#fierce deity x you

[yourlocaltreesimp]

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

AHH OMG I LOVE THIS

ofc i can do this

thank you for sending this in-

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

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

TW: Yandere content

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

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

A loving quirk, you may call it.

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

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

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

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

Weren’t they?

They just wanted to keep you safe.

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

You were alone.

The woods were quiet.

There were no monsters.

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

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

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

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

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

You certainly weren’t expecting what you got.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You saw what the world had done to those boys.

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

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

You would not let anyone take it from him.

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

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

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

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

But also just one.

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

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

No. He had not.

But the deity had.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you-“

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

One cage for another.

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

But there was a monster in these woods.

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

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

[quiteliterallyilliterate]

Could you write a yandere FD where reader finds his mask and accidentally frees him? I find the idea of him stalking reader after his freedom and reader being helpless to get help due to what he is.

Order up!

There really isn’t enough FD stuff (that isn’t smut) ((but also in general)) So here you go!

Edit: Part 2

tw: yandere, murder, slaughter of animals, blood/gore

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

The deity despised what he had come to. A being of such pure power, capable of ripping Termina away from Hyrule thread by thread, was now bound to not much more than a piece of wood. The feeble fears of incapable gods now made a mockery of who and what he was. His prison was bleached and painted with the same war patterns that defined his godliness with the eyes empty for its wearer. Two blank spots —weak spots— in the mask. For when they bound his form to such fragility, there was something of a loophole left behind. The hallowed eyes allowed the wearer to see, and believe they had some control over their actions as his consciousness began to muddle with their own. You see, within the mask there were no holes allowing them —the wearer— to breathe. Because while they wore the mask, likeness of his own face, they didn’t realise the rotting wood begin to mingle with their skin. None of them did. Too hungry for more of the power he could provide and blood he could spill they hardly realized what they were becoming. The paint was always the first to merge with the new wearer, the pigments staining the skin as a faint, ever fading —but never truly gone— reminder of what he was. The hair came next. Silvery white strands mixing with their own around their fringe, framing their face, much similar to his own now. Last was the eyes. Not many kept the mask long enough to ever really hand themselves fully over to him, but his conscience would continue to invade nonetheless. No one held the power to hold him captive in their minds, so a corpse they were rendered. Their eyes would lose their iris, and as the wearer weakened, their eyes would become vast pools of stark white. He heard in the travelers’ wisdom that eyes were the doorway to the soul. Perhaps that was why the eyes were the last part of a person he was bled into. His final act to them was conquering their souls. Where once, double helix sword in hand, he would have slain any thing —living or otherwise— where once he could’ve conquered anything, now he was left to the slow trickle of energy from collected souls.

He’s first made aware of you by your gentle touch. You fingers cup the edge of his face —what was of it now anyway— and attempt to make sense of who it was you were looking at. Perhaps is was they no longer worshipped him in Termina. Centuries could slip by him in this form and he’d not know better. Hand in hand with that, the paint on his mask could very well be greyed and chipped beyond recognition. Immortality was always more faulty than the mortals made it seem. While boredom could be sated with bloodshed and war, it was aging that couldn’t be so simply ignored. Despite the fact his consciousness was as it was from the second he was bound into what he was, it didn’t stop the wood from rotting nor the paint from chipping and fading. Much he was like the warrior constellations in the sky. While consistent across the birth and death of many civilizations, slowly he died with them. Not in the final splatter of blood like the matter of mortality, but it was death in all the way that matters. Perhaps Hylia proved that you can kill a god. Sure, she may have ‘killed’ demise, but cyclically, he was still her tormentor. With Fierce, his form was weak. Too weak to hold him further. Much like the mortals who believed they could shoulder the weight, this form would too crack and rot beneath the earth. His point still stood that in spite of every possible factor that your serenity shouldn’t have met with his ruthlessness, you’d defied fate nonetheless.

By your grace he loved to watch you. Mounted on the fireplace, he could see everything in your tiny cabin. He could watch you cook food for yourself, sing as you cleaned the dishes afterward, and especially the fact you often would fall asleep on the couch meant he could spend even longer admiring the curves of your face. You were incomparably precious to the world. He remembers the days of his youth in divinity, freshly given his purpose. He’d killed many in those days, like an executioner who’s axe discriminated against none. The worship he once had, the temples he’d once been graced with, the concubines left for him… Perhaps he wanted more than to watch you. Being so close to what he wanted, truly wanted, made him antsy. And you’d live through life like you’d not known better. You’d talk to people where he couldn’t monitor to keep you safe, you’d leave the protection he offered. He’d long for you while you sat just out of reach, tempting him to try something. And so he did. It seems years of rot made the wood fragile.

You were honestly quite disappointed the mask had broke. The wood was splintered across the floor, and with how old it was, it really wasn’t worth saving. Still, you collected the bits from across the floor and kept moving. The forest was still and quiet as you traveled, the wind would whistle in the trees and a murder of crows crowded around you. Unfortunately, you had no bread or shinies to spare aside from a small green rupee, which they normally would’ve cawed and kicked around. Instead, their beady eyes watched you, huddled high in the trees as you waded through the forest. You could feel their eyes on you the whole way past.

The dead animals on your doorstep are not only mildly concerning, given their split open ribs, but incredibly creepy the longer it goes on. Clearly whoever was doing this was stubbornly persistent given their notes in a not very decipherable language. At first they left you a crow, the day they watched you. It had a small ring in its leg you didn’t bother to touch. The next was a badger, followed by fox, then an elk. Now, it was entirely beyond you who’d collect that many animals carcasses —you’d doubted they were hunted, given the large lacerations across their torsos— but it wasn’t much flattering. It wasn’t until you’d caved and cooked one of the elks and they’d kept giving you more that you’d considered they were trying to feed you. Sweet as that was, no one person had a use for that much elk. No one person could hunt that much elk. No person would see it right to draw a sigil in blood on the back wall of someone’s house in elk blood. No one person would help you.

You were still beautiful as you slept. He was glad now you were his spouse, though it did take you a while to get used to his courting. It was for the best though, you were well fed and protected now, more than any mortal man could hope to provide you with. He did enjoy killing all your other suitors. That tradition was always entertaining.

[ninelieswithme]

𝑨 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒐𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏

Yᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ Fɪᴇʀᴄᴇ Dᴇɪᴛʏ Lɪɴᴋ X Fᴇᴍ Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝙸𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚏𝚝 𝚓𝚘𝚋 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚙 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎’𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚒𝚗 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝙷𝚢𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎.

𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 (𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎..) 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚞𝚋𝚋𝚢 𝚙𝚑𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚚𝚞𝚎.

𝙶𝚘𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚘..

𝚄𝚗𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎~.

𝙻𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊 𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏. 𝚃𝚘𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚜.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢’𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚗𝚎~.

𝙰𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚐𝚐𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎’𝚜.

“𝐎𝐡 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈’𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐭”.

𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚎..

“𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐞… 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏-“ 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚘’𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑’𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎.

“𝐎𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐡𝐚 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐠𝐮𝐲” 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑.

“𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧- 𝐀𝐇𝐇 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐌 𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆!” 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏, 𝚜𝚗𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢, 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚐𝚐𝚢 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜..

“𝐇𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤’𝐬 𝐚𝐰𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫…”

“𝐖𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬… 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐔𝐘 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐙𝐄𝐋𝐃𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒.”

“𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡… 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐲/𝐧 𝐈’𝐦 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐢’𝐦 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠.”

“𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭?!?..”

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚎𝚢𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚝.

“𝐖𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞.. 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭? 𝐈𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞” 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚋𝚒𝚐 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚘𝚍𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚛 𝚐𝚘𝚍.

𝙻𝚒𝚗𝚔..

𝙾𝚑 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝙾𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚘𝚑𝚑 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚘 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚞𝚋𝚋𝚢.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔’𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎’𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚢 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚜𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚝𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕’𝚜.

𝙶𝚘𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚘 𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎..

𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎.

𝙿𝚝 𝟸 <𝟹 ..............

𝙸𝚖 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚜𝚘 𝚒 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚕𝚣 😂, 𝚋𝚊𝚒𝚒 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 🫶

[ballad-of-elgado]

Ough... yk?

Link finds himself in an unfortunate spot after being sent to Minoue Village to investigate some strange goings on with their surrounding environments. It's not often you're attacked by another hunter, let alone a wyverian.

Includes a colored and non-colored version coz I wasn't sure how much I liked the coloring.

[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."

[smallestapplin]

I was just thinking about it.

Imagine you travel with the Fierce deity, this bulking demon god who acts as your protector, and helps you fight.

He rarely speaks, but you say you got a good read in his subtle body language. You’d also say you love to tease him and get on his nerves a lot.

Whether that’s stupid stunts, or making dumb jokes.

But you couldn’t help but grin at him as he glares at you.

“You wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.” Your voice smug in your declaration.

Only for a sharp gasp to leave you as he corners you to a tree, the rough bark against your back not even phasing you, as you focus purely on the over 7ft man bending over you.

Caging you between him and the tree.

Bending over to be eye level with you.

“So what if I do?” His deep, gravely voice ringing in your ears.

He tilts his head to the side, his nose just barely brushing against yours as he gets closer to your face.

Those empty eyes of his glowing in the setting sun.

He smirks, chuckling softly before standing back to his full height and walking back to camp.

Leaving you gasping for air and stunted.

You can feel your face burning, and your heart pounding against your chest.

By the goddesses you want that man.

[miharuki]

🌟I have perfect request for you… I would like a Fierce Deity Link! BEN Drowned with Hylia! Goddess! Female Y/N🌟 (I love this so much, have a wonderful day/night!💜)

For this request, let's do a few things. Let's say that you are not Zelda, or a reincarnation of Hylia or Zelda (who is a reincarnation of Hylia), but the Hylia herself. Here are some headcanons and a mini story (if you like it, I might be able to turn it into a series).

Remembering that my English is not perfect, I feel a lot :v Also, I only did the fierce deity link one because I missed the Ben drowned one, so I'm sorry too

Your wish is an order!

𝕱𝖎𝖊𝖗𝖈𝖊 𝕯𝖊𝖎𝖙𝖞 𝕷𝖎𝖓𝖐 𝖂𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝕳𝖞𝖑𝖎𝖆! 𝕲𝖔𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖘! 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

Fierce Deity Link:

—being the deity himself, Fierce would have a greater respect for you, let's say he respects you more than any other deity.

—I believe Fierce would be somewhat doubtful if you wanted to have a relationship with him. He would be questioning why, like, "She is literally a goddess, one of the creators of this land I'm standing on!! And she simply wants to go out with me?!"

—but let's say Fierce is also a deity, he would also be wondering why you would be dating someone like him when there are better options (it's not insecurity, just doubt). Something like, "She is the freaking creator of this land and she wants to go out with me, me? I'm not even at the feet of a goddess like her."

—A softie, I believe he would be as affectionate as possible, trying to make you feel comfortable in some way. He would also prioritize your safety, even if you know how to fight (let's say you do), he would still protect you and be concerned, even if you are stronger than him (because you're a goddess XD).

—The type of attentive person, for sure. Let's say you're telling a story about something that happened, he'll be listening to every detail. If you ask if you're talking too much, he'll say something like, "Your voice is too precious, I'd feel like trash if I didn't adore listening to you every second you speak," all with that sexy look and a gentle smile.

—Speaking of sexy... I believe Fierce is the kind of person who would take things slow, if you know what I mean. He doesn't want to hurt you, he just wants you to feel good. He finds your body stunning, in his words, "There's nothing to fear, angel, your body is a paradise to look at," all with a husky voice.

—I believe he's a waist man, so at any moment, he might come up from behind and grab you by the waist, just to rest his chin on your head.

—In terms of height, I believe he's quite tall, and when I say tall, I mean really tall. So, he kind of loves that you're smaller compared to him, of course, with the respect that you're practically a goddess, but he just finds your height adorable and won't accept any complaints about it.

—I imagine him picking you up by the waist and lifting you to his head, for you to sit and for him to feel his head between your thighs, nothing sexual, just adorable.

"You had me worried!" said the armored man as he held your shoulders, shaking them in despair. "I told you I'd be fine, you don't need to worry," you replied."But your safety is so important to me, what would I do if I lost you?" he says, sighing as he stood up and removed his hands from your shoulders, looking down. "You know I can very well protect you," you reply.

"Yes, I know, but you also know I'm strong enough to protect myself, that was nothing," you say as you approach the boy.

"Even so, I still don't like knowing that you could get hurt at any moment... it's just..." He can't finish the sentence, hugging you as he puts his head on your neck, taking a deep breath.

"Just be careful next time, please," he says, letting go, making you smile as you run your hand down his back, returning the hug.

"I will."

"I love you," he says as he steps back, looking into your eyes while placing a hand on your cheek, smiling as his cheeks turn pink.

"I love you too, Fierce," you reply.

[dreaming-of-lu]

I am hugging the shit out of your fierce deity in my head rn he deserves the best things in life

Thank you! He def does and he appreciates your hug!

[manjuartx]

Instagram saw this first but might as well post it here. Eiji and Fierce being loving husbands <3

They're my silly moon and sun coded ship, they are soulmates, they will always find each other in every universe ☀️🌙🖤

Eiji pronouns: He/They.

Follow me on Instagram @manjuartx I'm more active there.

[lolabearwrites]

I wrote a rough draft for a Pre SS Hylia x FD tragic romance story and I was *actually* able to write an ending umm-

[yourlocaltreesimp]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[quiteliterallyilliterate]

Hellooooo? Is anyone alive? Is ok if you do... A part two of the yandere fierce deity? Please?

Order up!

Ngl this was actually really difficult to write! Y’all seemed to like Part one, so here’s the continuation!

Tw: Described murder and violence, obsession

Hope you enjoy~

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

The sigil had since faded from the back wall of your home. It had taken many moons and many storms before the blood had truly faded. But it wasn’t gone. You picked up on the marking more and more, the swooping V shape with two lines intercepting. You saw it carved into the trees you tapped for sap, in the bones of the elks still left at your door and —perhaps most concerning— scratched into your skin. You awoke to it after awaking from a nap, and it came with a sense of all-consuming numbness. You bled, despite no knife piercing your skin and felt a hollow pain looking at the wound… but the gash itself was not painful. The scab on your palm itched as you walked through the markets, and despite switching the hand that held the basket, it only seemed to worsen. An itch is not bad so much as it is annoying. An instinctive feeling to pick and prod until a disturbance is removed. But the sensation has festered into thorns digging into your nerve with every graze of another’s hand.

“That’ll be… 300 total” The farmer handed over the produce youd carefully picked out, a frown of dismay pulling at your lips.

“That’s double last time” His smile faltered and his eyes darted far behind you, glassing over for a moment. He breathed out until his lungs had no more to give and his lips fell shut. It was only when you were about to turn around to see what had enraptured him that his tongue farted over his lips and he picked back up where he’d left off

“Sorry you must understand, it’s-“ His voice faded into the chatter of the crowd, a low hum fading into the back of your mind with a throbbing pain. So much for living here all your life, there was no reason for produce to cost half your wages. It’s not like anyone in this hamlet made much, nor was there any reason for one to struggle. The is community held up on its ties, it's only as useful as its people make it.

“Keep- Just keep it.” You would’ve felt bad at the way he sunk in on his feet with upset, but it was beyond your responsibility to help. Not without proper food in your stomach. You’d need to forage if you had near any hopes of not starving through the week. And so, basket in hand, you returned to the eerie empty of the wood.

The thicket was empty. The berry bushels had since been picked clean by the birds and the wild sprouts trampled or rotted in the soil. It was foolish of you to hope that perhaps whoever kept leaving you meat —your only source of sustenance— could provide you with something that could possibly go with it. Your spice cupboard is beginning to run dry and you had nothing aside from the carcass left behind to prepare.

“If only I had some potatoes… carrots… something- anything!” You threw your wicker basket to the ground, the thin fibres crackling. Anger burned within the humid draws of your breath, seeping into your lungs and through your blood and settling among your being. Thunder rolled in the far distance, but the wind had already made its way to you. The whispery gusts combed through the long grasses and shook the old trees, the wood croaking and groaning. The path back home was no different than it had been recently. No humdrum that followed life, only the cawing of crows. But, rather disappointingly, even they had disappeared as of late. The shadowing of the storm mounted atop your already heavy-hung gloom. It seemed as if every living thing, even those that surpassed mortality had vacated the forest. And as you pushed inward to the unkempt of the wild, you could only feel like you were leaving yourself to the execution block. Your legs faltered and trampled, your limbs felt stiff. And like a corpse of those slaughtered, you fell.

The deity knew that mortals were cruel. He didn’t need much knowledge about the world to know that fact. With such a gift of consciousness, Hylia’s creations were tainted with such bitter malice. That is what made them mortal. Their innate ability to surpass their better moral to kill and to hurt. He saw it every time someone used the likeness of his face. He saw the blood. He felt their drive— to stick cool, unforgiving metal within another. To crack and break and destroy the fragility of the world. The fragility of other people. Hunt or be hunted as it was. There was no matter for if they were above animalistic intent, for they were every bit predator and prey as the wolves and the rabbits. That is why he is so keen on protecting you. Only you have been so kind and pure —A divine among mortals, he’s certain— and such purity can only be tainted within a world so vile. The mortals even admit to it. Making their societies guard such fragility from the maw of itself. It was only himself he could trust to be your guard. Only he could be trusted to deliver you from such a system. He knew the cruelty of mortals upon one another. But for you to be denied sustenance? That was sacrilegious. Did they not understand that they were blessed to have been with you? If that was such a case then perhaps they weren’t worth the salvation you offered. The wretched mortals should bow at your feet, stumble over eachother and themselves to leave you offerings. For one to deny themselves such a right is to deny one’s god. And so, as the twists of his blade delicately carved out the heart of the worthless farm boy, he hoped this would serve a sufficient offering. He could afford to spend more time with you tonight with the storm’s onset. The rain would do most of the work cleaning the blood. The body would mingle from the earth from whence it came and be no more. Maybe if the damned was lucky, his blood could nurture the soil to make plants that you could eat from. Maybe then he’d have paid penance for his sins. Heart and produce in hand, he displayed them all lovingly in your discarded wicker basket and left it looped around the elk horn. He held his offering in one arm and your limp body in the other, carrying you the way to your little temple. The basket was hastily discarded upon the porch —though he doubted you cared much about the presentation— and he tucked you into bed. On his exit he wrangled the body so it would be easier for your untrained limbs to carry indoors. Offerings should be prepared to the highest degree— and you only deserved the best. He’d deliver the world to you exactly as you’d expected of him. Although the procurement of spices would certainly take a while longer, he’d meet your demands in full. Such is what’s expected of him as he’s courting you. Such is the way of devotion.

[ninelieswithme]

(Dᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜs Oʙsᴇssᴛɪᴏɴ ᵖᵗ ²) 𝑩𝒚𝒆 𝑩𝒚𝒆 𝑴𝒚 𝑩𝒂𝒃𝒚 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒓

Yᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ Fɪᴇʀᴄᴇ Dᴇɪᴛʏ Lɪɴᴋ X Fᴇᴍ Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚐𝚐𝚢 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜.

𝙻𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎.

𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎.

𝙷𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚎.

𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚔𝚎.

𝙷𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚍, 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚛𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚘 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝.

𝙰𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚊𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚔𝚎.

𝙷𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚗, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚞𝚖 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚍𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎.

“𝐈’𝐦 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤~,𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐈’𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫. 𝐈’𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞“ 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚝

𝙽𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎

“𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚟𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊 𝚒𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚕𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐“

𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚔’𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐..

𝙽𝚘!

𝙽𝙾!

𝙽𝙾!?

ክዐ!?

N̶͎̫̉̍͘͝O̸̜͉̹̳̎͒̎̄͘͘͝!?! N̶͎̫̉̍͘͝O̸̜͉̹̳̎͒̎̄͘͘͝!?! N̶͎̫̉̍͘͝O̸̜͉̹̳̎͒̎̄͘͘͝!?!

𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙰𝙽’𝚃 𝙻𝙴𝚃 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙶𝙾... 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑!!

“𝐎𝐡 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞“ 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎.

“𝐃-𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫..“ 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍.

“𝐘𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫“ 𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛.

“𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫!..“ 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍’𝚜.

𝙷𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝.

𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙱𝙸𝚃.

“𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫~“ 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛.

𝙷𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘𝚘.

𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙰𝙽’𝚃.

“D̸̜̼̻̟̺̘͉͉̍̀̈è̷̛̗̳͚̙͇̘͍͕̊̑̿͘͜â̸̠̋r̵̨͇̰̭̜̈́͑!?“ 𝚑�� 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛.

𝙼𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚒 𝚛𝚊𝚗.

𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚒 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍.

𝙷𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙼𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚍

𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚞𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜

“𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐏𝐋𝐄-“ 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢.

“𝐛𝐲𝐞 𝐛𝐲𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫“ 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔...

Pt3

Heyyy guys dont worry there will be another part and im sorry i havent posted i have been dealing with some stuff and i’ll try to keep u guys updated!

[balo-badartist]

Fanart for a fanfiction that's about Botw Link reawakening with all his memories as the Fierce Deity. It’s Hylia(Zelda) x FD and you know I'm all over that, absolutely insane for them. It's called "End of Time" on Ao3 and Wattpad by Makuro767, highly recommend. It has me by the throat, I love my blonde demon man

[monpalace]

helloo is it okay if i request a fierce deity x reader (romantic) where the reader is going through a tough time and fierce just comforts them by hugging and words of affirmation and then the whole comforting thing reminds reader how lucky they are to have fierce in their life

noted! fierce deity (named aram for writings sake) will be posted 04/22/23 at 12pm est!

[miharuki]

𝕽𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘 𝕳𝖊𝖗𝖊/ 𝕾𝖔𝖑𝖎𝖈𝖎𝖙𝖆𝖈𝖔𝖊𝖘 𝕬𝖖𝖚𝖎

𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:hi, I'm miharuki or just uki, and I make fanfic requests, my English isn't the best but I do it in English and Portuguese (Eng/ptbr)

𝐏𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐀 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐀̃𝐎:oi, eu sou miharuki ou só uki, e eu faço pedidos de fanfic, meu inglês não dos melhores mas eu faço pedidos em inglês e em português (Eng/ptbr)

𝕬𝖓𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖘:

★Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler

★Tate no yūsha no nariagari/The rising of the Shield hero

★Tensei shitara slime datta Ken/that time i got reincarnated as a slime

★Jujutsu kaisen

★Dr. Stone

★Tondemo Skill de Isekai Hourou Meshi Online

★Blue Exorcism

★Kimetsu no Yaiba/Demon Slayer

★Tokyo revengers

★Mashle:Magic and Muscle

★Uramichi Oniisan/Life Lessons with the Uramichi Oniisan

★Saiki kusuo no psi-nan/The disastrous Life of Saiki kusuo

★Death note

★Hypnosis Mic

★Kaiju no 8

★Diabolik lovers

★Hunter x Hunter

★Marginal #4

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ──

𝕲𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖘:

★The legend of zelda (linked universe)

★Genshin impact

★Undertale

★Omori

★Yandere aimulator

★Sally face

★Yanderes games

★Amor doce/My Candy Love

★ the kid ind the back

★ 14 days with you

★The Coffin of Andy and Leyley

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ──

𝕮𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖔𝖔𝖓𝖘:

★The owl house/a casa coruja

★Miraculos

★Hora de aventura/Adventure Time

★South park

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ──

𝕺𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝕱𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖒/𝕺𝖚𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖘 𝕱𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖒:

★Creepypasta

★Happypasta

★Vocaloid

★Yanderes

★Crush boyfriend

𝕽𝖚𝖑𝖊/𝕽𝖊𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖘

•I don't do characters x characters/eu não faço personagens x personagens

•I don't make smut content about underage characters /eu não faço smut de personagens menores de idade

•I don't do any underage characters, the maximum will be between (Teen only (12+)/eu não faço personagens menores,o máximo será adolescente (12+)

•I only place orders in private /faço pedidos somente no privado

•Yandere characters are different from ocs yanderes or boy/girl yanderes/personagens yanderes são diferentes dos yanderes ocs ou yanderes garoto/garota

•I don't do fem x fem (I don't have much experience with that)

•Orders may take time due to me studying/os pedidos podem demorar por eu estar estudando

•I WILL NOT make fanfiction about characters from series or films/actors or etc., I don't do that and I will refuse to do any kind /•NÃO farei fanfics sobre personagens de séries ou filmes/atores ou etc., não faço isso e me recusarei a fazer qualquer tipo