Prompt list eh? 👀 👀👀How bout some Thalyssra/Sylv with either the "I love you, but stop talking" or the marshmallow one above it
I HOPE YOU ARE PREPARED COS THIS FOOL DID BOTH
Here, have some Thalvanas, and thank you so much for your prompt @addicted-to-procrastination !! <3
Thalyssra clatters through the door, dumps her keys in the bowl, throws her bag on the counter as usual and narrowly misses a neatly-iced cake.
“I love you, but stop talking.”
[EDIT: taken references to police out of the fic. Author does not and will never support police brutality, especially racially motivated, in any of its forms. We're here for soft happy lesbians and that's it thank you.]
“Fuck!” Rushing to steady it on its plastic stand, Thalyssra peers down at the delicate piping on the top. “I’m sorry? Sylvanas! Why is there an apology cake on the counter? I told you I didn’t care about the Thalassian soup incident, it was a terrible hob anyway and the dry cleaners did a great job on my… Sylv? Where are you?”
No answer.
“SYLVANAS WINDRUNNER! I’m being very serious now!”
Her only answer is the gentle ticking of her grandmother’s leyline clock in the hallway.
Sylvanas’s Doc Martens are still on the shoe rack. A sleepy bark betrays Dori as dozing in his favourite sunny spot in the living room. An elderly, tatty Eastern Kingdoms PI lanyard is dumped beside the blazer Thalyssra draped over her fiancée’s shoulders this morning.
Why would she leave when everything is going so well-
Why would she leave her beloved dog, why would she leave a cake of all things and not a note, Sylvanas loves being passive-aggressive with notes, come on Thalyssra get a grip-
Is it because we argued about the wedding? About how long into the evening she works? Is she embarrassed that I earn more than her, has she- has she found someone else to go hunting in Eversong with and drink those hideous Thalassian herb cocktails with? Is it Jaina? Someone else as smart and determined as Sylvanas, someone else who talks about everything and nothing with her, like I do, until she’s four glasses of mana-wine down and she’s too tipsy to do anything other than fall on top of them and snuggle into them like she snuggles into me-
“Thal?”
Thalyssra looks up to a smirking Sylvanas, hair in disarray, teeth glinting in the evening sun.
Slumps in relief until Sylvanas steps closer, and those sunbeams catch on the right eye ringed with bruising and the neatly-stitched laceration running through her lower lash line-
“We got him. We got Menethil, Thalyssra, Lor’themar found his hard drive and a couple of phones dumped in the fireplace but the idiot forgot he’d got it backed up to his cloud and you know how smart Jaina is, she had his login details within seconds, Belore I nearly kissed her when she showed us all the files she’d found and we got him!” Thalyssra’s tugged forwards and into a frantic kiss but Sylvanas has dodged away before she can deepen it, grabbing a bulging folder off the dining table and holding it aloft like a trophy. “There’s proof of his links to Kel’thuzad, and Garrosh Hellscream, and it’s not just drugs he’s been distributing- though we found enough evidence afterwards up in his attic, Belore the smell alone, I might be a bit high- but Jaina found evidence that he’d been involved in trafficking people into Gilneas and now I have to talk to fucking Greymane of all the private investigators, and of course Daddy Menethil has been supplying him with phony bank accounts and funnelling his cut back through the Bank of Lordaeron and with him implicated too, we could be even closer to tracking Kel’thuzad’s movements through the Eastern Kingd-”
She’s cut off by Thalyssra’s lips on hers.
Sylvanas tastes sweet, like Thalassian tea, and Thalyssra wraps her arms around her and deepens the kiss. Hears a little murmur of appreciation as she presses in with her tongue. She smells of tulip perfume, and antiseptic, and the soft earthy warmth that has Thalyssra stealing her pillow on mornings when Sylvanas has to be in early, just for a few more breaths of her.
She breaks the kiss to press their foreheads together, her one hand stroking down the nape of Sylvanas’s neck. Her heart is still pounding in her throat. “What is the cake for?” she murmurs.
“The- Lor’themar said to get one. Thought that by the time I told you I ran after Menethil with no backup, you’d be too full of sugar to tear into me for it-”
“You did what?”
There’s a pause.
“Shit,” Sylvanas mumbles. “I’m definitely a bit high.”
Pushing her back, Thalyssra glares down at her. “Why would you do something so fucking stupid? And this is the result, no doubt.” She reaches up to caress Sylvanas’s bruised cheekbone with the pad of her thumb; Sylvanas flinches, unable to meet Thalyssra’s eyes. “Sylv, you’re smarter than that. You knew he was violent.”
“Yes.” Finally, those hard eyes meet hers. “And the last time we went after him, he hurt Jaina. Nobody hurts my friend and walks away, Thalyssra. Nobody. I care nothing of how rich or entitled he is. Besides.” She bares her fangs in a smug grin, and lifts her bruised knuckles up. “I can be violent too.”
“I know.” Thalyssra bends closer, stroking Sylvanas’s hair back to press a feather-light kiss to her eyebrow. Can’t help closing her eyes to breathe in that familiar scent. I thought I’d really lost you. “But I know you’re reckless when you’re angry. And from the looks of it… he knew that, too.”
Sylvanas opens her mouth. Closes it. Looks away.
Squeezing her arm, Thalyssra lets her go and walks round into the kitchen. “Go and sit on the sofa. I’ll bring you some ice for your eye. Put one of your awful Thalassian comedies on the TV and stay.”
With me, forever and ever, she wants to say and doesn’t.
But when she turns back round from the medical cabinet, Sylvanas is only a few steps behind her, now flanked by a lynx-hound intent on bathing her hands in kisses. “It was my hunch,” she announces, bending to scritch Dori behind the ears as he groans in delight. “I told Lor’themar he’d go to ground, and we knew that the property was a holiday home of sorts but it was me who connected it to Hellscream and do you know how I did that? By putting his friend Nazgrim under surveillance for two weeks and having Anya report directly to me every-”
Thalyssra places a finger over that soft, full mouth. “I love you,” she murmurs against the shell of Sylvanas’s ear, and delights in the shiver that runs up and down her body. “But stop talking.” Hears Sylvanas draw in a sharp breath only for Thalyssra to swoop in and steal it with another kiss. “You don’t need to prove to me how clever you are. I’m not your minn’da. To the sofa with you.” And she gently takes hold of Sylvanas’s shoulders and guides her towards the sofa.
“Fine,” Sylvanas mutters, and flops inelegantly onto the heaped cushions. “But I hope back to back episodes of Sunsail and Sex aren’t too mind-numbing for- ooftBelorehoundyouareheavy!”
“Good boy, Dori!” Thalyssra sniggers as a pillow bounces off her side. “Bad girl, Sylvanas. Naughty. Naughty girl.”
“Keep talking to me like that and I might find I’m no longer in the mood to show you just how naughty I can be.”
“Nightwell save us from such a fate, Sylvanas.”
The TV flashes into life, and Sylvanas laughs at Dori’s playful attempts to steal the remote control from her fingers. “Thal?”
“Yes, dalah?”
“Can you bring the cookies with you? I’ve got the munchies.”
-0-0-
Extra prompt:
“You’re basically a marshmallow. Perfect for cuddling.”
They lead the first dance.
Thalyssra walks with her new wife to the dance floor and pulls her into her arms as the first few notes play. Sylvanas’s silken curls brush the back of her palm, in time with the rhythm they catch and start to sway to; her dress- Thalassian red, in spite of Lireesa’s protests- rustles like blades of grass against her legs. Her intricately embroidered sleeves prickle Thalyssra’s own unadorned arms.
Thalyssra revels in the sight of her, so majestic and beautiful, and delights in the splay of her fingers against the warm, soft skin of Sylvanas’s exposed back.
It is a simple Thalassian waltz. Lirath, perched on the stage beside the microphone, plays with tears in his eyes.
“Was it what you thought it would be?” Sylvanas murmurs. Her voice is low. Her eyes never leave Thalyssra’s. “The ceremony.”
“More or less, though you were far more gorgeous than I dared hope.” But the smile she was hoping for doesn’t come. “Was it what you thought?”
Sylvanas does look away then. Her fingers toy with the zip of Thalyssra’s gown.
“Later, you impatient wretch. Come on. Out with it.” Thalyssra reaches up to tickle her fingertips along that strong jawline. “Was it my gown? I know you’re none too fond of dusk purple. Or did one of my cousins make some stupid comment-”
“I thought I was supposed to feel some rush of emotion,” Sylvanas blurts out. Her muscles stiffen beneath Thalyssra’s hands. “Some overwhelming- love, or possessiveness, or pride, or- and instead I felt… relieved. That it would soon be over, and we could slip out of the spotlight. That I could just have you to myself.”
“You weren’t supposed to feel anything.” Thalyssra bends to press a kiss to her forehead. There are other couples venturing onto the floor now, Alleria with her girlfriend Alexstrasza, Ly’leth and Margaux swaying off-beat with their gazes fixed on one another. “There is no one way to marry me. As for some great flurry of emotion- I need no fancy declaration to know you love me.”
“Do you not?”
Thalyssra turns them, to shield Sylvanas’s face from the crowd. She won’t let them see her vulnerable. No-one but Thalyssra may see Sylvanas doubting herself. “You tell me you love me when you bring me coffee in the morning before you go to work. When you come racing home through the rush hour traffic because you promised to make dinner tonight. When you hide tickets to Suramar theatre plays in my nightstand and when you worship my every inch in bed. I don’t need you to break down and profess your undying devotion, you know.” She strokes her fingers down Sylvanas’s collarbone and presses them to the crimson fabric over her heart. “I know it’s there. And here.”
And she reaches down to squeeze Sylvanas’s butt.
“Stop molesting my poor innocent sister!” Alleria yells from within Alexstrasza’s arms. Sylvanas snorts with laughter, arching an elegant brow. “She’s so sweet and pure!”
Lirath cackles into his pipes. “Is she Helheim!” he calls down. “About as innocent as you are!”
Laughter rings out across the room, but it’s Sylvanas’s little chuckle that sounds the sweetest in Thalyssra’s ears, as her new wife rests her head on Thalyssra’s shoulder and closes her eyes.
The last notes of the waltz fade away. Lirath bows quickly, blowing Rommath a kiss from across the room as he hops down amidst the scattered applause and scoots off towards the buffet.
“You know, I didn’t feel that rush either, as we stood at the altar,” Thalyssra murmurs as Lirath’s album starts to play over the speakers. “That rush you speak of. But you know when I did? I felt it two days ago, when I cut myself on the vegetable peeler and you had a band-aid on it before I had even finished whinging.” She reaches up to stroke Sylvanas’s cheekbone with the still-tender tip of her index finger. “I looked at you, bent over my hand with your whole face scrunched up in concentration, dabbing that antiseptic as though it were a matter of life and death. And I thought, by the Nightwell, I’m marrying this woman.”
Sylvanas doesn’t move, but Thalyssra can feel her lips curl into a smile against the tender skin of her neck.
They stay there, arms round one another, watching in silence as Belore creeps below the horizon and bathes the sky in swathes of pink and red.
“I would go and get some food from the buffet,” Thalyssra mumbles into Sylvanas’s hair, absent-mindedly fiddling with the hook fastening at the nape of her new wife’s neck. Her new wife. “But I can’t seem to entertain the thought of letting go of you.”
“Mmn, so don’t.” Sylvanas’s eyes catch the red of the sunset when they open and look up into hers. “There will be food in Eversong.”
“You’d better not go feral hunter on me. Not out of the bedroom, anyway.”
“It’s a tent. There is only bedroom.”
“My point still stands. Come now, my marshmallow. You haven’t eaten eith-”
“What,” Sylvanas growls, shoving half-heartedly at Thalyssra’s chest, “did you just call me?”
“I worry you might grow tired of cherry pie. And you are basically a marshmallow.” Thalyssra meets Sylvanas’s mock outrage with a soft, indulgent smile. “Perfect for cuddling.” And she kisses the faux scowl off her new wife’s mouth.
My new wife.
“We’re not cuddling,” Sylvanas mutters against her mouth the moment they break the kiss. “This is an embrace. It is not a cuddle.”
“Whatever you say. My marshmallow.”
“O Belore.” Sylvanas sighs, long and melodramatic, and Thalyssra swallows back the laughter building in her chest. “Would that I had brought the divorce papers with me today.”
Chuckling, Thalyssra tips Sylvanas’s head up, and kisses her again.
