I don't know if this is too simple for a request, but how about Twilight Princess Link as a child with Ocarina of Time Link acting as a father figure next to him? (Feel free to reject this though if you have too much on your plate!!)
Oh my heart đĽş
I've wanted to draw baby Twilight for a while so this is perfect!! I don't know if you had something that soft in mind but here it is :)
And hereâs another quick sketch of the Hero of Time passing on his most sacred knowledge of magic beans đ
(Idk I thought it was a cute idea? Maybe Iâll rework it later)
I sprained my ankle yesterday and am in quite a bit of pain right now so this felt comforting to draw (and now I need more Time being a dad)
The good side of things is that I'm on medical leave for the week so I'll have plenty of time to work on your requests đ
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I wonât accept more requests at the moment! This is a request I received for my 500 followers celebration and I still have a lot to do :)
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The Chain stops and takes a short while to care for themselves and their things.
Some of them need different kinds of care than others.
Rated G, Fluff. Time & age-regressed Red short fiction. For @triforce-of-mischief
Also on AO3
IIII
Link looked up from cleaning his mail skirt to find Red had been left behind by the others again when they want to spar. It didn't always happen: Four had been splitting a bit more often lately, Link supposed due to stress, and Red hardly looked like he missed it. He was toying with something on the ground, although he looked a little lost.
Everyone else had left to some kind of chore: Wild and Sky were doing laundry, Twilight was checking Epona's hooves, Hyrule and Legend had gone to hunt which left three of Four with Warriors and Wind on drills. It didn't take much to speculate why Red had wanted to opt out of that: he'd never been one for loud noises, Link had realized, and Warriors had trouble toning down his voice from battle calls when he worked.
Link set down the mail with a groan and lifted both arms to stretch. It was tedious work to clean mail. He didn't check it thoroughly often, but they'd been in enough fights and he'd taken enough hits it was past time to ensure the links were clean and in good shape, the tie points for his armour intact and secure.
When he looked down again, Red had picked up his own items and come over. He was looking curiously at Link, then down to his lap with a question in his eyes, and Link didn't bother speaking to answer. He opened his left arm for him, that same question on his own face and Red's whole face lit up. He smiled widely and turned to sit, back pressed against Link's chest as he held up what he'd been working on.
It was a little notebook. Link pressed the pages open carefully and smiled, seeing the figures sketched in charcoal.
"Your brothers?" Link asked, although remembering how to speak took him a minute.
Red nodded happily and pointed to the on-going sparring although the drawing had been clear enough to identify them already. Link just nodded and bent to kiss his hair on reflex as he might some of the kids that stopped by the farm, or the children--
He didn't need to think of the past. Link breathed out again and quickly moved on, because Red was folding up the book and pointed again, still silent, to the mail Link had been working on before.
Link patted his shoulder before reaching around him easily enough to start sorting through the links roughly where he'd left off. The work wasn't hard, after all. He just had to look, scrub dirt away as he found it and check for gaps or snags... and Red pulled part of the metal skirt into his own lap, running hands over the heavy metal and giggled.
A smile tugged at his mouth, and Link fought again not to laugh -- at least, not too obviously. Nothing that might startle the boy, who had relaxed enough to be a child for at least a little while. Red looked up and smiled at him, and Link let the smile on his own face grow.
By all the Gods in their worlds, too few of them had had the chance to just be children after all.
Inspired by the giant flannel I've been wearing for the last week and how happy it makes me. This popped into my head at work because of it so.... here you go!
Fandom: Linked Universe
Characters: Time, Legend Four
Words: 1,954
Rating: Gen
Summary: The Chain are visiting the ranch, and while most of the other boys are finishing their chores, Time stumbles across Four introducing Legend to one of his guilty pleasures.
"Four, no."Â
Time glances up at the very firm voice echoing down the stairs. Heâs not sure if the boys even know heâs come back to the main house yet, not with the guest room being on the backside of the house and unable to see the door and all. Usually, someone would have noticed the sound of the door opening, but all the other boys are outside with Malon, helping with the chores while their smithy and veteran rested inside.Â
The battle in his world had been a hard one, and as much as fairies and potions can do, they seemingly canât prevent Legendâs chronic pain or Fourâs migraines, both of which had been worsening for days even before arriving at the ranch. Malon, naturally, had insisted that both boys be allowed to sleep in today, and given theyâd still been curled up tight in bed, tense and stressed even while asleep, heâd been inclined to agree. Â
It appears theyâre awake now though, no doubt having found the breakfast laid just inside the door of their room for them, since no one had known if either would be willing to risk the stairs to find something while the rest of them were outside working. Still, heâd probably better check. He's been a bit worried about the two, and now that Malon has ordered him inside (he honestly wasnât kicked that hard! The cows are just big!) he has plenty of time on his hands while the rest of his boys finish their assigned chores under his wifeâs guidance.Â
âWhy on earth not?â The smithyâs voice is a bit higher as it trails down the stairs to where heâs shucking off his boots and stretching out his back, feeling every one of his years, even the ones that technically didnât happen.Â
Legendâs sigh is audible even through the floorboards, a soft groan probably accompanying a motion. âBecause I donât want to get in trouble?âÂ
Thereâs a part of time that wants to snort at the words; the two heroes sound like children arguing about pulling a prank on their parents, but then the fact that he and Malon would be said parents in that situation hits him and itâs not as funny. Additionally, these are teen heroes, the idea that Legend is wary about it means whatever Four wants to do is either very dumb, very silly, or very dangerous, and heâs not sure which is the worse scenario.Â
He moves for the stairs, ears tuned closely to the door above, but feet quiet so they wonât hear him coming.Â
âI do this all the time, itâs nice! Come on, youâd love it if you let yourself.âÂ
Okay then, less a worry, he pauses, listening. Theyâd probably resent that, but heâs curious now, and still a bit wary. He has to remind himself that Legend and Four are, in fact, two of the more level headed heroes- most of the time. At any rate, theyâre usually pretty responsible, so even if heâs more used to Wild and Wind and (Hylia help him) Warriors, he really shouldnât doubt them so much.Â
âYes,â the bed upstairs creaks, âbut youâre you. Iâm me. Thereâs a big difference in how theyâd react to you doing this- heck, Twilight would probably think itâs cute from you, and Sky definitely would-â definitely not dangerous then, or risky, or likely to cause damage of any sort â-but itâd be a whole different story with me.âÂ
âYouâre just scared to try.â Four taunts, headache clearly gone.Â
The bed creaks, like someoneâs flopped on it. âFour, I am in too much pain to sit through Twilight chewing me out for being an âassholeâ again.â Thereâs a tick in the vetâs voice, a small hitch on the offending title. Come to think of it, his pup does tend to call the vet that pretty frequently.Â
Four doesnât pause though, continuing his insistence on...whatever heâs insisting. âThen donât touch Twilightâs things, he canât be mad on someone elseâs behalf.âÂ
âBlame me,â the smithy suggests, off-handed.âÂ
The bed creaks again, a longer one, most likely as itâs resident shifts to face the smithy. He can imagine the deadpan tired stare and heavy sigh that likely touches their young vetâs face. âThatâs the definition of an asshole move.âÂ
âThen let me say it was my fault.âÂ
âAgain, youâre different. Theyâd excuse it from you, but as a person with my own free will, they will blame me for-âÂ
âOh stop being a stick-in-the-mud!â Four huffs, petulant almost. He must be in one of his more childish moods, no doubt Redâs fault. It happens from time to time when theyâre in a safe place and the smithy isnât constantly around the other heroes. He didnât think Legend would be allowed to see it, but maybe heâs wrong about that, because the smithyâs voice definitely has picked up the mannerisms of his more emotional aspect. âJust take this and put it on!âÂ
Are they....is Four trying to get Legend to play dress up of some kind?Â
âIs that Timeâs?â Itâs hesitant, guarded, wary. Â
âHe wonât mind, or notice either, I expect. He never does.âÂ
Is Four getting into his things without his knowing? Since when? Timeâs feet start back up the stairs again, only to pause once more at the vetâs hesitant voice.Â
âYou sure he wonât crucify me or something?âÂ
Malonâs going to kill him. Thatâs the impression heâs giving these younger heroes?Â
âJust do it,â Four huffs, âstop being a baby.âÂ
And of course, insulting Legend is no way to get him to make the smart decision, whatever it is they're on about. He sets up the stairs again, creeping to the door of the guest room once he's reached the second floor and peeking around the door frame. The doorâs still shut, but itâs little trouble to turn the handle ever so slowly and push it open enough to see whatâs going on inside.Â
Heâs not expecting what he sees.Â
Four is standing in the middle of the room, Skyâs embroidered undershirt hanging off of him like a rather short dress as he stares at the vet whoâs still sitting on the bed where Time had left both of them early this morning. The vet, in turn, has similarly shed his own sweaty clothes, which he can see tossed over a nearby chair, and the pink-haired teen is currently drowning in what he recognizes to be one of his own tunics. The collar isnât laced yet, but the vet is currently yanking at it to stop it trying to slip off a shoulder, struggling though because the sleeves of the outfit seem to have utterly swallowed his hands.Â
Four giggles. Red is definitely fronting, although the smile he sees on the smithâs face is more like Greenâs. âLet me help.âÂ
 âItâs just the sleeves,â the other boy huffs, âI got it.â He doesnât.Â
Time finds himself stifling a chuckle as he watches the vet fumble and fuss, switching between trying to free his hands and trying to tighten the collar. Any worries that the two were up to anything nefarious have long since vanished, although his will to see what theyâre doing hasnât.Â
They look like actual kids like this, Four decked out in stollen finery and Legend drowning in Timeâs own clothes, much too big for him, to the point that with the next attempt to free his hands, long sleeves flap freely and loose in an effort of some sort (he can only presume) to make them fall down naturally. That effort though is quickly forgotten, the vetâs face loosening, softening somewhat, eyes wide as he pauses and then tentatively flaps the sleeves again. Four giggles, and Legendâs chuffing laughter follows it as he grins as his trapped hands and the excess fabric that shakes and snaps with his quick movements.Â
âWelcome,â the smithy sounds, âto the wonders of over-sized clothes. Youâre welcome.âÂ
âI hate you,â Legend sighs, but there's not a bit of actual malice in the words as he flops back against the pillows on the bed, seemingly having given up on trying to fit into Timeâs clothes and instead accepting his fate. The boyâs face screws up a moment later in confusion though, and he lifts a hand to his face again with a frown, sniffing slightly at the shirt sleeve.Â
Time desperately, desperately hopes that Four didnât steal that from his travel bag or dirty laundry. Except, he must not have, because Legendâs face softens again, this time into a smile, and he curls up a bit, burying his face in the fabric with a little hum that is strangely out of place for the harsh veteran they all have come to know. More so though, is the way Legend rubs his face across the fabric, ears flapping. Itâs strangely adorable.Â
âNice?â Four is definitely gloating.Â
Legendâs face rises for a moment out of the sleeves, a whole different person than Time knows, bitter-sweet smile and flushed cheeks. âât smells like home.âÂ
Something in his chest clenches violently.Â
Thereâs no such reaction from the smith though, who just looks pleasantly surprised, but nods it off with a smile, moving a bit closer and settling on the bedside, careful not to stir it and earning a brief look of thanks from the vet who is, now that he looks, still a bit pale and carrying tension around his shoulders and eyes. âReally?âÂ
âYeahâ violet eyes fall down to stare at long sleeves, hand flapping slightly inside again, but not enough to do more than make the fabric shift and shuffle a bit. âTime must use the same aftershave as-â a pause, a twitch of the face into a frown. âItâs a familiar scent.âÂ
Itâs also a new one. Malon had got it for him for their wedding anniversary last year. He forgets what she called it, but she loves it, so he does too. On the road, it hardly matters what he smells like, but it makes him think of her and, like the captain says, itâs good to do small things for yourself even when traveling and fighting and struggling. Lifeâs not much worth living if itâs all harsh and you deny yourself even the small joys accessible to you. For him, that joy is remembering how his wife beams and showers him with kisses once heâs fresh faced again, but in the room before him, it can also mean stealing your team-mates' too big clothes and curling up in them when you arenât feeling your best.Â
The smile that pulls across his face as Legend rolls over to face Four better, curled up tightly in himself as the smithy laughs about something, both looking peaceful, is also one of those things.Â
For a moment, a precious, fleeting moment, he can almost forget the two boys in the bedroom across from his own are heroes who have to save the world. Instead, he can almost imagine them waking up there and joining farm chores every day. No pain brought on by whatever these two have faced would exist in such a world and instead theyâd be free to run wild around the barnyard, racing to finish chores or pulling pranks and making mischief like boys their age should be doing.Â
Itâs a nice picture, and not even properly bitter-sweet, even though he knows it canât be, because they're still there in front of him, peaceful and content and chattering quietly, one of his boys curled up in his shirt and the other in Skyâs, both discussing scents and colognes and what smells signal home.Â
Lil (8): *searching the house for Pops during an afternoon storm. She hears the back door and peeks out*
Pops: *turns slightly toward her and smiles as the wind picks up moving his long blonde hair off of his shoulders* Ya scared lass?
Lil: *steps out fully while thunder rattles the windows and shakes her head a little bashfully.*
Pops: C'mere an' watch it with me.
âď¸âď¸
Lil (18): *Stepping out onto the porch while the rich minerally scent of petrichor fills the air.* Knew I'd find you out here.
Pops: *Patting the space on the bench swing next to him* Took ya long enough brat. *Nods toward the incoming weather* Storms from the East are always more severe.
Lil & Pops: 'cause of the ocean.
Lil: You always say that.
âď¸âď¸
Lil (34): *The spring after losing Pops. Sitting on the same bench swing leaning against Zoro as thunder rumbles through dark clouds in the distance* Y'know storms from the East are always more severe?
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