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silver-the-pendejo · 1 month ago

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Devotion

Agriche!Reader x Warriors (LU) Yandere + suggestive themes? Warnings: Reader is a *White Lotus, Reader's family also sucks, blood, mentions but not actual sex. ALSO READER IS A PIECE OF SHIT (but it doesnt show in this one). Reader turn's War's yandere, dont ask how Reader is female Words: 2893 *White lotus or green tea b*tch? A character who acts innocent, sweet, and naive to attract men or garner sympathy, but is actually calculating, manipulative, and cruel. There are some differences, but that's the general gist of it.

The ballroom sparkles beneath towering chandeliers, the air thick with perfume, polished manners, and the buzz of politics disguised as polite conversation. Nobles and dignitaries from across the lands have gathered here in Hyrule Castle to celebrate a newly-forged alliance between Hyrule and the five ruling families of the Kingdom of Ilyndor.

And you, as the youngest daughter of House Agriche—one of those five families—stand at the edge of it all.

You watch your siblings with careful eyes. Jeremy is already charming a cluster of nobles, laughter bubbling from him as if he doesn’t notice the tension in the room. Deon stands apart, his arms folded, his gaze cutting through the crowd like a blade….calculating, dissecting. Roxana glides through the throng like a queen, basking in attention. And Fontaine… Fontaine is making people nervous. He moves with a deliberate slowness, a creeping presence that makes those near him shrink away, their smiles faltering under his presence.

And then there's you.

You stay just out of the center, hands folded demurely, your expression soft, unassuming. You wear the face they all expect of you, the delicate daughter, sweet and harmless, her father’s treasured girl.

Lante Agriche’s eyes find you again and again from across the ballroom. You feel the weight of his pride, the leash of his expectations. The invisible chain of his trust coils tight around your ribs, disguised in silks and smiles.

But inside?

You want out.

You’ve never wanted to be part of this family…. It was your curse the moment your mother falled into Lante’s twisted hands. But being born into it, shaped by it. You learned how to play the part they gave you.

To survive, you became what they needed: delicate, charming, quiet. Harmless. Or so they believe.

They taught you how to flutter your lashes just so, how to speak in a voice that dripped innocence and hesitation. But behind that softness? You were forged into something else entirely.

You were trained in the most efficient ways to kill a man in bed, with a kiss, with a blade hidden beneath silk sheets. You learned how to please, how to disarm with a glance, how to smile sweetly while memorizing the shape of someone’s weakness.

They taught you how to be adored.

How to make them believe you would give them everything in bed.

How to make them believe you were theirs.

And when they believed that… that’s when you were most dangerous.

But even with all that they gave you….you never stopped thinking about freedom. Never stopped imagining a life where you belonged to no one but yourself.

And tonight… you see your chance.

Across the ballroom, standing tall in his ceremonial attire, is Link, the Hero of Hyrule. Revered by his people, a symbol of honor, strength, and safety. His presence is magnetic, commanding quiet awe from those around him.

To the rest of the world, he’s untouchable.

To you?

He’s your exit.

Not long after, you slip away from the glittering dance floor and onto one of the castle’s moonlit balconies. The cool night air brushes your bare shoulders, and the low murmur of the ball fades behind you.

And right on cue, they follow.

Men are drawn to you by your smile, by the sway of your hips, by the illusion you wear like silk. Their gazes are hungry, their confidence bordering on arrogant. You are easily prey for them. You welcome it. One of them steps forward, a sly grin curling across his face. “Well, aren’t you a pretty thing? All alone in a place like this.”

You brush your fingers lightly down his arm—just enough to make his breath catch, not enough to satisfy. “Isn’t it lonely,” you murmur, “being so close… but so far from company?”

They lean in.

Hooked.

Drawn like moths to flame, just as they were meant to be. You let them think they’re the ones in control, let them crowd too close, their laughter too familiar, their eyes dragging over you like they own you.

Just what you wanted.

But for this to work, you needed to be sure Link had seen you leave—had seen you stepping away from the crowd, slipping onto the balcony.

That way, when the men followed, he would notice.

And if he thought you were in danger…

Well, then the Hero would come to save you.

Exactly as you planned. Their laughter grows louder. One of them reaches for your waist, bold now, emboldened by your earlier touch. You pull back just slightly—enough to make it seem like hesitation, enough to shift the energy.

That’s when the air changes.

You feel him before you see him. His gaze lands on you even with the men towering over you, making your skin prickle like a sudden drop in temperature. Heavy. Sharp.

You don’t need to look to know who it is.

The Hero of Hyrule.

The men don’t notice at first—still too caught in the illusion you spun around them.

But you do.

You always do.

“Is there a problem here?” The men startle. One glances over his shoulder—but only briefly. He looks back at you, unconcerned. He probably doesn’t recognize the voice. Doesn’t recognize the man behind it.

“Heh,” the one closest to you scoffs, emboldened by ignorance. “Nah, no problem here. Just having a little chat with the lady. She was really friendly a minute ago, weren’t you, sweetheart?”

You flinch, like you have done a million times already, pretending to be scared. A calculated shift backward, eyes wide and glassy, voice trembling as you whisper, “I said I didn’t want any trouble…”

It lands perfectly.

The man nearest to you falters, caught off guard by your sudden change. The smug grin slips, replaced with confusion—irritation. His hand twitches at his side, unsure of what to do

Behind him, the second man stiffens. His gaze flickers toward the stranger again, longer this time. Something’s not right. The man isn’t reacting like some noble fool trying to play hero.

No panic. No posturing.

Just stillness. A quiet that hums with threat.

And then he sees it.

The scarf. The blue scarf.

The one that marks him not just as a soldier….but as the Hero, the Captain of the Royal Guard. A symbol of authority that only one man in the entire kingdom is permitted to wear.

The man closest to you still doesn’t get it—not at first.

But the other one does. His eyes widen. His mouth opens, and you watch him try to warn his friend, whisper something sharp beneath his breath.

But he’s too slow.

Because the first man is still too focused on you, fingers brushing your wrist again, tone insistent. “Come on, don’t play shy now,” he hisses. “You were into it a second ago, weren’t you? You wanted this.” You let out a sob. Soft. Pitiful. Just loud enough so the blond can clearly hear it.

“I just wanted some air…”

Your voice cracks perfectly, trembling with carefully crafted fear. You turn your face slightly, letting the light catch the shimmer of tears beginning to well in your eyes.

His fingers twitch, wanting to pull away, but you hold your breath, forcing the sob to catch in your throat just long enough.

“Alright, alright,” the first man grumbles, stepping back reluctantly. His voice lowers, edged with warning. “This ain’t worth the trouble.”

You don’t release your trembling act. Your lips quiver, your breath catches, and your eyes plead with silent desperation.

The second man shoves his friend, urgency sharp in his eyes. “We’re done here. Move.”

Finally, the two of them retreat, stumbling over muttered apologies. One nearly trips in his haste to get away.

You don’t move.

You wait, after all…timing is everything.

Then, with just the right amount of restraint, you let your shoulders tremble. Only slightly. Just enough to look like you're on the verge of tears.

And just like that, he moves.

He stops just in front of you.

And just to close your act, you throw yourself into his arms, letting your tears finally fall. You make sure they’re silent against his chest, soaking into his clothes as you bury your face there, making sure to sell your scared lady act.

He stiffens—caught off guard. You hear the small intake of breath, feel the hesitation in the way his hands hover for a split second. “I—I’ve got you,” he murmurs, voice low and unsure, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with you. But then his arms come around you, careful at first, then firm. Protective.

Just like you knew they would.

You tremble in his hold, clutching at his clothes like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. Your breaths come in shaky little bursts, your voice soft and ragged.

“I-I was so scared…” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear. “They wouldn’t stop….no matter what I said…”

His grip tightens around you, anger radiating off him, but not at you, clearly… How could he be mad at you? He doesn’t know you.

“I didn’t know what to do,” you continue, your voice breaking perfectly on the last word. “Thank you… thank you for coming. I didn’t know if anyone would—if anyone saw me leave—” You hiccup a sob, the kind that sounds like it hurts to hold in. And when you tilt your face up to him, eyes glassy and lashes wet, it’s like you’re the picture of vulnerable gratitude.

“I thought I was alone,” you breathe, hand still fisted in the fabric over his chest. “But then you… you came.”

The walk back to the ballroom is steeped in silence.

You cling to his arm like you’re afraid to let go, fingers curled into the fabric of his sleeve, your body pressed just close enough to seem shaken, not improper. You don’t speak, and neither does he. Link’s gaze stays fixed ahead, his jaw tight with restraint. But he doesn’t pull away.

You cling to the act just a bit longer. A soft tremble in your fingers. A hiccuped breath when your shoes click too sharply on the marble. You never overdo it. You don’t have to.

By the time you both reach the ballroom doors, the sound of music and laughter spills back into the corridor like nothing’s changed.

But when the doors part and you step inside, eyes turn. The nobles notice him first, of course—who wouldn’t? The Hero of Hyrule, stepping into the ball with a crying girl clinging at his arm.

And that’s when Roxana sees you.

She breaks from her conversation with unsettling ease, gliding across the ballroom toward’s where you stand. Her gown trails behind her like spilled blood. Her smile is flawless, not showing her feelings, but you know better.

They take in everything.

The slight disarray of your hair. The shimmer of tears still clinging to your lashes. The way your hand remains curled into the hero’s sleeve.

Link slows when she draws near, posture guarded but calm. His free hand rests lightly near the hilt of his blade, unmoving, waiting for danger.

Roxana stops in front of you, her voice smooth, pretending to be worried,

“There you are.”

At the sound of her voice, you let go of Link’s sleeve, the gesture lingering just a beat too long, like it’s hard to part with your safety. Then, with a breathless gasp, you throw yourself into your sister’s arms, burying your face into her shoulder as a soft, broken sob escapes you.

Roxana’s arms come around you in a slow, practiced motion. She holds you delicately, her touch protective to onlookers, but you can feel the tension in her fingers, the way her posture sharpens the moment your head rests against her.

She knows.

Of course she knows.

But she doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t call your bluff. Not here. Not yet. She know’s better than to question your actions after all.

Instead, she strokes your back with practiced calm and murmurs just loud enough for those nearby to hear, “What happened?”

You sniff, delicate and trembling, and pull back just enough to look up at her—eyes still glassy, lips parted like you’re struggling to speak.

“I just wanted some air,” you whisper, voice cracking like splintered glass. “And then those men……”

You don’t finish the sentence. You don’t need to. The implication hangs there, heavy and damning, sharpened by the way your fingers tighten ever so slightly in the folds of Roxana’s dress.

Roxana’s gaze flicks briefly toward Link, who still stands a respectful distance away, expression unreadable.

“And you intervened?”

He nods once. “I did.”

Simple. Honest. She know’s he doesn’t know you are faking it

Roxana hums softly. Almost approving. She turns slightly, shielding you more fully with her body, the perfect older sister now guarding her shaken sister

“Well then,” she says, tone crisp but polite, “you have our gratitude, Hero.”

Link gives a slight bow of acknowledgment, but his eyes linger on you for a second longer. Searching, maybe. Just what you want

You meet his gaze and offer one last, quiet, “Thank you.”

It works. He dips his head again and finally turns, melting back into the blur of nobles and chandeliers.

Only once he’s out of sight does Roxana exhale sharply through her nose, her posture going rigid.

Her grip on your shoulders tightens just a little.

And in a voice now stripped of all warmth, she leans in and mutters, low enough so only you hear it

“You have five seconds to explain what the hell you’re playing at.” You know she is going to give you hell for this, but at least you are sure that your escape from this family is going to work.

It’s late.

Your room is still. And the only thing that matters is the steady rhythm of breath against your shoulder.

It’s late.

You lie in the quiet, the sheets tangled loosely around your legs, Link’s arm draped over your waist like it’s always belonged there. His face is buried in the curve of your shoulder, nose brushing the skin just beneath your ear, soft exhales warming your neck.

He’s heavy against you. His fingers twitch every now and then, tightening around you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he loosens his hold even for a second.

You smile.

Not the kind you wear in the court. Not the soft, sweet smile you tend to give him every time you look at him.

This one is the one you inherited from your family. A slow, quiet curve of the lips. A smile with teeth hidden behind silk. The kind that doesn’t reach your eyes. The kind that means I’ve won.

He’s asleep beside you, warm, bare skin pressed to yours, his breath soft and even where it fans across your collarbone. One arm is flung over your waist, holding you close even in sleep, as though he knows, on some deeper instinct, that if he lets go… he’ll lose you.

You stroke your fingers through his hair, slow and soothing, watching the way his brow twitches in response. He melts into your touch, leaning into it like a dog that’s been starving for affection. He chased you.

He found you.

He loved you.

And you let him.

You let him see you cry. Let him wrap your wounds. Let him think he could save you. You let him think you needed saving at all.

He nuzzles deeper into your neck, murmuring your name in his sleep like it’s the only word that matters. And you press a kiss to his hair, tender and practiced.

You close your eyes, but sleep doesn’t come. Not yet.

Your mind drifts back to days ago, when you caught a glimpse of something you weren’t meant to see.

Link, standing in the shadowed corridor just beyond the rose garden. A member of house Castro – Not from the main branch, that you knew- hung from Link’s grasp by the throat, his feet barely scraping the marble floor. His mouth opened in wet, gasping sounds, eyes wide with terror.

You hadn’t realized he had been stalking you. Watching you.

But Link had.

And he hadn’t hesitated.

He drove the sword in with practiced ease, his face unreadable. No words. No threats. Just a quiet, terrifying calm as he let the boy fall in a heap, gasping and bleeding on the floor. Link wiped the blade clean, turning slightly to leave, but never once did he see you in the alcove. Never once did he look toward the shadows, where you stood silent, watching.

You still haven’t told him.

Not because you’re afraid.

Because you liked it.

You liked knowing he would do that. That he already had. That even before you asked, he had already decided anyone who touched you without permission wouldn’t leave with their life.

And now he lies next to you, soft and gentle and golden in the dark.

He doesn’t know what you saw.

He doesn’t know the way your heart bloomed in your chest that day like a flower opening toward ruin.

You know that you don’t love him, but he loves you, and would do anything for you, and that’s enough.

You turn your face into his hair and finally, finally let yourself sleep.

Still smiling.

Dont kill me pls sorry for dissapearing, final's and the start of holidays before summer school had me procrastinating, have this as a peace offering, I swear il start publishing things once or twice a week if you all dont kill me, ok that's all bye :D

Askbox and requests opeeeeen -Runs away to prepare for an all nigther-

LU Masterlist

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #x reader #lu warriors #yandere warriors #Manipulative reader #white lotus #IM BACCCK FUCKEEERS #lu warriors x reader

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