#first x reader

You frequently prided yourself on the shiny condition of your bike. It was your baby, the thing you poured a lot of your disposable income into. You cared a lot about it.

What would you do if you couldn’t risk your life going 150 on a 80 highway, after all?

It wasn’t murder, but baby steps!

The care and time you lovingly poured into its condition was the same reason you screamed so loud when you left the dorm building and found the back of it battered.

Some asshat had decided to do donuts in the parking lot while drunk, if the note half assed and stuck on the back with a bit of chewed gum was anything to go off of. But you knew that lamenting over the fury of a busted bike would do nothing.

So you scraped off the gum and drove it to the closest garage that was open at six thirty in the morning, the thick downpour of rain not helping to ease your mood.

The motorcycle lulled as you pulled it into a slow break, back wheels screeching ever so slightly at the curve of movement.

The garage was simple, grey floors and white walls, a few cars being tinkered with and an overly strong smell of bleach, paint and… iron?

You pulled off your helmet, raking a hand through your hair, forcing it to bounce back to something semi presentable, and adjusted your shirt. You waved down a mechanic without particularly looking at who was coming, far too busy scowling at the dent.

You mean, really. Who would ruin such a nice coat of paint on such nice plating.

The steady sound of footfall got closer, and you crouch down to run your fingers along the indentation. “Nasty mark, I know. Can I get a quote on fixing it?” You murmur and peeled off your jacket, wrapping it around your waist with care- real leather should be taken care of.

The smell of bleach and iron got stronger, almost drowning out the paint with the added scent of grease. It smelt sharp.

“Aww, and here I thought you were here to see ya favorite mechanic.” The worker audibly pouted.

Knowing that voice, you thought, that pout would be the single most sarcastic thing he’d see all week.

You launched yourself around, legs tangling beneath you where you were still crouching, and you fell straight on your ass.

Ronin. The butcher. God’s least favorite freak, and Satan’s favorite representative.

He barked out a laugh, one hand resting in his jackets pocket with the other splayed out as an offering of help. “That excited to see me, darlin’?”

“Ronin.” you spat, knocking his hand out the way to scramble up yourself. “You work here? This is the single most unfortunate turn of events possible.”

You looked Ronin up and down, mentally taking a note of how terrifying he’d be in his alley- and how hot he’d be covered in blood.

“Well my alleys not too far, is it? Only makes sense I’d be close by, wouldn’t wanna travel too far.” Ronin grinned, hand still dangling awkwardly to the side. His eyes flickered down to it briefly, “And here I thought my favorite writer was all obsessed with me… ya breakin’ my heart.”

You grimace, hands previously at your side falling back to lean against your bike. “God I hope it kills you.” you groan. “Can you just… you know? Help me with my bike?”

“Well that’s my job darlin’, and I know a pretty little way you can pay for it.” Ronin leaned forward, still smirking as your personal space became his..

You pushed him away by the shoulders, briefly wondering if you were touching a jacket that was splattered with blood the night prior. “I’ve told you before, you need more creative threats. You’re not taking my heart for my bike. I’ll pay you with cash.” you retort flatly, rolling his eyes at the overdramaticised attempt at ‘hurt’ Ronin was trying to display.

Ronin continued to grin, the smile not faltering once, “Oh darlin’ I wasn’t talkin ‘bout that.”

His eyes shifted down, lingering on your lips. “I was thinkin’ something a little more… temporary. If I took your heart now, well that woulda cut our little game short.”

He shifted closer again, head so close your foreheads were almost touching. You could feel the heat of his skin. His eyes were dark, like an endless void. He stared, unwavering and smirking. Maybe you were insane, or maybe it really was attractive. Either way you were too far gone to care.

You were a rational person, and Ronin was one of his word. He said he’d cut out a heart and dedicate it to you, he did. He said he’d ruin your life, well he already had in some way. It was intoxicating, the truth and nothing but it being used in such a sharp edged way. You relished the way it dug into the skin covering your ribs, getting ever closer to breaking through and sliding through bones to your heart.

But if Ronin said he’d accept it as payment, he would. And who would you be to turn down a kiss from the hottest man you've seen in a long time, and a free bike repair. The pros outweighed the cons, even if the con was the fact you were about to kiss the man you were almost sure would kill you.

Surprisingly, Ronin wasn’t the one to close the distance. You leaned forward, tilting your head slightly to press three short kisses on his mouth.

Ronin was going to kill you.

Ronin laughed, mouths still lingering against each other as he snaked a hand into your hair, palm pressed flat against the back of your head as he tugged you closer and closer till your teeth clacked and you were chewing at each other's lips.

It was uncertain who bled first, but the taste of iron mixed its way into the kiss either way.

A phone buzzed a minute later, far louder than expected, and you jumped backwards with a pant.

“Tease.” Ronin breathed out, the bottom of his hand coming up to wipe at his lips, skin coming away with blood of his own for once.

You fumbled with your jacket pocket, the phone awkwardly at your knees from where it was around your waist, and you yanked it out after a few failed attempts.

Where are you? It’s been too long. You’ll be late to your lecture.

Your roommate, ever the lovely person, cared enough to remind you.

“I need to go.” you sighed, sliding the phone back into your pocket. “I trust my darling devil will take care of the bill?”

“I’m a man of my word, baby.” He shrugged, moving to take a better look at the damage. “And you fulfilled your end of the deal, maybe a little too well… Come back tonight and it’ll be just as pretty as you.”

The feeling of the cloth against his eyelids was…new. Unique in a way he hadn’t experienced before in a manner that didn’t involve imminent harm to himself or his person. It had his sense on high alert as every little sound nicked his now improved hearing. The very scarf he had once held dear now the cause of his limited eyesight. 

Everything was dark, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t see. He just couldn’t do it with his eyes. He could see the way your fingertips dragged along his skin, the tone of your skin clashing against his own fair one as the delicate pads ran over every goosebump.  He could see the way you leaned in close, breath fanning against the crimson fabric wrapped around his head. 

He didn’t need his eyes to see because his sense had been amplified tenfold.

It felt like his nerves had been lit on fire. Like cotton had been pulled from his ears and blinders had finally fallen, freeing him from a world so dulled he had no idea there was such vibrancy to be had. 

It was almost overstimulating with how much it all was. More so when he felt your delicate fingers wrap around the shaft of his cock. It was more constricting than he thought plausible and he could only wonder for a fleeting second what it would feel like to be enveloped by everything that was purely you. You didn’t let him dwell on it however, thumb crushing over the weeping head of his cock, spreading the leaking precum down his shaft before letting go completely. It cooled quickly and he felt his skin riddle itself in goosebumps at the feeling of it. 

It was addicting. 

First let out a shaky breath through his teeth before straightening his spine. He was a knight, he had to act like it. 

Your chuckle made warm breath brush against his ear and in an act he previously thought forbidden, he whimpered. It shuddered in his throat and his shoulders shook because of it before he settled. But you had grappled onto that sound and you were going to run with it. 

Your hand returned to his cock, gently tugging it and making him positively shatter in a shaking and trembling heap. 

His hands fell to the bed beneath him, fingers clutching onto the fabric. He could feel the sheet strain in his grip before he pulled his hand free, instead threading his fingers into his hair. His scalp burned at the pull, but it was no near the rush of pure ecstasy  that ran through him in jolts of pure lightning, Every muscle simultaneously tightened and went lax as strings of cum seared wherever they landed on his own skin that your hand didn’t immediately cover. 

This corner of Faron Woods was quiet this time of year.

The woods were solemn in this Hyrule, the sliver of moonlight barely enough of a guide through the mist, it was silent but for the soft padding of animals through the underbrush and the howl of a wolf in the distance (not Wolfie's, not musical enough). The stars were your only company as you were separated from the group, the air was cold agaisnt your skin as you attempted to find your way.

Being alone in the forests of Hyrule never spelled anything good for anyone, but as you felt the brush of a hand tenderly twined in yours, the ghost of leather and the faint clinking of steel, and a faint glow of pale gold and ivory cutting through the veil of the night, mindful of roots you may trip onto and never flickering too far out of sight you couldn't feel safer, even  if instead something like melancholy threatened to lock your throat with the chains of silence, you felt as warm as the soft twilight glow and as frigid as ice, frostburned with the bitter cold of your own warring emotions.

You can't help but chuckle a bit whille holding a old scabbard close to your heart, it's a wry sound, "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

There is no answer, of course there isn't, but you don't mind, you know he'll listen, thorns wrap around your heart and crawl up your throat, the smell of lilies and steel coats and sticks in your throat like honey, or maybe blood, "... I didn't think you'd show up, you know? I always considered the possibility but..." You trail off, you feel something brush your side, you can only see him in the corner of your eyes or with a passing glance, there but not, existing but gone, so you keep your eyes on the road and in the flicker of light, so you carefully don't look to your side, you don't think you could contain the shaking in your heart otherwise, to stare at inevitability and prophecy, "... I know, I know you're fine. At least for now, I apologize for all the trouble I gave you."

'It's alright. It could never be a hardship aiding you.', the voice echoes in your ears, and you swallow thickly, breath hitching, the warmth of the sun in the fields of Hyrule, the wind caressing your hair, the song of the animals in Faron Woods, someone holding you carefully, fondly. The warmth of your hand in his. Not really here, but not gone either, more feeling than true echo.

You chuckle, and try to pretend it's not a bit breathless, something like a wounded keen, "... You're too kind. Too, too kind, thank you."

Spirits in Hyrule never spell anything good, in this wild land of light and shadow in a gestalt of divinity. There are some exceptions though, even if it hurts to witness then. So you follow him through the dark, certain that as you've guided his way once, he'll lead you now to where you need to go.

----------------------------------------------------------

... The clearing he leads you to is open, but by no means truly quiet among the trees, there is no peace to be found for the armored skeleton here. You choke on sorrow, on unfinished business, on the cruelty of being brought to ruin and being denied peace, and you stumble towards the familiar figure, almost in a trance as your vision blurs, roots and thorny vines wrap over rusted armor and a thorn cape, the skeleton's void sockets piercing through your soul, illuminated by the solemn gaze of the wretched moon and it's uncaring maids of honor in the stars.

You fall to your knees near the decaying skeleton, biting back against the wounded sound that attempts to leave your throat with enough strenght to bleed, you lay the scabbard by his side with a bouquet of lilies and shiver at the gentle, phantom touch, so soft, so loving it almost leads you to ruin all over again.

'... It's foolish to grieve for someone who isn't gone yet.' the thought comes to you, yet you can't help it. You still hurt for him, you still hold onto the fury at the heavens themselves for denying them quietus. For denying them rest over and over and over again. To watch this cycle and be helpless to stop it all due to the will of uncaring gods.

Alive. Dead. Alive. Dead. Denied full rest over and over again, to watch the chance at rest to the kindest of souls found in this world you found yourself in.

You barely register the touch to your cheek, ephemeral as it is, as you can't help but shed tears, can't help but grieve. Because if you don't, who will?

You know by now that some wounds can never heal, some rifts can never be mended. Even with the guarantee of cyclic, eternal rebirth, some things never return to how they were. And reminding yourself of this inevitability to them will never not hurt, even if you know it's futile to blame anyone but the one god who started this, and maybe the goddess who stood complacent to it. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth that it'll one day come to this, that the frost of death and the sharpness of pain will leave a mark the sands of time can't scar over.

You reach a trembling hand towards the one in your cheek, try to find catharsis in the remains of decayed, dead yet ever eternal, ever growing love. And you breathe.

'We'll meet again. So do not mourn for me, please.'

You don't think you could deny him if you tried. Not when you know he's trying to soothe you, to thaw your sorrow. To allow your heart's healing to fallow.

"We will, I know. I'm sorry for making you worry." You chuckle, leaning into the cold, trying to brand the memory of the shadowed, but not gone love given to you so you can return it in kind. Just until you meet again, just until you can give all you can to his not yet decomposing self, grasping onto what remains of him, "I love you."

'I love you too. Until we meet again.'

The cold is gone, the echo of love leaves. And you breathe, and pretend you don't feel empty.

(When you see Link again, reuniting with the Chain on the next day's twilight. You hug him as tight as you can, and hope you he doesn't notice the tears in your eyes. And that you don't feel the lingering traces of a frigid embrace.

First

First was actually quite proud of himself. 

He managed to keep his heart beat steady as you rested against his chest.

It was hard to get here. He’ll be the first to admit that it was mostly his fault for pushing you away as long and as harshly as he did. He’s not sure why you bothered to stick around. Surely, there were other, eager men willing to be yours.

You’re beautiful, he thinks as he adjusts your positions a bit. You’re sleeping and at peace. You’re gentle breathing fills the otherwise thundering silence around him. 

All at once, everything was different. First felt warm. He felt bubbly. He wanted nothing more than to keep you here in this moment forever. He wanted you to feel safe with him. To confide in him. First wanted to be your stronghold.

He is imperfect in every meaning of the word and in every aspect a man could be. He knows this.

And yet you’re here.

With him. Against him. Loving him.

It boggles his mind. He’s confused and grateful enough to cry. He loves you so much.

You adjust yourself against him as well, pushing yourself higher against him. You lean on his shoulder and sigh in your sleep. First gingerly pulls his arms up, wrapping them around you and pulling you closer against him.

His emotions catch in this throat and First finds that he also has to take a deep breath. Such a quiet moment. Despite being a man of little words, First grew to hate the silence.

All those years in that lonesome cells does wonders to demoralize a man.

But this comforting. This is soft. This is safe. You’re safe. You are his stronghold. His unwavering rock.

After all his time wishing and wanting for be left alone, he realizes now that he would be even more of a shell should he have to go on with his life without you.

You hum and blink your lovely eyes open. You looks up at him blearily and smile. First looses control and his heart beats harder against his ribs. Surely you would be able to feel how weak he is for you.

“You ok?” You say in a sleepy voice. With a small yawn that you gracefully let out away from him, you rest once more against him, seemingly relaxing more this time than the first. ”You look concerned.”

“Not so, Darling.” He whispers and kisses your forehead. “Just thinking.”

“That’s dangerous.” You say with a mischievous smile. He smiles back. You’re joking. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Your eyes close and First wonders if you’re about to fall asleep again. How wonderful to have someone desire so little of him for a change. First gulps and rubs your arm, tracing his fingertip lightly over the sliver of skin that peaks out from under the fabric.

“It’s nothing troublesome, My Dear.” He looks down loving. He tilts his head to rest it against your own and he closes his eyes as well. “I simply love you. I wouldn’t know where I would be if you weren’t by my side.”

You snuggle up some more and leave a small butterfly kiss to his jaw. “For your information, you won’t be getting rid of me anytime soon. You’re stuck with me”

“I wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing. You have my word.”

“Good.” You snort. “I didn’t spend all that time getting you to like me for nothing.”

Now that gets a chuckle out of First. “I have always liked you Darling. You needn’t worry about that.”

Fierce Deity

You belonged among the gods.

Of that little fact, the deity was sure of it.

Your grace, your beauty, your talent, your wisdom, your courage- so many qualifiers. How could the laws of reality be so cruel as to have made you mortal?

And at times, you scared him with how little you acknowledged it.

The way you fight, the way you protect, the way you attack is ruthless. It’s sexy. With his breath caught in his throat, the deity is forced to come to grips with the possibility that he could lose you at any moment. 

“Hey.” You nudge his side gently. “Are you ok?”

He pauses his mental tirade and takes a deep breath through the nose. “I’m alright, Jewel.”

“Are you sure?” You press and take his hand into yours. It’s impossibly small in comparison. He is much larger than any mere human that roams the earth. It scares him sometimes. The idea that with the flick of his wrist- he could hurt you too.

He nods and bends down, lifting your hand to place a tender kiss to your knuckles. “Rest assured, My Grace. May the worries of the past not interfere with our dreams of the future.”

A beautiful shade of red accentuates your features and you lose the nerve to meet him in the eye. You’ve grown shy. What a lovely look.

“Must you call me that?” You pout. “I told you, it’s unfitting.”

The deity chuckles deeply, amused and self satisfied with the turn of events. “Then perhaps are you able to come up with a more fitting name, Jewel?”

“Why call me Jewel?” You change the subject abruptly. This amuses him even more but he will happily indulge you. He’s too weak to consider any other option.

“This.” He pokes your still blushing cheek. It darkens at the action. 

With a wicked grin, he leans and begins to speak lowly. Surely, you’ll get the message afterwards. “It brightens you. The color matches that of a precious gem. You’re as brilliant as a sun stones of beyond. Your cut can rival that of the most catered diamond. Your beauty is long lasting and does not fade with time. You’re a treasure. My treasure. My precious Jewel.”

He tucks a bit of your hair behind your ear and you’ve completely lost your nerve.

The deity revels in this. Your reactions and your words fuel him. He must protect you, he thinks. At all costs if necessary.

“That’s just flowery talk.” You say, biting your lip and you kick the dirt below your boot.

“Nonsense.” He dips down to take your hand once more. The other reaches around you, pulling you close. When you’re within reach, he bends down, scooping you up with his arm and pulls you up to his chest.

You gasp and pace your hand on his shoulders to steady yourself against the sudden movement. The deity allows another smirk to cross over his features. “I could never lie to the keeper of my heart.”

“Oh my goodness-”

“My one true love.”

“Please-”

“My chosen one.” He kisses your cheek and wraps his other arm your upper back. “I would fight a million battle for you. I would reach the ends of the earth, travel through hell itself and back just to keep you in my arms.”

You whine and bonk your head against his chin “Why do I believe you?”

“So you believe that but not my previous words?”

You scream within yourself and hide your face entirely. “You’re impossible!”

Like right now, Wind always had a hard time waking up after a nightmare. The terror always sapped his energy from him and left him exhausted for days afterward, even if he tried to pretend that it didn't affect him. So it's with your fingers softly running through his hair and gentle humming that you bring him to wakefulness. "Come on, sleepyhead, it's time to wake up." You smiled as you watched him roll away from you.

"Don't wanna," he mumbled sleepily, obviously still half in the land of dreams.

"Okay, then I guess we'll just have to give Rancher your breakfast. Like most kids his age, Wind was food driven, and that was proven by the way he launched up out of bed. You couldn't even try to suppress your laughter.

"You are the best little brother anyone could ask for," You told him as you ruffled his hair.

"I'm not a kid," Wind Declared as he glared at you while fixing his hair.

"Never said you were; now come on, let's go see what the wild child's made for breakfast before someone really does eat it for us." If you didn't know any better, you'd almost say you heard First chuckle, but you doubted that. After all, he made Legend seem like an open book.

Still, it was a nice laugh, warm but understated, like the hint of cinnamon your mother used to put into her tea.

Damn, you still missed her, but it was an old ache. She'd died when you were still little, yet her memory still caught you off guard sometimes. It was a pain most of the group shared; after all, you were just a bunch of unlucky orphans.

*-*-*

Wind had been glued to your side all morning; even after breakfast, he'd insisted on keeping you within eyesight. It made you wonder about what he'd dreamed of last night. Whatever it'd been had to be bad, but you left it alone. You all had parts of your stories you didn't want to talk about, and you'd never push them to talk about something you wouldn't talk about yourself.

You weren't unfamiliar with long lonely nights under the stars or days running on nothing but sheer willpower, nor the way they could leave you feeling helpless with the weight of the world on your shoulders.

So as much as you wanted to pry into Wind's nightmares, you wouldn't. If he ever decided to share, you'd listen, but until then, you'd just comfort him as best you could.

*-*-*

First was worried about the little pirate; his nightmare had left the boy jumpy and on edge, like danger was just around to corner. While being vigilant was good, being hyper-vigilant would do nothing but leave you exhausted and unable to face a threat when one did appear.

Even knowing this, First's own experiences forced him to be on edge at even the slightest hint of trouble. It was all First could do to keep his hand away from his sword. It did calm his nerves a bit to see the young pirate sticking close to you; between your own skills and the boy's, First had no doubt that the two of you would be safe.

Still, by the time the group had stopped to make camp, he was glad it wasn't his night on watch rotation. Even if he doubted he'd actually get them, he'd at least have a chance at a few extra hours of sleep. Most of them suffered from nightmares of some sort, and First had his own share of demons that chased him in his sleep.

Even so, he wasn't happy that you and Wind would lose more sleep tonight, but that was what it was. Neither you nor the boy would stand for being treated differently than everyone else, and First could understand that. You and Wind had both earned your scars, and come morning light, he had no doubt that the two of you would be safe and sound.

*-*-*

First was surprised when you sat by him for supper; he'd assumed you'd still be angry with him.

"Thanks for not saying anything about Wind." You said while watching the hero in question as he seemed to be regaling Four with a tale of his time at sea. Wind always seemed to speak with his hands as much as his words. It made First wonder if he could decipher the story all the way over here.

"I understand the boy's pride. And besides, you seemed to have the situation well in hand." Told you after taking a sip of his soup.

"I'm surprised to hear that from you." You teased First, who stared off into the distance before nodding to himself.

"I know you can handle yourself; it's just that you remind me of someone I lost a long time ago, and given who you're surrounded by, I'm sure you can understand what that's like." You didn't know how to respond to that.

Not only was it the most he'd spoken about his past, but he was also right; you did know how it almost felt like you could lose them all over again.

"What were they like?" You asked on impulse, and you almost kicked yourself for it. It was obvious that this was a sensitive topic you were prying into.

"Smart, kind, and beautiful." So this wasn't just someone he cared about; it'd been someone he loved. "But they were far too trusting. That's ultimately what got them killed in the end." Hearing First talk about them explained a lot about his behavior.

After all, wasn't that the same reason you were so protective of Wind because he was the closest in age to your Link before he died, and the thought of another hero dying that young made you sick to your stomach.

"I understand how hard that can be," You said while watching your favorite pirate as he waved his hands in a way that reminded you of storm waves.

"It must be hard for you to be here surrounded by reminders of your loss." First Said as you took a bite of your bread. You thought about how to best reply as you chewed.

"Not as much as you'd think; what really upsets me is how young most of them were when their journeys started." You admitted it wasn't something you'd voice to most of the chain, but it wasn't like First was known to be chatty.

"I can't say I'm a fan of children fighting what should have been adult battles either, but Hyila is neither kind or merciful." You were surprised by the anger in his voice. Sure, he'd been angry, but you'd never heard this level of rage from him before. It was enough to shock you into silence for the rest of the meal.