desert winds. Time instantly thinks of the ranch, of the horses and the singing they all clammer to. It makes him remember the sunlit smile Sky had worn when they found themselves surrounded by clouds and enormous birds, the whooping cry Wind let out when he recognized black sails on the horizon, the relief Legend had hidden at the sight of his rabbit-hooded friend.

Time wants to meet Twilight's family. Wants to know those people that raised this remarkable young man. Wants to help them make him understand he is cherished back.

Because he sees the slight shaking that wavered wolf fur on his shoulders. Almost misses the sob. The admiration, the awed tenderness had grown twisted, uneven from a darkened fondation. It builds in Twilight's frame, builds in the thicker shadows on him and the shifting sands at their feet.

And Twilight's fist strikes the pedestal beside him, and something Time cannot see passes into the sand by the pedestal. Hackles raised, Four's skin is paler. He is staring so intently, his eyes almost a different color entirely in the dusk. More worryingly, Time notes with a grimace, is the faint chime he thinks he hears rising from the Master Sword.

“Pup, just tell us.”

And Twilight does.

He looks them in the eyes, a scowl on his face. “Why am I so selfish?” he rasps in disgust. “Why am I so fucking greedy? Why do I demand more than what I've been fucking blessed with?!”

Aren't they allowed a little selfishness? Time bites back. The goddesses gave them each a war. Why was it so wrong to want their peace once they'd won?

“I was lucky. Incredibly lucky. I found the children of my village, not one hair on their heads harmed. I rescued my childhood friend and restored her memories. I proved myself worthy of my teacher and let him rest. I... I saved Hyrule, Queen Zelda, the Twilight Realm. I didn't lose anything.”

It's like being stripped off a mask he had forgotten he was wearing. Twilight's cry reaches deep, and it's too easy to see why it's spoken like it was a flaw rather than a magnificent triumph. How can he make his boy understand?

Wild shakes his head. “You lost things too.”

“Nothing that mattered,” Twilight adds, under his breath, a cruel bite at the truth. “Most of a village gone, half the army dead, Zora's succession in shambles. All before the Light Spirits told me my destiny. But I'm fine. I'm great.”

“I can say with complete sincerity, Farmhand, that it doesn't help.” Legend juts his chin, then shrinks back, somber and restrained. “What you're doing. Don't salt your own wound. It mattered to you. It was real enough.”

Something about that strikes Twilight silent.

“She's not dead, Vet. She's not even hurt. She just had to leave to fulfill her duties as her people's rightful ruler. I knew that. I always knew that.”

And, strangely enough, Warriors speaks up, his voice soft. “Midna misses you, Rancher. She...” An hesitation. A chuckle. “Let's say she didn't say so in as many words, but sometimes, she'd get this look, as dusk falls.”

Wind's head snapped up at him. “Aw hell... you mean...”

“You weren't kidding,” Four muses, looking a bit embarrassed by the late realization.

And Wild hovers, looking so ready to rush forward toward his mentor. “Your scars are worse than mine.”

“There it is...” Twilight scoffs, or maybe sniffs. He's not looking at them, he seems determined to avoid all their eyes. He's staring right ahead, at the black stone that seems to weep in the settling cold of night. “There, there's my tragedy. A fucking broken heart. One... one person I wasn't allowed to keep.”

Time's heart ache. One person. So little, most would say, but his pup makes his sound like he had indeed lost his world.

“It's NOTHING compared to you all!”

The shout echoes over the winds of the desert. They don't say anything.

They can't say anything. Not when the core of Twilight's pain bristles at hints of their sympathy. Shame convinced him he isn't allowed to receive it. A witness to their woes no longer feeling adequate by his good fortune. It's all Time wanted for his successors.

Nayru, forgive me for my lack of perspective.

“Why are you all here?” Twilight hisses, rubbing at his eyes. “You don't need to hear my whining. Goddesses, I hate feeling like this. I'm fine.”

Fine, is what he repeats. It's enough to make someone hate the word.

“You're not fine,” Wild says, firm.

The answering chuckle bites. “I should be.”

And Time suddenly loses all his words, because his heart just skipped a beat. Farore be good, of all things to bequeath his eldest, it had to be this reluctance. Malon would have a field day with him.

“No one asks that you be invincible,” she speaks through him.

Twilight gives a full body flinch. Finally, he stands, stumbles as if drunk – on anger, on sadness, on self-pity – and he faces them all, red-rimmed eyes and a smile that makes them wince.

“I'm the furthest thing from that. Her last words to me were 'See you later'. See you later, as she destroyed the only way to connect our worlds together! Wolf boy, dog boy,” – they pretend not to see Legend wince – “she used to call me that, patting my head or my back. Good boy. Wolf boy.” Twilight's scoff is brittle, shattered glass. “That's what I am. That stupid dog tied to a tree that waits with a big grin for a master that's never coming back.”

His head jerks to the side with a clap.

Legend pulls back his hand, stern despite the worry. “Don't insult yourself like that, Twilight. You're a Hero, a real one, you hear me?”

The pendant around Twilight's neck suddenly pulses with pitch black light. The markings on his face darken. He straightens with some erratic, wild motion, fangs gritting as he lifts Legend with one hand.

“Then why does it still hurt so much?!”

Legend slips through shaken fingers. He does not flinch or back away.

“Why, Vet?”

“That's the life of a hero,” Legend says, not unkindly. “Lots of scars that don't really fade.”

“A hero? How can I be a hero when she thought the only way to keep our worlds safe was to break them apart? We'd just won, but she still... How can I be when even the person that led me to my quest knew better?” Emptiness reflects in Twilight's watering eyes. “I thought she trusted me.”

Time's hand goes to his sword. Every instinct in his body demands that he fights off what torments his eldest this much, that he proves that princess wrong, that he makes her explain and sooth the injury she inflicted.

“She was wrong, Twi!” Wild screams, clearly aching the same way.

Time reaches forward, and, without hesitation, brings Twilight's face into his shoulder. Runs gentle fingers through the gentle brown locks. His boy shudders, then melts. Grips him with desperate strength. It's not long for the wetness to soak into Time's clothes, and he has rarely cared so little about it before.

“I'm sorry, Pup,” he whispers. “I'm so sorry.”

It's a long time before Twilight pulls back, sniffling.

“Pops, the heck ya talkin' about? Didya punch me when I wasn't lookin'?”

Wild and Wind immediately pointed accusing fingers at him, booing.

“Shush you,” he orders, stern, before softening for his eldest. “And no, I didn't sneak a hit on you, Pup, but I wronged you all the same. Sometimes, you're so good at helping others that I forget you can need help too. I should have asked earlier.”

A hand goes to the back of Twilight's head, and his lips pull into a boyish smile. “Ah, not sure I'd have sang, Old Man. Not for something this... childish.”

“It's not childish, Twilight,” Wind says with a sad, half-grin. “If it hurts, it hurts, right?”

Hyrule jumps on the line and wrestles Twilight's hands away from him. “Sometimes, you have to care for yourself too. Even if it's silly, even if it's a little thing...” And there's the shine of green magic dancing between them. “Brighten up your day.”

“Guys, please,” Twilight begins, red flushing his cheeks.

Four slips right beside him and pokes, which was unexpected enough to get a yelp. “No, no, you said your part, Twi. It's our turn.” The smirk is impish, but subdued. “We're on your side. And we do need to apologize.”

Twilight throws his arms up in frustration. “What for? This is just my problem! Nothing that you need to be concerned with. Nothing that you did.”

“Wrong.” Time doesn't notice who says it. Mostly, because he's heard more than just one voice. (It could have been eight.)

“Because... because we let you take it all on. More than your share.” Warriors crosses his arms, huffs. “It's a leader's role to care for his men, and the soldiers to take on something for their brothers. It's how units work.”

Time ignores the pinch of guilt. The Captain hadn't meant it for him, but he'll take the advice to heart anyway. It should be fine. He can see the plans being born behind Warriors' eyes. For once, he's rather convinced that none of the younger ones will protest whatever rigid protocol Warriors' cooking.

“It's not like that,” Twilight mumbles. Weaker, less stubborn. “I love helping y'all.”

“Makes you feel useful, doesn't it?” Legend scoffs, but it is soft enough that Time can't even bring himself to chastise him.

“No. You deserve it!” he says with sudden heat, eyes clearing. “All of you. You all deserve someone willing to listen and help you. I... I just wanted to help you walk through your troubles. To help you find reasons to smile again...”

He sees it, and he wants to laugh. How fitting, that it's words like these that bring soft smiles on all their faces.

“Well, mission accomplished?” Four smirks.

“Darn it, Rancher,” Warriors grunts, giving Twilight a warning look that goes ignored.

“Can't wrestle that one away from me.”

“Oh, we shall see about that. But first,” – Warriors plops down on the sand, not a care for the time and place – “we're not leaving this unsaid. Spill already so we can smile you.”

It's absurd, but Twilight's gaze flares for a short moment with competitive spirit. Those two would never cease to amaze him in the strangest ways. Twilight kicks a little sand at the captain before letting himself lean in Time's grip.

“I hate her...” he whispers, and the shame shrouds him smaller. “Why did she do this to me? Why did she tie my heart to a promise that she never intended to fulfill? I hate her...” he whispers again, near inaudible. “And I hate that I love her still...”

“So?” Wild slides in.“You know me. You know how I feel about those people from my past.”

'They were friends with me. The whole world told me I was friends with them. Sometimes, it's like I can't escape it. Even if I don't remember what food they liked, when we met, what secrets they had besides what a few glimpses told me...'

“Remember what you told me?”

Twilight huffs, looking sullen and trapped. It takes a little sigh, and then knocking their foreheads together for him to admit. “S'fine if you don't know.”

Time nods, chasing the feeling he usually avoids. The bittersweet triumph at the cost of so many friendships. The lack of recognition meant for strangers on familiar faces.  

“It can be difficult, to share people's joy when the same reason brings us pain. You can be of two minds on the same topic, Pup. People aren't that simple.”

“I feel weak.”

“You're not weak, Twilight,” Sky said with a sad smile. “If I lost my Zelda... I'd shatter.”

“Need I explain what losing Malon would do to me, Pup?” Time adds, rueful.

“But they're... you're couples. Real couples. We were never...”

Legend smacks his shoulder. “'What if's can be more painful than a clean break,” he says, and the two of them look like mirror images, lost to their dreams for the span of a heartbeat. Then, sharper, “Don't apologize.”

Twilight's mouth clicks shut.

“We're in your corner,” Four says with a private smile. “As long as it takes to make you feel better.”

The blush returns. Time will be asking for context later, though he has an inkling. Wind shuffles to one feet, then swears and pats Twilight on the back without looking at him.

“And, you know, there's nothing shameful about crying. Or missing people. Or, you know, strange sadness.”

The pup breaths out a watery giggle, and a whimpered 'brat!' Wind smugly croons to the others, saying that was how it was done. Right until the laughter turns into a shudder, and they gather round again.

“It's okay, Twi,” Sky cooes, bringing him into the folds of his sailcloth. “Let it all out.”

The pup's fight left him. Too drained by the confession. Too raw from unbinding the wraps around his wounds. It's up to them to take care of it, and there's not one of them that hesitates. They're not in the habit of leaving suffering ignored, besides their own. Not anymore.

They promise to be better.

They have to be, for each other's sake. And they will be, Time will do everything in his power to ensure it comes to pass. Their group will come out of it reforged by their own inner fires. Their bonds unbreakable, their trust rewarded.

Thank the Goddesses for the pup.

[bubbleteycosplay]

Loki Sigyn and her love language in the Mythology

There are 5 of them:

•Praise and recognition

• Togetherness - the time just for you

• Gifts that come from the heart

• Willingness to help

•Tenderness

I think that each one comes up in its own way. Because you also have to consider how long the two have been married. Marriage still works best on an equal footing and when everyone is willing to give up.

But in Loki's and Sigyn's case, the whole thing is a bit special. Since it's already their kind of open relationships. Still, love has many faces and most have only one thing on their mind. You are together and loyal until the end of your life. Only for Loki is loyalty different from the others, so I don't just mean the point of an open relationship. He never lies to her and shows her how much he values ​​her. And Sigyn is grateful for his honesty and the trust that he has in her. I can still very well imagine that they are still making fun of some of them together. With whom Loki shared the bed for his goals. But back to the actual topic ^^

Because Loki doesn't always, or better, almost as good as not at all about his feelings. Does he show Si6 how much he loves, appreciates and respects her. I also assume that Loki Sigyn will say "I love you" in very few moments, which are so rare that you could probably even tell them off on one hand. I am also convinced that Sigyn's nickname the Rose of Asgard was also created through Loki's campaign for Sigyn. Because Sigyn is a rose in Loki's eyes. It blossoms with him, but it can also wither. An old song comes to my mind: "Never force love out of violence, it becomes a lie". And unfortunately I have to refer to the Marvel Comics where the love story between Loki and Sigyn reflects exactly that and turns the whole thing into a story of psychological abuse. From which our little goddess has not recovered until today! And many pull the fact to say that Loki hates and disregards his wife and cheats on her because he is the prisoner in the marriage and Sigyn the evil monster. If you are only interested in a few Marvel fan groups or spend a while on TikTok. There they will witness for themselves and how an unspoken battle is being fought in this regard. But let's leave the sad team like Marvel destroyed Sigyn!

Loki proves his love for Sigyn and we can see the greatest proof in the twins Nari and Navri. Although I suspect that Vali is also a child of Loki and Sigyn and is the third child, so to speak the first born son of the two. But I don't want to go into the theory now. In any case, the fact is that we can all assume that Loki has advertised Sigyn for a very long time, maybe even for a century or more ??? And he gave her a lot of presents that she probably refused at first. But Loki just didn't give up and Sigyn just noticed how much Loki meant it to her.

He praises them for their openness and strength towards the other gods.

He gives her little presents to show her that he will never forget her. Little poems, flowers, animals that she can take care of and plants in general for her garden, we mustn't forget how close to nature she is. Maybe even a pearl every now and then or even a beautiful gemstone that Sigyn can wear as jewelry.

He takes time to be with her and sometimes stays alone with the children to give her time for them. But you also only spend time together.

They share the upbringing, the household and if someone needs Sigyn's help as a healer, I also think that Loki helps her when he is not on the road himself.

Tenderness, I think it's enough if I put it in one sentence!

In bed she has her pants on and Loki loves to give her control over in these moments.