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manias-wordcount · 8 months

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Can I request a Twlight Link where reader gets hurt? Like she gets hurt and starts to bleed a lot from her hand or something and Link's reaction and what he does? If not that's fine.

Just a Little Scratch (TP! Link x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘇 𝗳𝗮𝗻 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝟭𝟬+ 𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗺𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝗺𝗽𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗼 𝗶 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗼𝗻𝘁 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗶 𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔 𝗶 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗮 𝗹𝗼𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗳𝘂𝗻 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗼 𝗶 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆 𝗵𝗲𝗵𝗲

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚: 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗶𝗻𝗷𝘂𝗿𝘆 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

You’re not really sure what happened.

One minute you’re fine. One minute everything is dandy. There’s a smile on your face. Laughter spouting from your lips. You’re walking along the same path as you always do. Speaking to your childhood best friend as you always do. Enjoying the sounds of nature and animals and the peace like you always do. Wind in your hair. Sun in your sky. Everything fine. You’re doing just dandy.

But then the next minute, you’re out of breath, and your eyesight is blurry. Suddenly you find yourself a couple of feet away from the path, buried within tall, tall blades of grass as your back hits an even taller tree. Pain explodes on your arm, and you’re not really sure when you started crying. Not really sure of when you fell or if you tripped you managed to land so far away from the path you take to your favorite part of the woods near the village.

But all you know is that you’re here now, and you’re not sure what’s happening. Not sure what’s going on. Not sure why you hear the metallic smell of blood or the sharp crash of iron against iron. Not sure why you hear the muffled sounds of voices your mind is trying its hardest to put a name and face to. And an even lower, gruffer sound that your mind hopes it doesn’t even need to identify. But most of all? You’re not sure why it hurts so much to move your head or your arm. You’ve tripped and fallen before, haven’t you? So why does it hurt so much?

Why does it hurt so much?

Your answer comes after just a few minutes. Or is it a few seconds? You’re not really sure. You can’t really tell. But you know it starts with silence. No more clashing of iron. No more grunts and no more voices. The silence makes you scared. You’re not as disoriented as you were before, but the pain has grown on your arm and in your head. So you let your eyes flutter shut and have one hand clutch your other arm.

In an instant, some of the pain eases. Just a little. Or does the way you squeeze your arm just allow you to manage the feeling a little better? You’re not sure. Right now all you can think about is that dull ache in the back of your and the white-hot pain shooting up your arm, and how your skin feels so wet and sticky beneath your fingertips. Since when did you sweat so much? Was today a hot day? You can’t remember. You wore your long skirt today. The one with the pretty flower but the first pattern for hiding all the clumps of dirt that’ll eventually cling to you. Maybe you wore it because it was hot? Maybe you did because you-

A hand taps the side of your thigh.

The touch is gentle. It’s respectful even. Quick and fast before pulling away. Still, it causes you to hesitate. Your mind isn’t in the best state right now. Perhaps you hit it too hard on your way down? Maybe that’s why your legs feel like lead as they spread out in front of you. Maybe that’s why you feel like you don’t want to move another inch until this headache of yours goes away. Or maybe that’s why you-

Another tap at your thigh. A big firmer now. Still respectful, but a bit more concerned. You hesitate on opening your eyes. Not because you’re scared. But because it’s hard and it aches, and it hurts. But slowly, ever so slowly you do it. You let your eyes flutter open. You squint at the sun in its place above the trees. And you squint even harder at its rays as they break the foliage and shine all over you. The process is slow and it's agonizing and it way more effort than you think it should be. And by the time you finally manage to fully open your eyes?

“Link…”

He’s already there, reaching for your arm with two hands of your own.

“Link…” You whimper his name again, as one of his hands removes yours from your arm to inspect the damage himself. Blue eyes flicker to yours. And they soften at the sight of your quivering lips and your streaming tears. So he takes a second to hush you quietly. Humming over your whimpers with the most comforting hum he can produce. But all too soon his attention is back on your arm. And as your eyes follow his gaze, you find that you don’t like what you see. “Oh…”

You don’t like what you see at all.

“Shhh…” He hushes you once more when a look of panic starts to overtake your face. Your breathing labors and you try very, very hard not to squirm or struggle when Link takes your arm and moves it slightly closer to him so he can take a better look. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ll take care of this.”

You try to listen. You try to be good. Try to be quiet. Try to sit still. Try to believe. But all you can think about is jagged claw marks running up your forearm and all the blood that comes out from each individual cut. It drips and pours, and it stains, and it bleeds. Your arm is currently a mess of blood from your wound while your other hand has already been stained from grabbing at your arm earlier. Beneath where your arm was, you can see little splashes of your blood dotting the ground as single little droplets catch onto blades of grass. If you look closely now, you can ever make out the little blood splatters your dropping onto your beautiful long skirt with every second your wound is exposed.

In this moment of need, you try to look back at him for comfort, but he’s already making himself busy with using all his strength to carefully tear off some cloth from his undershirt. Though there’s a frown on his face. A growing frustration in his eyes. And a clench in his jaw. There’s something he’s upset about. Something you notice right as he moves to wrap your arm with the cloth he produced. You’re not sure what it means. You’re not sure who that look is directed to. But all you know is that look on his face only grows in intensity as he holds the cloth out nice and straight to wrap around your arm.

Only to realize the piece is too short to cover your entire wound.

A low sound bubbles up from his throat. His expression darkens, and you can’t hide the quiet whine that slips out at his sudden turn of emotion. Almost instantly, it freezes him in his tracks. You’re swallowing down another moan of pain when his gaze starts to slowly turn toward yours again. Your blood now stains his hands. Your tears now stain his memories. But even so, he looks at you in the eyes as if you’re the softest, sweetest, most scared creature he’s ever met. And he leans down and down and down and down. And he presses his lip against the back of your hand.

And some part of yourself is telling you that you’re already feeling better. That you’re already feeling brave. That you’re healing as quickly as that. And in between a couple of more whispered apologies and murmured words of encouragement, there are a few more kisses littered across your skin. One for every tear you shed. One for every injury you adorned. And for every call of his name.

You’re not sure what happened. You’re not sure how long it took. But slowly and surely, you find that you’re back on your feet. Pulled into his side with one of his arms securing your waist and the other squeezing the cloth against your poor, battered skin. And he takes you one step at a time. So you take it one step at a time. And every second of the way, the whispered words don’t stop. And every second of the way, the kisses find a new place to land against your body. Your forehead. Behind your ear. Against your cheek. Anywhere. Everywhere.

And every second of the way, you try to recall the soft little smiles and tiny little praises he gave you whenever you were doing so well for him. You try to recall that over the sight of his sword just barely sticking up from his back as he tried to help you onto your feet. The sight of his mighty, mighty sword now covered in blood.

You’re not sure what happened. But you have a feeling you won’t know what happened. At least, not for a little while. The ache in your head is strong. It becomes even stronger when you try to think. So you just count your steps and squeeze your childhood best friend tight. You’re glad you have him. You’re so glad he’s yours. But most of all? You’re glad you’re not going to end up like the man who Link tries to shield you from viewing as he guides you back home. Just a stranger in the middle of the road. Just a person enjoying the woods.

Or rather, just a body Link left for someone else to find.

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skyward-floored · 1 year

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*hands you all my twilight princess fics because it’s tp’s birthday* ✌️

Summary:

You’d think the Shade’s descendant would have had a little more sense and worn thicker clothes while visiting a frozen mountain peak, but no, of course not.

Summary:

When Midna lays near death due to being exposed to Lanayru’s light, Princess Zelda does more then just heal her when she passes on her spirit.

She removes Zant’s curse and restores her true form.

Summary:

Even with all her light magic, Zelda isn’t immune to the effects of the shadow crystal Link keeps with him.

This causes a few problems.

#legend of zelda #twilight princess #loz tp #loz twilight princess #twilight princess fanfiction #zelink #sickfic #ao3 link #hero’s shade #midna #writing from the floor #I’d make one with all my lu ones that focus on twi #but including whumptobers that would take forever #and my brain is not up for that at the moment #but yeah enjoy!!!#happy birthday to the game I’m very much obsessed with

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legendofzoodles · 2 years

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From Shadows

Chapter 1 || Quietude

My eyelids feel heavy as they slowly flutter open. Propping myself up on my elbows, I sit up to better take in my surroundings and frown. I am no longer at the Ordon Spring, but instead in a small room inside of a treehouse, sheltering me from the pouring rain.

More specifically, in someone's bed.

Sighing, I drag myself out of the warm covers and examine my body, raising my eyebrows upon noticing the bandages. White sterile strips of fabric had been wrapped around my head in a haphazard and clumsy way. Perhaps my messy hair had made it difficult for whoever did it.

With a quick glance at the entryway, I carefully slip off the bandages and neatly roll them up.

After setting the small pile on the old pillow, I quietly push myself off the bed and stalk towards the the lone window. Observing the dark melancholic sky, I trace the rain racing down the glass with my finger and press my forehead against the cool glass.

Cautiously, I approach the open doorway to see a quaint wooden balcony overlooking the rest of the small living space. I’m alone here, I’m sure of it. It’s too quiet for there to be another person in here with me. Although it’s not like there’s silence, ambient noise from the rain and wind outside made that impossible.

A small smile graces my features as I explore the interior little more, carefully, for I am still in a stranger’s house.

This homeowner's resourcefulness is most impressive; not only is the house built in a tree, but all of the furnishings- including picture frames are all made of the same wood as the tree. Chairs, tables and cupboards all have the same distinct style to them. Clearly they’d been created by the same craftsman.

Once I’ve seen everything on the upper level, I walk back over to the balcony. Grasping the wooden bar, I peer over to see the lowest floor and gasp. It’s more spacious than I had anticipated: there’s a woven rug in the centre, a farmer's pitchfork on the wall, several crates and barrels for presumably storage purposes. Over the open fire stands a metal pot, full to the brim with a simple but hearty looking soup.

I probably should just leave through the front door. However...I’m not in any immediate rush right now and I’m curious. After descending the ladder, I walk further into the space and look around some more.

Various pictures on the walls show people from the village. All either posing for the painting or captured doing their everyday work. Their smiles radiate a warmth I cannot describe. The aroma of homemade soup is comforting. This entire house oozes personality and cosiness. Which makes me wonder why this place is outside of the village. Whoever lives here is clearly an active member of the community and has people he cares about.

While walking around I take a note of the horse saddle and wooden sword that are stationed readily by the front door. I was about to reach for the handle when something catches my eye. An old rustic-looking blanket strewn over something large and rectangular, sits unassumingly behind the ladder. My hand lingers on the door handle for a second, before I go over to the blanket and slowly peel it off, revealing a strange wooden bookshelf that comes up to my shoulders. I say strange, because it was completely filled with mostly books, along with a few scrolls and loose papers. Not regular ones though, these were ancient tomes and manuals, most of which were about magic.

Specifically dark magic.

Up until now, I had believed that whoever lived here was a normal, if a little lonely villager...however this discovery is concerning. This sort of forbidden craft is something a simple tradesman in a rural province has no business dabbling with. My suspicions about this person rose as I picked up one of the larger books from the collection and flicked through it’s pages. It’s beautiful dark grey hardback cover with intricate silver patterns felt cold to the touch.

I frown. This book is the work of the Interlopers. A powerful tribe of sorcerers and magic users that existed hundreds of years ago. This group of people were knowledgeable, skilled, powerful...but too ambitious. I still mourn that potential. It was unfortunate that such a talented group of sorcerers were banished from Hyrule. Had they not tried to defy the Kingdom things could have turned out different... but going back to the book, this particular volume contains a few spells even I’ve never seen before. Interesting.

The burning feeling of a presence from behind suddenly pulls me out of my emersion. I frown for the second time today. Whoever it is, owns this collection and therefore this entire house. Preparing to confront the individual, I subtly adjust my posture and turn around, slamming the book shut for extra effect.

The person in front of me is young man. He was leaning a raised arm on the ladder, his narrowed eyes flicking between me and the book I had clutched to my chest. He perfectly fits in with the rest of the house. Yet he looks nothing like what I imagine a human who owns resources of dark magic would look like. Perhaps my assumption is outdated, but in my mind I had envisioned someone old, far removed from the world and for lack of a better term, depraved. Someone who purposefully lived this far from the village in order to practice forbidden spells and enchantments undisturbed.

Yet, the man standing before me is neither old nor shifty looking. The only unusual things about his appearance are the the white patch on his cheek and bandages covering the back of his left hand.

Instead of ancient fancy garbs, he wears simply pieced together Ordonian style clothing made for working in the fields, and tattered furry sandals. Instead of a tiny, frail and hunched figure, he is tall, with broad shoulders and a muscular figure probably built from regular hard farm labour. Meaning...he wouldn’t realistically have the time to dedicate himself to learning such a demanding craft.

Nothing about him makes sense. Perhaps, someone else owned the collection? But then how could one explain the single bed on the upper floor? No, the only logical deduction is that he surely lives alone.

We continue to stare at each other. I notice that he doesn’t seem all that surprised by my appearance. Which makes sense since he must have seen my face and hair while he was haphazardly putting on those bandages. But this is surely his first time seeing my eyes...doesn’t he find them unusual? Purple is not a natural eye colour for humans and coupled with my long silver hair, I must look very strange to him yet he’s completely unfazed. His lack of a reaction doesn't put me at ease though, I wish had a hooded cloak; at least then I could hide from his dark blue eyes. Which to my surprise, don't reflect hostility but rather a lively curiosity.

"You...can read the ones not written in Hylian," he observes, voice deep and just below normal speaking volume.

"I-I can, yes." I say and look away slightly.

He is still staring at me! His gaze is distant yet intense, like he’s trying to see through me. It's obvious he has questions, while his face is mostly unreadable his eyes are practically gleaming with intrigue. Is he really not going to say anything else? No matter, I’ll just take the initiative. "How and why did you acquire these artefacts? They're centuries old- lost to time along with the scholars who wrote them- yet here they are now in the possession...of a farmer..." my eyes narrow in suspicion and my voice lowers slightly as I finish the sentence.

"Found ‘em." He simply replies, eyebrows rising slightly at my slightly accusing tone. Wordlessly, he lifts his arm off the ladder and stretches outward as he moves towards me. I take a few hesitant steps back in response and unwittingly bump into the bookshelf. It takes me a second to realise that he wants me to hand it over.

There’s no harm in giving it back, so I do. “Where? In the forest? Somewhere in Hyrule perhaps?”

He skims through its pages, stealing glances at me now and then, saying, "The first two shelf levels were hidden in a chest in what’s now my basement. I found the rest over time in Faron," he shuts the book with his left hand and puts it back in its slot. "I’ve, never been to Hyrule.”

“Why do you keep them here?”

“The folk here here ain’t so keen on magic," he says, reaching around to fold up the old blanket. “I can’t have this stuff out in the open.”

“Oh no, that’s not what I meant,” I say hurriedly, making him pause midway through shaking off the dust. “I was asking, why keep them at all? Wouldn’t it be easier to bury them in the forest or something like that?"

He slowly shakes his head and sets the heaped blanket on a nearby crate. “Shoulda, but I’m too curious.”

There’s silence again after that. I can’t really think of anything to say in response. Curiosity is a feeling I know all too well. I can’t fault him for wanting to collect them and try to understand them, even though they’re dangerous. I have to admit, that response landed a chord with me.

“You hungry?” he asks, walking over to fireplace and taking the boiling pot off the heat. “The soup’s done.”

He’s looking at me expectantly, pot lid open and ladle in hand, ready to start serving. “Um, sure thanks,” I say, and walk over to the small table next to the wood stove. A quaint dining set up.

A ghost of a smile flashes across his face as he fills two bowls with the steaming broth and sets them on table along with a couple of wooden spoons. He ushers me to sit down on an ornate dining chair and places a bowl, spoon and cup of water in front of me. I thank him and he nods, before setting out his share of the meal.

As he’s slicing some hearty looking bread, I’m becoming aware that I’m sitting on the only available chair. “Excuse me? Would you like this seat?”

The farmer seems to have gone off speaking or something, because he only shook his head in response, before putting the slices of bread in a woven basket in the middle of the table and picking up a barrel to sit on.

"Shall we switch places? That doesn’t seem very comfortable," I say, feeling my voice quiver as I stifle a laugh. His legs are comically close to the ground, making him appear shorter than me.

To this, he sits upright and adjusts his posture. "S’okay, thanks."

“Alright,” I respond, before picking up the spoon and digging into supper. The soup was delicious! It was pumpkin based, with chunks of the fruit swimming in hot liquid amidst other fresh ingredients, earthy and mildly spicy. The bread is good too, full of nuts and seeds with a soft and fluffy texture. They’re great separately, but as demonstrated by my quiet companion, it’s even better to dunk the bread in the soup.

When’s the last time I had a meal like this? In fact this is my first time having pumpkin soup and I have to say, with each spoonful it’s climbing up and up my favourite food list. In fact, I haven’t eaten since I arrived in the kingdom. For some reason I can’t stop smiling; I’m glad I took him up on his offer.

After finishing off my second slice of bread, I go to pick up a third to help mop up the last splashes of soup left in the bowl when my fingers brush up against the farmer’s. Immediately, I draw my hand back and apologise, letting him grab a slice first. However, he gently pushes the bread basket towards me with a small yet knowing smile. Why is he looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?

As nonchalantly as I can, I touch the back of my right hand to my mouth and draw it back. Distressingly, I am greeted by tiny but noticeable bread crumbs stuck to my skin. He did not provide any napkins and the 3/4 sleeve of my dress isn’t long enough for me to wipe around my mouth without being obvious. If I were to use my hands it’ll look even worse. Partway through my mental crisis, I look up and almost snort.

The man is drinking the last of his soup by having picked up the bowl and raising it to his lips, the rim of the ceramic bowl barely covering me from his line of sight. Taking this opportunity, I pull on the hem of my sleeve and quickly wipe away every stray crumb from my face.

I am about to continue eating when a loud snort almost makes me drop my spoon. The sound came not from me, but from the farmer. He then takes a sharp intake of breath, putting the bowl down and covering his mouth and turning away slightly. Not a lot sound is coming out, but it’s clear from the sharp irregular way his chest rises and falls that he’s coughing.

Oh dear, maybe the soup went down the wrong way?

To be honest, I’m not sure how to react to this. If I could just be myself, I would laugh away the tension and ask if he’s okay. But that wouldn’t feel right considering we haven’t said a thing to each other during the meal and I don’t want to embarrass this stranger. Yet, he’s being too obvious for me to believably pretend to not notice, and besides if I did that, it would just be awfully inconsiderate.

“Is everything ok?” I ask tentatively, leaning forward to get a better look at him.

Without speaking, he gives a couple unconvincing nods and raises up a hand to stop me from leaning any closer. It’s not like there’s much I could do to help anyway. So, I resolve to go back to finishing my meal, while he downs the rest of his water, before collecting his bowl and bringing it over to the wash basin at the end of the room.

With his back to me I quietly allow an exasperated sigh escape my lips as a sort of release from controlling my reactions. Ugh, I’m being so awkward. Turns out acting like a regular human is much harder than I remember it being. I used to be so good at this, so why am I so nervous? Wait, nervous? No, I’m not- why would I be-?

I’m just rusty, that��s all.

I polish off the last of my soup and the farmer comes over to collect my bowl and cutlery. He wouldn’t let me help out, so while he cleans up I remain at the table. He didn’t take away the bread basket, and I kind of wish he had because there was one large slice left and I really wanted it. Although, it would be polite to leave it as a courtesy, so I held off on snatching it up.

At this point, other than to look at more of those books, I don’t see much of a reason to stay here; the storm may still be raging outside however the rain has lightened up somewhat and I do not mind spending the night in the woods. Of course, in time I’ll have to think of some way to reward this person for helping me and treating me to that wonderful meal. That’ll have to wait though, right now I have more pressing things to concern myself with.

“Hang on.” I hear him say, which surprises me, and not just because it’s the first thing he’s said in the last 20 minutes or so. Does he somehow sense that I’m ready to leave? Or am I just being too transparent about it?

“Ok, why?” I ask.

He doesn’t immediately answer, instead he finishes drying the last cup with a piece of cloth, sets it on a rack to dry with the other things and then goes over to a storage cupboard to fish out a smallish wooden box. I observe as he comes back over, puts the box on the table and brings his little barrel closer to where I’m sitting.

"How’s your head?" he asks. His voice cracking and sounding a little horse from all the coughing earlier.

“Oh, don’t worry it’s fine. I’m not injured,” I say and subconsciously graze my fingers from my temple over to the middle of my forehead. Where my symbol/crescent marking should be. “I left the bandages you'd wrapped on the bed upstairs; that was a...nice gesture."

“Your hair was in the way,” says the farmer, lightly ruffling his own messy locks as he said this. I almost smiled.

“Hm...it is a lot,” I agree, fiddling my fingers through the front pieces of my silver hair. If I were to undo my updo, my hair would fall to the ground in a heap. “Now, I appreciate your hospitality-”

"You can use magic."

My eyebrows furrow at his interruption. Is it that a of big deal to the people living here? Why is this of any interest to someone like him? Better yet, how in the world does he know that? He has the faintest smirk on his face and his eyes have that gleam of intrigue from before. That’s what makes me realise that the medical box is still unopened.

For the first time, he takes the initiative, continuing with, “I was coming back from the Faron woods early this morning when I saw a bright flash of light coming from the Ordon Spring. When I got there the light was long gone, and I found you lying unconscious in the shallow waters. I tried to wrap bandages around your head cuz I thought you’d knocked it.”

That explains how I inexplicably woke up here, as well as a couple other things. Again, I didn’t know how to react to this. That’s the most he’s ever said. It’s like the script has been flipped and now I’m the one being grilled for information.

“What were you doing?” he asks.

What do I say to that? Should I just tell him? Nothing bad or good will happen if I tell him, it’s not like there’s anything he can do to stop what is coming. Plus it would be nice to talk to someone about all this. I sigh, “Have you heard of the Spirits of Light?”

He shakes his head so I continue, “Well you see, I was trying to contact the Spirit of Light that dwells in that spring: Ordona. Except, it didn’t work- it didn’t work for any of the others either- and it’s really starting to worry me.”

“What do you mean ‘it didn’t work’?” he asks, smirk fading into a serious expression as I talk.

“They didn’t respond,” I say, leaning an elbow on the table and resting by cheek in my hand. “Or rather...they couldn’t.”

“Why?” he asks, leaning in a little closer, resting an elbow on the edge of the table.

“Um...” I clench the fist propping up my cheek and take a deep breath. “They most likely are either hiding like in Ordona’s case or...they’ve already been taken, like I suspect Eldin and Lanayru.”

“By what? Is something after them?”

I nod and look off to the side, uncomfortable that I now have to sort through all this. “Yes, the Twilight Invasion. The faux leader of a tribe called the Twili by the name of Zant took his people, corrupted them with a dark power and brought them with him to take over your world of light: Hyrule. And I’m afraid they’ve already conquered much of the kingdom already.”

“Will they come here?”

“Yes, without question I’m afraid,” I say and study his face for a reaction.

I had half expected him to dissolve into panic or fear, but to my surprise he only slightly raises his eyebrows. “That explains why the forest has gotten more dangerous lately; prolly this terrible weather too. And these Light Spirits can help?”

“Not just help, they’re the only beings that can drive back the Twilight,” I say, “But their presence is fading from this land...it’s only a matter of time until...” My speech trails off, ending with a slow exhale through gritted teeth.

The farmer crosses his arms and looks down as if in thought and after a bit of silence he speaks, “If the Light Spirits can’t help is there anything else we can do?”

“Mm...well for now, not much. Nothing can be done until this storm dies down. Then my last resort will be to locate- I’m sorry, we?! I gawp at him. “This is something far beyond your limits. There are forces here more powerful than you could ever imagine. No, what you can do is evacuate the village, drop everything and get as many people out of here as possible. Even once you get out of the province, keep travelling every few days because there’s no guarantee that the Twilight will stop expanding, and you don’t want to be stuck in it.”

“What happens if we do?”

“I don’t know specifically...sorry, but you won’t survive long,” I say, hating that I can’t be more useful. Not just the fact that I can’t seem to properly warn this innocent man but also how ineffective I’ve been at stopping the invasion. If I’d done my job better, if the princess had just listened to me, if I’d gotten to the Light Spirits sooner...none of this would have happened.

“The protector of this village is Rusl, he can lead the evacuation,” he says, with a strange intensity in his eyes. Is it determination? Or something else? I can’t tell. “I’ll help you stop the invasion.”

“What? You don’t have to...” I wasn’t sure how to dissuade him from joining me, but one thing he said did stand out to me. Glancing at the sword and horse saddle by the door I say, “I was under the impression that you were the village protector.”

The farmer shakes his head somewhat sheepishly, “I’m not.”

Without thinking, I blurt out, “Then why are you isolated like this?”

I regret asking that the second I opened my mouth. The effect that question has on the farmer is immediate. His expression hardens, but only for a split second before he returns to a neutral expression. “There ain’t a special reason; I just prefer living here...but going back to this Twilight problem; you said there was something you need to locate?”

Placing my hands together on my lap, I look off to the side, “Not something, someone. And it won't be a straightforward journey, I don't really know where he is, or who he is.” As I say this, the boy tilts his head slightly in confusion so I quickly add, "I know it doesn’t make much sense, but I only know that he should exist and he’s the only one who can end this now."

“How will you know when you find him then?”

“I’ll just know,” I respond. “I’m sure of it.”

After a short pause, the farmer takes the medical box and goes across the room to put it back in the cupboard. “Where’d you even start looking?”

“Wherever the Twilight hasn’t gotten to yet I suppose,” I say.

He leans against the cupboards and says, “Like here?”

“Um, sure,” I say, fiddling with hands. He’s so strange, taking all of this information in without even batting an eye. His lack of reaction to the news of an incoming invasion, is just weird. “May I just say, you’re taking all this surprisingly well. I expected a little pushback, but you’re just accepting everything I’m telling you.”

“I trust you.” Is all he says, giving me a little shrug.

It feels like my first time seeing him properly. He stands tall and assured, radiating a friendly aura extenuated by the gentle orange glow of the fire. Friendly. His eyes are kind- how could I have not noticed before? Considering he has brought me, an odd-looking stranger, into his home and has been very hospitable...

“I forgot- thank you! For everything,” I say suddenly.

He’s surprised by my outburst. His face subtly brightening into a mixture of delight and he goes to sheepishly rub the back of his head. “There’s no need for that.”

“No, there is,” I say, shaking my head and standing up, “You’ve given me food and shelter from this storm. I’m busy now, but someday soon I’ll be back to repay your kindness.”

His hand falls to his side, “You’re leaving?”

“Well...” I hesitate. There’s no reason for me to stay right?

“You’re welcome to stay longer,” he says, taking a step forward. “At least until the storm clears.”

“Thank you but...I don’t like the idea of doing nothing while the Twilight continues to expand,” I say truthfully.

“Nothing can be done in this storm. You said so yourself,” he says, “Wait it out here.”

“Are you sure?” I ask.

He nods, “We won’t be doing nothing. You’re welcome to the whole book collection, if you share what you know.”

This piqued my interest, and subconsciously I shift my eyes to the shelf, focusing on the spell book I didn’t get to finish earlier. “Could I also borrow couple?”

He immediately picks up on my excitement and nods with a smirk. He gestures to the lone slice of bread sitting in it’s basket on the table and walks behind the ladder. “It’s yours.”

Flustered, I quickly look at the bread slice before snatching it up and taking a huge bite, my face heating up when I catch him glancing at me from the corner of his eye. After a couple more bites I join him and together we raid the bookshelf for as many books, scrolls and journals we can in our arms (although funnily enough the farmer wouldn’t let me carry more than one).

We end up sitting side by side on the large mat in the middle of the room, enclosed in a circle of open books. Quite the cosy scene. The roaring thunder had died down by now, with the sound of the heavy rain lightening up to create a sort of peaceful ambience. Not that it was silent, well, I was still doing most of the talking- translating texts and explaining foreign symbols to my companion. It’s quite enjoyable teaching him, for he’s an attentive listener and asks specific purposeful questions.

Once it gets late, I start to get tired. Every other sentence is punctuated by a hefty yawn, in addition to me constantly pausing mid-sentence and forgetting to absorb the information, making me reread whole paragraphs. While I was finishing a page the farmer silently stands up and ascends the ladder for something. I wonder about waiting for him to get back before continuing, but the book is practically finished and he probably read ahead anyway. After he leaves, I close the book and stretch out my arms, in a manner somewhat akin to a drowsy kitten- probably looking really silly.

Before I have the chance to stand up myself, a warm quilt is draped over my body. Startled, I look over my shoulder to see him adjusting the quilt comfortably around my shoulders. "I'll bring more bedding. Or, use bed if you don’t wanna sleep here."

"Oh no, it’s ok, I'm not tired yet," I lie, not wanting to retire for the night just yet. Why I’m so tired, I have no idea. I must have slept hours after I passed out in the spring, that should have been enough to restore my energy. "Thank you for the blanket though, I was starting to get cold,” I snuggle into the blanket. “Also, I don't really mind where I sleep, it is your house."

He doesn’t answer but I assume that he heard me; as I’m turning the page of a new book he comes and sits next to me again. I don’t think anything of it until, he takes part of the blanket and wraps it around himself, shuffling closer until we’re practically touching.

"Um, what are you doing, farmer?" I mumble. Not so much protesting the gesture (I don’t actually mind it) as supposed to just being curious to what prompted the act.

"I’m cold," he replies quickly, only to pause and stare ahead, like he’s just thought of something monumental. “...my name’s Link.”

Link?!

Wasn’t that also the name of...?

Tearing my eyes away from the book and I carefully study his face, but...no, the more I look the less I see a resemblance to…him. It must just be coincidence. His eyes hold a very similar spark I suppose, but other than that I don’t see anything connecting them.

Speaking of Link, he’s now gazing intently at me. I feel my face heat up with embarrassment and I instantly break eye contact. Oh, of course, he’s wants my name. Going by the ears, it’s clear he’s Hylian (which raises some questions about why he’s never been Hyrule, but that’s not important), so I have to give him this name: "I'm Luna."

☆

Thanks for reading!

From Shadows: Link’s backstory

Masterlist

#legend of zelda #twilight princess #link #link tp #loz link #legend of zelda fanfiction #legend of zelda fanfic #loz fanfic #twilight princess fanfiction #idk if this panned out how i envisioned #writing is hard

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azulolivart · 8 months

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Midna🛐🛐🛐

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maesonc-artistic-adventures · 11 months

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Needed some hurt/comfort fics and @skyloftian-nutcase ‘s “Snow” on ao3 was just what the doctor ordered.

I love Twilight cuddles.

#my art #artist of tumblr #tumblr artist #fanart #art #sketchbook #colored pencils #linked universe fanart #lu fanart #lu warriors #lu twilight #linked universe fanfic #lu fanfiction #the legend of zelda #tloz au #hyrule warriors #twilight princess #lu wolfie

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tigirl-and-co · 1 year

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How Finite is Love?

This is a short little piece set in @shirecorn‘s super cool mlp AU! This is just a first pass at it, I’ll definitely refine it if I post it to a fic site. I just HAD to get this out though, the au hits all my sweet spots!

Shining Armor considers the ponies he loves, and how a mortal pony can love goddesses.

Shining Armor held no resentment towards his two favourite mares. It wasn't their fault. They had no choice. Shining wasn't certain he believed in destiny, but whatever happened to his wife and baby sister sure was close.

First it was his wife, and that he could handle. She was an adult. They had fallen in love in highschool, they had grown together, Shining knew how strong Cadance was. If anypony deserved ascension, it was her.

If anypony could weather this, it was them.

He loved his wife with every bone in his body, every fiber of his being, every ounce of magic he could channel. And he knew she felt the same. If she didn't... this never would have happened.

Can love be a curse? Can loving somepony too much damn your soul? Can it save it?

About a month after Cadance gained her horn, Shining Armor decided dwelling on these questions wasn't helpful, and the answers didn't matter. He loved Cadance, and Cadance loved him. He couldn't change the past, wasn't sure if he even would -- but he was dead set on building a happy future.

At least as happy as he could give her. He couldn't guarantee that the love his mortal body held would last into her infinity, but he was determined to try.

He hoped it wouldn't destroy her to leave him behind, when the time came.

He loved her too much for that.

===

He had celebrated when The Sun took notice of Twilight.

The young stallion was oblivious to the looks of quiet worry on his parents' faces, the body language that said they were resigned to a cautious optimism. How could the attention of the source of Equestrian life bring anything but fortune?

He wasn't yet old enough to have heard the whispers. The old fables weren't circulated in school for fear of divine retribution, and Shining Armor was not as studious as his sibling.

Now?

Had he the power, he would have torn The Sun from the sky.

His baby sister, the sweetest and most sensitive mare he had ever known, damned to an eternity of watching her friends die.

She was a child (she was older than Cadance had been) she needed protection (she had brought down false gods) she wasn't ready (The Sun had learned from its mistakes, this new goddess was more than prepared).

She needed him.

Didn't she?

(She did, once.)

He was proud of her, of course. And if he had been watching for the signs, he wouldn't have been surprised.

Twilight Sparkle had always had an innate love for those around her. Before she had locked herself away in that tower amongst the tomes, she had been a kind filly. And even then, she had never quite managed to harden her heart.

She was still openly affectionate with him, with Cadance, with Twilight Velvet and Night Light. She shared her knowledge with them because it was how she said 'I love you.'

Leave it to a goddess to exploit that trait.

When Shining managed to find time to talk with his Twily after she had earned her wings, she had said her job as goddess was 'to spread the knowledge of friendship' and to teach others what friendship truly meant. She sounded excited, happy. She had found a purpose for her research.

Shining Armor wasn't sure if his baby sister hadn't yet considered the consequences of eternal life, or if it simply didn't bother her. He didn't ask.

He realized that while she was still his Twily, and would be until the day he died, she was more. She was Ponyville's friend. She was Celestia's Twilight Sparkle.

She was Equestria's new goddess.

He renewed his vow to remain her BBBFF forever, to keep her safe from turmoil and danger.

He swallowed down his anger and despair that night, in favour of his inevitable role as protector. He had his cutie mark, and he knew what it meant.

===

Shining Armor loved the mares in his life, and he would go to the ends of Equestria to keep them safe and happy, whether they needed him or not.

He was glad, at least, that they would have each other.

#my writing #mlp #fanfiction #shining armor #princess mi amore cadenza #twilight sparkle #dude it took me half as long to get the formatting to work as it did to write what the HECK #i don't know why sometimes i get the text editor with colour and sometimes I don't #anywayyyyyy #i am considering a follow up where he ascends and becomes the god-prince of protection #and the three of them become considered a trifecta #they are the abstractions as opposed to the sun and moon's concretes #i'm usually not into happy endings i'm very into bittersweet stuff #but the tantalizing concept of creating a god. a mythos. well that's something i'm very into #silly shining! just because they don't*need* you doesn't mean they don't *want* you!#and that's why he's not the god of love

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whateversawesome · 4 months

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: SPY x FAMILY (Manga), SPY x FAMILY (Anime) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Loid Forger | Twilight/Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess Characters: Loid Forger | Twilight, Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess, Anya Forger, Bond (SPY x FAMILY), Sylvia Sherwood | Handler Additional Tags: Romance, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Wedding Night, Implied Sexual Content, some spice, Kissing, First Time, communication is key, Specially when it comes to these two, post-reveal, Operation Strix is over

Summary: Operation Strix is finally over. After running away from Ostania, Twilight and Yor are ready to enjoy their long-awaited wedding night. However, things don't always turn out perfectly.

This fic is part of a private Secret Santa event.

Mika, I hope you like your present!!

Based on this beautiful fanart by @mika213

https://www.tumblr.com/mika213/728929631956238336/sxf-discord-anniversary-event-i-did-the-honeymoon?source=share

#spy x family #twiyor #spy family #loidyor #spy x family fic #twiyor fic #loidyor fic #spy x family fanfic #twiyor fanfic #loidyor fanfic #spy x family fanfiction #loid forger #yor forger #anya forger #sxf #agent twilight #thorn princess #writing #fanfiction

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incorrect-ganlink-quotes · 1 year

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Link: “what if we-“

Ganon: “no.

Link: “but how about-“

Ganon: “no.”

Link: “how do you even know what I’m gonna suggest if you’re going to keep interrupting me?”

Ganon: “because I know it involves arson.”

Link: “dammit, fine. What do you suggest?”

Ganon: “… I was thinking we could-“

Link: “WE ARE NOT COMMITING MASS GENOCIDE!”

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imaginethezeldaverse · 8 months

Note

Hi! Could I request a Ganondorf x fairy reader? Reader has always followed Ganondorf throughout time, and they are able to shift from a small fairy form to a human size fairy form!

Hope you having a wonderful day!

-the fairy anon 🧚‍♀️

Well hello, fairy anon! Please allow this fairy of fiction to fulfill your request! ✨ (I'm gonna make you a Great Fairy, but not exactly like the ones from BotW/TotK - you'll see what I mean)

To the naked eye, the small, zipping ball of light could easily be mistaken for a sunset firefly. Skittering around the desert may have been a little strange, but not wholly uncommon. For these facts, you were very grateful. On your tiny wings you flitted through the very open windows of top floor Gerudo bedchamber. You half expected it to be empty, a plan in mind to simply wait and surprise the person you'd planned on visiting - but fate would have other plans in store for you.

"To what do I owe the honor of a Great Fairy at my humble abode?" His tone was a mix of curious and cocky, with just a touch of threatening. With a quick spin, sparkles surrounded your body - and suddenly were a normal, human size. Rattling your wings gently to relieve them of any excess sand that clung to you, you simply made a sound akin to an interested huff. Your long lashes lifted to allow your sweetheart eyes to connect with fiery amber ones,

"Just stopped by to visit an old friend is all..." painted lips turned up in a minxish smile, "But then again...we weren't always only 'just friends' were we...Ganondorf?"

The Gerudo chief eyes you with suspicion, his originally smug expression faltering to something untrusting. You have information he clearly doesn't - a weakness that he doesn't like having exploited. Still, he approaches you, standing tall and wide to loom over your smaller frame. A full head taller than you are is he, yet that does not move you from where you stand. Peering down at you his voice evens out to a tone you can't read, "You speak as though you know me, sprite - but I don't recall ever knowing you."

There's a bitter chuckle in your throat, though you swallow it down. This is always the part you hated the most. You bit back a few oncoming tears, trying desperately to shrug away the hurt that hits you every time you hear an iteration of those same words. Ganondorf watches your eyes grow a tad misty, his brows furrowing at your sudden shift from your initially playful demeanor. "Not yet you don't," your wavering voice whispers up to him. You don't give him time to react, kissing the tips of your fingers and pressing them lightly to his forehead. Immediately Ganondorf jumps back from you, his head beginning to pound as visions bombarded him at full velocity.

"YOU!" he barks, pain swimming in his head. His vision flashes, your faye visage totally different now - soft green vines envelope the length of your body. He remembers vividly the fountain he'd always frequent to find you. Remembers the way your long nails felt against his scalp when his hair was much, much shorter than it is. He recalls sealing you away in a rage, the evil inside of him unable to fathom why you'd help the very person meant to be his downfall.

His skull throbs again, and suddenly he feels a salty breeze upon his face. He sees your iridescent skin, revels in the memory of how smooth you were against his ruggedness. He remembers telling you how much he'd missed you, and how the sea was lonely, but punishment in the sacred realm just without your reach was far lonelier. It comes back to him the nights spent watching the waves with you, your long illustrious locks floating about against the backdrop of the setting sun.

Once more the rush of pain stabs at his head, his visions swiftly reconnecting to a darker world. One surrounded in a shroud of twilight and deep hues of the chaos he had caused. He has your soft face in the palm of his hand - you look so scared - and yet you clung to him. He remembers promising you a new world at his side, you choose not to hear it. You've done this before - though he does not know this. Your big eyes brim with tears, but he brushes them away before they can fall. His memory jogs as he hears you tell him you love him, your luminous, opalescent wings flittering as your heart does. Ganondorf remembers sealing his lips over your own, pinning you to the nearest wall and etching a love on your skin that has transcended the many lifetimes he's lived already with you.

Suddenly the pain stops.

Ganondorf heaves, realizing he's been brought to his knees from this ordeal. His large hand clutches his head, thick fingers weaving through his long scarlet locks. There's a struggle to catch his breath, but he ultimately does as he blinks the scattered memories back into the confines of his mind. Lifting his head, he sees your tearful expression with all the recognition in the world. His steadying hand drops to his knee - he picks himself up. Heavy, thudding footsteps make their way toward you slowly, and judging by his hardened, blank expression, you're a bit fearful for what the sudden onset of several lifetimes' worth of memories could have done to him so you brace yourself - ready to transform and leave at a moment's notice.

You shut your eyes as he's suddenly in front of you, only for them to open once more. His hand caresses your cheek with complete tenderness, "You..." comes his strained voice. When your eyes meet, you see it: him. The Ganondorf who has loved you through every version of him that's existed. You lean into his hand, crystalline tears rolling down the gentle curves of your face, "Me..." Ganondorf wastes no time claiming your lips. A kiss that you very enthusiastically meet him halfway with. Before you know it, your legs are scooped up and wrapped around his waist, all while his lips are still connected to yours.

At your brief parting, Ganondorf lends you a genuine smile. He rests his forehead against your collarbone.

"You always know how to find me, my love. Faye of my heart, you've come back to me."

Arms coming around his head, you embrace him tight to your chest, "No length of time, nor change of your looks would ever keep me from finding you."

And you always would. You had found love once...with him. It made you thankful that you were blessed with eternal life; because although Hylia would strike him down at all costs; though you knew of the evil he truly was deep down; though you were sure the goddess would curse you for the atrocity of laying with her enemy - you would love him every time.

#God...I'm gonna hold this one close to my heart #A love story for the ages #legend of zelda #ocarina of time #wind waker #twilight princess #tears of the kingdom #ganondorf #ganondorf x reader #x reader #great fairy!reader #fairy!reader #love transcending time #fluff #hurt/comfort #tears of the kingdom fanfiction #totk fanfic #ganondorf imagines #totk ganondorf

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mishwanders · 10 months

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• Twilight • Devil’s Teeth •

Summary: Twilight’s transformation goes a bit haywire, but you don’t mind though - you get to help him satisfy his cravings.

Warnings: GN!Reader, Feral Smut. Minors DNI with this one.

Author’s Notes: Written by Mishwanders. Do not take or repost it anywhere as your own.

Twilight wasn’t a werewolf, not by any means. He wasn’t controlled by the moon, bound to it like an angry lover in an eternal dance of longing that ebbed and flowed like tied. Instead, he could transform at a whim, making the cross between man and beast as he pleased with the black and orange shadow crystal that hung around his neck. Even now as he was over you, the crystal never left him and you could feel the stone digging into your skin as pressed his chest flush against your back.

All of that to say, there were distinct lines between the beast and the man that Twilight was, there were rules he had to abide by. But sometimes those lines found themselves blurred, and that’s when he found himself in his most vulnerable and enlightened state, with every single one of his senses heightened beyond compare.

He could hear your breathing as you walked, the subtle gasps, the inflections, the way your heart raced like a prey animal when his gaze fell upon you. The way that it raced even faster once he had you trapped between his body and the closest surface he could find to pin you against, his eyes trailing down you like a hungry predator. He could see you so much more clearly like this, the way your chest rose so much more quickly, how your pupils dilated, how your eyes shined during the orange glow of dusk and the firelight, how your lip parted as if you were asking for him to kiss you. He watched as you placed your hands on his chest, taking hold of his tunic and pulled him in closer.

It wasn’t an offer he was going to refuse, he wasn’t going to push this moment away, because in all honesty, there was a certain craving on his tongue, one that could only be satisfied by you.

He leaned into your pull, his lips meeting yours in a heated kiss. He couldn’t help but draw you in closer as well, his hands finding their place along your hips, at the back of your neck, as he delved his tongue past your lips, getting a taste for his delectable prey. The more heated the kiss grew, the more he wanted, the more he craved you as he dragged his tongue along your chin, down your neck, tasting the salt of your skin, lapping it up like water.

He could smell the scent of your growing more potent with every little action, with every touch. It drew him in deeper to you, pulling at him as if it were his leash to you, yanking him closer and closer to losing all sense of himself to the pleasures he could only find in you. It’s not like he would mind though, he always did love getting lost in you when he had the chance.

It pulled at him to make you his again.

You didn’t seem to mind it though - considering how your hands were in a hurry and hard at work at removing your clothes - as well as his own. With the removal of the fabric though, he could feel every little intimate touch of your skin against his, the soft and delicate way you held him in your arms, the way his shadow crystal dug into his chest as you pressed closer to him. He could feel every bit of warmth that was growing between you, the heat building as you both grew more and more desperate for the other.

He craved you, he was so desperate for more of you. He picked you up in his arms and carried you over to the bed, laying you down like an Angel, one that would soon be caught in the Devil’s teeth. He wanted to have you through the shadows of the night, until the light of the morning came and the sparrow sang. And by the way you were looking at him - you craved him too.

Goddesses, he couldn’t help himself, with that look alone - he gave in to the beast within.

He wondered if you liked this kind of attention, the thrill of the danger when he gave into it. You always did make yourself so open to him and the variety of ways he wanted to have you. You did seem to have a favorite though - one where his chest was pressed against your back, his teeth sinking into the meat of your shoulder, a low growl leaving his throat while his cock was buried deep inside of you, taking every advantage of having so much power to pleasure you. He knew you were sinking into it, the way you hissed and moaned out his name, how you gripped on tightly to the sheets, to the bed frame for dear life as his hips slammed harder into yours with each thrust.

You felt so good to him like this, you tasted divine. He craved you so much and it was always so tempting to keep coming back for more, whether that was when he had you like this or when you had him on his knees with his head between your thighs, ravaging and lapping you up like a thirsty hound.

You were so good to him - he couldn’t stand it much longer.

He released your shoulder from his mouth and nipped at the soft skin of your neck, causing you to whine even more. He intertwined his hands over yours, pressing your palms down onto the bed, trapping you even more, making sure you couldn’t squirm away from him as he continued to chase after his own release with hard snaps of his hips against you.

You were so overwhelming to him in this state, with the taste of your skin in his mouth, the feeling of your body against his, the sound of your voice ringing in his ears, your arousal building and infiltrating his senses - everything about you enraptured him, he was deep in you that he was unable to control himself now. You were a mess for him, crying out his name over and over again, giving into him and the pleasures he provided you while he satisfied his craving for you.

His breath grew hotter, heavier, more ragged as he panted, groaned, and practically growled in your ear with every thrust, hammering his hips into yours, forcing himself deeper into you as he pushed you even further into the bed.

You were such a delight to him and he couldn’t help but give him as he felt the overwhelming sensation of relief amidst his release slam into him. His hips stuttered to a halt against you as he let out a deep groan, his body shuddering from the pleasure running through his veins. He collapsed over you, unable to move as he tried to regain himself. He soon did though and rolled off, panting like a dog as he laid on his back. You moved your head to his side and he could see your tear filled eyes, that blissed out look in them. He wiped them away as he rolled over to face you now, his hand gently caressing your face as his thumb dragged along your swollen bottom lip before he pulled you in for another kiss - one that was soft and gentle. He pulled you in closer to him, wrapping his arms around you, tenderly holding you as rested your head against his chest, hearing how loudly his heart beat for you.

Nothing could get better than this. The two of you laid there together as he laid you down like an Angel in his arms, caught in the devil's teeth.

#lu twilight x reader #lu x reader #loz x reader #tp x reader #twilight princess x reader #link x reader #mdni #spicy writing: twilight #legend of zelda fic #legend of zelda fanfiction #linked universe fanfic #oh my god I finally got this out of my drafts #why is it when I’m the post stressed is when I decide to work on editing?#ALSO I KNOW THE STONE CHANGES IF ITS TOUCHED BUT FOR VIBES JUST GO WITH IT #BE COOL BE COOL #IM NOT AN IDIOT BUT THAT WAS THE ONLY WAY I COULD ADD IT IN

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silent-korok · 2 months

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Since March Madness is here, I have decided to do a LU Zelda Bracket!!! (The placements were based off of a wheel spin) [This post will update overtime]

GO VOTE NOW

Current Poll:

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manias-wordcount · 8 months

Note

i didn’t see anywhere that says you aren’t accepting requests, so if i could ask some twilight princess link boyfriend headcanons please? i think it’d be so cute. (please no family au’s, i hate those)

Boyfriend HCs (TP Link)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗶𝗺 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗯𝘆 𝗳𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗮𝘂𝘀 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘂𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗲𝘀 𝗹𝗺𝗮𝗼

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

FIRST THINGS FIRST- he’s the type of person to lean down by your mouth when your voice is quiet to hear you better 10000000% (don’t judge, it’s attractive i swear)

SECOND THING SECOND- he can be very physical. Especially unconscious

Guiding hands on the small of your back, holding your waist instead of telling you to stop, grabbing your hand when he wants to show you something

Even coming up behind you to take over some of your chores because he just wants to spoil you rotten

By the way, the whole village knows about the two of you

It’s hard to hide it when Link is busy sneaking kisses from you whenever he gets the chance

But he’s not afraid to show you off…or show out when someone starts to get a little too close

Don’t worry though- he can keep his jealous side to a minimum out in public but be warned- you know he got that dawg in him WHAHAH

Still, he’s absolutely the sweetest type of boyfriend. All caring and doting and completely soft just for you

Though other boys vying for your attention be warned- your body has teeth and your boy will bite if he needs to HAHAHA

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skyward-floored · 2 years

Text

So I’ve never written twilight princess zelink before, and I had an idea the other day that I really thought would fit them. So I went and wrote this, which, I don’t know if I really did them or the idea I had justice, but it was fun to write at least.

Twilight form Zelda anyone?

————————————————————

“Hey, is this the one you were looking for?”

Princess Zelda looked up from her desk at the paper Link held out towards her, and she gave him a small smile as she saw it was the correct one.

“Ah, yes that’s it. Thank you Link,” said as she took it, and he nodded back with a smile.

He was helping her unclutter her study in preparation for the upcoming harvest season, when her desk and all subsequent flat surfaces tended to get covered by numerous reports of crops and problems and countless other things. Not to mention the additional stacks of paper that kept appearing due to her upcoming wedding.

Of course, she didn’t really mind making space for those.

Link moved to a bookshelf and studied a stack of papers that had been set there at some point, his eyebrows raising as he stared at the tiny print.

“Good grief, what is all this?” he muttered, shuffling through them and thoroughly messing up the stack. “Food report, taxation census... some of this is from before I was born!”

Zelda raised an eyebrow at the papers that escaped the pile and the mess that her fiancé was inadvertently making, and she stood, walking over to him.

“Link, try not to make our job more difficult,” she chastised, leaning over and grabbing the papers he’d sent to the floor. “We’re supposed to be cleaning.”

She straightened up and stepped closer in order to set the papers back on the pile, but failed to notice another stack that had ended up on the floor, which she ended up stepping squarely upon.

Her foot slipped out from under her right as Link turned around, and she tripped right into him.

She let out a surprised noise as Link’s eyes widened, and he moved forward to try to catch her, but when she tried to catch herself her arm went out and hit his chest—

Suddenly Zelda felt dark dark magic race up her arm.

She cried out as she fell to the ground, clutching her arm to herself as the unexpected magic swept through her, clashing against her own innate light magic in a way that had her gasping in pain.

She faintly heard Link saying her name and maybe holding onto her, but a rippling agony distracted her from replying. Something foreign and wrong began twisting in her as her light magic clawed back, and her right hand burned as it wrestled with the curse ripping through her that felt so much like Ganondorf—

And then suddenly it was over and she collapsed.

Every nerve of her body hurt, and Zelda nearly passed out as pain coursed through her. She wheezed in a breath, but barely even managed that because everything felt wrong, even her mouth felt wrong when she breathed.

She tried again and managed to breath a bit easier this time, and worked on calming her racing heart while she also figured out what her current predicament was.

Something was very wrong, but that was all she knew so far.

Zelda attempted to move her arm, but it felt too light and yet too big at the same time, and when she tried her legs instead, they felt much too small, though her feet seemed especially large for some reason.

She groaned, but it came out as an odd cooing noise instead.

That snapped her out of what was left of her daze, and she opened her eyes to see her study was suddenly very large and in surprisingly intense quality, as was Link’s panicked face looking down at her. She looked at him, then down at her arm, and was only half surprised when instead of a human one, she found herself looking at a brown and white colored wing, with faint speckles of purple.

She was a bird.

“Zelda are you okay?” Link asked from above her in a frantic voice, probably not for the first time. He was cradling her in his arms, though she didn’t fit very easily so she must have been a fairly big bird. A raptor of some kind?

She hooted weakly at him, and tried to get to her feet, but her talons were unwieldy, and she wasn’t used to them at all. Combined with trying to balance with two wings instead of arms she couldn’t manage it, and chirped in annoyance.

Link gently turned her over in his hold, moving one hand to rest under her feet while the other continued to guide her upwards. She found herself automatically adjusting her claws’ grip on Link’s fortunately-gauntleted arm, and chirped again, a bit stronger now.

“I’m so sorry Zelda, I thought— I thought the shadow crystal was in my tunic, it must have slipped out— this isn’t good,” Link said, sounding distinctly panicked, “how did it— I didn’t think it could affect you, the Twilight didn’t, how did—“

Zelda watched Link clutch at his bangs, and gave his arm a small peck. He stopped talking and looked at her, and she gave him a stern look, one that told him it’s not your fault.

He took a deep breath, and ran a slow hand over her feathers.

“Okay. Okay. You’re... a bird. I turned my fiancé... into a bird. The crown princess of Hyrule is currently a bird, and it’s entirely my fault.”

He stared at her in dismay, and Zelda hooted gently, leaning forward to press her head against his and give it a gentle rub. She usually wasn’t so touchy, but speaking wasn’t exactly an option at the moment, and she could see the guilt plaguing him.

It seemed to help, and Link almost unconsciously raised a hand up and ran it gently down her head.

“How do we fix this?” he murmured in dismay, and Zelda chirped, trying to sound reassuring. She had an idea actually— once she recovered a bit further from the initial transformation, she might be able to purge the curse all by herself— but she wasn’t sure how to tell that to Link.

“The Master Sword would be our best bet, but I don’t think I can sneak you out. We’d be gone for at least a day, and it’d probably start a panic,” he murmured, and Zelda cawed and shook her head.

Link looked over at her as she carefully shifted her weight. “No? Not the Master Sword?”

She chirped again and Link frowned.

“Well then do you know a different way to fix this?” he asked hopefully, and she hooted, fanning her tail out.

Oh, that felt strange.

She wondered if she could fly.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door of her study, and Link and Zelda both froze, staring at the door, than back at each other as someone stood right outside.

“Your highness? Are you occupied?”

Zelda let out a quiet chirp at Link, and he quickly stood, making sure she was secure on her arm as he nervously walked to the door, pointedly dodging all the papers strewn about. He grabbed the handle, and Zelda slowly breathed out, attempting to appear as a normal bird.

He pulled open the door and a messenger stood there, looking only mildly surprised at seeing Link instead of the princess.

“Sir Link? I was told the princess was in her study, is she not—“ the man cut himself off, staring at the bird on Link’s arm.

He blinked, and Zelda blinked back.

“Sir..?”

“Oh, this is for, ah, a matter concerning the princess,” Link quickly assured, and Zelda ruffled her feathers a bit. “But as you can see she’s, uh... busy. At the moment.”

The messenger still looked confused, but nodded anyways, and Zelda had to stifle her amusement at Link’s technical not-lies.

“That is quite an unusual bird, I’ve never seen one like it,” the man said as he eyed Zelda’s purple and brown feathers. “Such interesting plumage.”

“She’s very special,” Link said with a twinkle in his eye. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one more beautiful.”

Zelda casually stretched out a wing and batted him on the ear.

The messenger looked at her admiringly for a few more seconds, but then his smile slipped. “It looks a bit tired sir, is it alright?”

Link looked at Zelda, and she tried to look at him reassuringly. She certainly didn’t feel quite as horrid as she had initially, though the man was right. The transformation had been exhausting, and she was certainly feeling it.

“She will be,” Link murmured, and the messenger nodded, focusing his gaze back on Link.

“That’s good. Anyways, would you make sure her highness tends to these when she returns?” he asked as he held out a large pile of official-looking documents. “I’m told they need to be dealt with before tomorrow.”

Link fumbled to take them and not unseat Zelda, and she chirped in annoyance as she had to scoot up to her fiancé’s shoulder.

“I’ll make sure she gets them,” Link assured, then began to toe the door closed. “Thanks for the... paperwork.”

The man merely gave a respectful nod, then strode back down the hall from where he’d come from. Link shut the door and dropped the papers to Zelda’s desk with a sigh of relief, and looked over at her.

“Well. Good thing he didn’t particularly mind not seeing the princess,” Link said, and she scooted back to his arm. “Now whats your idea on how to fix this?”

She let out a chirp, and paused for a moment to stretch her wings.

She felt tired, but much stronger than she had a few minutes ago, and could probably try to expel the curse right now and likely wouldn’t pass out. But she wanted to try just one thing before transforming back. Who knew if she’d get the chance again?

She chirped slyly and leapt from Link’s arm into the air, surprising him into letting out a small noise of surprise as she flapped her wings.

And Zelda flew.

Her study was fairly large, and as Zelda spread her wings and glided around the room, she felt a rush of elation go through her. The wind in her face, the air slipping past her feathers, the feel of flying that seemed familiar and almost instinctual that sent her heart soaring...

She let out a happy cry, then her body reminded her she was awfully tired.

She glided the rest of the way to a bookshelf, and Link quickly ran over to where she was perched. “For Ordona’s sake Zelda, you could’ve warned me,” he grumbled, and she let out an innocent hoot. “I get wanting to try out your wings but sheesh.”

She flapped down to his arm again, and gave him a teasing peck before looking at him intently, preparing herself to fight back against the curse.

“Are you going to try something?” Link asked, picking up on her shift in attitude from teasing to serious.

Zelda chirped, and then closed her eyes.

She reached out for her light magic, then carefully pushed it towards the dark curse that was lurking deep in her heart. The moment they touched, the curse snapped back, baring it’s metaphorical teeth as her light magic quickly lunged to fight back.

She let out a pained cry, and Link immediately pulled her closer, watching her with a deeply worried expression.

“Don’t push yourself too hard,” he said anxiously, but all she could do was let out a strained whistle as she focused intensely on forcing the curse out. It clung to her form as if it had barbs, digging into her and refusing to be expelled. She pressed her beak tightly together and beamed as much light magic as she could all in one spot at the crystal.

She distantly felt Link catch her as her grip on his arm loosened, and she pushed as hard as she could against the curse.

And then something suddenly gave.

The blazing pain from before was back, but in reverse, restoring instead of twisting, and fixing instead of cursing, and she felt herself growing in size, doubling, tripling—

And then it was over, and Zelda collapsed into Link’s waiting arms.

“Zelda! You did it!” he said in relief as he lowered them to the ground, and she couldn’t help but let out an exhausted groan before resting her head on his arm.

That had been more magic then she’d used in a long time.

Link pulled her closer, and put a gentle hand on her face. “Are you okay? How do you feel?”

“A lot like I just spent ten minutes as a bird,” she said weakly, and Link held her closer, eyes running across her form like he was checking for damage.

“I’m... alright,” she murmured, and Link huffed, sounding completely unconvinced.

“Two transformations in the space of less than an hour doesn’t usually leave anyone feeling fine, Zelda,” he said gently, and swept a hand through her hair. “You expelled a curse I needed the Master Sword to purge from me the first time all by yourself. I’d be shocked if you weren’t exhausted.”

Zelda didn’t reply, a wave of fatigue rolling over her.

Link shifted his position a little so he could better cushion her, leaning his back against Zelda’s desk and pulling her up slightly. Zelda herself let out a tired sigh, leaning against his shoulder as she tried to push away the exhaustion.

“I don’t know how you manage to use that thing all the time,” she murmured sleepily. “Doesn’t it wear you out?”

He hummed a bit and leaned his head against hers, and gently took her hand in his.

“It did at first. I passed out the first few times,” he said distantly, and idly rubbed her hand with his thumb. “I’m truly impressed you didn’t, do you need anything?” he asked in a worried voice.

“No Link, I’m fine,” she said softly, and he ran a hand through her hair.

They were quiet for a few minutes then, Link holding her and Zelda trying not to fall asleep. She had things to attend to, she really didn’t have time to take a nap, even if she felt nearly as tired as she had after the possession and subsequent fight against Ganondorf.

“You’ve got a few lighter streaks in your hair now,” Link said after a bit, breaking the silence. “It looks nice.”

Zelda sighed. “People are going to think I’m going grey.”

Link chuckled, and pressed a kiss to her neck. “It’s not that noticeable, it’ll fade. Just tell them you did something a little different with your hair.”

Zelda went to reply but yawned, unable to stop herself.

Link’s face softened. “All right, I don’t care if you say you don’t need anything, you obviously need some rest. Whatever else you had planned for today’ll just have to wait.” When Zelda opened her mouth to protest he cut her off. “And I don’t care how important it is. You can barely move, you aren’t going to be able to do a good job.”

A wave of exhaustion went through her again and Zelda sighed, giving him a small nod. Link was right. She wouldn’t be able to get anything done in this state.

“May I have the honor of escorting you to bed?” Link lightly teased. “Then I’ll see what I can do about canceling your schedule.”

Zelda huffed in amusement as she nodded again, and Link started to shift her upwards. But the moment he did, her head started to spin, and every one of her limbs screamed in protest.

“Can we... not yet,” she groaned, and he immediately stopped and sat back down. Zelda breathed out a measured breath, feeling even more worn out.

“Yeah. We can take as long as you need,” Link breathed, and Zelda relaxed into his arms, closing her eyes.

Several minutes went by with her trying to get the pounding in her head to go down, and Link simply let her rest, waiting until she was ready. It took longer than she would’ve liked, but the headache finally faded enough for her to open her eyes again, and she gathered her strength, starting to sit up.

Link helped her, guiding her upwards as her legs shook and her hand in his trembled, and he gently supported her as they made their way across the room.

They’d only reached the door and Zelda was already exhausted, and Link paused, studying her face. He shifted his grip as if asking for permission, and Zelda leaned in, wordlessly giving it as he lifted her up into her arms.

“Thank you Link,” she murmured, and he pressed a soft kiss to her cheek as he started to walk down the hallway towards her bedroom.

“No problem Zelda. I’ll take care of things,” he whispered, and she rested her head on his shoulder as she started to drift. “Don’t worry about it. You can rest.”

She felt Link kiss her hair, and then she was asleep.

#legend of zelda #twilight princess #twilight princess fanfiction #zelink #tp zelink #writing from the floor #hurt/comfort #fluff #sorta #I didn’t specify what specific type of bird Zelda was besides raptor so draw your own conclusions #tp link can call hawks with that grass you know #so I thought it’d be funny if zelda happened to be a hawk/raptor/whatever #not that he uses the grass in this fic but ANYWAYS #I hope someone enjoys this

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djmarinizelablog · 3 months

Text

Tango (a TwiYor drabble)

“I want to make sure that we’re not stepping on each other’s toes in this mission,” she tells Loid.

The main hall is festive, bright lights from the chandelier adorning their presence amidst crimes against humanity. There is a live orchestra playing in front, guests making conversation over food and music. A nearby waiter is offering glasses of champagne, but Yor catches her husband’s disapproving face and knows she’s not having any alcohol tonight.

She’s here to finish off a certain Sascha Koslov, the main sponsor for this masquerade ball. “Unfortunately, no highly-protected client comes without a throng of bodyguards." She shrugs.

“Interesting,” Loid comments. He’s eyeing the quickest exits and possible escape routes in the interior while the orchestra music is slowly fading in their ears. “I have to intercept an exchange of photos regarding Koslov as well. The man who spoke to me was the first contact.”

The conductor raises his baton to begin a new song. People partner off as a sultry tango starts with a slow start before the instrumental gradually escalates to the accustomed rhythm.

At this point, the floor is crowded, civilians and criminals alike. Armed guards are patrolling the corridors for any suspicious activity. Three on the left, two more on the right. Yor surmises she’ll have to get past them if she even wants to face her target tonight. She’s merely biding her time, waiting for an opening amidst all this dancing. But at the rate things are going, her client is bound to slip away from her before she can even call it a night.

A civilian elderly married couple is showing off their performance, their movements more rigid than a cardboard box. “Aren’t you two joining?”

Yor has half an inkling in her mind to pull out her weapons to spare herself the trouble, but Loid is quicker when he tugs her by the arm. “Come on–” He leads her to the floor, away from the suspicious guards.

She flushes when her husband pulls her by the waist. “What are we doing?”

“Dancing.”

Dancing, yeah. She knows how to do this, sort of. It takes two to tango, right? Wait a minute, what? Yes, the wonderful Loid Forger has taught his wife the steps to this intricate and complex activity before (yes, activity, among other things). They might as well act like elites. He lets her rest her hand on his shoulder, while his other hand threads their fingers together. Yor bites her lip once they begin moving as one, with Loid’s broad frame a source of support for her clumsy movements. She’s concentrating real hard not to step on her husband’s toes, but there’s no avoiding their legs brushing against each other for the duration of this song. The challenge, really, is avoiding the gaze from his blue, blue eyes. Loid looks so devilishly handsome right now; it's not fair to the world, Yor thinks. The black tux does wonders to her brain, and his blonde hair slicked back is very agonizingly neat. Yor’s lips tremble as Loid guides her to keep up with the pacing of the music. The more he gets closer to her, the more intoxicated she gets. Yor doesn’t understand why. Sure, she’s danced with people before, mostly as a ploy to prevent them from committing an assassination in the middle of a ballroom, but it feels so different when it’s Loid.

“Yor,” her husband breaks her train of thought, his voice restrained from an invisible pain, “You might want to relax your grip. You’re crushing my knuckles.”

“Sorry!” She’s about to let go, but something in the way they’re locked in this intimate position makes her feel at ease. The suspicious onlookers are gone now. Their movements are becoming more fluid by the second–every twirl and turn, every gesture and angle perfectly fitting their bodies.

The violin part heightens once Yor hooks her leg onto his hip, and she notices that quick glance from him marveling at the supple thigh that dares to peek from the slit of her dress. Loid clears his throat to compose himself, but Yor’s definitely not imagining it when his hand slides underneath her calf while Yor is bracing him for support. They stay like that for a while.

“I found my other contact,” he whispers in her ear, “What about you?”

Her eyes scan the dance floor real quick. Sascha is nowhere in her periphery. When she shakes her head, Loid leads her to a different area. Without warning, he dips her real low, his hand supporting her spine. She gets an upside down view of her surroundings.

“What about now?” His blue eyes are questioning behind his mask.

She spots Sascha Kozlov standing by the balcony door in the corner. “Target locked.”

The conductor raises his hands and the music comes to a halt. There’s a round of applause that reverberates around them.

“I’ll see you at home.” Loid slowly lets go of her, but before he completely detaches, he takes the rose from his boutonniere and places it on her palm, closing it before gently pressing his lips against the rim of her knuckles. “Be careful.”

---------

hola i'm now in the sxf brain rot era pls hmu fam

#spy x family #loid forger #yor forger #sxf #agent twilight #thorn princess #twiyor #fanfic #fanfiction #twiyorprompt

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azulolivart · 8 months

Text

#zelda #zelda fanfiction #the legend of zelda #legend of zelda #zelda fanart #princess zelda #loz zelda #zelda twilight princess #twilight princess #fanart #fan art #digital art

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aerequets · 2 years

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absence makes the heart grow fonder

a/n: twiyor brainrot inspired solely by that one scene in b99 where jake says he knew he wanted to marry amy when she was blasphemed at the crossword puzzle’s mistake. yes, this whole thing is because of that one scene. no, i don’t know how many words this is because i typed it straight into the textbox like an animal instead of in a doc. sometimes there are things that are too long for me to draw so i write them and everyone has to deal with the consequences <3

ao3

...

“Say goodbye, Anya,” Yor said. She loosely held her daughter’s hand, gripping her purse with the other. The three of them were sequestered in their own little bubble amid the bustle of the train station as various conductors shouted and tracks rumbled. Anya gazed up at her Papa, suit pristine with the lapels pressed down, briefcase in hand. Business trip attire. “We’ll be seeing Loid again after two weeks, now.”

Despite what they (or, really, just Yor—Anya knew better) believed, a business trip wasn’t exactly what was calling Loid away for two long weeks. No, the whole trip was Loid’s own machination, and it was all due to one tiny moment from a few days ago.

The moment was so mundane, so uneventful, that it shouldn’t have been pivotal in any capacity. It shouldn’t have had any significant impact; shouldn’t have been anything besides filler for more important happenings. But it was. In fact, that moment precisely was what spurred Loid into his current situation.

The moment in question? On a common school night, Anya had been watching a pre-bedtime run of a Spy Wars episode—a rare allowance from Loid, as Anya had actually managed to complete a whole set of homework problems that evening. Loid was sat in his usual loveseat, idly flipping through the day’s paper, with Bond at his feet. Yor was in the kitchen, brewing him a cup of chamomile tea. To help with his tiredness, she’d insisted, because lately it seemed like he wasn’t sleeping well.

He’d glanced up from his paper. It was just for a few seconds. In those few seconds, he’d pet Bond’s head, shook his head at the dramatics playing on the screen, and then looked over to the kitchen.

It looked like Yor had accidentally poured too much tea into his mug. So she blew off some steam, gingerly sipped, and then wiped the pad of her thumb across the rim before heading over to him with a smile.

That was it. The moment was Yor bringing him some tea.

There was no reason for that action to be significant in any way whatsoever. For it to feel like the steam she blew off went straight to his chest, warming him up from the inside. Or for the slight smudge of color on the rim of his mug, there despite Yor’s efforts, to be such a point of interest that he deigned to sip from the other side like some sort of schoolboy. It hit him later that night after an hour of tossing and turning in bed (the chamomile, sadly, hadn’t worked).

He was...preoccupied. With Yor.

It would be foolish, not to mention downright hasty, to say he was in love with her. Or that he harbored any extra feelings for her whatsoever. No, that wasn’t what this was. He was still a spy, first and foremost. She was just on his mind more than usual. Upon further thinking, it made total sense for this to happen. Yor was the only adult he was spending so much time with in close quarters. He’d been in plenty of fake relationships before, but none where he was married and in such proximity to the other party. Therefore, with prolonged exposure, he had just been conditioned to see Yor more, which lead to thinking about her more. It was the same way children took time getting used to a new teacher, but once they grew accustomed, they came to expect that teacher’s presence.

Right. So he knew now—it was just a case of a little mind preoccupancy. Nothing to truly worry about.

But.

The image of the tea, clear and honey golden and warm, flitted through his mind like an annoying gnat.

Something still had to be done before his work started getting seriously affected. If it was close proximity over prolonged periods that was causing him to lose his head, he would get away for a week or two, take that time to clear his mind. It would be a reset, a spiritual cleanse. It would be a business trip. It would be perfect. As the saying went, out of sight, out of mind.

Handler had approved his request with her eyebrows disappearing into the brim of her hat. He had never volunteered to do more work before. But, he figured that a couple weeks focusing on some gritty missions without having to juggle Strix (and, consequentially, see Yor) at the same time would be doubly useful in the mental cleanup process. Thus, within a few short days, an appropriate cover story was forged within his psychiatry job and he’d been able to go home and report the news to his fake family.

“A business trip?” Yor’s eyes had widened. “Where to?”

“Municht. They’re paying for our train tickets there and back. I’ll be gone for two weeks.”

“Two weeks is quite some time,” Yor remarked.

Precisely, he thought. An appropriate amount of time for me to get back on track with the mission, instead of spending time thinking about you.

Anya had been uncharacteristically silent during the whole ordeal. Right as Loid was going to ask if she was alright, she piped up, “Papa’s running away?”

He froze, shocked. Her innocent question struck closer to home than he thought possible. But he wasn’t running away from anything—this was for the sake of the mission. “Not running away, Anya. It’s a trip for work. I’m going to come back.”

At that moment, Bond skittered through the living room, tail between his legs. A moth fluttered a ways behind. The dog had clearly been spooked by the little bug. Anya cast Bond a glance, and then looked back up at Loid, with an expression that seemed to say, That’s you. Loid, deciding he didn’t like that one bit, turned back to Yor.

“Anyways, I’m leaving the morning after tomorrow, so I’ll try prepping some meals for you two tomorrow—”

“Don’t worry about that!” Yor said hurriedly. “Just focus on your upcoming trip. And let me know if you need any help packing. I’m quite good with that. Anya and I will be fine on food.” She beamed, a determined sort of glint in her eyes. “Who knows? Maybe by the time you come back I’ll be able to make more dishes!”

Anya’s expression said otherwise, but Loid smiled at Yor regardless. She was always determined, never one to give up. It was one of the qualities he admired about her most—

He coughed and turned into his room to start packing, ignoring Anya’s unsettling snickers.

And so here they were, one day later, at the train station early in the morning to see Loid off. Everything was set and ready. For two weeks, he’d go back to the spy he was before Strix; before he had started getting soft, doing things spies wouldn’t do, thinking about things spies wouldn’t otherwise care about. Of course, he’d still call home every night—or at least try his best to do so—but he wasn’t worried about that. The physical distance between him and his fake family would be more than enough to set him straight.

“Goodbye, Papa,” Anya said solemnly. She was dressed in her school attire, and Yor was dressed in her work clothes. They’d be going straight to their respective workplaces after seeing Loid off. Anya had been snickering the other night, but it seemed like Loid’s departure was finally dawning on her at the train station. Still, she bravely sniffled. “You have to call every night, okay?”

Loid knelt down and opened his arms; a second later Anya barreled into him, arms wrapped around his neck.

He couldn’t believe he was thinking this, but... he was going to miss her. As much of a handful as she was, Anya always made the days lively, even if he was exhausted afterwards. He could already feel a hollowness in his chest, something he hadn’t felt since his early days as a spy. It had been a long time since he’d felt this attached to anyone at all.

All the more reason for this trip.

“Berlint to Municht! Departing in 5 minutes!” A conductor shouted. Loid patted Anya’s back a few more times before straightening up. Yor had been watching them, and now faced him with a wistful smile on her face.

“I’ll see if I can bring back some souvenirs,” Loid said. “Any requests?”

“Surprise me,” she replied, smile widening. “Although I have heard about Municht’s specialty jam doughnuts.”

“Jam doughnuts?” Anya perked up in a flash. Her parents laughed.

“Don’t cause any trouble at home. If you’re a good girl, I’ll bring some back,” Loid promised. “I should get going, though. The train is about to leave.”

“Right.” Anya hugged her father’s legs again as he gathered his things and stepped up onto the train. He turned back around, hand up to wave, when Yor did something unexpected. Or maybe he should have expected it from the start—but Yor had a penchant for catching him off guard. She placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him down, rising up on her tiptoes, to peck his cheek. It was over before he could even blink.

Her face was lobster red. “I-it would look weird for a married couple to not... well, if you just left and I didn’t...” She was fidgeting with her purse strap. “Um. Anyways. Enjoy your trip!” With that, she snatched up one wide-eyed Anya and booked it across the station, leaving a gust of wind in her wake that startled several passerby.

“Sir? Please get seated, the train is about to leave soon,” a crew member said. Loid jolted, realizing he’d been standing at the doorway, and cleared his throat.

“Right, of course. Thank you.” He made his way over to his cabin and sat down, pulling out a newspaper to blankly stare at.

Yor was right, of course. Normal married couples showed affection. Normal married couples saw each other off when one of them had to leave. Normal married couples kissed each other, on the cheek and otherwise. What she did was good for their cover and perfectly normal.

He was so normal about this.

...

A week into his ‘business trip’, he was unable to call home at his usual time. He’d been calling around dinnertime for the past days, but today he was hit with a late night mission that didn’t wrap up until midnight. By the time he made it back to the room he was staying in, it was almost 1. He didn’t expect Yor to pick up when he dialed the phone.

But, ever the one to surprise him, she did.

“Hello?”

Loid blinked. “You’re awake,” was all he managed to say after a few seconds. He immediately facepalmed. Of course she’s awake, idiot. How else would she have picked up?

He heard a breathy exhale over the receiver, something that might have been a hushed laugh. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Sorry, I’m calling so late. The conference today ran way overtime and then the cab got stuck in traffic on the way back...”

“Don’t worry about it,” Yor assured him. “Anya might want to say hi to you tomorrow morning, though.”

“How is she?”

“She’s doing well.” She paused and shuffling sounds came over to his end. He imagined her readjusting the phone, maybe bringing a chair over to sit down in. “I thought she would be more upset about missing tonight’s call, but she was actually very understanding about it. Said something about how ‘bad guys don’t wait’. She certainly has an active imagination.”

Loid nervously chuckled. Anya’s active imagination felt like a wild card concerning his secret occupation. “Is that so?” He leaned his head back against the wall. He was still in the clothing he’d worn to infiltrate the warehouse. His shirt was ripped in places and his pants were dirty. The first thing he’d done upon returning hadn’t been to change, or take a hot shower, but to call home. (Because he didn’t want to worry them, or for them to get suspicious.) “It’s good that she’s faring well without me.”

“That’s not to say she doesn’t miss you,” Yor added quickly. “She’s always talking about things she wants to show you once you get back. And there are those jam doughnuts that she hasn’t forgotten about.” They shared a laugh.

A yawn slipped out of him before he could stop it. Yor gasped. “Oh no, I’m keeping you up! You must be exhausted.”

He was tired from the mission. But he hadn’t gotten to properly talk to Yor in a week, and found himself reluctant to hang up. Most of their dinnertime calls were taken up by Anya chattering about whatever, while he listened and reminded her to finish all her work and not neglect studying. He and Yor would exchange a few words before hanging up for the night.

And honestly? His business trip was working. The relentless missions made it impossible for him to think about anything other than the task at hand. He almost exclusively used the room he’d rented for sleeping and sleeping only. Other than their nightly calls, he didn’t have time to think about his fake family, to get tripped up in the thin line between Loid and Twilight. So talking to Yor for a bit longer wouldn’t do anything.

After debating all this, he said, “It’s fine. I can talk longer.”

They ended up talking for an hour and a half before saying goodbye. In a sleepy haze, Loid never noticed the smile on his face as he washed up and went to bed.

...

The first word out of Anya’s mouth when she saw Loid get off the train was a shriek of “PAPA!” coupled with her sprinting and launching herself at him with full force. Once Loid caught her and managed to situate her in his arms amongst various bags, miraculously not dropping anything, the next thing she said was “Jam doughnut?”

Loid huffed, unable to fight down a smile. Only because it had been two weeks since he’d been face-to-face with her shenanigans. “You almost made me drop those doughnuts, you know,” he said, nodding at one of the bags. Before Anya could grab at them, he asked, “Where’s Yor?”

Anya vaguely gestured to the crowded platform, more interested in trying (and failing) to wrestle the bag out of Loid’s grip. “Mama is coming. I ran ahead of her and got here fast, ‘cus I can get around people easier,” she said matter-of-factly.

“You shouldn’t run off like that,” Loid scolded. “She’s probably worried right now looking for you—”

As if on cue, Yor emerged from behind a group of people, looking frazzled. “Anya! Where did you run off to? Anya! An—” Then she spotted them. The worried creases in her face all but melted away as a huge grin overtook her face. Something twinged in his chest. “Loid!”

She approached them and pinned a halfhearted frown on Anya. “You shouldn’t run off like that,” she said, parroting Loid’s words from before. It was clear that Yor was too distracted to give her a proper scolding, though, something Anya took advantage of by quickly changing the subject.

“Papa, did you get gifts?! Becky says that her Papa gets her presents when he goes overboard!”

“Abroad,” Loid corrected. "And that depends on whether you were doing your homework like I told you to." She doesn't need to know about the Bondman action figure yet. Surprisingly, instead of groaning or grumbling, Anya brightened up like a sunrise.

The train station wasn’t far from home, so the three of them opted to walk back after Yor insisted on carrying Loid’s things for him (once they were in her grip, he had no choice but to let her). All the while, Anya chattered about how she’d “held down the fort” and “made good even with the bad guys”, AKA Damian. Loid indulged in her imaginative story, allowing his shoulders to loosen a little, to ease in the waning sunlight and their relaxing walk.

Only because it had been two weeks since he’d been able to relax a little. His business trip had still served its intended purpose, even if he felt like a sponge soaking in the company of his fake wife and fake child. That was just a given after seeing them for the first time in weeks.

When they got to the apartment, Bond greeted Loid by nearly tackling him and nuzzling into his legs. And even though Loid told Bond to stop, it came out halfhearted. Not that the hound listened anyways. They sat down and finally ate the famous jam doughnuts which, luckily, lived up to the hype. The sweets were light and pillowy, and Anya made no shortage of exclamations while scarfing them down and getting jam all over her face. Loid watched Yor wipe Anya’s face with a napkin, an indescribable feeling filling up in his chest.

No. Not indescribable. But he was afraid to name it. If he did, it would mean that the two whole weeks away would have been in vain.

“Presents! Presents! Presents!” Anya chanted after their snack, hopping around. The sugar high was clearly kicking in. “I know you got ‘em!”

Loid considered checking her homework first, but relented with a roll of his eyes and reached into one of his bags which Yor had set on the ground. He pulled out a box and handed it to Anya.

“Bondman!” She squealed. Loid blinked. How on Earth could she know that before opening the box? Anya coughed and said, “I think. I think you got me Bondman because he’s my favoritest.” She opened the box and squealed again, jumping up and down. “YESSS! I WAS RIGHT!” Loid was unable to hold back a chuckle as he watched. Yor, too, laughed as she told Anya to watch her feet.

“I got you something, too,” Loid said, drawing a startled gasp from Yor.

“You didn’t have to—!”

“I wanted to,” Loid interrupted. He brought out another box, this one smaller, and handed it to Yor. “Tell me what you think.”

Mouth slightly ajar, Yor slowly slid the cover of the box off to reveal a hairpin. A small, ruby rose was set in delicate golden leaves at the end of a sharp wire.

She stared. And stared. The longer she went without saying anything, the more Loid’s mind raced. Did I get the wrong thing? But I thought it would go with her aesthetic well! She likes roses and the color red. And a hairpin is a small, practical item that wouldn’t get in her way like a necklace or bracelet. But what if she has a traumatic childhood experience involving hairpins?! You should have researched more, Twilight! If you’ve angered her then—

But then she exhaled shakily, bringing all his thoughts to a screeching halt. One hand pressed to her mouth while the other carefully lifted the pin. Then, she slipped her headband off, hair tumbling down around her shoulders, and slid the pin into place.

“Thank you,” she said softly, and then louder, “Thank you. This is... this is the best gift anyone has ever gotten me.” She smiled and a thousand roses bloomed. “I love it.”

Oh.

Loid could feel his efforts of the last two weeks beginning to unravel like a spool of thread at the sight of her. He’d wrapped the thread so tightly that it was straightening out twice as fast, spinning uncontrollably in his hands, a whiplash he couldn’t dodge.

He’d played the fool’s game. Yes, there was the saying out of sight, out of mind. But he’d forgotten about one other saying, apparently much more applicable: absence makes the heart grow fonder.

There was no singular moment which had thrown him into a predicament. No magic steam blown from a cup, no special tea which made him think non-spy things, do non-spy actions. Rather, he was knee-deep in this situation and only realized it when it was already too late. Saying goodbye at the train station. Nightly calls. Sharing sweets and bringing gifts and walking in warm patches of sunlight and watching them smile. Every single moment, he was sinking deeper, and no amount of distance he put between himself and his fake family could help redefine the long-blurred line between Loid and Twilight.

He wasn’t just preoccupied. He was well and truly done for.

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