#majora's mask x reader

[monpalace]

ships .. (ocarina of time/majora's mask) link/reader, fierce deity/reader.

content .. the boys (separately) with a reader who feeds them well, and the fruits of their loving labor.

warnings .. unedited. no pronouns used (you/your). reader is implied to have more meat on their bones (vaguely). reader is in their housespouse era and they aren't even married (legally). non-graphic vomit and forgetting to eat mentioned (link). link and fierce deity are taller than reader. fierce deity is named aram for writings sake. reader is implied to be a god of sorts (fierce deity). fierce deity is literally my oc at this point.

notes .. my schnookums thought they could have big cheeks and get away from me? my cutie patooties thought that i wouldn't write about them eating right? my pookie bears thought that i wouldn't fulfill my duties as their #1? my baby faced sweethearts thought i wouldn't spend 2hrs looking for pictures like those? my favorite white boys? my honeybuns? my hollywood stars? my sugarpies?

i'll eat them. omnom

LINK has always been rather thin. That was especially the case when he was a child. Something about a Kokiri child's diet not fitting what a Hylian needed always kept him frail.

When you both were children, he had quickly gotten used to you plucking his arm when it was idle to compare his lack of fat to your surplus.

(He never minded. He always looked forward to being reminded why he put one foot in front of the other every day during his fight against Ganon, or repeated cycle after cycle when it came to Majora.)

(Funnily enough, you had always made fun of him for being shorter than you as a child as well. You always mentioned he needed to drink more milk and eat more cuccos so he'd one day pass you.)

It was when you were able to cook more than simple meals and wouldn't risk burning down your cottage that you would invite (force) Link over more often than you already have.

Link had always tried to limit his visits to when he absolutely needed to. Free food, bed, shelter, care, supplies, clothes, bathes (the list was endless), and whatnot were always appreciated, but he never wanted to become to comfortable lest he wake up one day (or night. Or afternoon. His internal clock was always ruined when it came to sleeping at your cabin) and decide not return to the world outside.

He does his best to turn down any seconds, or thirds, or fourths, or fifths, and so on you may offer him when he does stay long enough for you to finish whatever extravagant meal you made just for him.

Past experiences often make him sick (with trauma or physically) and result in him vomiting his food, but there's always more from you to replace what he had just eaten and the meal before (if he remembered to eat it).

What he can't finish at the table (or on the sofa, or in the bed), he takes with him when he leaves. Link is respectful in all meanings of the word and hates to leave anything to waste.

When it comes to thanks, he either finds ways to help around your cottage or brings back items from new regions for you to cook. Whether it be repairing the busted bathroom door you've been complaining about before fixing your water faucet so the pressure is what you want it to be, or bringing back a spice the Gorons specialize in you've mentioned wanting to try, Link typically feels his gifts fall lackluster when compared to your treatment of him.

(He trusts your skill and creativity enough to know you won't poison him on accident. He never brings back any recipes or instructions either if it's not a dangerous material.)

(He's always excited to try whatever new dish you've concocted, so his only condition is that you wait for his return to cook whatever it is he brought you. "A celebration, of sorts," he calls it.)

A look in a lone puddle had told him his cheeks had gotten fatter. He supposes he now understands why he was refused entry into one of the pubs when he had to retrieve Malon and Cremia's uncle.

He had noticed that the details of his arms were less visible through his shirts when a Goron had pinched one,— not in the same way you did when you were younger— he had mentioned that he had an amount of muscle and fat to be proud of before asking him to join a tournament. Any attempts prior to were quickly shut down.

During a day of horseback archery with the Gerudo, the sweltering sun had gotten to him enough that he had to remove his tunic and the shirt underneath to feel some sort of relief. One of the women who were training him took a look at his stomach and nodded approvingly, mentioning that he should praise his soon-to-be spouse for feeding him so well.

The last nail in the coffin came when he was riding Epona into Castle Town. His tunic felt uncomfortably small and his tights (curse those damned tights) felt as thought they were stretched more across the expanse of his thighs than they usually were.

He's back in your cottage when he finally vocalizes his thoughts, preferring you to any other tailor or seamstress in the country. "I've gotten to big for my clothes," he either sighs or signs to you while eating. His gaze held a thousand yards in them, idly watching his clothes move with the wind.

The tunic, hat, tights, boots hang outside the window on a string connected to your shed. They had to be washed after a (admittedly well-planned— even if they don't think) ambush by a hoard of chu-chus.

You throw a hazy look to them before returning to the bowl you were tirelessly mixing. You were making dinner, he thinks, or maybe it was in preparation for the big breakfast you were making with the variety of bread from the Gerudo he brought back.

You'd already given him a large snack earlier.

The thought makes him look down at the plate in his lap. Every spot of it was filled and piled with bread, and eggs, and meats, and jams. He couldn't see the white bottom of it even as he pushed and prodded around.

He takes a bite of it gratefully.

"I saw you before you left not even three days ago. You fit everything fine enough to me." At some point you had stopped stirring and held the bowl out to him. Link grabs something off the plate and dips it in without a thought, eating it before responding with a hum of approval. "I can make adjustments to then, if you'd like."

You leave the bowl with him before attending to something on the stove.

"Please," he responds, halfway through another bite of the (what he now recognized as) Gerudo bread and cocoa dip you had made. "Different pants would be nice, though. It'd be a nice excuse to finally get rid of those tights." Both tasted sweet by themselves, he realized, but left a calmer aftertaste that he'd like to savor.

"You've always hated the tights," you hum in response, moving from the stove to the coolers that he'd built you after bringing you a large fish that only lived in Zora's Domain. "What would you want to move on to now? Leggings? Shorts?"

Link watches you remove a pitcher from one of the coolers. He isn't sure how long it's been in there (he doesn't even remember watching you make it), but he assumes you took some ice out so the pink liquid wouldn't freeze over into complete ice.

He watches you try to take a cup from one of the cupboards, watching you struggle to grab his favorite one from the higher shelves.

He stands from the chair sat just outside the kitchen (he liked to watch you cook when you had the time), placing the bowl and plate on one of the many cleared counters (you liked to clean as you worked), and grabs the cup for you.

Link lowers his head with his hand when he hands the cup off, head resting upon the crown of yours as he watches you pour the pink liquid into it, idle arms wrapping around your waist as he makes some slick comment about eating enough milk and cuccos for your liking.

You don't elbow him in the stomach like you might have when you were younger and he doesn't hold the cup above your head teasingly like when he was younger to (— then again, he had to climb a counter to get it out of your reach.)

Instead, you wordlessly pass the cup back to him and he wordlessly drinks it despite not knowing what it was.

He likes it, as he does all your works, and notes how it was both sweet and sour. A taste that fills both his childhood need for sweet all the time and his older palate's need for other tastes.

Handing the cup back, Link tilts his head so he can press a kiss to your crown. "Anything you'd think I'd look good in," he finally responds, the flavor of the moment leaving a tooth-achingly sweet taste on his tongue.

ARAM is often humbled in your abode.

He may have acted arrogant to others in his younger years and horrifyingly aloof now that he's a more seasoned god, but he never failed to (willingly) crumble to his knees when in your presence during either times of his life.

He had no need for the sustenance mortals require, prayers and whispers of his name were always good enough for him, but he'd kiss the ground you walk on if it meant you'd bless him with another food you've created (he already does).

Aram is the provider to your fire-lit home, an arrangement the two have been living by for as long as he can remember.

He is the sword to your shield. The arrow to your quiver. The moon to ever burning sun (which he did create for you, after all). The wound for your gauze. The life to your world— and one cannot live peacefully without the other.

Your food had quickly become an addiction to Aram. He'd eat as much as often as he could, giving little response to when questioned why he loves it so much.

("Because it comes from your hands," he once explained hours later when you were sleeping. "Your hands, that create all. That nourish all it touches and replenishes all that is extinct. I am your antithesis, and I must destroy that which I love."

(You never had the heart to ask again.)

He has enough sense to slow his eating around you. One concerned comment about him choking was enough for him to indulge in needless your wishes, but a question regarding its taste had him eating like a mortal.

His relationship with food prior to getting hooked onto yours was brief and filled with obligation. He never ate to feel full, only to make the people he was fighting with shut up and leave him out of whatever conversation they were having.

It never lingered in his stomach like a warm fireplace that others had described it as. It never made him warm and filled with love. It never gave him the energy he needed to keep fighting.

It just went through his digestive tract (why did he even have one?) and disappeared like an heavy smog finally dispersed by a strong gust of wind before he had to fight again.

When a war was over, you always came. You took the battle-shaken soldiers away when it was their time and healed their ailments if they were able to withstand everything. You went through war-stricken cities and set everything as they should have been. You feed and clothe and bandage and sew and reunite and Aram isn't sure why he lingered.

He's seen the effects of what you can do long after you've left. He knows of the good you're capable of doing just as much as he knows the bad he can cause.

He craves your touch when he sees it at its peak. He indulges himself when he sees it first-hand.

Aram understands what the soldiers mean when you beckon him closer and offer him food, uncaring of how he stands tall above all else.

The soup warms his insides. The flavor resides on his tongue hours after he's finished it. His energy, though far from depleted, had made him feel as though he were a youngling again.

He craves more.

The addiction to your presence and your food (and subsequently, you) had started then. It's an event he could easily recall when asked, one he would happily recount to you if you ever forgot where his devotion to you started.

Meeting after a war or battle had become frequent enough that he had finally learned your name; not some silly alias those who followed you often referred to you as. He felt like one of those lovesick children soldiers talk about, tripping over himself and his words.

He's curious to you, an admirer more than a stalker, fortunately. When he wasn't on the battlefront, he was always hovering around as you worked, busying his hands with whatever task you've given him after noticing his lack of mortality.

You treated him well; doing so even after the era of wars were long gone and he was seldom needed. You cared for him as though he were one of the many wounded soldiers with no family to return to once all was done and said— and to an extent, he was.

He's eating when you bring attention to his softer thigh.

You were reading to him, a romantic thriller that held as much of his attention that your captivating voice did. His gaze focused heavily on you, watching as you lick your lips after each page, how your eyes rake over the page to ensure the tone you speak the next sentence in is correct. He notes how you shift less often, how he doesn't have to move you further up his lap so you can lean against his stomach.

"It's not as painful to sit on you anymore." Aram doesn't think that line was in the book, but he doesn't mention it. It dawns that you were talking to him when you look up, using your finger as a bookmark as you closed the book around it. "Have you gained weight?"

He's a big man; it's a fact he's known since the beginning of his existence. He has large arms, muscles well know for how he snatched prey up to bring back to you. His height made it a simple feat to reach into the trees and capture any avian you wanted to experiment with that night. His legs that would stomp on any fish swimming downstream during a day at the lake you suggested.

He was sculpted by the Goddesses themselves. If they hadn't meant for his body to change along with his lifestyle, they wouldn't have designed him to dough.

(He'd never be ashamed in the fact either. He was contented knowing he had someone to dote over him constantly; a sentiment he had gained after recalling a conversation with wedded soldiers.)

(Also, the prospect of defacing what the Goddesses had long since disgraced was exciting, in a way.)

Aram doesn't look at himself, already well-acquainted with his body as his brow raises in amusement. "You feed me well, My Grace," he responds with a peck on your temple, "I would hope to become more comfortable for your pleasure." He refused to stop eating as he indulged you in conversation, the leg you sat on jumping once in place of his busy hands.

You hum that sweet, quiet hum of yours that Aram has come to associate with your contentedness (he aimed to hear to several tomes every day). Removing yourself from his lap, discarding the novel to the side as you raise your hands to cup his cheeks. "It suits you. You look healthy. Happy."

"Did I look ill before?"

You don't fluster as you might have like in your younger years. He's honored to have grown alongside you, reminiscent of the older couples you've both watched and escorted when he was still an active god.

The same filling feeling your food gives him fills his heart. The lingering sense of peace that he felt since meeting you dancing through his body when your thumbs rub the apples of his cheeks, the softest and fondest gaze anyone's ever given him in your eyes.

"No," you answer in a quiet voice only he'd be able to hear. "Never. You've always looked perfect."

And Aram has never been more thankful that he separated himself from the Goddesses as he preens under your touch. Never been more thankful that he lingered after the war was done. Never been more thankful that he had readjusted his psyche to more readily accept your gifts and affection.

He frees a hand to cradle to back of your head, a threat to all that aren't you, and brings you beneath his chin in a protective gesture. "As have you," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "And as you always will be."

#there's a mental health stat for link in oot/mm now. #the only way to keep it up (and him in good shape) is to go back and visit his s/o's house often and interact with them <3 #(you are immediately entered into one of those cutscenes with the grandma that tells the story of the giants from majoras mask-- but instead #of only telling you stories; you get to watch them do domestic things) #unless sky and wind have some photos dropped that reveal they have fat cheeks 2 im never doing this again #i am my oc. my ocs love language is food. i cannot cook. #elvira's notebook #legend of zelda x reader #loz x reader #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #ocarina of time x reader #majora's mask x reader #mm x reader #x reader #link x reader #fierce deity x reader #legend of zelda link x reader #loz link x reader #legend of zelda fierce deity x reader #loz fierce deity x reader #linked universe link x reader #lu link x reader #linked universe fierce deity x reader #lu fierce deity x reader #time x reader #legend of zelda time x reader #loz time x reader #linked universe time x reader #lu time x reader

[emmyrosee]

She got her quiet sneaking in from you.

Kenma’s fingers tap roughly on the controller in his hands, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in focus. He’s died four times to this monster, its shrieks of agony scaring him once embarrassingly in front of his chat, the other three deaths because, now that he’s past being scared, Kenma realizes what a damn hard boss this is.

“Chat, I’m telling you right now, if I see this dev in the streets, I’m taking a crowbar to their knee caps- this is a promise, not a warniIIIIIIING!”

He lurches from the gentle tug of his elbow, heart sinking to his chest in complete fear and acceptance that this is it for him, he’s dead. His arm is ripped away from the source, but when he hears a tiny gasp in fear, Kenma’s heart beats calmly again.

“Daddy okay?” Maesi asks, and kenma pauses the game to turn to her.

“You startled me baby,” he teases, and she blocks up at him with doe eyes to coax him to forgive her. As if she really needs to do that. “But what’s up beautiful?” He asks, putting down his controller and stretching. “How are you, angel?”

Maesi hums and passes her father the plate, her eyes peering up at him timidly- a trait he wants to blame on you, but every time, he’s met with a cocked eyebrow from you. “Want french fry?”

Kenma chuckles and nods, “I mean, you know I’m never gonna say no to fries,” he says, reaching down to grab the lukewarm fry from her tiny plastic plate. God knows how long they’ve been out, at least four hours; but that doesn’t stop kenma from letting his little girl take care of him in her own way. “You wanna be in daddy’s stream? Say hi to chat?” When she nods, Kenma lifts her up and into his lap, and once done, he reaches over to pick up another fry. In his headphones, Kenma hears that he got a donation.

Thank you kuroosassscheek for gifted 75 subs: hey Kenma there’s something behind you

“Thank you, Kuroo,” he scoffs. “Spawn, say hi to chat and uncle Tetsu.”

“Hi chat, hi uncle Tetsu,” she hums shyly, and Kenma kisses her temple around his chewing. “What playin’?”

“Daddy’s playing a scaaaary game,” he says, voice hiked slightly while he gasps. Maesi giggles before passing him another fry, which he takes quickly.

“Gonna have nightmare,” she warns.

Kenma raises his brows in agreement, “mommy’s gonna have to tuck me in.”

“Me too,” she mumbles, curling into Kenma’s hoodie, nose burrowing into his neck and tickling his skin slightly. “Play Star Valley?” She asks.

He hugs her tightly with a fake groan of effort, and she giggles happily, “you want to watch daddy play Stardew Valley?”

“Yeah..”

“Does mumma know you’re in here?”

Maesi is quiet- he chuckles and shakes his head, letting her get comfortable against him. He knows you’re not far, probably asleep on the couch, and Kenma prepares himself to potentially have to carry his two sleeping babies to bed.

“Alright- one second chat,” he says simply, grabbing his controller to change the game to the easy, calming game Maesi loves to watch him play. “We’ll pick that up tomorrow. Gotta protect myself from nightmares.”

Once again, Maesi lets out a little laugh; she tucks her face as close as she can to him, only shifting to grab another fry to munch on. He tips his head slightly again, to plant a kiss on the crown of her head, the soothing music in his headphones gets placed on her head, and before kenma can start any of his tasks, he feels Maesi’s breathing even out, her plate of fries and nuggets placed somewhere on the desk for him to take.

And that’s okay. He’ll play for a while, just in case she wakes up, and he’ll let her sleep in confidence in her fathers arms. Kenma’s pleased as the numbers in his stream doesn’t immediately drop: it stays, even now as it’s been hijacked by the one he loves most.

This 🥺🩷

#see when I was a kid my dad played Diablo and fuckin majoras mask #and now look at me #im a haunt actress who writes on the Internet #kenma kozume #kenma kozume fluff #kenma kozume x reader #kenma kozume x f!reader #kenma kozume x reader fluff #kenma kozume imagine #kenma kozume haikyuu #kozume kenma #kozume kenma fluff #kozume kenma x reader #kozume kenma x f!reader #kozume kenma x reader fluff #kozume kenma imagine #kozume kenma haikyuu #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu x f!reader #haikyuu x yn #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n

[yandereunsolved]

— ☾ Yandere Fierce Deity ☾ —

"For what reason has a mortal such as yourself entered my sacred temple? A temple where massacres have occurred, empires have fallen, and the greatest evils have trembled."

"I found something of yours."

Just as planned.

"And what might that be, little one?"

"The mask that conceals you. I found it at the bottom of a ravine, near a statue of the goddess Hylia. It was cracked and chipped. So I painted it for you. I fixed it the best I could."

"Do you not know the power this holds?"

"I am not worthy to wield it. I am a simple hunter. I don't wish to wage war on any one nation."

"I am proud of you, my dear."

You are the one. Just as I thought. Not even the bravest of warriors would dare tread on my territory. Yet with your skittish steps and timid voice, you present to me one of the most powerful objects a mortal can hold. You didn't hide it away while thinking of how you could use my power of war, no. You fixed it and brought it back to me. You passed the test. You truly are mine.

☾

"Fierce—"

"..."

"Fierce! You killed them. You slaughtered my entire village. All of family and friends are gone!"

"It had to be done. Since the day I laid eyes on you, I knew that you had to be mine. Throughout all of eternity, no one has made me feel things in such a way as you have. So, I devised a test. What would you do with my mask? You brought it back to me. That was your oath to me. Our engagement. Our marriage and thus forth consummation is something I have planned since."

"You cannot be serious. I-I was just trying to be kind! Very few worship you due to your violent nature."

"I am not one to joke. You should know that. You have been bound to me since you touched that mask. You can never escape me or my presence."

"I didn't want all of this! I-I just wanted to understand you."

"And you do. For I would pluck the heart out of the divinity within my chest and present it to you. Can't you see the beauty in this carnage? It's my wedding gift to us. Can't you just tell me you love me, my beloved?"

#fierce deity #fierce diety link #yandere fierce deity #yandere #loz #the legend of zelda #legend of zelda fanfiction #majoras mask #oni link #fierce deity x reader #yandere fierce deity x reader #mm #yandere legend of zelda #yandere legend of zelda x reader #drabble #aesthetic board #yandere loz #yandere linked universe

[jupiterdrabbles]

hello! sorry for no recent updates, but i’ve been getting ready for megacon! now that the day is here, take some odie cosplay content.

ch10 of the oracle is around halfway done, and it is becoming a beast. i’m hoping to get it out by february!

#odiespeaks #breath of the wild #link x reader #prince sidon x reader #legend of zelda #sidlink #majoras mask #skull kid #skull kid cosplay #loz tears of the kingdom

[yxnderebxnny]

OH MY FUCKING GOD HEAR ME OUT (Also I have the more serious Links in mind here, like OOT, TP, and the Fierce Deity even though I know he's not a Link) A scenerio where the reader (More fem leaning, i'm so sorry-) is worried sick about Link/FD going out on another adventure and/or mission so before he leaves they plant a kiss on his cheek BUT THEYRE WEARING LIPSTICK SO IT SHOWS So he's js dead serious while in front of people and they're js trying to make fun of him for it but he's so proud of it "What's on your cheek, huh?" "It's from my wife. >:("

#x reader #link x reader #loz x reader #oot Link x Reader #tp link x reader #Loz #Fierce deity x reader #majoras mask #ocarina of time #twilight princess

[ghostgirl101]

Dating BEN Drowned Would Be Like This:

A/N: I've suddenly got inspiration to write dating headcanons/imagines for the creepypastas, so… requests are open, I guess (but I won't write smut) 🙃 This is based on the original first arc (The Haunted Cartidge) written by Jadusable, so there's no mention of Moon Children and BEN's still the antagonist and not a victim 😎 I love writing for BEN Drowned... my fave Creepypasta 🙃

🎮• So, you found the Majora's Mask cartridge and started playing it on your N64. Everything about the game is horribly wrong, and there's the Elegy of Emptiness that keeps following you around. Wherever you go, he's following you, even if you don't notice - from the top of buildings, hidden in the shadows, or just straight up in your face. It's unnerving, to say the least. That, and the things he says.

🎮• All too familiar lines like "You shouldn't have done that," and "You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you?" but then there are other odd things on black screen scenes, like "There is beauty in your suffering, but there is so much more," and "You need me more than you'll ever realise..."

🎮• BEN kind of likes toying with you to see what reactions he can get out of you, as he does have quite a sadistic streak in him. But instead of just terrorising you until he gets bored and then going to find another victim, he enjoys just watching you, staring at you with empty, observant eyes. He watches you while you sleep for hours at a time, mesmerised and somewhat confused by what makes you stand out to him. It's not just because you're pretty, it's something much more than looks. It's just... you.

🎮• Hidden inside your computer while you go about your day, or playing with the electrics when he wants to remind you he's there. He's obsessed with the little decisions you make, the way you look, and the idea of you being, well, all his. It's extremely hard to have secrets or privacy, because BEN doesn't believe in that. He can read your expressions easily, or what you might say before you say it, almost as if he's reading your mind. So there's no way to lie to him and get away with it.

🎮• When you go to school or work, you notice that the annoying ones who used to pick on you and all have suddenly gone quiet, only giving you wary, wide-eyed looks every now and then. The next day, there's no sight of them, and a missing person poster is up soon after. You have your suspicions immediately, and go straight onto Cleverbot when you get home:

BEN... Yes, what happened to him? Cut it out. I know you're there. Where? You killed her, didn't you? She didn't deserve that. I want you to stop. Just, please? Stop? Why would I do that? They lost the game. Besides, you're much more important. Why? Because. Because what? I choose you. Don't you feel safe? I don't know. Not really? You will.

🎮• BEN isn't kidding though. You'll never have a lasting incident with someone being horrible or being in a dangerous situation. He's always watching, extremely protective and possessive. You see more of that when he reveals yourself, which is after you'd injured yourself slightly somehow, and after a short struggle of trying to patch yourself up and stop bleeding, the TV glitches, crackles and opens up from the inside like a portal.

🎮• You almost have a heart attack as you can only watch as a boy with deathly pale skin, hollow black eyes and intense red pupils steps out casually, a look of amusement as you grip the chair you're sitting on to try and ground yourself and make some sense of the situation. It fades into huffy annoyance and almost unnoticeable concern as his red gaze flicks to your wound.

🎮• "You shouldn't have done that."

🎮• "Well I-" You don't get much of a chance to say anything, because in less than a second he's right opposite you, making you flinch back in surprise as a cold, glitchy hand takes the supplies out of your own and does an exceptionally good job of wrapping it up. His messy, snowy blonde hair tickles your skin as he looks up, sending chills down your back as his inhumane eyes lock onto yours with a playful, dark smirk.

🎮• "It's rude to stare."

🎮• BEN can be absolutely impossible by the things he says sometimes, and he loves watching you frown in frustration and try to get back at him. Ever since he first appeared in a materialised form to you, he does it more often, and you get used to the unnatural sight of him as he pops out of screens into your home whenever he feels like it, crashing your websites and snickering when you get annoyed because it didn't save some of the work you were doing. But the way he 'has fun with you' isn't all malicious and threatening as it is with the others, it's more playful and teasing. If anyone else does the same, he'll scowl and their phone will give them a harsh electric shock.

🎮• It doesn't matter how much you try to tell BEN you can look out for yourself and he can lighten up a bit when you're around others, he's still going to be watching out for you with a slightly overprotective mindset. In his mind, your 'friends' and those around you aren't as deserving or worthy as you are for pretty much anything. He doesn't pester you with the questions of where you were and who with, since he already knows, but isn't above mentally torturing people who seem like trouble until they go away.

🎮• He can also be kind of clingy, but in his own way. BEN doesn't give you much of a warning when surprisingly strong arms make you slide onto his lap while you're sitting and doing whatever it is you're doing in your room, or fiddles with your hair and examines your body and face like a curious painting. He stares a hell of a lot too, which is another thing to get used to. Hugs are often initiated by you, and he'll never push you away, though he's not that used to it. BEN will grumble under his breath if you cuddle him with a content grin, but you know he's enjoying it really.

🎮• BEN's possessiveness is shown by his like for marking you up, which he does pretty much whenever he gets the chance. He smirks roughishly as you jump at the sudden feeling of cold lips sucking and biting down on highly noticeable places of your skin on your neck and even your arms. If you ask him with those big eyes to do it somewhere that's less noticeable, he'll roll his black and red eyes dramatically, as if you're asking for the impossible, but do as you say anyway.

🎮• You can never just kiss BEN when you leave or something. He'll draw them out into heated makeout sessions that he only stops when you're gripping onto him tightly with shaky breaths, where he'll grin and wink at you before disappearing. Jackass.

🎮• He shows his crazed, obsessive love by getting you whatever things you want or have mentioned by shoving them through random screens' portals to where you are. BEN enjoys playing video games with you too (obviously) where it's entertaining to see you annoyed at him beating you all the time, but then cute when he messes with the game to let you win sometimes. His soft side comes out when you're upset or need comfort in a non-violent way to whoever could have caused it. No words are said, just cool arms around your middle and the thoughtful boy tracing shapes on your skin and enjoying the unfamiliar sense of peace he gets with you in his arms.

🎮• Dating BEN Drowned isn't the easiest relationship to be roped into, since he does have a fair few past experiences that have scarred him emotionally and made him who he is (quite literally). Bit by bit, he'll tell you things, showing you that you're earning his trust, and you can absolutely trust him. Because, for once, he doesn't want to hurt someone. He wants to care for them. It just takes a little getting used to, that's all.

#ben drowned x y/n #ben drowned x reader #ben drowned #creepypasta ben drowned #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta headcanon #creepy pasta #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta imagines #creepypasta fanfic #creepypasta fluff #creepypasta blog #jadusable #majoras mask #nintendo 64 #creepypasta hcs #cleverbot #yandere creepypasta #slasher headcanons #slasher fandom #slashers #slasher fanfiction #slashers fanfiction #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slashers headcanons #slasher hcs

[tw1l1te]

fact

let’s be honest guys. Wild would def be a Minecraft kid.

That’s the post for today.

#linked universe #link x reader #zelda #legend of zelda #breath of the wild #twilight princess #botw #tears of the kingdom #Skyward Sword #ocarina of time #zelda headcanons #headcanon #Wind Waker #majoras mask #yandere linked universe #linked universe au

[summertimemusician]

Linktober Day 9

Deity

*sneezes after downing coffee* Well irl stuff got in the way so I'm way behind my original schedule for these and for Linktober but here we go with another arguably short one, fuelled purely by self indulgence, headcanons, spite against my linguist essays that kept me from keeping to schedule, severe sleep deprivation, a shout out to the Ender Lilies soundtrack and Majora's Mask soundtrack, and Nintendo for not clarifying anything about the lore so I'm snatching what I can and making it my own lol. Look, when you fíxate so much on details the Zelda team doesn't elaborate on you have to fill in the gaps with what you can.

As always can be read as romantic or platonic, technically in a LU context but not explicitly in it by itself.

The Lord of the Mountain liked hearing people sing.

In a way, it wasn’t a surprise, Hylia and the Golden Three each had their ballads and symphonies and minuets, each splendid and with cuts of their divinity in it, Farore was fond of lightning and forest alive minuets, and you could swear Farosh sparked just a bit brighter when one would him the beginnings of the Minuet of the Forest near their spring, Din was fond of boleros, fiery and alive and howling with the echo of flame touching earth that made a shine run through Dinraal’s scales, Nayru, in contrast, was much fonder of blizzard and river quiet serenades, the songs of contemplation at first snow ringing clear when Naydra curled around it’s spring, content to be free of Malice.

And of course Hylia had her ballads and lullabies, perfectly fitting to her display of divinity, of honey days and vast bird like wings, of ambered summers to come and to pass and dazzling solar storms of starlight and sunlight sparking through the human form of her descendants and heroes. So in a way, you weren’t surprised at all that the Lord of the Mountain – Satori, with a familiar touch of londsleite divinity, the hunt of the woodland beasts and diamondscar adoration for the Hero of the Wilds, similar in glory to the Light Spirits petrichor and vermeil fondness for the Hero of the Twilight – liked to listen to people sing. What you were surprised was how it attempted to follow along, it’s head across your lap the second you sat down in the clearing, a gentle hum on back of it’s throat, an owl’s cry and a cicada’s humming and faintly, chirring purring as presses it’s faces into your hands, a gentle request for petting.

It was adorable, even with the faint notes of the chill of clear spring water on winter and the livewire feeling of magic, like holding your hand too close to a flame but not quite touching it.

A low chuckle brushes against the back of your mind, a feeling like biting on ice, the prowl of a wild beast and the build up of lightning and light used to create his blade, the amused affection of a warrior reconvening with their brother in arms, you think you see the bone ivory of the Deity’s hair on the side of your vision, though you know he’s not physically there, ‘He likes you.’

You hum, gently patting behind it’s ears, pushing through the chill, gracefully not mentioning the burning with a smile at the mythic being’s faint chirring, birdsong and the wind through cherry blossoms that sparkle like rose quartz, “Well I quite like him too, I can see where it’s gentleness comes from.”

The ghost of a touch over your hair, the caress of lightning striking over your skin and the hair on the back of your neck pricking up and the crisp cold of winter, the chill of the ending and the flame of a new dawn, of new days, the phantom of magnolias and spring water on your tongue. The fragrance of pine, daffodils and blood soaked lilies on ashen fields on your senses, gentle and careful, marking but not claiming, ‘Only because it’s you, beloved. It’s not something easily given.’

You sigh, shakily composing yourself, you let yourself relax into the phantom sensation. Of hopes and dreams and healed suffering, of the divinity of hunt turned into protection and lightning given form, of tangled timelines and crystalized memories, “I know. It does not change my opinion, either way.”

To be the subject of a god’s care and regard was dangerous, after all. For the human and the deity in question, you know the stories from your world well, of the effects of Hylia on First and Sky, of Twilight and the personification of the Twilight Realm and the spirits of his land, of Wild and clawing from death’s embrace into that of the wilderness.

Knew how the fact the Fierce Deity’s mere proximity causing pain on those who changed him into hunting for hunt’s sake into protection for the sake of someone else cut deeper than even the ever encroaching entropy all beings must one day face. It was no wonder the Song of Healing was his creation, to want to ease the burden.

You gladly grant him some peace, in turn, even if it wasn’t much. It’s the least you can do, for always having his ways of watching over your heroes.

“Join me? We can make a duet.”

You feel more than see him shift, ephemeral, fleeting, gentle against the edges of your existence, as foreign to Hyrule as your own, sparking over your spine as you feel ozone and rust on your teeth. Satori is humming again to match the rumble of thunder in the man’s voice, the heralding of songs of war and elegies for the dead, ‘Of course, though I’m afraid I do not know many songs, besides…’

“It’s alright,”, you smile faintly, there’s a white ocarina in his hands, as he leans, a spectre against your side, “I’ll teach you some of my own, though you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t remember all the lyrics.”

‘It would be my honor to learn.’

You think he smiles, from the fluttering of something ancient and long forgotten against your side.

You sing to Satori and the Chain, a small respite of familiar and forgotten tunes, the Lord of the Mountain hums along. The Fierce Deity’s song cutting through any nightmares that may ail your heroes for another night.

When the dawn of a new day comes, the feeling of divinity against your skin feels just a bit more obvious, sinking into every crack of your being like a shroud, falling over your boys like a veil, reflecting the breath of eternity over Hyrule.

(First gives you a look that’s half exasperation, half understanding. Sky pointedly sticks to your side as Time looks you over, markings deep with vibrant color. You shrug with a helpless smile as you feel the lightest brushes of Hylia’s fond days of gold and starlit summers days against the Lord of the Mountains warm, luminous affection and the Fierce Deity’s smug, but content lonsdaleite smile.)

#linked universe x reader #fierce deity x reader #is this after Majora? #Is Fierce Deity really there or just manifesting due to being fond of Reader and living in their head rent free? #Is Hylia jealous because she couldn't stake a claim first? #Did he create Satori in this? #That's for future Summer to know and y'all to find out lol. Though this does reference the theory he's the one who sealed Majora #The divinity of Hyrule changes people the closer they are to it #Fierce Deity is both a warrior/demon god and the hopes and dreams of the people of Termina and that duality is fascinating in this essay- #Really I believe that Fierce Deity doesn't mean to harm his users or people who aren't enemies #But the Eldritch Vibes ™ are so much even when he's toning it down it's a slippery slope #Good thing Reader is a divinity magnet just from proximity to the Chain and can put it aside #Plus Time putting on the mask as either Sprite/Mask change the FD as much as he changed him and same for First and Hylia #summer writes linktober 2023 #summer writes #maybe I'll add more tags or elaborate later idk I need a nap and to work on the other prompts

[litrllyvoid]

Has anyone ever read that one FD x Reader on quotev???

Please tell me someone out there has read this (I’m like 14 chapters away from finishing)

And ik quotev is pretty dead but hear me out!! Desperate times called for desperate measures

#fierce deity x reader #fierce deity #link #post majora’s mask #quotev #pls #pls bro this fic is crazy good

[kaisers-house-of-desires]

Hello! I would like to request Majora (in a physical demon form) x masculine Hylian reader. The idea being, Majora is summoned back into Hyrule for the reader's revenge, but before it goes through with that, it senses that the reader wants something else too. It decides to take of the reader's desires in exchange for carrying out what it was summoned for. So for themes: bondage, rough sex, and aftercare. This is my first time requesting something like this, and I hope I didn't mess anything up!

Oooh how interesting~

Now I'll be frank, I have not played Majora's Mask or know much about it in general. My husband has more knowledge about this, so I'll be using that to assist with this.

I do hope I have things right.

If not, feel free to request again, and I will try to do better.

Title: Exchange of Payment

Characters: Majora x m!reader

Contains: bondage, rough sex, aftercare, fingering, hair pulling

Fandom: Legend of Zelda

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI

Reblogs > likes

You didn't expect this to work, but the creature standing before you defied your doubt.

The demon towered over you, silent. Its slow breathing was audible in the small room of your cellar for a moment as its chest moved with every rough breath. Two yellow eyes on the chest glowed in the dim light, almost as if they stared you down. Its gaze left you frozen in position, kneeled before the creature thanks to the position you took to summon it, but it wasn't those yellow eyes that stilled you. No, it was the singular eye on its forehead, visible from the creature's head craned down to the Hylian that summoned it. Unnatural, cold, it remained on you. You felt as though your position didn't help, on your knees in a way that made it seem like you were knelt in respect. It was merely the position you took to summon it, though for a moment, you felt it was appropriate.

After all, you summoned Majora.

A bane of the past, Majora had used its powers to nearly destroy Termina while inhabiting the body of Skull Kid, using him as a mere puppet. His reasoning for doing so was unknown, but all you cared was it was powerful enough for you to work with.

Though scared, you swallowed your fear, slowly standing to the demon. "M-Majora. I summoned you for your assistance." Silently cursing yourself for the stutter, you stared back into the eye that bore into you as your knees shook from the fear as well as due to the energy the summoning sapped from you.

In silence, its head tilted, jaw open and revealing two rows of unnaturally sharp teeth. It was as if the creature was still struggling to understand its situation. After all, summoning did a number on the demon as it did to you.

"Revenge..." Its voice was hoarse, low. It's jaw didn't move as it spoke, only leaving you to wonder how its voice worked. "That is what you seek..." You hadn't said it, but you didn't need to. Majora could easily sense your desire.

"Yes..." Your own voice was thick with hesitation, fear practically beading on your forehead in a chilled shine.

Something ate away at you as you picked at the hem of your shirt in thought. Your eyes traveled along the creature's form, eyeing its chest, down to its arms. Each hand clasped around the handle of a whip, and your mind began to wander.

"Payment...for services..."

Snapping out of your dirtying thoughts, your gaze shot back up to the demon. "Wh-What?" For a moment, you thought he was answering you, but that was not the case.

"I require...payment."

Wait, payment? That was something you hadn't thought of. You didn't think a demon would want something, but then again, you were foolish to think so. After all, of course a demon as powerful as Majora would want something in return.

"I-I uh...I'm really sorry but I--"

"Do you...have payment?" Its form bent forward, all eyes growing closer towards you as Majora used the end of the whip to tilt your chin up, forcing you to gaze at the monstrosity before you.

All those sinful thoughts were quick to return, paired with a flush of heated pink on your cheeks. It felt as if the creature was digging into your soul, trying to find some sort of lie or reason as to why you couldn't pay it for its work, until it froze.

"Ah...yes..." Straightening up, Majora lowered its hand before flicking both of them, both whips wrapping around your form and pinning your arms to your sides.

With your heart hammering, you struggled to stammer out an excuse for your lack of money or other means of payment. You feared your life would be payment instead, but when Majora pulled you toward it, your bodies now flush with each other, your mind instead went blank with confusion.

"Payment...will be you..."

Instantly you were brought back to your initial fear, but before you could utter a response, Majora spoke first rewording its sentence.

"Your body will be my payment..."

---

Despite your arms tied behind you, the position didn't hurt.

Majora used one of its long whips to bind you to its liking, wrapping the material around your now bare chest and arms in a decorative way, and in this style, the demon was able to use the second whip to loop through a section on your back, the material holding strong as it was used to hold you up without falling. You weren't sure how it managed it, but thanks to a support beam above you and Majora's two whips, you were lightly suspended from the ground, your toes barely touching the ground.

You were at the demon's mercy.

Aside from your trembling breathing, there was silence. Majora was nowhere in your sight, and its movements weren't noticable. However, its presence was finally made aware to you when it grabbed your hips, a gasp brushing by your lips.

"Yes...perfect..."

It brought your body to its own, a stiff object resting against your clothed ass. Your body tensed against the object, your legs clenching up and leaving yourself fully suspended, your body weight against the skilled harness you were in. Only Majoria could move you around now, but he would only put you back in your original position, using the space to now remove and discard your pants and underwear.

You shuddered from the chilled air now brushing against your skin, leaving goosebumps along your body. Now exposed to the demon, every touch from it made you feel like you were caressed with fire. Heat kissed from your arm, inching down your side before resting on the dip of skin above your bottom. Its sharpened nails began to part your cheeks, earning the demon a small squirm from you.

"Be still..."

Easier said than done. With its nails inching towards your sensitive hole, your body twitched, your legs almost kicking the demon. Though it remained still as it had commanded you, unfazed by your motions. As its hand inched closer, its thumb found a tightened entrance, pressing against it as a low, rough hum met your ears at the same time as your pitched gasp met the demon's ears.

"Needs preperation..." it noted, its thumb immediately increasing in pressure.

Your body wasn't accustomed for anything to enter, but that didn't stop Majora. Pressing past the tight rings, you let out a pitched squeak before your body gradually relaxed, your breathing returning to its shaky sound as it was at the start of the session. Surprisingly, its nails didn't hurt, and you were grateful for that. You could feel its thumb, walls tight around the appendage. The sensation sent a jolt to your cock, which stood proud into the chilled air. All the demon's touches, sounds, and voice had made your shaft uncomfortably hard, but with no hands to relieve yourself, you could only silently swear.

Your thoughts were soon interrupted as Majora began to slowly pump its thumb into you, its free hand firm on your ass to keep your hole visible. Your head hung, soft breathy moans slipping out your throat as you took the steady pace. All this pleasure from just a thumb? Though to be fair, you weren't sure how big it was due to your position, let alone know what Majora had planned. Its pace would soon increase, causing ripples of pleasure to radiate from within. Your hands clenched into fists from behind your back as your body started to adjust to this strange new feeling.

Ultimately, you couldn't complain. If you had known the payment would feel so nice, you would have been a little more confident with the demon. Instead, you appeared as a meek little Hylian, a toy for Majora to play with, something that Majora couldn't complain about in turn.

You weren't sure how long it was before you felt a second appendage slip in, your body jolted from the intrusion, and your cock leaked with arousal. Its other thumb had entered, now attempting to spread your hole open.

"This will do."

Majora brought both bodies close, a third, larger and harder object pressing against you. You realized it was the same object from before, now coming to the end thought of it being the demon's cock. You opened your mouth to protest its size, but instead of words, only sound escaped, pleasure dancing a dangerous waltz with pain.

Majora was large, and it offered no time for you to adjust. It wanted payment, and it would take it.

And your cracking little mind would happily oblige.

Thrusting almost immediately, Majora used your hips as leverage, your skin clapping against the demon's colored form. Both you and Majora sounded out, moans, groans, and slapping filling the stale air. It hurt, but goddess was it delicious.

Your legs at first curled into the air, tensing against the demon before they ultimately fell, a sign of submission. Eyes rolled back, you gave yourself to the demon, paying your debt with every thrust, with every moan.

Majora devoured your sounds, drank in the sight of your body. It moved quick, its thrusts firm, but it could do more. It desired for more.

With your suspended form, Majora would pull itself away, push you forward, only to reconnect you two in a rough, firm clap. It was slower than the pace from before but fuck that impact was like lightning in your body.

A sloppy, drooling smile decorated your face. Moans becoming blissful screams from the demon's roughness. With every slap of skin, your moans would hiccup. You didn't dare silence yourself, partially fearful of what Majora would do to make you sound out. You were in bliss despite your body at the mercy of such a creature.

"M-Ma...Majo...ra...~"

Your moans of its name faltered the movements of the demon. A power coursed through it and in a blink of an eye, you found yourself on the cool concrete of the ground, your hot cheek pressed into the rough texture as your ass remained in the air. Your hands were still bound, but now you were no longer suspended, your eyes catching the whip that now rest on the floor beside you.

Majora, however, never left you, using this new position to hammer into your smaller frame. The new position was a new power dynamic for the demon, enjoying having you in such a pathetic state.

"Again, Hylian..." Your mind was too broken to understand what it wanted. A tug of your hair and a hiss of its voice, however, were easy reminders. "Speak my name again!"

"M-Majora!!" The response was a pained whine, the tinges of pain from the hair pulling giving way to the warmth that traveled down your stomach. "M-Majora...Majora!"

Saliva pooled from your lips onto the stone, eyes glazed from the intense pleasure that was pistoned into you. You absentmindedly continued to mutter its name, using it as a way to ground yourself lest you get lost from the onslaught of bliss.

Satisfied with the response, Majora released your hair, pressing its hand instead onto the back of your neck, pinning you down as if you could get up. Bound hands would be forgotten, but the power Majora held over you would be remembered.

Your cock ached, in desperate need of stimulation. As if reading your mind and with its cock buried deep, Majora pressed your body flush against the ground. It still kept its hand on your neck, but you didn't fight. No you began to rut your hips like an animal in heat, grinding the ground to take whatever friction you could to stimulate your weeping cock.

Instead of belitting you for such an action, Majora pressed on, likely nearing its own climax and perhaps giving itself to its own pleasure infused mind. To pound into you on the floor, Majora itself felt like an animal, pinning you down to take what it was owed.

It wouldn't take long for you to cum, strangled moans slipping into the open air as your hips rocked lightly into the ground, all touch now too much for your body to handle. This didn't stop Majora, as it kept thrusting on, not yet ready to finish. The sensitivity was so much, but not enough for you to beg for mercy. Your moans pitched with every thrust, your vision blurring as every minute that he wasn't finished passed. You continued to call the demon's name, albeit hoarse and raspy until what felt like eternity, you felt your hole pool with a blazing heat, the demon's cock throbbing with every injection of seed. You wouldn't know when Majora pulled out, as finally with its climax, your body gave way to unconsciousness.

---

It wasn't sure why there was a bed in a cellar, but that's where Majora put you.

Having receiving its payment, the demon had undone the bindings. Admittedly, it was concerned for your lack of movement, but your soft breathing reassured it. Majora would carefully gather you, placing you on the bed to provide you some comfort for when you'd awaken. It was strange for it to do such things, but Majora would touch upon these emotions later.

Until then, the creature casts the blanket over and waits at the bedside, awaiting for you to awaken for you to complete the summoning.

Perhaps it would ask for another payment should it see fit.

#kaisers house of desires #x reader #legend of zelda #the legend of zelda #x male reader #x male y/n #majoras mask #majora #majora x reader #majora x y/n #majora x male reader #majora x male y/n

[fortune-fool02]

Give me a dark Zelda game where Link has to fight the corruption within him, and throughout the game is slowly becoming Dark Link!

I WANT TO SEE THIS ABSOLUTE BEST BOY GO BERSERK FOR ONCE IN HIS ENTIRE EXISTANCE!

#link #dark link #shadow link #zelda #legend of zelda #link legend of zelda #link loz #twilight princess #majora's mask #legend of zelda majora's mask #skyward sword #legend of zelda skyward sword #link x reader #dark link x reader #legend of zelda x reader

[monpalace]

ships .. (ocarina of time/majora's mask) link/reader, (linked universe) time/reader.

content .. it's only natural you search for your nephew after he enters the lost woods on a dare. you can't have a problem with the hand dealt to you when the beast who gives you shelter is so kind.

warnings .. no beta, we die like the promise i made to finish this before the summer after my junior year ended (i started this in april, it's august). i didn't know where i was going with this after a certain point and i think that's obvious. reader uses she/her pronouns. large, legal age gap (reader is in her 30's - 40's, time is a few hundred years old). less of a fic and more snippets, but it's almost 7.5k+ words. i don't think i explicitly say which link it is, so i guess it's ambiguous? nephew is named because this would be a pain to write otherwise.

notes .. prompted (not inspired!!) by beauty and the beast, but also the batb fanfic i found after my friend showed my an nsfw ao3 tag account on twitter. beelzebub / lord of the flies from fear and hunger was a huge inspo for link / time's physical description but there is leeway for how he can be envisioned. he's still large as shit though lmao. the layout of the manor was this, only because i wouldn't be able to write this without knowing.

supposedly there's gonna be a second part. supposedly.

idk. i might hate this enough to just. not.

The Lost Woods wasn't as intimidating as everyone talked it up to be.

Yes, it felt like the trees moved when you turned your back to them, and, granted, there were a few mobs of monsters that could get the jump on you if you weren't paying attention, but you had managed to get away with a few scrapes the few times it had happened.

The only thing to keep you company was the howling winds that grew in intensity and your own thoughts that were sprawling into whatever corners they could reach, but that was fine. You'd gratefully take decades-old gossip from the next town over instead of the creeping paranoia of what was behind you.

Of course, you would willingly go through this, that, and whatever else one thousand times over if it meant finding your nephew— and to keep yourself from reprimanding yourself from reprimanding the teens that had dared him out into the woods, but that was another thing.

Along your investigation, you'd found a broken trail of breadcrumbs that led to nothing when you followed them. They were torn pieces of fabric from his clothes, just big enough to be noticeable but small enough to keep himself protected from the elements.

(You'll forever be thankful that a younger your drilled the idea into his head.)

You'd long since discovered calling his name was useless. The only thing you've managed to do was draw the attention of a few wandering stalfos dressed in clothes from centuries ago.

The ones that had managed to find weapons were always the most painful to deal with.

If your determination weren't so established, you would've lost your sanity within the first day.

Food and water were no issue, you were smart enough to pack more than a week's worth of both. There were non-perishable options and several choices for your nephew when you found him; he'd no doubt have his fair share of cravings after being lost for so long.

(Three days was an eternity to you.)

Just before the sun had reached its crest in the sky, you'd realized that there were more empty clearings than trees. Wildlife had become scarce as well.

Where deers and wolves previously ran abundant, birds and squirrels that ran from the smallest of noises replaced them.

The wind had calmed, at least. It no longer wanted to push and shove you in whatever direction it pleased or steal the bag full of items you brought along. You didn't have to hug your sweater to your chest in fear of it being ripped from your arms either.

Instead, it was still.

Admittedly, the clearing gives you more paranoia than anything else.

When your mind starts to wander to places you'd rather it not reach, you begin to hum a quiet tune to yourself— your nephew's favorite— and allow it to ground you.

You were here for a reason. You wouldn't leave until you found him. You'll be fine until you find him, and you'll find some way to live in the forest that refuses to let its inhabitants go peacefully.

It's hours later when you hear the first sound of life (or suspended death) that doesn't feel like a threat— though, in hindsight, you should've been smarter and more suspicious of it when you first heard it.

A high-pitched instrument repeats each croon you let out, eventually taking over and silencing you. You follow the tune without much of a thought. If it were some sort of elaborate trap to lure you in, you couldn't be mad at yourself if you fell for it.

Clusters of trees become less and less as you follow the instrument and its recreation of your nephew's song. You call his name and are met with nothing but the music (from an ocarina, you quickly recognize) growing louder as time passes.

To say you're shocked when a large and, admittedly, well-kept manor enters your field of view would be an understatement. It's covered in vines, invasive arrowroots, and spreading flowers, but looks lived in if the smoldering smoke slowly dissipating in the afternoon air was anything to go by.

You couldn't begin to imagine who lived inside before the woods took it over (or what lived in it now). The architecture says it predates the Hero split in four, but you doubted the inhabitants of the floating sky built something so elaborate when they returned to the surface.

Your eyes jump past the crumbling pillars and dilapidated statues to the half-glass double doors that seemed to open on their own.

The music was coming from inside the manor now.

Steeling your nerves and squaring your shoulders, your hand grips tight on the strap of your satchel as you walk up the stone stairs covered in moss. You have to hold onto the guardrail installed next to it just as tight. Looking down, you find the carvings of it sorely separating it from the older antiquity of the manor.

Taking in smaller details (for future escapes or weapons against whatever lived inside, you'd figure out later), you find that the small pools of water that came from the sides of the manor and ran and fell alongside the stairs you climbed held small clumps of straw-colored fur. Some caused the surrounding water to turn into a pink hue that reminded you of fairies you've seen in childrens' books.

(Your hand reaches into the satchel to make sure you brought all of your nephew's well-loved books as well as a novel or two for yourself.)

(You did, thankfully.)

There's a smell filled with musk that permeates the air the closer you get to the manor, thick with amber and ginger and it reminds you of the times you come across a pack of wolves during your childhood.

Upon entering the manor, you find it was strongest in the wing of the manor to your right. It took over almost the entirety of your senses, but it wasn't an unwelcome or overwhelming sensation. If you paid close enough attention, you could sense the homely feeling underneath the ferality of it.

You prayed you'd be able to tell when the beast returned; if it was gone in the first place.

You take close note of how the foyer wasn't truly a foyer with how it was filled with windows rather than walls that led to a courtyard and how the only way to enter the wings of the manor was the winded stairs that connected via the terrace.

You don't fail to notice how the wing coated in the musky scent is coated entirely in shadows despite all the sources of light.

You couldn't decide if you were thankful or filled with loathing at the idea of what roamed on that side of the manor.

It's a struggle to turn your eyes away from the darkened wing of the manor, but you do manage when the music picks up once more from the left wing. It's significantly brighter and doesn't fill you with a sense of dread as the right one does.

Trap be damned, your nephew was here, you knew it— you felt it.

Reaching the top of the stairs, you find that you're inside a parlor room that leads to three other pathways. One was a library, another was a dining room, and the last was a small hallway.

In any other situation, you'd explore some more. The supposed beast that possibly lived in the manor kept everything in better shape than what you'd expect— or hopefully it was the forest spirits that lived throughout the forest.

Hopefully, those same spirits kept your nephew safe.

You have to close your eyes to better determine where the music is coming from, the only thing you can hear beside it and your own breathing being the manor settling. Your ears guide you inside the hall and you find it branches into a corridor, a bathroom, and two bedrooms.

Common sense seems to leave you when you spot the back of your nephew's head. Your breath quickens as you watch him clap along with the ocarina, you force your eyes to keep their clarity when you hear him hum each note just as you remember.

"''ire," you call in a weaker voice than you intended or thought you had. The nickname he claimed he hated so much tumbled from your lips so easily as you rushed inside the room, one arm rushing to remove your satchel while the other reached out to almost check if he was real.

The Lost Woods were known for their tricks, after all.

When he turns to face you, he's scrambling over himself in the bed. You're able to see how he limps on his right ankle and knee, how the entirety of his limbs were wrapped in bandage wrap as though done by a child. There was no blood, so you hold off on checking him over.

(The bandages were stained, thankfully not with blood. It was mostly dust and grime.)

(You'd have to sanitize whatever was wrong.)

You meet him more than halfway when you catch the way he winces and hisses with each movement.

"Auntie— Auntie— Titi!" His voice is airy as he speaks, emotion causing his words to come out as chokes. His arms reciprocated the tight hug you had on him, forcibly keeping his arms from trembling due to either nerves or injuries. "Titi, Titi, Titi!"

The way he says the word makes him sound like some chittering bug. If you listened hard enough, you could tell how his teeth clattered together, but you couldn't decipher if it was from a chill or emotion.

All you wanted to do was keep his head against the crook of your shoulder and neck while you pressed kisses to the crown of his head and kept him as close to you as you could, but you knew better.

Pulling away, you reach back for the satchel that you previously discarded. "What's wrong? What happened?" You force your voice to even out when you speak, hands already reaching for his arms after you sit the bag against your hip.

He shakes his head, but you've known him long enough to know there was something wrong. "They're from when I first went in the forest," he answers, voice quivering. "It's all healed. I think."

He doesn't push your hands away or pull his arms back when you skillfully unravel the bandages, carefully pulling and prodding the scars that littered the skin, and he was telling the truth despite the coloring.

"Did you forage like I taught you? Why are most of them green?"

"The spirits."

"The spirits?"

"And the soldier." He looks over your shoulder as though searching for their figures. "I haven't seen him yet, though."

Your eyes squint as one of your hands rubs over the strange texture of the scar, the other reaching for the antiseptic and clean fabric in your bag. "Are these spirits children or small trees with masks?"

You'd heard of both in legend. No one's ever seen them.

You're not sure which you'd rather watch over your nephew.

His eyes drift to his side before peering back over your shoulder once again. His brows furrow as he thinks of how to answer, head tilting as his pupils dilate.

"Both," he answers, "and ones that look like scarecrows. I asked them to bring you."

You force your gaze to keep itself on your nephew. You wouldn't let it wander to spirits you couldn't even see. "The ocarina?" You instead ask another question jumping around your mind, sucking your tongue in appreciation when he nods. "Smart boy."

An airy laugh leaves him, his face lighting up with a smile. "Learned from the best," he snorts.

You risk pressing kisses to the apples of his cheeks and forehead at his flattery, hands cupping themselves on the nape of his neck to bring him closer.

A younger him would push you away without a second thought, whining on about how you were embarrassing him in front of his friends.

He lets you do so now regardless of the spirits that surround you both.

"What've you been eating?" Your hands drop to his biceps when you pull away. They weren't thin like you'd expect them to be after three days in the forest; they were fatter than they had been before he left. "Who's been feeding you?"

His answer of "the Soldier," is quicker than you would've liked. "He goes out and hunts. He always brings back meat. I think it's deer.. it tastes.. bland."

"He.. cooks it, right?"

Another laugh wracks through your nephew's body. He knows you're only being cautious, but he can't help it.

"All the way through," he hums, flexing his arms when they start feeling stiff. "I think I don't like it because it's not your cooking."

He knows what your response is going to be before he finishes speaking, years of having lived under your guidance making him attuned to the smallest of your movements.

When your expression shifts from being relieved to disappointment with a twitch of your eye, he can tell you're not pleased with his statement.

Dousing the fabric in the antiseptic, you take his arm in your hand and begin wiping it down. "Don't be rude." Your voice takes on a less-than-pleased rasp, speaking lowly as if you knew the Soldier was near; but you still apologize when the sting sets in. "Have you thanked him?"

(You're sure you would continue to speak quietly regardless of the context of the conversation. You didn't want to risk "the Soldier," doing anything unfavorable.)

(Your nephew's words of praise did little to ease your stressed heart.)

"I never know when he's here. He drops the food off while I'm asleep. He brings books and carvings too." He watches as you wrap his arm in another roll of (cleaner) bandages, undoing the old one on his other arm while you prepare another piece of fabric. "The Spirits say I'm the most excitement he's had in a while, so he doesn't mind."

His voice was beginning to grow hoarse from speaking so quietly. You tap his throat to tell him to relax.

"They say he's nice," he continues, doing as told. Tapping the fingers of his now free hand against your shin, he tries to recall what all they've told him.

"I think they said he used to live in another part of the woods when he was a kid?—" His eyes glance back over your shoulder, suddenly becoming sure of himself. "— Ah. They did. They said he left and came back when he was older."

You raise a brow but don't speak your question.

Your nephew takes hold of your retreating hands in both of his.

A clatter and snippy huff outside the bedroom door rouses you from your light sleep.

Nearing a week into your stay at the manor, you'd think you'd be more accustomed to the noise, but you aren't.

You carefully remove your nephew's head from your arm, using even more caution when trying to remove the conjoined weight of several spirits from your legs as you slip out of the bed.

It's hard, but you manage to do so without waking any of them— you hope.

(You still couldn't see any of the Spirits, but over time you could feel when they crowded around you and when the wind moved as they rushed past you.)

The floorboards creak beneath your feet.

You hear the sound of claws scratching against the floor on the other side of the door.

Pressing the crown of your head against the door, you tap your fingers along the handle to give the Soldier a warning and wait a few moments.

If you listened hard enough, you swear you could hear him scurrying into one of the other rooms before he shut the door behind him.

It reminded you of a dog.

Smiling to yourself, you're careful opening the door, keeping your head to it and your eyes on the floor. You turn to the other side of it to close it, waiting for the click of the lockset to speak.

"Are you decent?"

His confused "huh," sounds more akin to a gasp than any other noise.

You rap your fingers against the handle again. "Can I look up?"

"Oh—" he sounds choked. "Yeah— Yes. Yes. You can. Sorry."

"Thank you," you hum, leaning down to pick up the tray of food. It consisted of almost entirely meat with a few vegetables you figure are exclusive to the woods. "For both the food and taking care of my nephew."

There was a thumping noise behind the door, the frequency of it was like a tail beating excitedly.

The Soldier lets out a croaking noise and you know his mouth started moving before his mind was able to catch up. "No, I should thank you for looking for him— and for telling him not to use his name."

You let out an airy laugh. "It's common knowledge where I'm from. I wouldn't be a good parental figure if I didn't."

Another noise leaves the Soldier as you fix yourself to open the door. You can't discern what this one means. "I don't know when they started calling me the Soldier, but it's not— uhm.. A favorite.. of mine."

"Oh?"

"Soldier," he sounds more confident in himself and you don't have the heart to tell him you heard him the first time, "it's a nickname. I don't know where the kids got it, but I don't like it."

Readjusting the tray to rest against your hip and forearm rather than in both your hands, you hum curiously. "So what should we be calling you?"

He pauses longer than you'd think it'd take to remember your own name, but you wait.

"Link."

"Link?"

"Yes."

"Like in a chain?"

".. Yes."

You nod even though you're sure he can't see you. "I'll be sure to tell 'ire."

"Thank you." There's more thumping from behind the door.

"And thank you."

There's another noise from Link you struggle to understand, but you figure it's because he starves for conversation. "I heard what your nephew said about the food, too. I'll try to find something to flavor it with next time I'm out."

"Thank you," you repeat. Your eyes curve with your smile. "He'll greatly appreciate it."

Link raps his fingers against the door in response, but he doesn't say anything. You take that as your queue to reenter the bedroom.

"How come your side of the house is always dark?"

You gently pinch your nephew's elbow and he swats your hand away, leaning impossibly close to the door that separates him and Link.

There are a few moments of silence from the man that 'ire filled with bated breath. Link takes an audible, steadying breath before knocking what you think is his nail against the door.

"I wouldn't want to scare you both off."

It was an answer you expected, but you were disappointed nonetheless.

"Boo," your nephew groans. You're sure Link could hear the pout in his voice if the quiet chuckle he lets out was anything to go by. "You can't be worse than what I've seen out there."

There's genuine intrigue in the noise Link lets out. "Oh? What exactly have you seen then?"

Pure excitement fills your nephew's expression when he turns to look at you from over his shoulder. His fingers tap against the floor restlessly, tongue already listing off whatever monsters he's encountered (read: come up with) in his twelve years of life.

"— but their teeth are the worst! They're poisonous and there isn't a cure for it!"

You have no clue as to what creature he was talking of now. There were at least fifteen of them who injected poison through their teeth, eight of which had no cure.

(You don't have to strain as hard to see the Spirits as you did two weeks ago. The shadows and light shift around then as they move to sit around your nephew, seemingly hooked on your nephew's every word.)

(You remember when he would crowd himself around you similarly whenever you would tell him a story.)

You close the book that sat in your lap more for decoration than entertainment at that point and place a hand over your heart.

"I drew a lot of them too! My aunt brought them with her!" He pushes himself through the motions of standing up before immediately stopping and returning to his seat in front of the door. "I'll show them to you if you eat dinner with us!"

There are a few stammering noises from the other side of the door and yet you can't bring yourself to apologize for your nephew's bargaining.

Your own curiosity was quickly starting to get the better of you against your wishes.

The noise he had made several nights before makes itself heard again. His claws (you discovered those a few nights ago) scratch against the wooden flooring as he moves to sit against the other wall rather than the door, his voice moving with him.

"I don't want to— I wouldn't want— want to disturb you— either of you." His words are muffled by the door and his growing quietness, a  regretful lilt stuck in his throat. "But thank you for the offer."

If he truly didn't want to join you and your nephew (and the spirits) for dinner, he was terrible at showing it.

"I know I wouldn't mind," you hum, standing to put away the book. A loud thumping makes the floor vibrate and 'ire has to stifle a laugh. "I wouldn't mind picking up a pot and pan again either."

"No!" Link quickly apologizes for his tone after realizing his outburst. "You don't have to. I wouldn't be a good host if I made you do that."

"Are you scared I'll poison you?"

Your nephew's voice drops to a whisper he swears you won't be able to hear. "She can't. She's the best cook ever."

You're not sure how the two correlate, but you'd take thew compliment.

"She won't?" Link's voice drops to entertain your nephew despite his earlier convictions. It takes on a playful direction, fur rubbing against the wood-tiled floors in excitement (based on prior interactions). "You've never gotten sick? Not once?"

'ire begins to shake his head but quickly stops. "Only from eating too much— which you will do, by the way. Best cook around," he reiterates.

Link chuckles, tapping his fingers against the floor restlessly. It takes him a moment to come up with something to say and neither of you push him to hurry.

You were both too hooked on his every word to do so anyway.

"I'll.." He's shy for all the attention. You wonder when the last time he got so much focus on him outside of the spirits. ".. I'll be sure to think about your offer. Why don't you tell me about a few of your monsters so I have more of an incentive?"

Your nephew jumps on the opportunity while you think over the plethora of recipes in your mind.

It wasn't rare for one of the imps to accompany you outside when you went foraging.

You never strayed too far from the manor— the last time you had been dragged outside of the area you had designated for yourself (and your nephew) by the children, Link had to come and rescue to lot of you before the sun had gotten too low.

Suffice to say, it was a rather humbling experience.

Kneeling, squatting, or sitting on the ground had never been easy on your knees or back, but the grass below you had felt as though it were a pillow hailing from the Heavens itself.

Your body works on picking herbs from the ground before placing them in your bag repurposed for your (new) everyday tasks while your mind wanders elsewhere.

You're humming to yourself when a twig snapping breaks your focus.

It was a nice reminder that the imps hadn't, in fact, accompanied you that day.

Your head lifts to survey the surrounding woods. Your entire body was still, mimicking a deer caught on a hunting trip.

There was nothing immediately in your line of sight that could be seen as a threat, but you had lived a long enough life to know that wasn't enough reason to let your guard down.

You're slow to rise to your feet and your ears are strained as you listen for whatever had made the noise.

"I'm sorry!"

You can feel your body relax when you hear Link's voice call out from behind a tree. You sink back to your knees without much thought, clutching the fabric of your top to calm your battering heart.

You weren't sure what you were going to do if it were an actual danger anyway.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he continues. His arms move and you can see one drop against the side of a tree while the other tightens around the corpse of an animal. "You were so still, I wasn't sure if you were okay."

A quiet, breathless noise leaves you. You're not sure if he could hear it, but you can see his shoulders relax when you do. "You're— You're fine! I just.. didn't know that you'd be out and about at this time."

When the hand not occupied with that week's dinner (barely) lifts to grab ahold of a tree branch, you're shocked to just now find out how tall he is.

"It's not your fault. I didn't know you were out here," he grunts while gently tugging at the branch. "Are you alone?"

Your eyes drop to the flora that surrounds you to not feel so invasive. Your fingers rub against the blades of grass idly when a restless feeling overtakes you. "A few of the kids said they'd join me later, but I'm not too sure when that's supposed to be." A short, genuine laugh leaves you. "I wouldn't be surprised if they forgot."

Link lets out his own, quiet laughter that you can only clue together when you see the entire tree shake in your peripheral. "I wouldn't take it to heart. They say they'll join me in hunting all the time but never do."

"Have you ever given them a stern talking to? I've heard that usually works with spirits."

"They barely listen to me as is. I think you'd have more luck than me."

"Is that an offer?"

"Are you headed home now?"

A strange vice tightens around your heart at his wording while you look through your bag. "Mhm," you hum, standing now that your legs aren't like that of a newborn. "You'll have to remind me of the way, though."

"I can guide you," he hums in reply. "You just can't look back."

Turning your back to him, you're surprised you don't jump when a sharp claw gives a ghostly touch to the center of your back.

You're shocked that you disregard the urge to check over your shoulder every step back to the manor.

You were no stranger to 'ire's night terrors.

They'd gotten better over the past few years as he aged, but all that progress had been undone during the near month you'd been in the forest.

Wiping away the tears that had managed to slip out, you ignore the prickly and uncomfortable feeling that comes with keeping your lulling head up so you can watch him.

You'd done it a thousand times before and would do it one thousand and one more if it meant he felt better.

You don't miss how his grip on your arm tightens when you start humming his favorite song. Your hand trails up to his hairline, nails (claws?) tracing the paint on his face that refused to fade.

You'd spent so long trying to scrub them and the green marks off, you hadn't even realized his skin had started to pale into a sickly grey in patches while darkening into (what looked like) a necrotic black in others.

You didn't even want to think about the changes that had started coming to your body.

You were, however, thankful you weren't thinning into a stalfos.

"You're not as sneaky as you'd like to think."

"How'd you know?"

"I have a young nephew. You learn quickly."

A brief laugh leaves Link from behind the cracked door. Though you didn't face him, you could see the way his eyes illuminated the wall in front of you, even managed to catch on some of 'ire's face.

It was a pretty blue color.

You don't comment on it.

"What's wrong?" Your voice has a deep rasp to it, your hand continuing to stroke your nephew's face even after he begins to calm down.

He'd slowly begun dropping more and more barriers (physical and mental) when it came to communicating with you both, having taken up shadows in their stead. He had gotten more confident in conversation as well, stammering and stuttering less the longer your nephew forced him to talk.

It makes you wonder how long it'd take for him to finally make true on those dinner plans.

"I heard him," Link hums just as quietly, the glow of his eyes moving to instead look over the sleeping spirits that crowded themselves around the space not occupied on the bed. "I was worried. Do you want help with them?"

A soft laugh leaves you when one of the imps buries their head onto your calf as though it were a pillow. "They've been like this since we first got here. 'ire," you press a kiss to his forehead when he rouses, waiting for him to settle before speaking again, "says they like to cling."

"You don't mind?"

"He's not too far off from them nowadays."

"Does he miss anything?"

Laying on your back, you being 'ire's head to rest against your shoulder. Your gaze is finally able to see how he'd take up all of the doorway (and then some) through the crack of the door.

You'd be shocked he hadn't flinched away if it hadn't been for the way his hand reached out to clasp it.

The tips of his fingers reached well past the frame of the door, his claws further, and you could only imagine just how much space he was taking up in the small hallway.

You were confident he could fit five or six of you in his hand without trying.

Your eyes jump back to the three (possibly four?) eyes before he can become self-conscious.

"Almost everything," you answer after pulling yourself from your thoughts. "His clothes, his dolls.. He could go without his friends, though."

His eyes jump from your face to the window as he huffs out a nervous laugh. It makes you wonder if he knows something you don't, but you don't push. "And you?"

"Hmm?"

"And yourself," he clarifies, "what do you miss?"

You're silent.

What exactly did you miss?

The feeling of your village's grass between your toes after the rain, the baker's treats that no other could replicate, being a part of such a tight-knit community, the sun after a particularly muggy morning—

There wasn't any need to be a sap.

"I'm not sure," you finally say after a long period of silence. You hadn't realized your eyes had left Link, yet when you force your gaze back to him, he holds it without issue. "I struggled with becoming attached to things unlike 'ire."

"Hm."

"What?"

"I can't remember the last time someone said something like that."

"You have visitors like us often?"

"More than you'd think."

"And what's become of them?"

The glow of his eyes drops to the sleeping spirits that litter before looking to the window again and you quickly understand.

The hum that leaves your throat is more lackluster than you intended it to be, but given how quickly the topic had changed, you give yourself the grace.

"Well," you start after clearing your throat, "what's something that you miss?"

The manor creaks when Link leans against a wall and his confidence in the movement tells you more than you'd expected.

You don't think you'd ever have the same amount of trust he held in it.

There's a playful tone in his voice when he speaks, one of his hands raised to scratch against his chin. "You'd have to promise not to be dramatic when I say."

"Is it my fault you use such outdated terms thousands of years behind my time?"

Link turns away to stifle his laughter, shrouding the room in darkness and forcing your eyes to strain with it.

"I can't say I've had the easiest experience understanding you or your nephew's sayings," he hums, drowning you in the light of his eye when he turns back, "the kids have to keep filling me in."

"Shame, and here I thought you'd been closer to my age. Have you been leading me on this entire time?"

Link's claws knock against the wall, his tail wagging against the floor while he huffs his amusement. "Have I? When I don't even know your name?"

If the weight of 'ire wasn't on your shoulder, you're sure you would've had a physical reaction of some sort.

"It'd do you good to not forget it," he hums, the movement of his tail slowing until it stops entirely. "Titi and Auntie, as much as I hate to say it, won't do much good."

Another lackluster noise leaves you as the arm trapped underneath your nephew lifts to rub your thumb during his forehead. "How fun."

"The kids are too attached to do anything now." The door slowly creaks open before stopping. It shuts so there's only a crack instead. "You'll be fine to share your name now."

"You never answered my question."

"Which one?"

"I haven't asked a lot," you huff before taking a softer tone, eyes rolling closed. "What is it that you miss?"

Link quietly snorts, muffling it by pressing his face to the door. He takes a steadying breath before saying a quiet, "a lot, I suppose. I can't name just a few things." A low noise leaves him, it's similar to a growl. "My friends? Playing music as well— my hands aren't good for much but skewering these days. My horse, Epona, too. She was the prettiest mare."

"Is she red with a white mane?"

"You saw the kids' drawings?"

"I've seen her before, I think— or maybe it was a hallucination?" The hand stroking 'ire's forehead stops as you scrounge your memories. "When I saw her outside the forest, I knew it was real. Another fated hero was mounting her."

You'd like to think yourself a master of figuring out what each noise he makes is meant to mean, but the one Link lets out once you finish speaking is short and of a higher pitch than normal.

When he begins to stammer over his words as he had when you first interacted with him, it feels like years' worth of progress has been undone.

"I— uhm— You— I don't— err— Thank—"

His tail thumps three times before he knocks his head against the door with a heavy groan. He lets out a quiet "Hylia, be damned," you couldn't help but think he hoped you wouldn't hear to go along with his frustration.

"It's been a long night," you finally prompt. "You'd best get some shut-eye before 'ire bombards you with more from his imagination, yeah?"

"Yeah," Link answers in a weak voice. "Yeah," he repeats to himself more than anything, "of course. Good night," he steps away from the door. "Sleep well."

"Same for you."

The night Link finally takes you and 'ire up on your offer for dinner, your nephew and the spirits had taken to floating around the east wing's dining room to prepare it for such a grand event.

"Titi, titi!" One of the Kokiri exclaims, tugging at the fabric of your skirt (that Link had made out of a spare bedsheet). Her voice had a strange echo to it— all of them, really— and had given you migraines up until you'd finally become accustomed to it. "'ire says that you'll make your world-famous pudding! Will you? Will you?"

You ignore her exaggeration in favor of forcing yourself to wrench your eyes away unless you wanted her puppy dog face to work on you. "Should I? I.. I can't say any of you have been acting well enough to deserve it.."

Even in your peripheral, it's not hard to miss the absolutely crushed look on her face. Her eyes were wide and her bottom lip wobbling like she was about to cry despite your joking tone.

"But why—y," she whines, dragging the last syllable on while hiccuping on her breath as she went on. You know the tears pooling in her eyes are just as fake as your rejection of her request— but you know just as well who'll win the battle at the end of the day.

"I—" hiccup. "Want—" hiccup. "Cake—" hiccup.

You raise a brow. "Pudding or cake, sweetheart? I can't make both."

The girl begins to climb your back while you return to sautéing the vegetables, arms wrapping around your neck so she can press her cheek against yours. "Cake! No, pudding! No! Cake! No—"

"I'll tell you what," you interrupt, taking the pan from over the open flame once the food is charred to your liking. Your skin thanks you when you step away and douse the fire, the arid air leaving through the open window. "Why don't you ask a few of the others which they want then we can try and get Link to bake it after dinner?"

The girl jumps off your back with stars practically filling her eyes. She cries out for several names while she runs off, hands clapping excitedly as she shouts out the change in plans.

You're left in peace until your nephew enters with his journals clutched between his arms, bouncing between his feet while he watches you finish plating each food item on dishes you could only dream of owning where you're from.

"D'you think he'll come?" 'ire's voice is low, almost as though scared Link will hear. You know he does if the night of his nightmares a few months ago were anything to go by— but he didn't need to know that.

"He'd better," you answer in an equally low tone. "I didn't spend so long slaving away at this just for him not to."

"Is that a threat?"

The plates in your hands aren't spared by the flinch that wracks through your body. Your reflexes are quick to catch them before any of the food can hit the floor.

'ire, on the other hand, has no issue with voicing his shock in the form of a scream, scurrying from the doorway while dropping his journals. He jumps behind you, hands clutching the fabric of your skirt while he hides himself behind your hip.

"Well?"

Placing a hand over your racing heart after putting the plates down, your other hand comes down to rest on 'ire's head. "It's rude to sneak up on people, you know."

The blond fur of his chest rustles with his laughter. It was difficult to see much else other than that, what with the way he hid himself behind the wall connecting the kitchen to the pantry.

You hadn't even heard his footsteps or creaking floorboards when he first approached. Had he been there the entire time and 'ire hadn't seen him, or had he only walked in after 'ire entered?

You wondered if he was naturally quiet or if he just learned which floorboards were loose.

"Is it sneaking when you were expecting me?" Link's voice is lighter than it usually is, a slight tremble could even be heard if you focused on it enough. He rocks on his feet and briefly leans forward, a less organic-looking side profile coming into view before leaving right after. "If I knew I would be this unwelcomed, I—"

"That's a joke, right?" 'ire stomps away from your side while he speaks, stepping over his discarded compilations of works to stare up at Link with wide eyes. Your nephew ignores the way Link's hands raise to cover his face and how he backs away as soon as he pivots in his foot to face him. "You're not actually gonna pansy out, right?"

Your feet lead you to the two before you can have much of a thought. "Zaire," you say in a terse voice, taking hold of his shoulder and bringing him against your front so you can stop him from interrogating the poor man. "Don't be rude."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

Whatever argument he has dies on his tongue when he takes a good, long look at Link. His mouth gaped open like a fish, one of his fingers lifting so he could push it into the fur of his stomach, watching the skin beneath sink with the force of it as though it were the most interesting thing in the world.

"Woah."

If you had any less sense of dignity, you'd let yourself have the same reaction.

"Don't be rude," you reiterate, pushing Zaire's hand down until it finally reaches its rightful place at his side.

"No," Link breathes into his palms, clearing his voice to try and rid it of the anxiety (and, possibly, humiliation). "He's— he's fine. This wouldn't be the first time someone responded like that. I'd be more concerned if he did any other way."

Zaire shrugs your hands from your shoulders, stepping until he is toe-to-claw with Link. "Then why are you hiding your face? It can't be that bad," he says, tugging at the fur of Link's elbows, rubbing them between his fingers so he could better be accustomed to the texture.

Spreading his fingers enough so you both could see the four holes in the inorganic material, Link lets out another heavy breath. "I'm self-conscious," he can tell the answer doesn't please Zaire and continues speaking, "It's been.. too long.. since I've shown anyone either of my faces."

"A mask is.." Your voice falters off when you finally find the words to speak, losing them again when you fail to find a proper way to articulate your thoughts.

"It's mostly you and the kids, no?" You try again when you figure out a way to better word it. "Is a mask not.. Is it.. necessary?"

When the blue light that emits from his eyes lifts to look at you, an unidentifiable emotion shoots through you. He holds your gaze for a few, silent moments before turning his head and dropping his hands.

"It's like a second skin," he simply offers.

"Sad," Zaire sighs, backing away and turning until he stood in the center of the kitchen. "Can you still eat with it? Like I said, Auntie is the best cook in all the realms and you have to taste it to believe it."

Curse your nephew's skill of lightening a mood.

Rather than let his insecurities keep him from looking at either of you for the duration of the night, Link looks down at Zaire with a playful jolt of his shoulders. "It's not fused with my face."

Zaire's eyes curl into crescents while he grabs two of the plates from the counter. "Good!" His tail (a terrifying new addition when he first started changing) wraps around the third dish, walking himself past the two of you in the pantry so he could place each one on the dining table. "You'll love this then! Auntie," you don't miss the way he adds your name causally, "always makes this on a big day!"

Link repeats your name under his breath before doing the same with Zaire's. He lets out a thoughtful nod as each one rolls off his tongue, one pair of eyes looking at you while the other continues to follow your nephew.

He wrings his hands together when he catches the way you examined him oh-so-carefully, arms crossed with your head tilted.

"It's nice," he gulps as though every inch of nervousness had reentered his body. "It's a nice name. I like it. It suits you."

You don't know if you were teasing him prior, but you decide to do so now.

"I'd hope so." You pat a hand against his arm as you walk into the kitchen, ignoring the oily feel of his fur. You ignore the feeling of him watching and instead focus on searching through the cupboards for the drink you had foraged around to make just days before. "I could say the exact same for you, thankfully."

"Now, why don't you have a seat so I can play host this time?"

#dyou guys think the song of healing would work on him #idk #especially since he cant use any instruments any more but like 🧍🏽 #his mask is actually the giant's mask and he only wears it because he's the size of a minish without it [/nsrs] #elvira's notebook #HAVENT USED THAT TAG IN A WHILE LMAO #legend of zelda x reader #loz x reader #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #ocarina of time x reader #majora's mask x reader #oot x reader #mm x reader #x reader #link x reader #legend of zelda link x reader #loz link x reader #linked universe link x reader #lu link x reader #linked universe time x reader #lu time x reader #time x reader #legend of zelda time x reader #loz time x reader

[pinkalmondcake]

A Mask's Love

Fierce Deity x reader Final Part!

Masterlist

╔════ ⭒ ‧͙⁺-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ˚⁺‧͙ ⭒ ════╗

The final part to this mini series! A slow ascending climax and I hope you've enjoyed this little story! ^.^ thank you for reading, my sweets!

Part 1, Part 2

╚════ ⭒ ‧͙⁺-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ˚⁺‧͙ ⭒ ════╝

warnings: angst with a happy ending

‧͙⁺-ˋˏEventuallyˎˊ˚⁺‧͙

1k words

"Did...Did I - we, have a child?"

I felt his muscles tense from the question, his arms tightening their hold around me while his heart quickened its pace, "...Yes." My eyes widened. I tried to sit back but his hold on me was far too strong for me to even fight back, "Please, tell me what happened Fierce. Tell me..." I was fearing the worst, feeling the way my heart raced and my head quickly spin. "I'm sorry." I pushed him back, tears spilling from my eyes as I sat upright - ignoring the pain that filled my body, "What do you mean you're sorry! Fierce, I swear to the Goddesses if you don't-"

A single tear fell from his eye, his lips downturned at the memory that replayed in his mind, "You were both taken by me. I had failed my duty as the protector of Termina. I failed to defeat the enemy. And as punishment for my betrayel, the Golden Goddesses tore you both away from me. I don't know what became of you and our son, but you both were alive until you were rumoured to have died of an illness. Our son followed not too long after. I suppose it was the Goddesses' way of making sure I'd never steal you from them again."

He sat up with a frown, staring into my misted window and watching the way the shadows shifted past every few seconds, "but you both lived a long life to say the least. I am glad you both did. Though I'll never forgive myself for missing out on our child's life. Never."

His words rang with poison as they hissed through his clenched teeth, "And I'll never forgive those damned Goddesses." My eyes widened, my breathing calming down before I wrapped my arms around him, "I'm glad we had our child and it wasn't your fault, I may not remember much yet, but I know for a fact that he loved you very much. Just like I do." And with that, he crumbled into my arms, burying himself into the crook of my neck as his cries rang through my ears - my own lip trembling, fearing the question that I must now ask, "but forgive me for asking you this now, but what will come of us after this...?"

He buried his head into my neck, clinging onto me with all he has, "I'll be nothing but a mask that can only watch over you for a certain amount of time...as this was my last wish to ever be granted by the Goddesses. A wish they had promised me centuries ago, along with two others. The first being to have you by my side for all eternity, the second for our son to be born safely while no harm would come to you during your delivery and my third...is being able to spend one more night with you before my destiny and duty to my mask returns."

My hands grabbed a hold of his cheeks in fear of losing him again, in fear of never being able to see him again, "So...so you're leaving again? You're leaving me?" I couldn't stop myself from holding onto him, staining his pale neck in my tears, "but what will happen to me, what's going to happen to me and you? To us?" I felt his arms wrap around me own, his heart beating with my own, "You'll be free of your tie to my soul. You'll live on and forget about me. That is the cruel fate the Godesses have bestowed upon our love. A fate you'll never remember after this life."

I shook my head, "...You knew! You knew this was going to happen so-so you used me now, to make me fall in love with you one last time to satisfy your heartbreak, only for you to leave me with nothing but a broken heart. You son of a bitch!" I hissed through clenched teeth. He shook his head, grabbing a hold of my wrist that was about to reach his cheek, "No. No. I gave you something more. Something that'll stay with you until the end of your days. A child."

"...What?", I whispered, feeling his hand press against my stomach, a smile gracing his trembling lips, "My seed will make you pregnant after tonight. I knew your cycle before and it's still the same now. You'll have a beautiful girl and she'll grow up to be just like you while I can only watch you through the eyes of my mask for the first few years before I must be taken away again. My soul is what made that mask, my regrets. But I know that one day...one day, we'll be together again as a family. Have faith in me my love. Have faith in me..."

If I had known that this was my last night with him, I would have thrown that mask away as soon as I picked it up - but I know for a fact that that's also a lie. Eventually, his mask was no longer there after our little girl took her first steps. Eventually we had left our little home for Clock Town and eventually, I grew old and married someone I never loved - all in hopes to rid the man with eyes so white that I could see my broken reflection stare right back at me.

Eventually, our daughter left for a land called Hyrule and a met a man there who then became a Knight whose name was Link - the son of the Child Hero. And eventually...my soul had left this world in hopes to find the soul that was once tied to my own all those years ago. Searching for him before the light inside me finally faded into nothing.

And...I did. I eventually found him again.

The end

#link x you #link #link x reader #link loz #loz link #legend of zelda #fierce deity x reader #fierce deity #majoras mask

[cafecourage]

Given that I just checked the precedents from the LAST takeover event…

Pssst-! Hey sky! Here’s $20 in human-world money. Get yourself and Enno something while you’re on your break ;)

Have a nice date~!

- glitter ✨

Enno: Try finding two people hiding from this disaster.

#twilight (not lu) speaks #linked universe x reader #luxreader #linkeduniverse x reader #Cafe Takeover #Left overs #I have avatar lore that will take a bit to explain #context: great fairies are a ton of fairies in one body shown in Majora’s mask #so Steven universe style

[darkchaton444]

Link ou BEN ? x Reader

Hey hey hey ! Si vous aimez cette histoire et qu'elle n'avance pas assez vite à votre goût, vous pouvez toujours en lire d'autres tout aussi palpitantes sur mon compte Wattpad <3 :

______________________________________________________________

IMPORTANT :

Ça fait une éternité que je n'ai pas joué aux jeux Zelda et NON je n'ai pas joué au nouveau :') Me bâchez pas pliz-

Parcontre, si -> Je dis de la merde <-

Reprenez moi sans vergogne XD

Bonne lecture ! ____________________________________________________________

[Narrateur à la 1e pers.] [Dans notre monde.] [Pov : ???]

Il y a de ça quelques années, les premiers jeux de Zelda ont fait un carton.

Notamment Zelda Majora's Mask, sur la Nintendo 64, sorti en l'an 2000. Bien que le jeu et les graphismes pouvaient parfois être simplistes voire laisser à désirer, l'histoire et le gameplay ont séduit bon nombre de joueurs.

Dont moi.

Lorsque je n'étais encore qu'un gamin, j'avais l'une de ces fameuses Nintendo 64. Elle m'avait été offerte par mon grand père. Je ne possédais pas beaucoup de jeux à l'époque, mais je ne m'en plaignais pas. Mon favoris était, oui, Zelda Majora's Mask.

Ce ne sont que des années plus tard, à présent grandis, que j'ai cours à l'Université. Au début de mon parcours universitaire, j'avais appris que mes parents avaient emménagés dans une petite banlieue tranquille. Alors, un 28 août, j'ai décidé de leur rendre visite.

Au moment de prendre le chemin du retour, après un bon 3 heures à converser autour d'une tasse de café, c'était à ma grande joie que mon père m'avait redonné ma vieille Nintendo. Heureux de pouvoir rejouer aux jeux de mon enfance, durant le trajet alors que j'étais entrain d'y penser, j'apperçu une rue différente des autres. Dans celle-ci, plusieurs maisons s'adonnaient à des ventes de garage. Une idée avait alors germée dans un coin de mon esprit, celle de pouvoir trouver d'anciennes cartouches de jeux.

En parcourant diverses de ces ventes de garage, j'en étais arrivé à tomber sur le fameux jeu de Zelda. Il était dans une boîte avec d'autres jeux, mais aucun autre sur la même console. Cette boîte se trouvait entre quelques tableaux à l'art douteux et d'autres babioles toutes aussi étranges. Et alors ?

Eh bien, vous n'imaginez pas ma joie à ce moment-là. La cartouche de jeu était mise à la vente par un vieil homme qui avait tout bonnement le même aura que ceux dans les films d'horreur. Mais un aura étrangement généreux et sympathique, car au lieu de me la vendre, il me l'avait donné gratuitement.

Ainsi, je l'avais juste remercié poliment sans me poser d'avantages de questions. À cette époque, les films d'horreur n'avaient pas tous ce même début de piège.

Puis je me suis rendu à mon dortoir universitaire, hâtif de pouvoir rejouer à Zelda Majora's Mask.

Et...

C'était donc là que mon pire cauchemar... Mon ébat contre les ombres, eut commencé. Comme Il le dit si bien... Je n'aurais pas dû faire ça.

Ce n'est que plus tard, les mains crispées sur la manette en étant couvert d'un profond malaise, que je fixai mon Link brûler sur place dans une posture glitchée. La statuette de BEN, se trouvait devant moi, positionné à côté du vendeur au sourire effrayant. Qui est BEN ? Je ne savais pas, et je ne suis toujours pas sûr. Il m'avait juste dit qu'il était mort noyé, et qu'il voulait être libéré.

Je pense... Je ne sais plus... Avoir donné plus d'informations sur mon blog... Il fallait que j'en parle. J'ai essayé d'en parler. J'ai vraiment essayé...

Mais BEN me contrôlait et me guidait malsainement peu importe ce que je voulais faire, surtout sur le net. Il prenait contrôle de tout objet électronique avec lequel j'utilise. Lorsqu'il veut me parler plus clairement, on tchatte sur un site appelé CleverBot. Si je refuse, il me tourmente, encore et encore.

I have something to show you. Go play (J'ai quelque chose à te montrer. Va jouer)

Avait-il dit une fois. Je lui ai donc répondu.

I don't want to... (Je ne veux pas...)

Sur ce, j'avais arrêté de lui parler et je n'avais pas été jouer comme il me l'avait ordonné. Mais comme je l'ai précisé, il avait continué de me tourmenter, par vengeance ou bien par manipulation. Je voyais son image, celle de Ben, dans des endroits où il n'était pas supposé être. Si je faisais une recherche internet, il apparaissait, avec ce sourire dérangeant.

Je... Je n'en peux plus... Je n'arrivais plus à dormir, les nuits. Je le voyais même dans mes cauchemars. Lorsque j'étais seul dans ma chambre de campus universitaire, j'avais l'impression qu'il était là. Je sentais... Son aura. Depuis que j'ai joué à la cartouche de jeu, et qu'Il me manipule, je sens cette aura horrifiante n'importe où. N'importe quand. Et le pire. C'est que je ne sais toujours pas quand est-ce qu'il compte en finir...

J'avais besoin de sortir de ma boîte à terreur et à solitude, où j'allais devenir complètement fou. Ça faisait quelques jours déjà que je sentais les mêmes symptômes que celles de la dépression. Je ne sais pas si c'était parce que je ne voulais pas, ou si c'était car je pensais que je ne pouvais pas aller en cours, mais j'ai commencé à créer des excuses pour ne plus y aller. Déjà car je n'en avais plus la force, mais ensuite car je n'en avais plus la concentration ou la motivation.

J'avais alors décidé de revenir au nid familial, quand je sentais que j'allais craquer... J'avais besoin de réconfort, de visages rassurants. J'avais finalement envisagé cette idée uniquement après deux putains de mois d'hantises sans donner de nouvelles à personne.

Je n'avais pas préparé des centaines de valises, seulement une et un sac à dos suffisaient. J'avais zieuté ma Nintendo 64, et en avait avancé la main vers elle, mais je me suis stoppé dans mon élan.

Et décidé de la laisser là-bas.

Face à ma requête, mes parents étaient à la fois inquiets mais heureux, que je vienne. Ils ignoraient tout de ma situation actuelle, et je ne comptait pas la leur dire. Je veux juste me bercer d'illusions d'espoir, en retrouvant mes proches.

Ils m'ont installé dans une chambre d'invitée qui était assez simpliste. Ils ont gardé quelques uns de mes anciens meubles, comme le lit, mon bureau ou les commodes, mais la décoration m'était étrangère. Même si au fond, peu importe.

J'ai donc installé mon ordinateur portable sur mon ancien bureau, et ai placé ma Nintendo 64...

Et... Ai placé ma Nintendo 64...

À peine la console prit, je la relâcha en me crispant et elle retomba dans le sac. Ce n'est pas possible... CE N'EST PAS POSSIBLE.

"- Je... Je ne l'ai pas amenée avec moi..." Murmurais-je pour moi-même en tremblant...

J'entendis des pas lourds dans le couloir, ainsi que les craquements du plancher. C'était mon père, à coup sûr. Vu que j'ai laissé la porte ouverte, j'entendis sa voix rauque et calme.

"- Tout va bien, bonhomme ? Bon je sais que tu n'es plus un p'tit gars, mais sache que ta mère et moi, nous sommes vraiment heureux que tu sois à la maison."

J'étais ensuite resté, planté là, à observer la console pendant quelques secondes silencencieuses. Puis je lui répondit que j'étais également heureux.

La nuit tombée, de nouveau, je ne pu m'endormir. Mais cette fois, ce n'était pas à cause de ma conscience, ou de mes nombreuses visions cauchemardesques. Mais c'était littéralement de Sa faute.

Il faisait exprès ; Il me spammait de messages sur CleverBot. Même en mettant mon phone à silencieux, même en l'éteignant, même en sachant que normalement CleverBot ne peut pas envoyer de notifs, bordel. Le son des notifications qu'il m'envoyait étaient agaçant. Il voulait clairement que j'allume ma Nintendo. Il voulait jouer.

Do it. (Fais-le.)

Do it.

Do it.

Do it.

Do it.

Do it.

LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE (LAISSE MOI PUTAIN DE TRANQUILLE)

Last chance. (Dernière chance.)

Or what? (Ou quoi?)

Or you'll be the one who meet a terrible fate. (Ou tu seras celui qui rencontrera une terrible fin.)

Cette dernière phrase me fit trembler d'un coup sordide. J'ai froid, et je suis déjà mort de peur. Donc je peux vraiment mourir ? Et comment il va faire, pour me tuer ? Produire une décharge électrique ? ET PUIS QUOI ENCORE ?

Je suis venu ici pour échapper à ça, et me voilà encore en face de lui.

Go fuck yourself.

Sur ce, je me redresse brusquement sur mon lit. Le phone se remet à faire des bruits de notifications. Dans une poussée d'agressivité, je fracasse le portable de toute mes forces contre le mur. L'écran se brise en morceaux et quelques bouts mécaniques s'effondrent n'importe où sur le sol. Pourtant, de ma position, je constate l'écran qui est toujours allumé.

Sans savoir pourquoi, mon cœur se met à éclater dans ma poitrine. Tellement que j'ai peur de frôler la crise cardiaque. Mon souffle s'accélère et tremble sous la peur. Même en l'ayant éclaté sur le mur, il demeure fonctionnel. Ce bordel...

"- Laisse-moi tranquille... Ben..."

Soudain, du téléphone, un enclenchement vocal se fait entendre. Un son comme lorsqu'on fait "Dit Siri". Puis un rire méchaniquement enfantin sort de l'écran. C'est insupportable. Cette voix est malsaine et malveillante. Le rire tourne en boucle comme si c'était un sombre enregistrement. Ça ne s'arrêtera pas, non, tant que je ne ferai rien. J'ai toujours les foies. Mais c'est grâce à ça, que je réussis à empoigner ma couverture bleue, de la dégager de sur moi, de me lever et de marcher d'un pas non assuré vers la petite machine électronique.

Le rire est toujours en cours, lorsque je le prends. L'écran est si craquelée que je ne vois pas quelle application a employée Ben. À bout de nerf, je serre les dents. La peur et la frustration se font violence en moi. Les heures de sommeil manquées commencent à se faire sentir. Mes cernes témoignent de ma fureur. Ça fait... Deux mois.

Le rire continue de se moquer de moi. De se moquer de ma frustration, de mon désespoir. Une idée aussi sombre que Sa personnalité me surgit dans la tête. Sans me soucier du plancher qui craque comme un appel à l'aide, je n'ai qu'un endroit en tête.

J'arrive dans la salle de bain et allume aussitôt la lampe torche du téléphone. Et écrase celui-ci sur la surface de la cuvette de toilette. Dans le bain, je met le bouchon et active la chapelure d'eau. La baignoire se remplit peu à peu.

Je l'observe avec amertume et satisfaction, avant de prendre le téléphone, puis mettre la caméra bien en joue sur l'eau sombre : l'éclat de la lampe du téléphone fait un reflet semblable à la lune sur la mer.

"- Et ça, ça t'amuse, p'tit con ?"

Le rire se tût instantanément et un silence de mort arrache la place. Un rictus mauvais apparaît au coin de mes lèvres. Cependant, le silence glacial se brisa par quelque chose de plus inquiétant, encore. Cette fois, au lieu d'un rire machiavélique, se fait entendre... Un halètement. Une respiration lourde mais remplie de glitchs, à l'autre bout du fil.

"- T'as les foies, là, hein ?" Murmurais-je avec agressivité. "Alors ça fait quoi ? T'as du fun ?"

"- Tu n'aurais pas dû faireça."

À peine sa phrase prononcée, je lâche sans remords le téléphone dans l'eau et tout bruit ainsi que source de lumière se meurtrie instantanément. Je pousse un soupir de relâchement.

Ce doit être mon cerveau qui est saturé, mais mon sentiment d'apaisement fut vite interrompu, une fois le pied mis dans ma chambre. La télévision était ouverte sur la lune de Majora's Mask, avec la musique de Healing qui se joue avec les mauvaises notes.

La Nintendo n'est absolument pas connectée. En fait, rien n'est connectée à cette télévision, je ne l'avais jamais ouverte depuis ma venue.

"- ... Ben..." Prononçai-je plus comme un appel qu'un effroi.

La bouche de la lune se mit à bouger :

"- Won--- der-- ful-- Moon. Congra---tulations, He---rrr--o." (Merveilleuse lune. Félicitations, héros.)

Les mots avaient plusieurs intonations comme si BEN pigeait ces mots sur... Le Web...?

"- No-ot. Won---der--ful----en--o-o-ough." (Pas assez merveilleuse.)

Je me pinça l'arrête du nez. Depuis plusieurs minutes déjà, mon corps s'était habitué à remplacer la terreur par la colère et l'impatience. Mes nerfs allaient lâcher et ça me prit tout pour ne pas hurler ces mots :

"- Que. Me. Veux. Tu. À la fin ?"

"- Pl--aaa-y. Wit--h y--yo--u." (Jouer avec toi.)

"- Et ce n'est pas ce que tu fais depuis 2 mois !?"

"- W-wh--y b-b-b-bee--ing--so --st-ubbo--rrn ? I---I on-ly wan--t a f--rrriend. Co-nnn-ect your N-n-n-nint-t-tend--o." (Pourquoi être si têtu ? Je veux seulement un ami. Connecte ta nintendo.)

En soupirant sombrement, je la sortit de mon sac. Pourquoi est-elle là ? J'entends déjà mes lecteurs écrire "moi, je l'aurais brûlé, mis au chemin, donnée même". Et croient-ils que je n'ai pas essayé ? Croient-ils que je ne me suis pas arraché mes cheveux lorsque je me rendais compte que la Nintendo trouvait le moyen de réapparaître comme par magie ? Et la cartouche, même ?!

Je m'asseyai devant la TV, posant la nintendo en face. Je précisa que je n'avais amené aucun fil et qu'aucun, exactement comme la console, n'était apparu des enfers.

"- Y--ouu- Do--nnt--NEED--it." (Tu n'en as pas besoin.)

(C'est ainsi que Ben créa le Bluetooth- XD (Pardon.))

Lorsque j'appuyai sur le bouton de démarrage de ma console, rien ne se passa. Après tout ce qui se passait, je m'attendais à ce qu'elle s'allume tout aussi magiquement que les autres situations improbables.

"- Ça ne marche pas." Maugréais-je.

Les yeux encore sur la console, le même rire insupportable que tout à l'heure raisonna et lorsque je regarda l'écran de la télé, la lune avait disparu. Elle avait fait place à un jeune garçon plutôt réaliste, au sourire malfaisant. Ses yeux étaient saignants et sa peau était grise bleutée.

BEN drowned...

"- I-I-I don't NEED i-it t---to b-b-be t---urn--ed O-on. I-I-I ju--ust NEED y---yo-u to b-b-be neeear i-it." (Je n'ai pas besoin que ce soit allumé. J'ai juste besoin que tu en sois proche."

"- Qu--"

Soudain, je ne su absolument pas si j'étais devenu fou. Mais...

Ben tira les bras vers moi avant que des doigts ne sortent de la télévision, allant s'appuyer à son rebord. À partir de là, tout se passa bien trop vite. Et dans cet ordre :

Son sourire figé. Sa forme réaliste sortant de la télévision. Mon cri d'horreur.

Puis le noir.

Et enfin... Le bruit du vent.

#Link #link #BEN #BENDROWNED #ben drowned #Link x reader #Ben drowned x reader #creepypasta #Creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #majoras mask #xreader #fanfiction francaise #link x reader #young link #dark link #link legend of zelda #ben #ben x reader #triforce #hylia #zelda #Zelda #Sheik

[yxnderebxnny]

GRAGAGAGAGAHWHERE THE FUCK ARE THE FIERCE DEITY X READER THINGS THAT ARE ANYTHING OTHER THAN SMUT OR 3 YEARS OLD

I NEED THIS OLD FUCK TO CRADLE ME AS WE NAP BY A FIREPLACE, NOT IMPREGNATE ME

#x reader #link x reader #loz x reader #linked universe #linked universe x reader #fierce deity #fierce deity x reader #Legend of Zelda #majoras mask #IM FINALLY OLD ENOUGH TO JOKE ABOUT SEX!! :D #I'm such a sad little man what went wrong with me