#firreplies

[yourlocaltreesimp]

hello! I read your yanlinks and wanted to know if can be possible some hc of the links (+deity and dark link) with darling taking mask as their child? like I always wanted to hug and punch the goddess for what the poor kid suffer, imagine that traumatized kid just being take of that doomed world and just the reader just ‘this my child now, he will have the childhood all of you deserve but had’ so they better accept it. sorry :( if you can’t is okay

AHH OMG I LOVE THIS

ofc i can do this

thank you for sending this in-

so i didn’t do headcannons (so sorry) but I’ll definitely write more with mask ((i had too much fun)) and could make hcs!!

Also, funfact, my hotel had to evacuate while i was writing this

TW: Yandere content

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

There are few times you were separated from the chain anymore. As the trip progressed and their mental states began to spiral, you began to notice more and more how much they’d begun to infringe on your time. There was always one of them there, vying, hoping, tripping over themselves if they could just be of use to you. It was because of that you couldn’t leave. There were always eyes on you and a hand lingering somewhere on your skin.

A loving quirk, you may call it.

And you’d be willing to dismiss it if it were simply a matter of chance— there are plenty of them and one of you, it seems perfectly reasonable there’d be someone near you at all times… right?

The time you’d returned from bathing without telling them only to find Wind backed into a tree explaining he didn’t mean to lose sight of you says that thought is wrong. Time hardly ever yelled. Never at you and never again in your presence, but you’re reminded thinking back to that just how dangerous these boys are beneath their sweet smiles and reverent gaze.

And you may think that they simply wish to protect you. The woods are dangerous, afterall. The woods crawl with creatures that intend to bite. To take you and harm you.

Wind spent the rest of that night crying and huddled into you. He had not much more than a sliced lip, but he certainly was shaken. The others didn’t do much to hide their glares, after all they were justified.

Weren’t they?

They just wanted to keep you safe.

It’s exactly those prior events that made this specific circumstance so… unsettling.

You were alone.

The woods were quiet.

There were no monsters.

Your legs were shaky and weak beneath you as your hands pulled you up. The bark on the tree you’d used for support was wet and the earth smelled of fresh rain. The back of your clothes stuck to your skin, the cold seeping in.

Slowly, the world began to move at a pace that made sense. You didn’t realise until a gust of wind had shook the gnarled trees that the air was stagnant and dead.

Nor did you realise the sound of a hiccuping child, crying over the buzz of cicadas.

Internally, you struggled. This is the exact kind of fae trap you’d expect waking up in Hylia knows where, it’d be dumb to go blindly walking into that.

But the worst that could happen is you move from one cage to another, so your get began to tread across the muddy ground.

You certainly weren’t expecting what you got.

A boy. A link. Curled up at the base of a tree, crying. The sight was rather painful to bear, his fragile shoulders shuddering as he tried to choke everything back. his face his scrunched up, and he bares a snarl that is missing a few teeth when you kneel to help.

“Hello Li…” You trail off, quite unsure how he’d react to seeing you know his name when he was already quite unhappy at being interrupted.

“Hello, little one” You settle on that, pulling the sleeve of your shirt up and over your thumb to wipe the tears and snot off his face. He’s backed into the tree as far as his legs can manage to push him. You pause to gather exactly who you’re looking at, and if there’s anything to guess by the bright green tunic, ocarina and collection of masks, this is the young time you’d originally thought him to be.

“Are you alright? What happened” You try your hardest to soothe him, but it’s clear the distrust has already been so deeply woven within him. He just shakes his head and shoves you away.

So, without much else to do, you set up camp.

You talk aimlessly as you work, noticing that despite his stubborn silence, the young Link (Mask, as you decide to call him) was awfully perceptive. You hope, somewhere in his little mind, he can gather through your subpar attempts at starting a fire and your light-hearted ramblings that you’re not a threat. That the food you made was not poison and you were someone he could rely on.

You saw what the world had done to those boys.

Maybe you could help this one meet with a better fate.

It’s hours into the night before he’s cheered up. He chews happily on some chicken skewers you made, the world easing its grip on him. He recounts his own tales about Epona and Navi, ones Time wouldn’t usually be vulnerable enough to share. And even then he never spoke with such the same spark. This little boy in front of you, beaten down as he was, had so much life in him.

You would not let anyone take it from him.

Not Hylia, not the people, not whatever evil incarnate found him, not even the world.

He does nod off in time. It’s far later than you’d expect his little body to endure, but he falls asleep slumped against you. It seems with just the notion of safety, he gave out.

He’s just hardly light enough to carry, so you were able to unpack his bedroll and drape whatever fabric you could find to make a blanket.

The world goes sickeningly still again. The wind stopped and it felt as though the forest died. A voice, too loud and too encompassing cuts through the dead air. It’s multiplied and shifting, as though it can’t tell how it wishes to portray itself. It’s thousands of people.

But also just one.

“Hello, Little one” It mimicked your tone in every manner from soothing to mocking. You reach slowly to your side to grab your dagger.

“You needn’t be frightened. I have no need in harming you” The voice comes from in front of you instead of behind you. Your breath is stagnant in your lungs the moment you think you’re caught— that Time had found you.

No. He had not.

But the deity had.

He stands, impossibly tall and almost incomprehensibly grand. He has no pupils in the vast whiteness of his eyes, but you know he’s looking at you. You know because something in you freezes up. He sets down his sword with a thump, the intertwined metal heavy and ebbing a sense of power equal to the man who wields it. You purse your lips to start saying— something, but he holds up a single hand in dismissal.

“I know who you are. I know why you’re here” He kneels across from you, the fire licking each contour of his bold features. He’s comparable to many of the great roman or grecian statues, striking and yet too perfect to be human. The warm light casts his skin in a warm highlight to almost convince you that his body, his vessel holds warmth, but it’s the cold moonlight and the shadows that creep around his edges that remind you who it is you’re speaking with.

“You truly must forgive my… abrupt course of action. The others left me without much time.” He quiets his voice, eventually managing to mimic something close enough to human. It’s uncanny, but ignorable.

“So… you know about-“ You choke on the thought, “the others?” It is quite odd that despite this being some split into the past he knows not just of you, but he knows you— your situation.

“The hero never truly ridded of me, you know.” His lips curl halfway between a snarl and a smile, “I was always there. Watching. Observing. Learning.” As he speaks, his words feel as if they curl around you, cinching in.

“If I hadn’t taken you when I did, it might’ve been fair to say you would’ve been stuck.” Each syllable is sharp. Concise.

“What do you-“

“I’m sorry if you’re not feeling well. Time travel truly isn’t something the mortal body is accustomed to. Especially into such an obscure timeline. But I had to be sure I kept you safe. Hidden.”

One cage for another.

“There are no monsters in these woods anymore, my flower. Don’t worry. I ensured it” He whispers, that menacing grin branding into your mind.

But there was a monster in these woods.

Because not always are they agents of evil and incapable of causing anything but harm.

Sometimes they bare their teeth in grins. They take you and harm you. They hide their worst intentions behind sweetened tones and good intentions while they hold a knife to another.

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Heyo! Can I request how the boys would react to the reader/their crush complimenting them?

- 🥣 anon

Yes you may, and welcome to the Anon list officially, officially!

PT 1: Time, Twilight, Wild

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Chain getting complimented by their crush!

Time

Stone faced on the outside- buts that’s because he’s a windows error page

But when he resets it’s literally just him melting with adoration.

He’s thinking about that for the next week, whenever you’re next to him, whenever his mind gets to quiet, whenever he’s close to falling asleep.

“Hey Time?” Your curious voice was hushed as most other members of the chain were sleeping, and judging from your own sleepy voice, you weren’t too far.

“Yes?” He shifted over slightly to get a better look at you, sprawled out over your bedroll and propped up by an arm. The fire’s glow did you well, painting your in warmth and gold.

“That’s it- I just wanted to see your face. G’night” And just like that, you were peacefully asleep. He, however, could do anything but. He was unaware of courting in your universe, unaware of what that ment for him and his yearning for which he thought was one-sided. But he was glad the others couldn’t see the smile he let crack his face, hand the way he carefully tucked you in.

Twilight

He skips the mental reset and goes straight to panicking.

Look, he was down bad before- he’s worse now.

Twilight couldn’t find anywhere else to rest his eyes except on you as you sat, a colony of stray ordon cats gathered around you. You tried your hardest to give them all equal attention, much as you did the group, but one crawled it’s way into your lap, garnering your attention. He didn’t know he could be jealous of a cat.

“I love being here.” His head soared to hear that you to loved his home, its charm outweighing any possible doubts you had in your mint

“Glad to hear that” He so badly wanted to say more as the silence lingered, but your content smile persuaded him into simply letting it be.

“I wanna live somewhere like here someday. Hell- I even might stay here if you aren’t sick of me by the end of all this” You looked up and his heart caught, he managed a shy smile as he wringed his hands out nervously. As if he could ever be sick of you- the mere thought was atrocious. “I wouldn’t mind staying here for you” If his cheeks weren’t red before, he could guarantee they were now.

Wild

There’s a few things you compliment him on that he’s suave af about. His scar, however is not one of them.

It makes him feel lesser. Reminds him of his shortcomings

Compliment that and this man is sold. Not only are you interested in him, but you’re interested in all of him. Not just the champion that he was dubbed

It was the forth or fifth time he caught you staring, your eyes lingering on his face. Now that’s not so say he didn’t like your attention, no, but he was starting to wonder.

“Why do you keep staring at me”

“I’m not staring at you” Your unassuming response gets an amused huff out of him “I’m admiring” The way you stressed the word made adrenaline deep into his blood in a way he was familiarly unfamiliar with- something only you could do to him.

“What is there to admire?” He looked down at himself, he was in his usual ensemble of clothing, his hair done the same way as usual, so what was it that caught you?

“Your scar” Oh? Oh. His mind was quiet, you were quiet. Of course the most radiant thing to walk the earth finally noticed his normality. Finally noticed his insufficiency. Finally noticed he’s a fa- “I like it” What? “It’s so… you. I hadn’t realised how well it fits your face. I wish whatever happened didn’t happen, yeah…” Your voice trailed off in an enraptured trial. Enough to leave his mind drawing blanks “But I think I like you more this way” You smiled, satisfied with your words and went back to what you were supposed to be doing while he could do anything but. The most precious person he’s met not only appreciates his most ugly and unworthy parts, but loves him more because of them… That was a concept he’d need to ponder.

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Can I please make it known that I absolutely adore the fae traits you give to Hyrule? That being said, do you have any darker headcanons for Fae!Hyrule (if you don't mind me asking)?

Of course i don’t mind you asking!

tw: mentions of blood and injury, general yandere stuff

Fae Rulie knew upon meeting you his motives.

The others glared and leered from their busying spots around camp, distrustful of your unexpected addition to their travels. Battered and bleeding, you were dropped into his arms. You were handed directly to him, and not for a moment did he consider handing you over when he was asked.

A cold glare met whoever’s hand dared graze your skin, some poor excuse of them tampering with his magic falling from his lips.

It was kind, for his kind.

It was mercy.

Under normal circumstances for his people they would’ve been blinded; such a disrespect placed upon your vision was not tolerated.

Cool magic flowed easily from the pads of his scarred fingers and into the living warmth of your skin. Your wounds had been long healed, your body no longer absorbing his magic. He felt as it circulated through your body, mixing and melding with your blood.

He loved your blood. It was a beautiful and lush shade of red. He’d pray to one day have the taste of it on his lips, memorising and savouring the very thing that keeps you

alive. But make no mistake, he would not let another person so much as spill even a drop of your blood. He’d sooner resurrect every evil of Hyrule before letting harm befall you.

He snapped out of his lovesick stupor, reverent hands cupping your cheeks as he rested your head in his lap. You’d be his. It wasn’t an order or a claim or a suggestion. It was a fact.

It would be.

Whether your mortal flesh desired it or not.

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Reader: "So eventually I'm like- alright"

Reader: "Being nice doesn't work, being nice gets me stalkers" *side eyes the chain*

Reader: "Being mean gets me crazy men who are attached to crazy woman" *side eyes dink*

Reader: "I'm just gonna ignore y'all now *walks away while fierce deity follows behind them*

Reader: (AND THEY LIKE THAT TOO!) *turns around and yells* LEAVE ME ALONE!

Yan!Chain and all the extras is essentially just a cult. Someone’s too nice? They’re getting a very stern talking to. Someone too judgmental? Getting called out immediately. Someone too rude? Well, I hope they have good locks. Considering you’ve got anywhere from 10 to like 12 heroes, the shadow king and quite literally God, the sky could come falling down and you’d be surviving and thriving.

Oh? And Guide AU? Yeah you’re never leaving. Don’t even try. You won’t get far. They won’t let you leave again. Why would they even try to keep living if not for you?

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Hi! Hope I’m not imposing but I love your linked universe stuff. Especially the yandere side. I’m not sure why but I got a Fierce Deity idea stuck in my brain after reading your stuff. Idea below~

——————

Guide reader is sweet and the perfect friend/person to talk to. Not a door mat and willing to stand their ground. Comforts the various Links through panic attacks, nightmares, break downs when the day has just been too much. Willing to stare Time/Legend/Warrior down when they push the others a little too far. Praises Hyrule/Wild/Wind about their achievements and makes sure they know they are enough (need to raise some confidence in them, especially Wind and Hyrule). Listens to Four/Twilight about the disappearance of the Minish/Midna and comforts them through it. But as all Links know, good doesn’t last in Hyrule.

A major ambush. All of the boys taken down one by one as our guide dashes between them, tossing out potions and fairies until there is nothing left. Everyone is fighting their hardest but the monsters just keep coming . As the boys start to fall in battle our guide finds themselves in the remains of the camp. Everything torn to shreds, broken. All but a lone mask we all know.

We already know that Fierce Deity sees guide as Time’s weak spot, but there’s no other choice! Guide grabs the mask and slams it on, only to find themselves in a totally silent forest. Not a single other being around, aside from the Deity. He scoffs and says that he has a duty but will not work with such a soft thing. And guide, with all their built up anger and worry for the chain lays INTO this man.

This god must be some weakling if it can’t even use them to help their friends. He is such a disgrace and disappointment for being willing to throw time and the others away so easily. Our guide doesn’t care for Fierce’s judgment or petty squabbles with the other gods. He is going to get off his ass, use them as a vessel, and save EVERY. Single. One. Of their friends.

Our humble little guide stepping forward with each word, not a shred of fear in them as they slowly back our lil Deity into a tree. The finally scream that they don’t care if he takes their body for good but he will save everyone they love.

Cut to all of our boys being down, heavily injured and not seeing a way out of this. When the wind suddenly stuffs. The sounds of the forest still. And a heavy presence begins to choke them all, freezing even the monsters in place. Time know this feeling, know it all too well. Frantically looking around he sees the chain accounted for, but that could only mean-

“You’ve grown boy,” Fierce Deity’s voice cuts through the silence as he appears, looming over the group. He was as tall as the trees, practically glowing with power, looking like a god (before he was sealed in that cursed mask). “Your little friend has more power than I thought.” And with that a blood bath begins. Deity tears into every monster in the most brutal way. None of them escape as they try to flee from the over whelming bloodlust. The chain manages to take care of the most important wounds as they regroup. Before they know it all the monsters were slain and Deity stood before them in all his glory, arrogant smirk painting his face.

Time shakily reminds him that he’s done his job, give them back their guide, their friend. Deity just gives a cold chuckle and tells the group how guide was willing to give up their body/their life, to save the group. Fierce will not admit out loud that he enjoyed seeing the group break down a little before he continued. The guide’s words were that they be safe and survive, but with all those wounds and no potions/magic they’d all be dead by the morning. He’s not really a deity of healing but for such a headstrong guide he could lend the chain a little power. Before the chain can question what he means he fills them with just enough magic to heal their deadly wounds (those babies can take care of the rest) and in a blinding light he’s gone. Leaving our poor guide crumpled on the forest floor. But we all know using that mask comes with a price. 😈

lol sorry, that was a lot. Hope you’re doing well!

YOURE NOT IMPOSING ANYTIME-

omgomgomg

I

love

this

from FD flat out being unwilling, guide not giving a single shit, the deal being made, the pure impact of both the deity showing up and how you can tell the chain truly cares for guide via their reactions

KAKEJDHDHSHSJAJSHA

this is amazing

thank you for the food

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Covering BOTW!Link in kisses pretty please (> <)

Yeah, I can do that!

I made this surprisingly angsty (though if you’re not new around here that may be less shocking) so be warned.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

For someone with such an utterly distinct lack of memory, Wild often found himself drowning within them. Fleeting snippets of vision or audio cut in and out, warped and distorted beyond anything he can truly grasp at. One second he’d be laughing alongside his brothers, but when his eyes blinked he’d be a century in the last. Oftentimes after the phantom arms of his previous life embraced him, he felt less than who he was before. his smiles dulled and heart weighed down. As if knowing more about who he was then made him less of who he was now. As if the two sentiences couldn’t coexist.

It was a quiet night, humid with the onset of summer. The fireflies —lightning bugs as Twilight called them— dancing lofty paths amidst the air. Sat side by side, the champion absorbed the fable. At first it seemed rather childish, the idea of two wolves within oneself fighting to make the forefront. But the longer he went on the more it resonated. The mental image as one sneers and snaps, barring its ugly teeth in unwavering violent truth. All while the other dodges and uses the violent’s strength against itself, all while denying its own violent nature.

Allegorically it was good versus bad, overindulgence against suppression. The idea that to overindulge, to snap, to be reckless would lead to being taken advantage of. Wild knew why Twilight thought the story relevant to him. He knew that whenever he’d turn his back on his enemies to support that it wasn’t viewed as loyalty. He knew that there was lots to lose, and they couldn’t afford another injury. He knew Twi didn’t want to see him fall into a similar circumstance. But he knew he couldn’t afford to fail again. He couldn’t fall short. He can’t lose someone close again.

Where externally he was viewed as the former, he internally found himself in the latter of cases. He fought the battle between the whispers of the others in contrast to his own thoughts of himself. Left with the residual pressure to be nothing short of perfect, to be The Hero of Time, to be worthy of the title and the land and the fate and the soul. The yearning to simply live and be without the burden of his own guilt, to be Link, to be your lover and accept the love without feeling indebted.

He didn’t realise Twilight had left.

His head swims and he feels clammy as he curls up, deciding aimlessly that it’s time to sleep. His feet lead him inside his house and he can hardly even stumble up the loft. Someone else can sort dinner.

Any sense of sensibility is muddled and mixed. Time does not matter, nor the relevancy if his mind.

He stares back at the shards of his past life, his chipped reflection in each mirror, and can’t help but wonder who he’d be if he were just Link.

Or would he be even anything at all if not a hero?

What was it that he truly was?

Mipha had written that he was a rather rowdy child, eager to take on the world with nothing more than a stick in hand. Then, he held no care for being proper. Wide grin and leaves in his hair, he was happy. Perhaps that was the most of himself he could ever be. Perhaps that was the reason he finds himself wandering aimlessly now. Perhaps that is his nature.

The records of many soldiers he fought alongside depicted him as the prime standard of the military. Those days were cold, and he just remembered how much he hurt. The ache of every muscle and bruise, every drill, every spar, every battle, every day spent alive that was spent suffering. His ability to cut down any monster or man with any weapon. His instinct and ability to hurt was primed until he now questions if that little boy who splashed around in rivers and threw handfuls of mud had retreated into the cold hands of death. The soldiers’ mirage of him is idyllic, but holds distressingly true to his own memory.

Perhaps that is why his mind is clear and quiet with weapon in hand and a body beneath his feet.

He dreams of musty stables and bare campgrounds, both places the since passed versions of himself would’ve spent a night at. The smell of dirt and dust is accompanied by the crackle of a fire as drunken men sing out of tune.

The littlest curled up as his teeth chattered, the chipped tooth whistling as he exhaled. A warm hand settles on his shoulders as his father drapes another thin blanket over him. He does not yet know this means his father will go without warmth.

The soldier tossing and turning, unable to relax even long enough to sleep. He too his tormented by the potential of falling. He does not yet know what’s to come. He does not yet know there’s nothing to be done.

The scene shifts and he is at the castle. It’s his first time and his eyes shine as he follows his father closely, following hot on his feet with a giddy grin.

It is his home. His work. His life. He follows the princess closely, just far enough to not make himself overbearing. He does not smile. He does not frown. He does not fail.

The colours fade and mix and blur, the dreamscape shifting oncemore. It’s raining. It pitters across his shoulders as he kicks up the puddles, scaring the stray cuccos from the stable not too far away. His father fusses over the sword he’d found, and he can hardly muster the strength to swing it against the base of the apple tree. He results in climbing up the twisted limbs, collecting extra ripe apples to ease his father’s worries. The wet bark gives no grip to his feet and he falls to the ground, winded next to the funny blue sword. It glints and chirps and when he catches his breath he laughs back.

It’s storming. The grass smells wet and irony. The bloody mud cakes his boots as his foot falls brace against the ground. His arms lock as he flings his shield to the side, the guardian falling to disrepair. His shield lay broken. He can see his strained face in the dirty reflection. He doesn’t like the man staring back. The rain pelts across his back and the lightning shakes the ground. His muffled ears pick up Zelda’s distress as another guardian climbs up the mound of soul. He draws his sword. He didn’t even know if it were possible to deflect a guardian laser with a blade. But he can’t fail now. Not after everything. A flash of blue light overtakes his vision as his limbs slacken.

He shoots awake with a familiar tightness in his chest, his scars itching and burning. He writhes beneath his own skin as he kicks the covers off, the cold air seizing him. His lungs struggle to draw breath as he wheezes. His vision tunnels and it feels as if he’s dying again.

Why can’t it just be over.

When will he finally be enough— if not for the sake of the world then to at least save himself?

Or maybe he doesn’t deserve to be saved. He couldn’t save all those innocent people. Castle town, Deya, Lon Lon? Who was he to demand he was worth saving?

He hacks and coughs before even trying to look at his surroundings. Through the mixed screaming within his mind he gathers a few realisations. He’s alive. He’s home. You’re curled up beside him, reaching for his warmth. His hands tremble as they reach towards his uneven hairline, grabbing a fistful and tugging. The pain stings, he feels more than awake as his heart races.

“Mm- Link?” You mumbled against his side, awoken by the cold lack of covers. Guilt fills his throat again until he can’t breathe. He’s supposed to help you, to love you, to be of use. Not be such a burden. But here he is again, making it about him. Making your life worse and demanding comfort like a child.

“Heyheyhey- It’s ok, you’re safe” Your voice was as soft and gentle as your touch as you cradled his cheek. He didn’t even realise he was crying. Why was he crying? Who’d want a hero who cries like a coward in the face of a danger that isn’t even real? You collect his hands together, loosening his grip from his hair and running your thumbs across his knuckles. His head stirs as you speak, and he can’t make out anything of what you are saying. His ears ring, more than usual, drowning out any sound.

“Breathe with me, ok?” He nods weakly after you repeat yourself for the third or fourth time. He tries his best, his ribs shuddering before he could fully breathe in, but no longer deprived of oxygen, his head stops swimming as much.

It’s a while of sitting there, hands in your lap as you calm him down in whatever way he quietly requests. It’s so odd. Being raised to serve and to give and being taught through experience that your worth lies in your deeds… to suddenly being the one catered to. It still feels as if asking to be loved is forbidden. That his purpose comes before all requirement and survival. Somedays it still feels like death would come before he would be comfortable. But it took many long nights and longer days spent having uncomfortable conversations before he realised he still had a chance, only if he chose to make one for himself.

At some point he lets himself settle. He sinks into the now cool mattress as you stare into his eyes. He feels a flicker of shame before your hands are back on his jaw and you're pressing light kisses to his skin. Both temples, forehead, each freckle on the apple of his cheeks, crooked nose, the tip of his burn scar, the cut in his chin. You pull back for a moment to admire what you’ve made of him through the years. He smiles, lopsided and as giddy as he was in childhood. You press an eager kiss to his lips, giggling throughout.

He may be lost within the maze of his own mind, a man held hostage to himself, but despite being a failure by his own previous standards, it doesn’t matter so long as he’s enough for you.

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Have you gotten any requests abt First? I simply would like to request some general yan hcs if thats fine. But if not, thats alright. I hope things have been lovely for you dearie <33 (ive just been craving for First food)

Ofc ofc!!

TW: Yandarism but i’m tired so it’s fairly tame if i’m going to be honest, tame by my standards

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Yan!First Headcannons

He has fond memories of his guide. How they skillfully protected him with their insight to ensure his success. He clutched those days of tranquillity close to his heart -or what he believes to be left of it- when he was locked up. When you were ripped away from him by a jealous god’s hand. He tries to focus on the softness of your voice and not the shrill of your screams when you were being made to watch his torment. He was free now. But from what he knows, you aren’t. And on your name he is going to maim the soul that did that to you. Even if it’s the goddess that allowed you to meet in the first place.

That said, he didn’t originally know you were his guide. He was shaken from being thrown into a portal and he was so hurt and you were so kind… It was natural for him to latch to the first bit of care given to him since your first absence.

It didn’t take him remembering -or rather realising- you were his guide until he started his spiral. No. He’s been teetering on the edge for years, and if falling into madness ment falling into your arms, then so be it. With that, he doubles down when he remembers you. Brought together by the gods and fate, how could he not keep you to himself after so long of being on his own?

He thrives on whatever it is you want. He’ll talk or listen to you for days, savouring the calmness in your voice. He’d pull you close in front of everyone and remember every freckle on your skin, every scar that lined it, every hair on your head. He’d write you letters of sonnets and prose, watching you read it with concentration, as if to see that you like it. He’d buy you anything, do anything, say anything, so long as it had your approval.

I see him as either very sneaky and courting you so eloquently that his possessiveness and protectiveness is part of the package. Him showing off that you chose him, that he’s good enough. Him showing off that no matter how much his… predecessors think they have you, you’ve always been his from the beginning. This is with an earlier intro to the chain, him trying to fend off competition as more members begin to fall. A strategy, if you will.

Or he’s on you the second he has consent, not caring for standards so long as you are his and he is yours. A scramble for your attention against your many suitors followers. I see this as First with a later intro where everyone’s already not right in the head. He’s bartering for and peice if you at this point. Any attention you give him will be well spent and obsessed over.

100% kidnapping you the second the chance presents itself. You’ll be married properly, he’ll treat you impeccably well, just be sure to play along.

Fav nicknames for you: My dear, Dearest, My love, My Sun, Flower, Darling, essentially anything classy

BONUS: This single handedly had me questioning if i wanted him and the others in ACU

[yourlocaltreesimp]

hello! I just read the ‘they remembering the reader’ and wonder, sky would totally tell the goddess maybe her statue in some temple’s to stop making him/then forget dear reader or else, like gurl you win your battles than to me don’t make me go for you to, I already did with Demise’ thing?

bro is arguing with statues, defacing temples, you name it.

Writing you your own ballad, making wood carvings if you reminiscent to that of the hylia statues and lord knows what else

[yourlocaltreesimp]

could you do yan legend and/or hyrule? i love your writing so much! ❤️

Both? Both.

TW: Yandere and all it’s accompanies (obsession, violence, etc)

Yan!Chain Headcannons

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Hyrule

Really sweet once you first met, definitely one that became your friend before shit began to spiral. The familiarity of his old guide made becoming close friends really easy.

Once he fully realised who exactly you were, however, platonic standards are thrown out the window. Chances are he’s latched to your side, constantly making sure you’re happy and healthy. Lord forbid he found out that you aren’t, he’d spend all his magic fixing your ailments to whatever degree of success before striking down whatever dared try and harm you.

He’ll hold your hand or give you a kiss when you need healing, savouring being the one to hold you

Love languages are probably Physical touch and Acts of service. Making sure to be close to you, to shield you from the horrid world he’s seen. He likes to know you’re close, that you’re there.

Not to say he’s adverse to singing your praises. He’d write hymns and gospels if you asked. Afterall, who was Hylia to think she was divine when you stood right there.

Keeping up my love of Fae!Hyrule he definitely thinks you’re married to some extent

To him, he’s utterly devoted to you, at your beck and call. He’d bring the greatest of warriors, including the very deity that traveled with the chain to their knees if you said the word. The world would burn to ash and yet he’d shield you from the fire if it ment you could be close. He’d fight drove after drove of monsters if it ment he could collapse into your arms at the end. And in turn you give your time and compassion, you grace him with your presence. You let him heal you not that there’s any other option and you let him fawn and you keep his gifts. That’s as good as married to him.

Definitely uses his magic to… pull some strings. Make his words more persuasive, make the colours shine a little brighter, make his words more alluring, make the blood on his clothes less noticeable. Your clothes are enchanted, your jewellery as well. Your food magicked to calm your nerves and ease your heart.

You’ve met his faerie sisters. They love you. They’d riot if you were hurt. They’d tell him if you ran off.

Not to mention that it’s good practice to gift the fae with silver jewellery for safe passage or protection (yeah i mentioned this in a post before, idc). If you so happened to do this, he’s sold. Done for. Any question of his feelings for you? Gone. He’d pierce his ears to don your trinkets, flaunt the necklaces, adore the bracelets. But goddesses above, if you got him a ring? Well my friend, you’ve sealed your fate. He’d flaunt it, proud of his successful courtship, if his divinity being pleased by him. No one can touch it, no damage will come to it, it will be just as pristine as when it was in your hands.

Probably not one to kidnap you per say, but would be confused if you didn’t want to come with him. You gave him your ring, that’s binding to humans isn’t it? Your his and he’s yours. Why would you want to leave? He has everything you want. And anything more you could possibly want, all you’d have to do is utter the words and it’s yours.

For nicknames, Love, Honey, Sweetheart, Flower, a variety of faerie nicknames

Legend

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Off the bat remembered your guidance. While this led to some shakiness in his trusting you. The second he realised you’re real and not some cruel imposter, that too is thrown right out.

Doesn’t spare you from the sarcasm, in fact, he’s right on your nerves. He itches for your own snarky comments and blows. Itches for your voice and your attention.

Again with the enchanted jewellery. Earrings, necklaces, bracelets, rings, whatever it is that you want, it’s yours. No questions asked.

Sleeps on you… and odd headcannon, but sprawls out completely over you like a starfish whenever he needs to sleep.

Love language is Quality time and Gift giving. Quietly letting you braid his hair or run errands side by side, getting you rings and clothes. Picking flowers to bring back to you while he’s on patrol. The quiet things. Lest someone find out his moth eaten heart still beats.

Protective to a T. Literally feral. Will bite a man.

Snide comments? Only from him, watch your back. Dirty look? Pulling you close and glaring right back. Directly rude? Hope you have enough rupees to foot a medical bill (do they have those? do now.) But if you’re the unlucky soul that lay a hand on his heart? I hope you have good locks.

Definitely keeping up with the long lived headcannon that animal traits stick to their respective people. Will make a home for you if you happen to land in his Hyrule. Idealises the quiet life with you, getting the life he never got. Loving parents, kids *cough* breeding kink *cough* , happy life, free of Hylia’s trials and falling through his own reality.

Would probably kidnap you, he isn’t loosing again. His poor heart, battered and beaten as it is won’t just let you walk out. Nope. Not on his watch. He knows every forest, every cave, every home in every village. You’re not going to up and leave him again.

Nicknames: Babe, Love, Beloved on special occasions

Not really one for using pet names infront of others, not until there’s a competition for your favour.

[yourlocaltreesimp]

May I ask Wild with a reader who got hit by Ganon's malice on the final fight and gets infected (like, veins turning purple, pale and clammy skin, drained energy and etc) pretty please?

In flesh, blood and bone.

Omg i’ve literally been obsessed with this since you sent this in!! Finally got around to it (after a while, admittedly) but I hope you enjoy!

Tw: Description of decomposition and gore.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

The cyclical war of good and evil had taken its toll down the timeline. Dues were paid in blood and flesh. Link knew this. He knew this very, very well. It was hard to ignore given the fact of it was branded into his skin. Time and time again, life through life he can understand his place. He was a means to an end in the eyes of many. He was a saviour to the others.

He was a Hero.

Even if sometimes he really wishes he weren’t.

He knew that he was unlikely to finish things. But perhaps with enough blood, with enough effort, with enough pain he could bring an end to things.

He’d paid in flesh. As many of the victims of the calamity did.

He was covered in scars, gained both prior and post the guardian ending his life for the first time. But make no mistake, it was not the matter of the scar that bothered him. The uneven texture in his skin wasn’t uncanny after a while. Skin was just skin. He didn’t feel much like himself anyway, so it wasn’t like it mattered. It wasn't the flush of blood or streaks of uncanny colour that bothered him. Well that’s not to say they never did. The looks he got while walking through villages were less than enjoyable, but you quelled that. One soft, loving glance and the whole world doesn’t matter. Let alone their hostility.

It was perhaps the sight of you now that made him hate his scar.

It was the reminder of what it meant.

The mold. The rot. The decomposition.

Malice, as the people called it.

And Oh how he hated it.

He was not usually so squeamish. The squelch of a dying monster or the marr of an unmoving corpse had never really bothered him. Not when it was his purpose.

The former was the before stages of the rot. It was just spilled blood. It was just body. Of course it wasn’t really living persay, but it was close enough that all he had to do was ignore the glassy eyes and he was fine. The latter was when the rot was already over. The bones were picked clean, the blood and flesh returned to the earth to start anew. Bones would always just be bone.

It was the inbetween that really, really began to bother him.

It was tender flesh melting and oozing. It was soft tissue becoming home to fungi. It was the body no longer being a body but not quite bone. It was You laboured to breath, the wind a hollow whistle in your lungs. It was how your eyes fluttered, bloodshot. It was how your tears were cold against your feverish skin, the salty beads puss filled and gorey. It was how your skin was pale and patchy in places, flushed pigmented and unhealthily purple in others. Your skin was sunken and sagged. It was how your skin was plump and pushed awkwardly against your bones.

The malice seeped through your blood. It pushed through your injuries, webbing over your skin and casting roots into muscles.

And all he could do was weep.

He was utterly useless.

He sat by your bedside for weeks as Purah tried her hardest to fix you.

He kept staring down at you, replaying everything. It should’ve been him. You should’ve never been there. He could do nothing but watch as that disgusting thing whittled you down to nothing. Malice clinging to your skin; you screamed. A noise of such absolute agony he nearly dropped the mastersword where he stood.

He knew the dues were paid in blood. In body. In bone.

But why did it have to be you?

[yourlocaltreesimp]

I (beg) ask if you can write anything Fierce Deity related. I don't want anything else, just that you write for my boy. (Pls us FD simps are starving).

Ah believe me I know y’all are dehydrated beyond the word’s meaning. I know the struggle (I really do) So I hope I do your boy (man) ((celestial being?)) justice!

(fir post writing: wow this is a LOT of context y’all don’t want or need, but my hands hurt so… part 2?)

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Immortality is a lonely existence. There are few beings that obtain an average life expectancy to that of a god. There are even fewer again who have immortality. Proper immortality. Not the poor results of a fae deal or some curse to age and wither without death. No. Proper immortality, exempt of aging past maturity and death herself.

That made his current predicament worse. Much, much worse than being stuck in a wooden mask.

You see, Gods and the immortal beings alike are rather fickle beings. They do glorious things to entertain or punish the mortals to have their names etched into stone and uttered in myth through centuries. They only wish to exist in temples of incense and candlelight, where the people there would do anything for even the cast of an eye.

Fierce had always thought those gods were the worst. All temples would crack. All names would be forgotten. All clay tablets and pots would be broken, ironically even by their proclaimed heroes. But that’s getting ahead of us. He was worshipped only in the grounds he was made for. It didn’t matter the land, for blood soaks into soil the same no matter what. It didn’t matter the men, the corpses were plentiful and he hardly discriminates. It didn’t even matter who won, because there are no winners in war.

He was made to fight, and he was made to kill. And so he did. His name rang throughout time between soldiers and emperors alike. Both tried to gain his favour. Occasionally there would be a temple, occasionally there’d be some mortal claiming to bear his blood, occasionally he’d care.

Regardless, it all came to the same ending. The men would die, the temples would crack and his name would fade into obscurity again.

It was supposed to.

But it seemed the others didn’t like that he was beating them at a game he didn’t want to win.

‘Cruel’ they called him, ‘Violent’ ‘Inhumane’ ‘Rabid’ ‘Irate’ ‘Improper’

And so, they condemned him. And he was forever no more.

Eras passed.

Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years… And truly, he was nothing.

Just as they promised.

Some relic like their old tales, except he could not crack and wither.

He was lonely, perhaps just as much as before in hindsight. The fickle attention he did have was only worth something if he willed it.

At some point, He was awoken again. There were hands on his cheeks, shaky and blood covered. And there was light. The person who had called upon his spirit was not in good shape, blood spilling from their weak body as they were chased by odd looking men. A pack of wolves set on a lamb.

He’d learn throughout the next few months of hiding you and sharing your consciousness that the people of your village had thought you to be a witch. As such, you were beaten and chased.

You were a doctor, you’d told him.

You’d just tried to cure someone.

And such began his problem.

He’d never saw the purpose of mortals. They were future bodies, to him. They’d live to die. Sure, it’s better than the alternative of there only being gods, but they never held much worth to him.

Not until you.

You are good. In every way the short comings of language can express you are good. You’d devoted your life to a thankless existence and the nature of living had caught up to you. Good things didn’t deserve that. Good people didn’t deserve to live the life you led.

He was not so cruel as to condemn you to that fate.

And so, he began to help. Once gaining a physical form, (through much trial and error) He’d do the work you couldn’t manage. Hunting, building, sewing, cooking, he’d do as much as possible. He knew what it was like to be turned back upon by everyone. But you wouldn’t be able to grow past that. Not in your short life.

He held you as you shuddered and cried. He tended to your wounds and sickness. He did and would do whatever it took to see you happy again.

He did not, however, see the consequences.

It took him far too long for his comfort to realise that you were not simply accompaniment. You consumed his waking thoughts and filled his dreams. He lived around you, your wants and your needs. He began to eat because it made you comfortable, He slept because you liked to be near him, He humanised himself because it made you happy.

He would’ve renounced his title as a god to make your life perfect, or as close to as it could be.

But He could not.

He could not simply marry you and go about your lives knowing you had one another. He could not have you to hold forever. He could not always love you in sickness and health no matter how much he tried. Because at the end of the day, it’s until death do you part.

Or… do you?

(part 2? perhaps? maybe? perchance?)

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Take it. TAKE THE FLUFF-

~ The Chain had just set up camp in Wilds Hyrule, near the Hebra Region according to Wild. You were cold. Every little gust of wind would make you shiver, and the icy dirt beneath you did not help.

Legend was in a similar state. He had shorts on, for Hylias sake. And a general lack of a warmer outfit. Plus, especially on Koholint, it was always pretty warm so he wasn't well adjusted to the cold.

He noticed your suffering being similar to his own and debated for a solid minute, glancing over to see if anyone would notice. Wind and Wild were trying to see how big the fire could get (not a cause for concern at all), Time and Twilight were off talking somewhere, Sky was dead asleep, and the rest were having an argument on Nayru knows what.

Nobody had to know.

He awkwardly strolled over to you and sat down beside you, clearing his throat.

"Um... Y-Ya cold?"

You answered his question when another gust of wind came, making you shiver violently.

He huffed out a slight laugh, scooting a little closer to you.

"Me too... U-Um, you wanna like- C- Huddle for um, warmth?"

You didn't need to be asked twice. Instantly you let yourself snuggle up to him, leeching off of his heat whilst he did the same. He sighed in relief of not getting the rejection he was expecting, laughing a bit and hugging you gently.

-

Time had found your two once he came back and sighed, taking a blanket he had with him and draping it over you both. He was glad Legend could be warmer, in more ways than one.

The old man didn't tattle, but Wilds Sheikah Slate had a new photo and Warriors a new thing to tease Legend about. A win for the whole family.

~

this is precious. absolutely adorable. sweet as sugar. i saw this and literally was kicking my feet and bundling up in blankets (i’m not joking to any extent) This is- it’s beautiful

…it may even be melting my angsty heart

[yourlocaltreesimp]

HAIIIIIII okay so. i've had an idea rattling around in my walnut for a few days now, and wanted to see what you thought :3

so. like. fae!hyrule yaknow. i love that little guy. i'm capital 'o' Obsessed with the idea that reader does those little things from fae folklore for him (ex. offering him honey, mead, milk, jewlery, fruits, etc.) and like. he doesn't really know how to reciprocate.? like he's never gotten so many gifts and offerings from someone before and just doesn't know how to react and it just flusters him so much and he has to mentally and physically restrain himself from smothering reader with affection in return because? what if they don't like it?? what if this is just normal human behavior???? (news flash! it is not)

i just. adore fae!hyrule and his (not so) subtle crush on reader because theyre just so nice to him. and he doesn't know how to react.

also! i love your writing its so silly goober biteable. (may i claim 🧃anon?)

Hello 🧃Anon!! Opening with Fae!Hyrule, I look forward to your next request.

TW: None!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Fae!Hyrule falling

Hyrule couldn’t really place why he didn’t make people aware of his… background. He wasn’t ashamed of the faeries nor the way he was raised, but people had their assumptions about them and their magic. He always assumed that people would take those assumptions over his word and would end up being disrespectful to both him and his sisters. But you on the other hand were not. He couldn’t even really pinned when you started gifting him things but he has especially fond memories of you giving him milk tea and honey after particularly magic-draining battles or you sharing fruit with him when you had spare. In hindsight, that fae part of him latched to the idea that you cared so deeply about him through the mundane. Perhaps that’s why those were the memories he held closest. But there were more subtle things that he began to pay attention to. Like how you drank mead with him despite not being fond of it or singing for him at his request. The ladder making him especially flustered for reasons he couldn’t even pinpoint. Sure, you were the beauty of the world personified, but that didn’t change that this was all perfectly platonic behaviour. But as you got more comfortable, he only dug himself a deeper grave in his own feelings. Every flower you gave him, every please and thank you, every promise you made. He braided your hair while muttering blessings, embroidered your clothes with enchantments and he’d take the stars from the skies because their light would highlight you perfectly. The others teased him for his love sickness, but to see you smile, to hear the blood rush through you, that was worth it. He’s aware that this may be normal behaviour for humans, but he wants nothing more than to court you. Nothing more than to douse you in his magic and keep you close. He so badly wants to learn every bit about you, down to the way you breathe.

[yourlocaltreesimp]

How would the yandere chain react to a violinist reader? Who's REALLY amazing at playing, I'm talking lindsey stirling amazing ( if you don't know her, she is an phenomenal violinist, highly recommend listening to her music on YouTube) reader enchanting the chain as they gracefully dance as they beautifully play, maybe fairies, blubees, and wildlife come to watch, perhaps even satori themselves come to see.

Ohhhh! I love the way you think!

TW: Some obsessiveness on the behalf of the chain, as per usual with yandere requests. I am not a violinist, I used to be a cellist. I am unfamiliar with the most of it as that was a while ago.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You hadn’t fully guessed you’d have missed playing your violin so much. At first, you thought this would be a nice break from intense practicing and balancing life with your talents… but now you weren’t so sure. Nearly seven hyrules in and you’d yet to have found one. But hope was not lost. Falling into Wild pt. 2’s world -Sage for short- was jarring at first, but no changes couldn’t be adapted to. In fact, you’d almost forgotten the new world around you when your eyes caught the lacquered wood of a violin. It didn’t take much convincing, surprisingly. One plead was all it took before ten rupee wallets were out of pockets. After the war of who would pay for it, reminiscent on any family gathering, Sage footed the bill. Much begrudgingly of the others.

Outskirt Stable was quite lovely. Quiet and calm with a beautiful mountain in the near distance, it was a perfect rest stop. And also perfect for a chance to play. You were able to convince the chain into letting you practice alone first before playing for all of them, taking quick paces toward Mount Satori. You didn’t notice the sun dip below the horizon as you kept playing onward and onward until your memory of which string was plucked or where your fingers were supposed to press against the neck inevitably ran short. But it happened less than one would expect. The notes rose and dived like a swallow, nimble and fluid. You let the music carry you as your eye fluttered shut and the ballad embraced you. You were reminded of just how much you loved doing this. When the notes slowed and tapered off, hanging in the air and they drifted away, you opened your eyes. Only to be met with many more staring back. Tiny blue bunnies gathered at your feet. Little eyes baring into you as they chittered, almost if in applause or appreciation. They glowed softly, a calming blue which much reminded you of the music you’d just played. You lifted your violin back up and they all went quiet again, still gathered at your feet. The next turn you played was slow and steady, swelling softly before fading, only to be met with another rise. Like the soft pink sakura blossoms as they fell off the twisted old tree. You disregarded the strong blue glow behind you, presuming more money bunnies sorry i had to had gathered to see the show. But the nudge between your shoulders alerted you otherwise. You allowed yourself a gasp as you finished playing, turning to greet what stood behind you. Now, seeing the small glowing rabbits, while a little alarming, we’re rather cute and wholesome. But this… it was majestic. It held three of the faces from the rabbits, pale and with inquisitive yellow eyes that seemed wiser than any god. But it had the body of a horse, strong and capable. You almost saw it fitting to bow your head to the creature, as it held so much majesty it had to have been of importance. But it instead dipped its head to you, pressing forward so you could place your hand on its mane. It cooed, much like a happy bird, eyes flickering shut. The bunnies chittered among themselves happily. But as lovely as the sight was… you knew you’d be in deep shit. You were already late.

“(y/n)?” You jumped, you’ll admit. Hyrule seemed nearly as alarmed, the rabbits scattering as he pronounced himself and the larger of them -their lord, as you bestowed him- took a few steps back.

“I’m so sorry I-“ You began your apologies, but were cut short.

“No need, c’mon, Let’s go.” He nodded in respect to the lord before gesturing for you to follow… an odd endearing glint in his eye that lacked to be there before. You turned and left, following Hyrule back to the stable.

What you weren’t aware of, however, was the group watching you play the whole time. Hidden one way or another was the whole chain, utterly spellbound by your performance. Sky itching to play with you and adapt the ballads of his time to your violin. Time reminiscing on his time with the kokiri and their love of music… how much they would adore your tunes. Wind wanted to know if you knew any sea shanties. Sage and Wild basked in the music and adored the sight of you and the Lord of Mt. Satori. Legend was jealous of the other rabbits which got to admire you so closely, which held the softness of your attention. It reminded Four of the festivals he used to visit with his grandfather, and Twilight of the ones they held in castle town the ones required he visit. But he’d go to all of them if you were there. But Hyrule? He was captivated. Afterall, faeries bless those good with much talents, revelling with only the best of musicians and artists of the mortal realm, for which you would surly qualify. They all had their reasons for loving you, but that was now tenfold. And you’d get no rest.

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Warriors: Y/N, I have to tell you-

Y/N: No, I understand. You have to be with the person you love.

Warriors: *smiling* I am.

۵♡۵

Warriors Hcs

Warriors is slow to fall. Not in the sense he’s slow to love, once he has that connection he falls fast and falls hard, but he doesn’t like admitting it to himself. So long he’s spent being told that he has to remain responsible, the ideal of what a soldier is that he stammers when it comes to his own feelings.

So what does he do to prevent this? Ignore, pretend and then swoon. In that order. Let’s unravel that, shall we?

Phase one: Ignore

When he first recognises he’s falling he takes a solid hour to sit with the thought before having a mini crisis. This revolving around his own feelings of inadequacy for a peaceful life and his pent up fear of being seen as creepy or possessive whenever he thinks if you. He shoves down the fluttering feeling of his heart and hopes that he’ll move past himself. But he never does. He so badly wants to be the person you go to with your issues, so badly wants to love you freely and to have your love in turn, so badly wants to be the thing your life revolves around because he can’t deny the pull he has to you. But his mind screams at him that he’s being obsessed and creepy, that you’d be happier without him and he’d be more productive without you. Cia really fucked up his ideas of romance. Of course, this is a lie. Given that you treasure the few moments he can spend with you and the fact that his heart won’t be rid of you no matter how much he rationalises.

Phase two: Pretend

After an incredibly long and embarrassing conversation with Time and Four surprisingly, he gets better at understanding that not only does he have feelings, they are a normal thing. And with this understanding he… immediately pretends all feelings of love and adoration towards you are wonder in well placed friendship. To him, who wouldn’t feel this way? You’re so new and yet so familiar, kind and caring while keeping up with your morals and ideals, compassionate and undyingly empathetic, a wonder to look at so much that he wonders if the gods that made you were stunned with your beauty- yeah you get the point. But in the plus, he can stand to be friends with you, even if he’s stuck to your side with a kind of lovesick look only a man yearning could have.

Phase three: Swooning

This certainly took the longest, as when he realised that he was so in love with you that he couldn’t pull himself out, the first thing that he felt was guilt. He’d felt he had misled you, being your source of safety and comfort that he was worried he’d betray if he’d spoke on his feelings. But hes gotten better with recognising his spirals and thinking them through. And the longer he thinks, the more it comes to light that hes always felt this way. He’s always loved you, from the second he saw you, and perhaps even before then. The only difference was that now, he was comfortable to feel. He knew that longing to love and be loved was not a sin or a request he wasn’t worthy of. Love was wonderful and scary and alive and beautiful and it was you. And how could he ever deny you.

[yourlocaltreesimp]

heeeyy, it's me again lmao, was a bit busy with prelims but im mostly out of the woods.

As promised, came up with requests

May I request the Chain with a reader who isn't what they seems?

Like, Four with a soft, chubby reader who's barely taller than him but can supplex a man twice their weight? I'm talking about her rivaling Twilight in terms of strength.

Or maybe Wars with a reader who kinda acts like a class clown but is actually very strategic and knows how to help them out in battle from the sidelines?

I like the way you think.

Part one of possibly a side series? 👀

PT 2

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Four

There was one defining feature that Four could settle was his favorite about you. You were soft. The kind of soft that made him melt with endearment. You never wished to cause harm (at least never maliciously so, your pranks put the sailor’s to shame) and you were perfect in his eyes. He did not care if your weight deemed you as ‘less beautiful’ where you came from, he didn’t give a single care. To him, whoever decided that had clearly never been met with you, for you were excellence. You were soft, and kind, and utterly gorgeous. Yet, you were not his. He was ripped from his echoing thoughts at you sliding in next to him. The tavern booths were small, so your side was slightly pressed to him as you leaned your arm on the table, that firey glint of defiance in your eyes.

“No, I don’t wanna-“ Twilight held of one hand from where his elbows crossed on the table.

“What? Scared you’ll loose your title?” One of your eyebrows quirked up at the challenge and the smirk as you spoke was enough to make Four fold.

“Alright then, bet.” He matched you, stretching your arms so one elbow was on the table, hands clasped in the center. He’d expected Twilight to at least be able to put up a fight, but the knuckles of his hand met the wood of the table with a smack. For good measure, you held it there, squeezed right in your grip as he struggled. Eventually, you relented, letting him go. It wasn’t long before all the others tried their luck, none standing a chance to you. Four watched attentively, never volunteering, never stealing away the attention you occasionally blessed him with.

“Four” Your voice cut through the crowd of voices so cleanly.

“hm?” He didn’t trust himself entirely to speak, the colours running circles in his mind. You extended your fingers, the soft tavern lighting casting beautifully over your skin.

“Wanna try?” He didn’t want to before, but that grin of yours could steal anything of his, it’s already taken his heart. He climbed to the other side of the booth and extended has arm out. It didn’t last long, his arm pinned to the table with your hand over his, but at least you let him savour the feeling.

Long after, he lay awake in his bedroll, mind filled with incessant chatter. But maybe one day, you’d be nearby, holding his hand, calming his worries. But until then, he can yearn.