i ♡ fem link

It was slowly coming back to you, and that awfully familiar feeling of your throat closing up inched forward with the urge to cry.

In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.

You counted your breaths hoping it would push the tears away. You so badly wanted to cry, but you also really didn't feel like doing anymore of that.

All the tears and inability to keep food down these past… however long it had been, had left you dehydrated and hungry. Your saving grace had been the water being drinkable. Without it, you may have been dead within… the second day maybe? It had to have been at least three days here.

Your ankle.

Your breath hitched and your head snapped down, looking at your foot. It was all intact, nothing out of place, but still stained red. You felt nauseous looking at it and found yourself needing to turn away.

It was all intact, but there was no unseeing what had been there. Pain that didn't exist pulsed up your leg. And faintly, there were still echoes of pain from where the spear had gone through your thigh.

You tried moving your ankle around while staring at the wall, not wanting to actually see it. It felt fine. Eventually, you managed to stand and lean against the wall. You were faintly dizzy with tiredness, and it made you wonder again how long you had passed out for.

Slowly, you made your way towards the room, stopped at the threshold, and then decided to take a few steps back. Annoyance and frustration coursed through you. You didn't even need to enter the room with all the water in there; a practiced flick of your wrist, and the golden chest could be carried right to your feet.

But if this dungeon was teaching you anything, it was that one missed detail could cost you too much.

You pushed off the wall, allowing weight to fall onto your 'bad' leg. It was fine. It was fine. It felt fine. You walked around for a few steps with a limp that shouldn't exist before trying to enter the room.

You willed the water in the room rise and form two thick lines which you froze, lining a pathway from the entrance to the chest. Hopefully, the pirogusu wouldn't be able to pierce through it. You threw a shard of the clay pot in to test the theory.

In a flash, one of them appeared. It immediately slammed into the ice, unable to go past it. But then another one appeared behind it, and another, and another. And somehow, the ice held. For however sharp their claws were, they didn't have that much strength to put behind it.

With the path clear, you ran towards the chest and leapt on top of it, sitting awkwardly on the lid. Even though you knew that the pirogusu couldn't reach you or change its course circling from around the room, you were still paranoid—hence the awkward sitting.

A long minute passed before you finally gained the confidence to step onto the ground. Their numbers had increased dramatically, but with their paths blocked, the pirogusu were stuck piling up on each other until they eventually lined the whole room, unable to move. If you weren't so freshly traumatized, you might've laughed.

Opening the chest revealed nothing too interesting. It had the key you thought it would, golden and ornate to match the door it unlocks. Its bow was shaped like a serpent, with the same red eyes that the door had.

Your heartbeat quickened as the key began to tremble, and it took a good few moments to realize that it was your hand that was shaking, not the key itself.

You didn't want to fight the serpent. If it was more difficult than what you'd already endured, you were going to die. Survival didn't even seem possible.

A glimmer flew by in the corner of your eye.

Only one death or major injury allowed.

You grabbed the jar you had found, slowly holding it out towards the fairy. It sparkled slightly in greeting, and you smiled softly at it. Seeming to understand, it flew into the jar on its own, and you fit the lid back on.

It was a good thing you came into the room.

"Thank you," you whispered.

The fairy sparkled in response.

A heavy sigh left your lips, and you did a final sweep of the room before heading back to the central room. Your steps were heavy, and you still felt exhausted. Your magic hadn't fully recovered either.

You wouldn't be able to fight for a while.

The sickly smell of lotus flowers greeted you in the central room. Nayru had mentioned that the dark magic being harbored in the temple was the cause of its decline. Yet you found that its condition didn't improve after most of its removal.

Save for the serpent, you had slain all the monsters (at least you hoped so), but it did nothing to stop the abundant decay. Many of the plants were withered, or close to dying. The flowers that were still in bloom reeked of the sweetness from being close to death. It made the water unappetizing to drink, but you were in no state to be picky.

The golden doors loomed over you, the serpent's red eyes glaring down, making anxiety and dread brew in your stomach. The more you let these feelings fester, the more the odds of freezing in there would increase. But you also needed to rest. If you didn't, you would die for certain.

Go now or go later. Either way, I'm gonna die.

You gathered some of the leaves in the water and formed a sorry excuse of a pillow with them. And laying in front of the golden doors, you tried to get some sleep.

Before Demise had begun his attack on the surface, Link used to pray a lot. It was mainly out of social requirement, whenever his friends or whoever he was with was also praying. It wasn't that Link didn't believe in the gods or prayer, but rather that doing it so often was a little useless and over the top. What need was there to pray all the time?

But you his wife had enjoyed praying, so he had started to pray wherever she did. And she did it often. Nearly every evening if she had the energy; if someone they knew was sick; before any significant event; the days where duty kept him from coming home; she had always prayed with every bit of goodness in her heart.

Link could vividly recount the three times he had truly prayed from the bottom of his heart before he was imprisoned. There was the day he had met you her, where he prayed they would have a long, peaceful life together; the day they had married, where he prayed for a happy marriage free of troubles; and the day they found out she was pregnant, where he prayed for a happy and healthy babe.

And then they took him, blaming him for a crime he did not commit, and dismissing his warnings of evil stirring in the darkness. Every day in that cell, Link had prayed to every god that existed with nothing but his entire heart.

He prayed for her to be safe and healthy. He prayed that the babe would be born without any issues. He prayed that the villagers would care for them in his absence. He prayed that they would treat her like the family she had always thought them to be. He prayed that he would not be here long, and that he would be reunited with them eventually.

The only comfort either of them could find was through each other's emotions.

Neither of them were doing well, not in the slightest. But she was alone and with child. He needed to get his feelings in check for her. The thought of the babe dying because he had inadvertently added even more to her stress, was nothing short of sickening.

He had attempted to soothe her from a distance, and encouraged her to believe that things would work out somehow, but they both knew it probably wouldn't. He had been sentenced to life in prison, and there would be no visitation for at least five years assuming 'good behavior.'

Link's praying spiraled six months into imprisonment.

It was one of the most awful things he had ever felt, and worse than any injury he had obtained. The feeling of violent cramps in his abdomen had sent him crumbling to the ground. The guards had been furious about the ruckus he was causing, but ultimately chose to ignore him after gaining an understanding of what was happening.

It continued on for hours, the cramps. Link could feel the panic and fear in her building, and it only made panic and fear build in him too. But he tried so hard to stay calm for her.

Why was she panicking? Why was she so fearful? Was there no one to help her? Oh gods, please. Gods, please help her. Someone help her.

The cramps grew worse and worse, and it felt like he was being split open. Link did the only thing he could do; he prayed. He prayed and prayed and prayed that all would be well. He prayed that she was alright. He prayed that she was with others and getting the help that she needed.

Even though he knew what would follow, there was no way to mentally prepare for feeling the actual childbirth pain she was going through. Gods, he was being torn apart. He had screamed, and the guards had laughed at his pain, her pain. Link had wanted nothing more than to make them pay for that.

When it was done? Oh by the gods when it was done, Link had never felt that joy before, the joy she was feeling from their child being here. It was so much, so incredibly strong, and so incredibly fleeting.

She had still been in so much pain, and it had barely faded, only masked by the happiness. That wonderful, blessed joy had faded, replaced with despair and sadness, and then nothing.

There had been nothing.

There was no more joy, despair, happiness, sadness. There was no more pain. There was nothing.

Something was telling him that the worst had happened. It was something deep inside of him telling him that, because his mind was just refusing to make sense of what was happening, to accept it.

At that same time, Link felt an awful tingling sensation on his wrist.

It wasn't a bug crawling across his skin, nor a strange brush from the chains, nor anything else. It was something else, and he didn't know what. He had a horrible idea of what it was that he couldn't physically, mentally, emotionally accept. He didn't know what that sensation had been, and he couldn't see what had happened beneath his shackles.

For two weeks straight, he had begged the guards to remove the shackle from just that hand, to let him see his soulmate mark, to let him see her name there. The guards laughed at him again and did nothing.

He needed to see it. He needed to see her name there. He needed to know that she was still here.

Six months, it had been six months. Was the babe here? The child was delivered, right? Had she done it alone, with no one to help her? Were the two of them alive? No, of course she wasn't alive.

He did the only thing he could do—pray to hell and back. It had gone from every day, to every hour, to every minute of the day. He prayed for the exact same things as before, but with more than just his heart now. He prayed with every fiber of his being, channeled every bit of desperation into it. He apologized to all the gods and goddesses, for not being as devout as he could've been. He promised to do better, to pray regularly and mean it. And he asked that they send him a sign that the two of them were alright.

Link stopped praying after those two weeks.

It had been only then that someone he knew had spoken to him—an old acquaintance from when he was a knight that had since climbed the ranks. He wasn't a friend honestly, but he was now the only one who cared enough to speak to him. It was quick and straight to the point, delivering the news that Link deserved to know.

Not a single one of his prayers had been answered.

Not any of the ones he had made before he entered this damned cell, and not any of the ones he had made during his time here.

Not a single prayer.

His acquaintance had allowed for the shackle on his wrist to be removed temporarily, so that Link could see it with his own eyes. It had been horrifying to look at.

This was not my wrist.

No, his wrist was thicker than this, showed the start of his forearm muscles (ones that she had fawned over), and had her name inked in beautiful red on it. This, this was not his wrist. His wrist was not thin and frail and blank.

He didn't know how long he had stared at it, but they eventually clasped the shackle around it again. He had been vaguely aware of his acquaintance offering his condolences and bidding him farewell before promptly leaving. 

Link continued to stare at the shackle for a long time. His mind was racing faster than a stallion, but there weren't any thoughts crossing anymore. There wasn't much that was left to think about. 

Everything was gone.

She was gone. The babe was gone. His life was gone.

Nothing good came when his mind finally settled.

None of his prayers had worked, and he wondered if any of hers had.

Link had cried at the thought that the gods had ignored her. She had always cared and prayed for everyone and everything with no exceptions. Why could the gods not have shown her mercy? Would it have been so hard for them to do so?

Link swore to never pray again that day.

Never again would he go to the gods and beg them for help.

Never again would he pray to them for anything.

Never again would he do such a useless thing.

Never again did he think he'd find himself standing before a statue of the Goddess.

Yet here he was.

He hadn't even bothered to wade through the water to the small platform he was supposed to kneel at. Out of spite, he walked no further than the dais.

His bandaged hands clenched into fists so tight, that he thought the bleeding would start again. His face was unreadable, but there was no mistaking the fury in his eyes.

Link wasn't here to pray. No, never again.

It had been four days. Four days since the gods had taken you from him. Four days of waiting for any sort of signal. Four days of staring at your name on his wrist, the only sign you were alive.

When the entrance had collapsed, he had screamed your name for who knew how long. He had tried digging through the rubble until his hands bled and then some more. He had scouted the area looking for other possible entrances and found nothing.

Link spent the following days doing nothing but keep watch. He barely spent time inside the tower. It was warm there, but the faint chill of being outside would not bother him if it meant he would be there for your return. If you returned.

He now stood upon the dais, glaring into the statue's eyes.

Four days of nothing had passed, and he had grown increasingly aware of how little he knew about everything, how little all of them knew about anything. The only thing Link could see now was that everything you and the others were doing was by the will of the gods.

You had stood before the goddess statue, and she had 'answered' your prayers; it was infuriating to think that Hylia may not have even done that for you.

What did you pray to her for? Guidance? Help? She has answered by sending you to your death.

His eyes slammed shut in anger and frustration at that last thought. You were strong. You weren't. You had spirit. That wouldn't be enough. You needed to come back. For the sake of his sanity, you needed to come back. If he was to be of any use in the grand scheme of whatever Hylia had planned, you. needed. to come. back.

'The grand scheme. We are nothing more than pawns in a game to you, aren't we? Soldiers you place where needed, whose prayers you answer when convenient.'

Link forced his eyes open if only to continue glaring at Hylia. He breathed harshly through his mouth, hoping that the deeper breaths would calm him. He knew you could still feel his emotions, and they were the last thing you needed to be dealing with right now.

'Do you see me standing before you now, Hylia? Will you speak with me? Or am I not worth your time anymore?'

There was no response, of course. Why would there have been one?

So he turned away, heading to keep watch from the same place he had been sitting at these past few days.

There was nothing he could do to convince any of these gods to pay them any mind, not unless it served themselves as well.

No. No. No.

Link felt that awful sensation in his wrist again, one that he never thought he'd feel again, and one that he never hoped to feel again.

His hands flew, frantically struggling to remove his bracer and glove.

NO. NO. NO.

He ripped his glove off just in time, just in time to see your name fade away right before his eyes.

A scream of despair, anger, and frustration tore from his throat.

The nap(?) you had taken sucked to say the least, and the makeshift pillow had left a crick in your neck. But it didn't matter; you were rested enough to continue on. Your magic was replenished, most of the phantom pain was gone, and you had managed to eat some hardtack.

The only thing stopping you now was the dreaded anxiety building up inside of you as you stood in front of the golden doors, yet again. You turned the key over and over again in your hand, eyes locked onto the ruby eyes of the serpent.

Do it. Just do it. Do it and get it over with.

You kept on standing before the doors, unmoving, before at last some spark of idiocy made you unlock the door.

The key twisted, and a series of clicks and hidden gears began to sound. The serpent's ruby eyes glowed, and a mechanical hiss came from its mouth as the doors opened. A loud thud followed once they were completely open, and you took a few tentative steps in.

It was another overly spacious room. But this time there was a ginormous, round pool in the center filled with the decaying—no, rotting—lotus flowers and pads. The wall behind it appeared to have once been a beautiful mural depicting Nayru herself, but was now considerably cracked. The place reeked of the flowers, like someone had lit an egregiously large bundle of the most overbearingly perfumed incense they could find.

Your nose wrinkled, and you took a few steps forward to inspect the pool. Almost immediately, the surface of the water started to tremble and the doors behind you closed—far faster than how they had opened. Panic began to build in you once more. You gulped, trying to force it down.

The trembling grew more and more until at last, the serpent burst from the water, rearing its golden head wildly with an ear-splitting hiss. You flinched violently, hands flying to protect your eardrums.

It briefly looked around the room before focusing its bloody red eyes on you, letting out another screech. You froze in horror, body refusing to move. For a second, the only thing you could do was listen to the frantic beating of your heart.

DO SOMETHING.

A spray of venom launched straight at you, and your hand raised just in time to make the water form a shield in front of you. The ground sizzled next to you.

You drew your hand back, and a sphere of water was drawn back next to you.

But quicker than you could comprehend, the serpent lunged at you, jaws widened to an impossible degree. Bloody, fleshy red consumed the entirety of your vision. This was an undodgeable attack—a guaranteed hit.

I'm going to die.

Fear and panic taking over, you did the only thing you could do: thrust your hand forward, hoping that the spear of water you shot would hit something vital. Your eyes squeezed shut in anticipation of your gruesome death.

The creature recoiled with another ear-piercing screech, and the coldness of the serpent's jaws that had started to wrap around you, left. You had hit something important.

You forced your eyes open, seeing the serpent flail around in pain with its eyes closed, the resulting waves splashing everywhere.

You used the moment to search for any vulnerable points. There was the mouth, and something told you that the eyes would also work. But landing that blow would require extreme accuracy.

The screeching halted and it glared at you fiercely, mouth opening once more. On the roof of its mouth, a glassy, ruby-red spot glimmered, sporting a small series of cracks. You shot another spear of water at the spot before it could spray venom again, this time forcing the water to harden into ice halfway.

It struck true, and the glass cracked considerably more. The serpent shrieked and flailed before plunging back into the water.

You took the moment to catch your breath, chest-heaving from adrenaline.

It didn't last long; the water's trembling grew more and more violent. When it erupted from the water once more, it didn't stay put like last time. No, it thrashed around, flooding the room with towering waves.

You couldn't think of any way to counter it before one of the waves knocked you all the way back into the wall, forcing the air out of your lungs.

And before the wave could even recede properly, another one crashed into you. Your head slammed into the wall again, and your vision blurred. Another wave came; you stayed pinned to the wall.

The water finally receded and you fell to the ground with a strangled gasp, greedily drinking in the air. Too fast. You choked, coughing up water you didn't even know you inhaled.

It took a minute for the dizziness to clear, and in that time the serpent seemed to have disappeared back into the pool, momentarily content with the damage it had inflicted.

You pushed yourself up to your hands and knees, blearily looking around. The waves of the pool lapped softly over the edge and onto the ground for a moment before the damn serpent came out again.

It didn't attack immediately, observing you to see if you were still a threat. The two of you locked eyes, and instead of feeling that same fear from before, you felt anger.

Oh FUCK you!

You waved your hand brashly with a yell, and the water flew to encase its head. It formed a rough sphere, and then shards of ice shot inwards, skewering its eyes.

It shrieked again, much louder than the previous times. The only noise of satisfaction you could make was a groan.

Its body collapsed unexpectedly, head falling onto the ground with such force that the room shook. You stared at it wide-eyed for a second before that anger came back. Your hands clenched into fists, and with a yell you raised and swung it down with as much force as you could muster.

The water from the pool rose and folded in on itself, turning into a gigantic sphere of ice that slammed into the serpent's head. Its skull crushed under the impact, and the head exploded into bits of flesh, blood, and venom that flew everywhere.

Momentarily drained, you could only duck and cover your head to protect yourself from the shower of gore. You shrieked in pain as some of the venom burned through the clothing on your back and shoulders.

Your breaths left harshly through gritted teeth as you forced yourself up once more, glaring at the corpse of the serpent.

And to your absolute horror, the corpse rose on its own again, the flesh pulsing as the head began to regrow.

"Oh fuck no!"

Your hand shot out right before the jaw grew back, and a spear of ice made contact with the ruby-red glass just as it reformed. The glass shattered, but the head continued to grow, if only to have a way to wail in pain and immediately collapse again.

You did not hesitate to shatter its skull once more.

This time, you willed a barrier of water to protect you from the oncoming shower. The serpent's headless body retreated into the pool.

What is it going to do now? Flood the room, or try and attack?

You noted the patterns in the tremors of the water.

Attack. It's going to attack.

But it wasn't like before.

This time when the serpent erupted from the pool, it immediately collapsed onto the floor, still conscious. With a loud screech, the serpent dragged its head to sweep around the room, destroying everything in its path, turning the marble floor into a mess of rubble.

Jump! Jump over it!

But your limbs were too heavy to do anything like that, and your magic was running too low, most of it used without much thought, only instinct.

There would be no dodging or countering this attack.

You channeled the last of your magic into forming another barrier to protect yourself.

The serpent's head broke through it easily, and you felt yourself get crushed against the wall. Fangs pierced your flesh and venom burned through your bones. You could only scream in agony before darkness took you.

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a/n: never see ppl include periods/childbirth in pain-sharing AUs y'know? i had planned for this to be a pain-sharing bond + First's wife to die in childbirth, but tbh it never registered til now that he prob would've felt that too. but it's fine; adds to the pain of it all hehe (literally and figuratively)

"Sweetheart, no."

"Sweetheart, yessss."

A twitch of annoyance flickered in the captain's face as you managed to grab the cocktail he had been holding hostage. You were drunk, very drunk. But still keeping it under control for all that mattered to him. Words were a bit slurred, but actions were fine. For now at least.

You looked across the bar towards the man that had been eyeing you for some time.

"No."

"Oh come onnn. Why not?"

"Just look at him—!"

"Oh, I have been," you giggled.

"—He looks sleazy."

You frowned at that and pinched your eyebrows together, looking at the man intently. You stared at him so obviously that Warriors had to put his head down in shame, embarrassed to be next to you.

He wanted you to have a good time. He really did. But the good friend—and the knight—in him also wanted to make sure you didn't cause trouble. For your own good, and also the general public's good.

You hummed in contemplation. "His hair is pretty oily."

"That's all you have to say about him?"

"You're welcome to"—you hiccuped—"welcome to add on."

Warriors picked his head back up and looked at the man. Thankfully, he was no longer looking towards the two of you, but it didn't stop Warriors from trying to have a bit of decorum.

"His hair is awful."

"Fair enough."

"It looks like there are three different beer stains on his tunic."

"Think I've got one too now."

"Yeah, I'm aware. His stubble is... interesting."

"Maybe it's the fashion?"

"Do you like that fashion?"

"Uhh." You took a big sip of your drink and contemplated for a second. "No, not really. But I `preciate the effort of tryna look nice."

"Effort? His poor excuse of a 'stubble' is the only effort he's put into his appearance."

You rolled your eyes and turned to face Warriors more directly.

"Okay, you've got some good points Cap'n, but! Consider this." You held your hand between the two of you and flexed your fingers a bit. "His hands look delicious."

Warriors' mouth fell open a little in disbelief before a slightly offended look came across his face. He took his fingerless glove off and flexed his fingers next to yours.

"My hands are pretty good," he huffed.

You giggled and rested your head against your hand, grabbing his with your other hand. He blushed furiously as you held his hand up to your face, thumb running over the skin of his knuckles.

"You do," you mused. "Can you do anything good with 'em?"

You... you would not be doing this if you were sober though he'd like it if you did. He yanked his hand out of your grip.

"Okay, that's enough of that. You're drunk—"

"Sorry, shouldn't've said that. M'not having sex with you, captain." He choked on nothing. "Cause I know you, and I reaaaally respect you as a friend. M'not gonna ruin that."

He fumbled for words. "You-you what? Sex?"

Get a grip, Link! He ran his hands over his face and let out a harsh exhale through his nose. He froze as he realized the other implication of your words.

"Were you going to sleep with him?" Warriors fumed. The thought nearly made him sneer with distaste and he almost felt sick. "No, absolutely not. Not happening."

"Well, I didn't sayyy that."

"I don't care. You're drunk. Know what? We're leaving."

"What?" You frowned, almost pouting at him. "M'not gonna fuck him."

A shiver of disgust went down him. At least he had your word now. Warriors took another deep breath.

"We should still go," he said more calmly. "You're pretty drunk."

Your pout deepened, and Warriors had to resist the urge to crumble. "If you say so," you sang.

"You stay right here while I pay, okay? No moving."

"Oki doki."

He smiled and mussed your hair a bit which you whined at. But you still smiled giddily at his retreating form for a minute until a thought struck you.

'My hands are pretty good.'

"Pretty good?" you repeated to yourself, eyebrows dramatically pinched together again.

Gods, you needed some water to sober up and—

Your eyes widened and a blush spread across your cheeks. A hopeful tone crept into your voice without permission. "Cap'n! Did you wanna fuck?!"

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it's fun to play around with though. rowdy nights out in the tavern are the best time to strike, because not too many people around give a fuck about whatever's happening between you two, but there's enough people around that twilight will get pissed off at you

you're acting funny, but he doesn't think too much of it because both of you are two drinks deep. touching his chest a little boldly, keeping his hand in yours, pecking his cheek often. they're all little things anyone could mistake as drunk affection

up until you disappear to the restroom for just a minute, returning with a mischievous smile that his him raising an eyebrow. you're leaning in, telling him you found a gift in there for him, and discreetly slipping something into his hand

it's been in twilight's hand for less than a second before he realizes what it is, tensing like he just heard someone unsheathe their sword. it's your underwear, a black lacy pair that he knows is new since he had torn the other one to shreds. his other hand flies out, quicker than lightning, to grab your wrist and hold you there. but you twirl away before he touches you, dancing towards the barmaid

his jaw is clenched so unbearably tight that he might just break his teeth. with how it's sitting in his fist, his fingers are pressing directly into a sopping wet patch right on the crotch. if the damn place didn't reek of sweat and alcohol, twilight would probably be able to smell it without even raising it towards his face

you're looking at him from across the place now, smiling like a sly fox. and the only thing he does for now is just stare back at you, unblinking. the piece of lace is completely balled up now, and he shoves it deep into his pocket

this is the closest you'll get to twilight fucking you like he hates you. he doesn't care about your pleasure, and he won't be for a very long time. the gentleman who's usually hellbent on making you cum at least twice on his tongue before he even thinks of taking care of himself is gone

this is all about indulging himself now. twilight is using your body and seeking out to only pleasure himself. he doesn't care whether you cum or not. if he feels like fucking you for an hour straight, he's going to do it. if he wants you to drench his tongue for an hour straight, he's going to make you do it. if he wants to use your mouth for an hour straight, then he's going to do it. or, well, unless you tap out. he'll respect that

he's talking nothing but pure filth. it's a combination of praise and degradation. "couldn't've waited just a lil longer f'me, could'ya? m'sweet girl had to go actin' like a slut round the whole town. `n look at where's that gotcha now. turned'ya into a real slut f'me. y'got anythin' to say? no? pretty lil head's all gone, now ain't it. s'fine darlin'. i'll bring'ya back to me later. jus' keep bein' good f'me now, yeah?"

you're going to lose your mind. it's just inevitable. whether it's from overstimulation, getting fucked too dumb, or not cumming until the very end is a game of chance. but twilight knows he fucks good, so there is a high chance you'll cum at least once while he's busy enjoying your sweet body. but if you don't, he'll make sure that you do at the end :) bringing you to a sweet, gentle climax if he's feeling calmer and satiated (if he's not, then uh, he'll still make you cum. but it won't be sweet nor gentle)

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"Where is she?" he tried to ask casually.

He failed. Miserably. 

"Not sure, why?"

You were probably on the way back from the village with Four, a fresh restock of supplies in hand. He knew that, but it didn't really ease his concerns.

"It's getting late. That's why." Legend looked towards the setting sun, trying to not let his worry show. He failed again. Miserably. "I'm gonna go—"

"Relax," Sky said. "Besides, she knows how to handle herself."

Twilight had already set out to check up on the two of you, but he didn't need to know that. Whatever was going on between you and Legend, was everyone's new favorite game.

"What's got you so wound up?" Warriors asked with a smirk. "Are you concerned about our dear—"

"I'm not worried about her!"

"I never mentioned her."

A shit-eating grin spread across the captain's face as the veteran's face erupted into red.

"Yeah, well, it doesn't take much to guess whatever crazy assumptions you're thinking of."

"Is that so? Then I guess you should be able to—"

Your amused voice interrupted them. "What are you two on about this time?"

It didn't take much to see how the tension in Legend's body faded once you were in his field of vision.

He scowled, trying to hide his relief. He failed once more. Miserably.

"Captain's babbling on about complete bullshit, that's what!"

"Language," Time sternly interrupted, but he couldn't hide the mirth behind his eyes.

You raised an eyebrow, eyeing Warriors' smug face. "What kind of bull—cuccoshit?"

Time glared at you, disappointment written all across his face. "Did you think that was better?"

From the corner of your eye, you could see Twilight physically withering away from being in the presence of such a look. But you weren't Twilight; the old man's words did not so easily affect you.

You opened your mouth again to repeat your question in an even more inappropriate manner, but Legend spoke before you could.

"Nothing worth bringing up again!" His face was undeniably red now, a combination of embarrassment and anger. "We're done talking about it!"

You gave the captain a wide-eyed look at that, but his expression still hadn't changed. You didn't press, and Warriors didn't open his mouth again.

A teensy bit of guilt crept into you at the tension that had started building up inside Legend again.

"If you say so," you relented. Walking a few steps forward, you grabbed his hand and pulled him over to where Wild was cooking dinner. Legend's body eased up again, and his face remained the same shade of red but for different reasons now. "He looks like he's done. Let's eat."

"Um uh—yeah. Sounds good."

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“What are you doing?” His deep voice rumbled in the near silent clearing.

“I’m making sure they can rest in peace,” You replied back seamlessly. It was hard to ignore the warmth that built under your skin when his gaze finally fell onto you. As emotionless as he seemed, you noticed how his soul seemed conflicted, the colors and shape swirling along with his thoughts. It was silent once more, many had fallen, which left you to pick up after the gruesome battle. 

“I was supposed to protect them,” He stated. While his tone was unwavering, you saw his soul flicker, like it was trying to hold itself together after this failure. 

“It’s the circle of life,” Your response seemed cold, but this was something you had dealt with for as long as you remembered. “Do not fret, they will be back. Perhaps not the same, they will look different, they may not even be hylian in their next life, but they will live once more.”

“What is your name?” He asked, stepping closer to your hovering figure. 

You gave it easily with a shy smile, tucking the last soul safely within your magical bubble, “I am tasked with keeping balance with both Hylia’s and Farore’s creations. I haven’t met you yet, though.”

“I am known as Fierce Deity,” the deity spoke, watching in curiosity. He watched as your hands hovered over the bodies, extracting something he couldn’t see, and seemingly storing it. 

A frown formed on your face at his reply, “No name?” He shook his head, white hair swaying with the movement. “Well that won’t do,” You huffed, crossing your arms. “How about Fierce?” It was after that fateful meeting that you started to personally collect souls yourself in the hope of catching the handsome deity once more, and more often than not you did. It seemed that he was surrounded by death. You watched as he grew, watched as the horrors of life rolled off his back, watched as he would turn to you for a semblance of solace. You enjoyed the moments you shared, taking in the world you helped keep going with the man who had enchanted you wholly. It was a brief respite for you both, a moment to forget about the roles you both played. Just two people who were entranced with the other.

Yet you should’ve realized it wouldn’t last forever. Nothing good ever does, you have witnessed countless unhappy endings throughout your long lifetime. Perhaps you were blindsided by the change of your routine, by the warmth that consumed you every time he would look at you so softly, by the fact that neither of you were mortal. You had felt it deep in your being, he wasn’t gone, but something had dulled the shine of his soul. You would still go to Hyrule, thinking that perhaps this time you would see him, that he could tell you what had happened, why he had left you for so long. 

You weren’t sure how long it took for you to find him. Was it years? Decades? Centuries? You couldn’t tell, for someone who has lived as long as you, time was meaningless. Of course it was when you finally stumbled upon Hylia’s chosen hero, one soul out of three that had always given you trouble. With blonde hair styled just like the one you loved, face paint eerily similar as well. You nearly had to do a double take if it weren’t for the difference of his souls. The hero stared at you with a calculating eye, unsure of who you were or what your intentions were. It was then that you had found that beautiful soul you had been searching for all these years. 

A mask, hauntingly resembling the deity you loved slipped itself out of the hero’s satchel as you coaxed the soul towards you. With a shout, the hero leapt forward, attempting to grab the mask, but you would not have it, creating a shield blocking the hero from approaching your or the mask. Once it reached you, you cradled it gently, heart feeling heavy. His soul was trapped in this mask, how long had he been like this? Tears welled in your eyes, how long has it been for his soul to become so dull?

“Who are you?” The hero snarled, sword raised towards your form. 

“I am nobody,” You replied, unable to tear your eyes away from the one you loved. “I’m doing my job by collecting the souls of the fallen.” Your grip tightened at your last words, voice wobbling just slightly. Oh how the mighty have fallen indeed. 

“That mask contains a dangerous power,” He huffed, eye turning wide as you turned with a snarl. 

“He did his duty and protected Hylia’s creations and this is how he was rewarded?” You were practically growling, anger infesting deep into your bones. You had seen the deity, truly seen him. He wasn’t some savage killer like the people would spew, the claims would anger you, but Fierce would assure you it was a part of his job. That he didn’t care what they said as he was carrying out the goddess’ will. Why would they do this to him? You could clearly remember the last time you met with him, how warm his hand was in your own, how tired he was, how he whispered for your ears only that he wished to stay by your side. You felt like your blood was boiling, your sadness melting into full blown anger. 

The hero stood silent, watching as you pressed a loving kiss onto the forehead of the mask. A bright light pierced through the forest, causing him to close his eye. Your words had made him pause, nauseous at how they resonated with his own fate. His hesitation had caused him to be too late, even though he wasn’t sure if he could fight against you. When Link was able to look once more he felt his heart drop, the mask had transformed, you had released Fierce Deity. His grip on his sword nearly shook as the deity glared at him, you were firmly pressed into the god’s chest. 

“Fierce,” You whispered, arms wrapping around his torso. Tears slid down your cheeks as your old friend and lover held you dearly. 

“My love,” he whispered back reverently. “I have missed you.”

Your hands cradled his face, pulling him down and pressing your lips together in a loving kiss. You didn’t realize how much you had missed this. He was warm and loving, holding you gently as if you would break, but tight as if you’d slip through his fingers, a contrast only he could manage. Neither of you wished to pull away, but you’d make sure you would both make up for lost time later. You gently brushed your thumb across his cheek, taking in every marking, every wrinkle, every beauty mark that dotted his skin, before finally turning back to face the hero.

“I apologize for scaring you,” You spoke, not having felt so calm in a millenia. The hero merely eyed you wearily, still on guard but less tense than before. “I have been searching for Fierce for quite some time. I see he has aided you in your journey, but it is time for him to return to where he belongs. Fear not, chosen one, he will cause you, nor the creations of Hylia any harm.” 

“Do you hold power over him?” The hero questioned, eyes squinting.

Fierce stared the hero down, nearly stepping forward in anger at such a question, but you raised a hand, making him stop midstep. 

“No,” You shake your head, but are unable to erase your smile. “But we respect each other, and that is enough.”

Little did you realize, you held a lot of power over Fierce. He would do anything for you without you even asking him to. You could look wistfully to the horizon and he would give you the sun, moon and stars, but he would not let the chosen one know that you were his greatest weakness. 

“I wish you best on your journey, little one,” You hummed, taking a step back, ready to head back to your realm. “And know the fallen are well taken care of.”

Fierce doesn’t hesitate to follow you, entering your strange void between the planet and the infinite void that was your domain. While this wasn’t his first time, it still never failed to amaze him, watching as you pour out the souls you collected and sort them into reincarnation and what was basically ‘storage’. He trails behind you, arms wrapping around your waist as he rests his head in the crook of your neck. He had been locked up in that mask for so long, in his own personal void, that the site of the nothingness that was your domain had turned daunting for a new reason. 

You leaned back into his touch, a bittersweet feeling filling you. While things may not be perfect, and you wished to have a talk with a certain goddess, you wouldn’t change the moment for anything. You were wrapped up in the arms of your love, reunited after far too long, soaking in the other’s presence like a dried up sponge. And for now, that was enough.

"T-Twi! Someone's gonna mmh—!"

He slammed his mouth against yours, effectively shutting you up. You yelped and blushed, freaking out over the thought of getting caught, in your night clothes nevertheless.

"They're all asleep," he whispered between kisses. "Ain't no one comin' out here."

"You don’t—you don’t know—"

He caught you in another kiss, licking into your mouth this time.

"I'll hide us before we get caught."

Your hands tangled into his hair, tugging him back so you could talk. Twilight groaned at the feeling, but glared at you like you had committed a horrendous crime.

"Twi," you whined. "Wha—what's gotten into you? Captain's still doing a watch. He's gonna notice!"

"Told `im I couldn't sleep, and that we's goin' for a walk."

You erupted into a severe blush. A walk? In the middle of the night? Hateno Village was well-lit, but the woods he had dragged you into were very much not, and there was no chance that Warriors wouldn't have taken note of which direction you two had gone in.

"And you think he actually believed that?!"

"No, `n I don’t care."

Embarrassment flooded your entire system, but before you could say anything Twilight was kissing you again. He pulled your hands from his hair and pinned them against the bark above you with one of his hands. The other started bunching up the thin material of your night shirt and reaching to undo the bindings around your chest.

You shivered when his fingers grazed your skin, a trail of goosebumps raising in their wake. He finally found the loose end and gave it a firm tug, a whine leaving you as your breasts were exposed to the cold air, nipples pebbling. Twilight wasted no time abandoning your lips in favor of your chest.

Another loud noise was ripped from your throat as he ran his tongue around your nipple, pinching and twisting the other with his free hand. You pressed your lips together tightly and tried to more or less stop breathing in an effort to stay quiet.

He kept at it for a solid few minutes, taking your silence as a challenge and trying to pull out as many noises from as he could you. The hand holding your wrists together eventually let go as he began travelling south, now busying themselves with tugging your pants down. You hurriedly yanked your shirt back down to cover your breasts, still concerned that someone might see you.

Twilight glanced up at you with hooded eyes, mildly annoyed. It sent a jolt straight to your pussy, wondering what he was going to do.

"What's gotcha so shy? You `mbarrassed?" He decided to stop, resting his hands on your hips and kneading the flesh there. Your pants were only down to mid-thigh, and your underwear was still on. Twilight was still looking up at you as he nosed along the edge of it, breath fanning over your clothed cunt where he could see a wet spot growing. "Can stop if ya really want. Go back now, `n Cap'n won't be thinkin' we done nothin' funny."

"I-I...," you trailed off.

You knew he was right. If you really wanted to, you could tell him to stop and he would listen. But you didn't. You'd have to deal with Warriors' knowing look later, but you were far too horny now.

Your face screwed up in embarrassment yet again. Twilight grinned wolfishly as you pulled your underwear down for him, letting the clothes fall to the ground. Your hands found their way into his hair once again, but this time you tugged his face forward and towards your cunt.

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"Here, lemme help ya," said Twilight, offering you a hand.

You knew how to ride a horse. He knew you knew how to ride a horse. Everyone knew you knew how to ride a horse. And they all knew you had no trouble dismounting on your own.

Flirting, he was flirting with you. He's been flirting with you, and you hadn't been too receptive at first, always eyeing him with a bit of caution.

You eyed him again now, fighting to keep your face neutral. From behind you, Time also eyed the rancher with a knowing look; he tried to ignore his ancestor.

"... Sure."

Smoothly, Twilight gripped your waist and lifted you off Epona—who also seemed to have been eyeing him—and onto the ground. You blushed at the feeling of his hands on you. He kept them where they were supposed to be, not travelling anywhere, but they did linger a teensy bit more than necessary.

Not that you minded. His touch was… nice.

That had been the end of that. A warm smile from him, a thanks from you, and a chuckle from Time.

Twilight was fairly bold with his flirting, and it was not something you were used to, mainly because no one had ever been so respectful about it. Most men were too handsy or straight up audacious, more or less trying to get in your pants. 

And, well, for all you knew Twilight could also just be trying to get in there. But having gotten to decently know him now, you didn't mind the thought too much. Whatever happened would most likely not be just a one night stand.

Another day of travelling, another night of camping. It was all routine by now.

"I'll run a quick patrol?" Twilight offered to Warriors.

"Sounds good," he responded quickly. "You're going alone?"

Wars saw how he was about to respond with a 'Yeah', but then the rancher's eyes flickered towards you. You noticed both of their gazes and looked at them questioningly.

"Dunno. Am I goin' alone?" Twilight asked you.

Both yours and Warriors' mouth dropped open a bit, the captain also sporting a disbelieving grin.

"Um, uh"—a small smile of your own crept onto your face—"no, I don't think you are."

Warriors let out a low whistle as the two of you headed out, still not believing what he just saw. "Smooth, rancher. Very smooth."

A different day, another night of camping, but a night out in the city too.

They were all either galavanting about or heading to the milk bar, and you hadn't decided which activity you wanted to partake in.

"Whatchu doin' tonight?" Twilight asked you.

He had another grin on his face and was leaning against the tree you were about to put your stuff down at. You shot him a mischievous look.

"I might be going on a date," you said.

He faltered. 

It wasn't a date with someone else, no way. Were you asking him out? Or rather making him ask you out? What was he supposed to say? 

For all the flirting he'd been doing, Twilight had no idea how to react to being on the receiving end. He was supposed to be the one asking you out like a gentleman, not the other way around.

"Oh," he said. Really? He couldn't have said anything else? "Might?"

"Might," you confirmed. "Depends on what you're doing."

"I was—uh—I was gonna… gonna… take you to the…"

"The small restaurant I passed by earlier today."

"Yes! Um–yes." He tried to compose himself. "Was plannin' on takin' you there."

You laughed, stepping forward and planting a kiss on his cheek. Twilight's face blew up in fiery blush. 

"Great, sounds like a date."

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What sort of life-threatening circumstances did you think you’d run into? The thing about those things, was that they were life-threatening. Perhaps, you had just enjoyed the sense of purpose it had given you. No memories, no friends, and not much hope for living would do that to you. 

But that purpose, that reason had been everything. You had centered yourself around it, and forced away any negativity it had brought. You had been miserable, and you hadn’t wanted to feel like that anymore.

You looked to Link, trying to give him some reassuring eye contact and squeezing his hand. Link was right: The sooner you got this over with, the better.

“Take this,” he said, holding out the sword.

Your eyes widened. “Link, I don’t—”

“I know. But you can’t just go in there unarmed.”

He was right. But you both knew that you didn’t know how to use it very well. Learning on the spot would be torturous. You slung the scabbard across your back and adjusted the straps.

“I’ll be waiting for you inside that tower,” he said stoically. “If you find that you are in no condition to make your way there, you need only call and I will come.”

“Thank you,” you whispered.

A squeeze to your shoulder, and he gently pushed you towards the entrance. You took a deep breath and descended down the cold marble stairs, not looking back. At least, you didn’t intend to. 

Another deep rumble sounded after a few steps and you whirled around in panic. Link’s face was similar to yours, full of panic and fear. He tried to lurch towards you, but the both of you were forced to stumble backwards by the falling rubble. 

No noise came from the other side; Link was thoroughly separated from you. Your breaths grew heavy.

That was probably on purpose, to ensure you went alone. Move. Just move. Just move(?).

You turned back around reluctantly, forcing yourself to continue the descent. The sound of rushing water carried through the staircase.

One, two, three, four, five. Shaky, but controlled breaths. Six, seven, eight, nine, ten. You wiped your palms on your pants. One, two, three, four, five.

The stairs ended, leading into a large, spacious room, but you quickly retreated back up at least five steps.

Water was everywhere. The stairs turned into a pathway that cut through the room and branched off in the middle, effectively splitting the room into four quadrants. Each quadrant was filled with crystal blue water where lotus flowers and leaves were slowly withering away. The side walls both had two waterfalls, pouring water into the pond.

There were three gates. The one directly across from where you had been was large and ornate, with some sort of art that you hadn’t been able to make out. The other two were at the ends of the paths that went sideways, smaller and made of swirling black iron.

And standing just a few paces in front of each gate, were gigantic red moblins. Your blood had run cold at the sight, forcing you backwards. They hadn’t noticed you, thank the gods. No, thank all that was holy.

Your hands trembled like leaves and you bit your lips to keep the stuttered gasps to yourself. You retreated back five more steps, completely out of view of the monsters, before collapsing on the stairs. Your gasps turned sharper, and you curled into yourself. And alone in the dungeon, you began to cry.

It was impossible to tell without any sunlight, but it felt as if you had been glued to the stairs for hours. The tears had run dry a while ago, but the paralyzing fear of what awaited you hadn’t left, nor the sense of urgency to complete the trial. It left you hugging yourself suffocatingly tight and occasionally fiddling with Legend’s protection ring while anxiety turned your stomach into a mess. If your stomach had been a bit fuller, you probably would have thrown up.

There was art on these walls. You hadn’t noticed before, but now it was the only thing you were able to focus on. Eroded engravings, clear enough to barely make out what it depicted. You think the walls in that main room might've had art too.

Your focus kept switching between the art and the anxiety in you.

Move! You need to move! You need to complete the trial!

And yet you didn’t move.

The art was interesting though. It seemed to be mainly Zora with the occasional Hylian thrown in there; it must have been Nayru judging by the long hair. They were standing next to towering waves in some panels, and surrounded by large… triangles in some others. Whatever meaning it had was lost on you, but—

“The water flows as you will it.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and mild disbelief.

“You just need a good imagination.”

“You’re joking,” you laughed.

There’s no way. She can’t be serious.

Your hands unwrapped from around yourself, planting themselves on the ground to push you off. Split-second thoughts flashed through your head.

You’re moving. You’re really moving. Are you sure about this?

You pushed, standing up once more. 

No. Not at all. But I need to use the motivation to get up while I can.

The art in the staircase was not very extensive. But you could get a very very very very basic idea of what was happening. The Zora were manipulating the water. What for? You had no clue. Why? You had no clue. How? You had a little bit of a clue. 

If it lined up with what Nayru told you, then you were supposed to maybe possibly hopefully be able to do this too.

You had descended down the stairs again, only pausing for a brief second now before forcing yourself forward. If you could do that from a long distance, then that would ease a lot of your worries about survival and learning how to use the sword.

Crouching close to the ground, you peaked enough to just barely see the two moblins standing in front of the side gates. Their guards were up, looking side to side to survey the area with a sword in hand. Had they spotted you earlier? It didn’t matter.

Magic began to thrum in your veins, tingling at your fingertips. You held your palms out towards the moblin on the left. You moved your hands, willing the water to do the same. A miniscule wave of water lapped at the creature’s feet, startling it.

Your blood ran ice-cold again and you didn’t dare to move an inch as every creature in that room became aware of another possible presence. You waited, and waited, and waited. A few minutes, or maybe half an hour, or maybe longer. You couldn’t tell. But eventually their stances returned to normal, free of suspicion.

You let more time pass before letting go of the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. A bit of the fear you had turned into frustration. Why hadn’t it worked? Did you need to use more magic? Or were you not thinking hard enough? Both?

The moblin seemed to have forgotten about the little wave. You moved your hands again, this time channeling more magic and imagining your goal more clearly. A large wave rose, startling it again. But this time, it fell across him entirely with enough force to knock the moblin off the pathway into the water. It flailed, unable to get back onto the ground.

The moblin on the other side of the room frantically looked around, but made no move to help the other one. Another motion of your hands, and that one was also pushed into the water.

Neither of them were dead or dying though. How were you supposed to finish it? 

One… creative idea came to mind. It was a little gruesome, but it was also the only effective option you could think of at the moment.

Your open hand clenched into a tight fist, and the water wrapped around one of them. The howls it let out were silenced immediately. The pressure increased devastatingly. 

And then like a string had snapped, the moblin’s body crushed. It was a temporary mass of water, black blood, flesh, and bones. You unclenched your fist, and the remains briefly spread like ink through water before dissolving, not a trace of its existence left.

You stared at where it was for a few seconds, a giddy, disbelieving grin spread across your face. Surprisingly, it hadn’t been very draining.

I can do this!

You turned your attention to the alerted moblin on the other side of the room and did the same, the water obeying a bit more easily. Quickly, you descended the last few steps. The last moblin screeched as it spotted you. It was armed with a bow unlike the other two and fired an arrow at you. You screeched this time and ducked (fell, honestly) out of the way, simultaneously thrusting out your arms in its direction. It was dead a moment later.

Your head stayed lifted for a few moments later, double checking you were safe, before dropping to the ground. A loud sigh left you as you became aware of the bits of adrenaline rushing through you.

I can do this!

But a little break first.

Did you have time for a break though? You frowned, remembering the urgency of the trial. How much time had been wasted just sitting on the stairs? It was still impossible to tell.

You forced yourself up and finally entered the room for the first time. The depictions that were on the stairs extended to wrap around the room as well, but most were too cracked and broken to make anything of.

The golden doors caught your attention again, and you started walking towards it. There were more depictions engraved on it, ones that you could make out and were definitely different than the other ones.

It didn’t show any Hylians or Zora, but a giant serpent with ruby eyes. Its lower body was coiled up, head raised and fangs bared to attack, and it was spitting either water or venom out. The raging water engraved around the edges looked to be caused by the serpent’s movements.

You gulped, tracing over the scales. That creature was beyond these doors—you were sure of it. And you would need to fight it.

Your eyes flickered to the keyhole, right beneath the snake.

You wouldn’t be fighting it yet. That would probably come at the end. 

The other two gates didn’t seem to be locked though. You took a deep breath.

This was going to be a lot of work. 

You wanted out. You needed out. You had chocolate in your pouch to share. You wanted to spend more time with Wind, and maybe see Link one more time. You wanted to rest under the warmth of the sun while they laughed beside you. You knew it wouldn’t happen for a long time, if ever.

It had all been going fine until it wasn’t. And in a situation like this, it only took one bad thing—a missed dodge, too many enemies, a blocked exit—for everything to turn to shit immediately.

You didn’t know how those boys had done it. How could they have all faced dungeons like this multiple times and still come out knowing how to smile. You weren’t sure if you could trust their smiles to be true anymore.

One of the black side gates in the main room hadn’t budged open, forcing you to go through the other one instead. Immediately upon entering, you had received a blow to the face. Just barely out of sight and to the right, an octorok hiding under a lotus leaf had shot a jet of water so hard, you were sure that half of your face was instantly bruised. 

Frantically, you had ran to the other side of the room and out of its range, only to spot another octorok popping up from another pool of water. The first ten minutes of being in that room consisted of standing in the corner, contemplating what to do.

Thankfully, there had been more engravings on the walls. Sadly, you hadn’t really understood it—something about throwing water. You wanted to kill them the same way you had handled the moblins, but you also felt compelled to figure out how the room intended you to navigate it.

It hadn’t taken too long to find a solution to your situation. The octoroks were shooting water at you; you could just shoot it back at them. That’s what that throwing was.

Though it had taken an egregiously long time to figure out how to do it (mainly because you kept leaping away at the last minute, worried you would get hit), you were able to eventually seize control of their attacks and redirect it back at them.

The next hour or two was spent in that room and the one before it, learning how to manipulate the water in different ways and deciphering the art. It was hard, harder than anything you had done before. But what hard things have you done before this, any of this?

It didn’t come naturally, and you didn’t think it would for a very long time. By the end of your little practice session, you were exhausted. You had retreated back to the entrance staircase and rested. Continuing afterwards, you had made it a goal to not hesitate as much, something you knew might not entirely be in your control, instinctually speaking.

The temple seemed straightforward-ish. Locked doors, puzzles, and monsters littered the place. In all honesty, it had the potential to be fun if the monsters weren’t there. 

Not every room had art in it, but the ones that did, you studied a lot. Each of those rooms typically involved at least an hour or so of practice, making the water bend to your will.

Occasionally, you would find an odd treasure. There was a powerful shield spell, but at no point so far did you have enough magic to try it out. You didn’t know how much magic it would require, but instinct told you that it would be one of your most draining spells.

There was also a bow, one you could tell was strong and magical. But you couldn’t tell how the magic component played into it, and you didn’t have any arrows to try and figure it out. Speaking of weapons, you had abandoned the idea of trying to use the sword; the water manipulation seemed much more reliable.

The best, and only consistent finds had been the rupees and fairies in pots. Bless them, you would need the rupees when you returned to Kakariko, and the fairies were wonderfully helpful.

You were quickly learning that your observation skills needed to be at the top of your game.

Moving a large stone block the wrong way had nearly trapped you in a room at one point. It had set off some sort of mechanism, and it was only at the last minute you were able to reset things and move the block back to its original position. That was when you learned how strong water could be if you willed enough of it to bend to your command. If you demanded that it stayed strong and forceful, like how you had imagined it when crushing that moblin, it could be deadly.

It had wrapped around the stone, slipping into the tiny gaps between it and the wall, and forced its position to change.

But gods above, you had nearly died twice. And it wasn’t a matter of not solving a puzzle quickly enough, an oh man, the walls of the room are closing in a little too quickly. No, it was not being quick enough in the face of enemies.

The first time, you had been locked into a room as soon as you entered, the gate slamming shut behind you. Just like that, you were trapped with three armored lizalfos. When the first one had lunged at you, instinct made you jump into the water surrounding the multiple platforms in the room: a near-fatal mistake. 

A moment later, another jumped into the water, and these monsters were far better swimmers than you. A scream had ripped from your throat when a spear pierced your leg, water immediately filling your mouth. You choked and spluttered, which gave it enough time to swim towards you and violently wrench its weapon out and slam you against the side of the platform.

You had thrust your hands out wildly, willing the water to do something to get them away from you. It had risen like a tsunami and knocked them all back. But water rising tremendously in one spot also meant that it was sinking dramatically in another.

You slammed into the bottom of the pool, screaming and nearly passing out from landing on your bad leg. After the tsunami had folded and crashed into the monsters, the returning water would’ve crushed you against the stone you were cornered against if you hadn’t thought to use some of the surrounding water to shoot yourself back onto a platform. It protected you from the brunt of the force, but a portion of the wave still hit you on the platform. Another scream of agony sounded with how it jostled your leg. A pool of blood was growing beneath you.

Through heavy eyes and heaving sobs, you had lifted your head to see the three lizalfos knocked out on the far side of the room, floating in the water. Summoning your last bit of strength, you had forced the water around them to freeze and pierce them like icicles, a trick you learned in a different room. Their bodies dissolved, and a chest appeared in the center of the room.

You had gritted your teeth and forced yourself to try and crawl towards it, using the water to help you move between platforms, hoping that maybe, just maybe, there was something that could help you in it. The warmth from the blood drenching your pants was a stark contrast from the icy cold of the water.

You passed out before you had the chance to open the chest, the blood loss too extreme. Something important must have been ruptured in your leg. Right before your eyes fluttered shut, the glitter of a fairy flew from behind the chest, rushing towards you and zipping around. The last thing you remembered was feeling your leg get stitched back together and your body going lax.

And now, a few rooms later, you wondered if your current situation was worse. The most frustrating part? It wasn’t even a big fucking monster that had done it.

You had made sure to survey the area before entering the room, and it hadn’t been enough. The moment your foot had crossed the threshold, a series of small blurs zipped by—pirogusu. In less than three seconds, the most agonizing pain you had ever felt instantly spread like a wildfire up your entire leg.

Something gave away instantly. 

What was that noise? Where did that ‘pop’ come from? 

You fell backwards, not even a stumble, and hit the floor hard, knocking your skull painfully against the stone. Your screeches and screams turned into throaty groans and wails with how disoriented you became. There were stutters in your breath from the breaths and gasps your body was forcing you to take, trying to get some oxygen in. Were you hyperventilating? Oh gods, what happened? Oh gods oh gODS—

IT HURTS! IT HURTS! IT HURTS! IT HURTS! IT HURTS!

You peaked below, trying to see what the damage was. Your cries grew worse. A lot of the pant leg had been torn away and it gave you an unobstructed view of the scene.

It was a violent mess of torn flesh, some bits hanging on by threads of tissue and skin. Blood poured profusely out of every part, a hot red pool growing and staining your skin, pants, and ground. Your mouth ran bone dry at the sight of a smooth surface amidst all of that.

Is that bone? There’s a wriggle in my calf. Why is there a wriggle in my calf?

You tried to turn onto your side. You couldn’t, not all the way, not before the vomit came out. Bile forced its way out and burned your throat before spewing across the ground. It got in your hair, and stained the shoulder of your tunic.

No. Stop. Don’t think about that. Fix it. Find a fairy. Find a potion. Do sometHING. DO SOMETHING. 

You frantically looked around, barely hearing your own wails over the pounding in your ears. Your blood was rushing, heart rate growing increasingly frantic. Blood rush and faster heart rate, would it make you bleed out faster? Is this more blood than that other leg injury? I’m going to die. Oh by the gods and all that’s holy I’m going to die.

The room ahead of you. A golden chest was in there. You knew it had the key to that other door in it. But there were more pots in there too. The pots. You needed the pots. There might be a fairy there. You couldn’t get the pots from here. You couldn’t walk. You couldn’t get up. You couldn’t—you couldn’t—you counted the pots instead. One, two, three—stop counting the pots. Stop counting the pots and get them.

You tried to focus on the room, but it was hard when your ankle it was barely an ankle anymore was right there. Your eyes kept looking at the litter of flesh hanging around your calf.

Water. There’s more water in the room. You need to use the water. Your head dropped back to the ground, your neck unable to keep holding it up anymore. The pain in your skull reverberated with that movement. Do I have a concussion? You wiggled your fingers and hands uselessly, trying to move the water without any clear direction.

You pressed your lips together to stop the sounds leaving you, not wanting to hear yourself anymore. It barely muffled it. Everything was silent except for the pounding in your ears and the echo of your muffled sobs. The water, the water needed to move. You clenched your hands, from both pain and concentration. The throbbing and pulsing of your injury was travelling up through your hips and spine. 

Your fingers flexed again, and the water obeyed, bringing the pots to you. All of them smashed against the wall next to you, some rupees and two fairies filling the space. A sob of relief mixed into your wails as it flew towards your leg, magically stitching the flesh back into a cohesive body part. You faintly registered that it flew around your head too.

The bone wasn’t visible now. There wasn’t blood spilling out anymore. The muscle and skin had returned to normal. But it was still stained red. Everything was intact, and the pain was gone. But the sight was burned into your vision, and you could still see the exposed bone and tissue, bits swinging like a pendulum with each involuntary twitch.

The pain was gone. The pain was gone. But you still remembered it. And it echoed like a ghost all throughout your body. The pain was gone, but it was still there.

You passed out on the stone floor once more.

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a/n: um, not that anyone asked, but the wriggle in her leg is tendon. basically, the pirogusu cut straight through a bunch of shit, including her achilles it's kinda graphic bc i was just thinking, "this is real life, not a video game" y'know?

anywho, boss fight next chapter :D OH AND PEEP NEW GRAPHIC! I REDID AESTHETICS FOR STORY

ok hear me out, the title for best at taking a strap is tied between warriors and legend. HEAR ME OUT OKAY

both of them are the type who might be more or less actively asking for it on occasion. and while sky enjoys it a decent bit, he's not as into it as the others (who enjoy it quite a bit). side note: my thoughts here on warriors are for him in general, and not necessarily mean dom!wars

warriors is a raging bisexual (maybe even pan) and no one can change my mind on this. he has taken dick before. not that i think he's into hook-up culture, but idk this man has has. taken. dick. before. was it from a real dick or a strap? who's to say.

he doesn't mind experimenting in bed, and this was one of those experiments that he actually really liked. shit. felt. good.

he likes to indulge himself. who is he to deny the opportunity if it shows up? or if the craving hits? warriors didn't care about any stigma or stereotypes around it the moment he started seeing stars from his prostate getting stimulated. he is secretly a really big whore for it, and he moans like it too. does not have any shame in admitting to his partner that he took it up the ass and enjoyed tf out of it because holy shit it was just so good (-> one of the main reasons i think he's a top-leaning switch, occasionally a brat)

and btw, just because he's the one getting fucked does not mean that he's not dom-ing. he's subbed multiple times before, but not that much. there's been moments where he was feeling vulnerable and wanted the intimacy and care of being sub, and then there were moments that were more of a, 'i got my brains way too fucked out and just couldn't dom anymore' situation (it was intense, and he needed a lot of aftercare after that). his need for control doesn't ever let him give up the reins completely.

when warriors wants to top, he might pin you down and ride your strap. sometimes he'll set a slow place, drawing it out or even edging himself while teasing you beneath him. you get to enjoy a fantastic view of him losing himself to pleasure.

when he's on the bottom, he's probably still controlling the pace to some degree, using pinches, slaps, or gripping you in some way to make sure you're fucking him how he wants to be fucked. you can get him to cum early by making him watch it go in and out. if you've specifically got him on all fours and blowing his back out, he will moan like a whore. sometimes it's a little fake and he's doing it mockingly, but it just gives you reason to fuck him harder and make it real.

now legend, he also takes it like an absolute champ. the difference between him and the captain is the manner in which they're taking it. legend is usually getting it when he's feeling more subby, wants to be on the bottom, or has just been bratting too much. oh you're really gonna act like that? he's basically asking to get fucked into submission. the closest he gets to outright asking you to fuck him is bending over in front of you teasingly like the brat he is.

he likes it. a lot. as much as warriors does honestly. but he doesn't admit to it easily, and he won't directly go after it. the first time he tried it, it was because you proposed it. he was a bit iffy at first because it just seemed like he'd be a bit too vulnerable. but he surprisingly liked it a lot. it was definitely a new level of submission for him, but one that he likes. he loves how it feels, physically and mentally

legend isn't as vocal as wars is when you fuck him. he's bratty enough where he tries to keep all the noise to himself, but if you fuck him dumb enough or force his mouth open, you can get those noises out of him. he's unexpectedly sensitive, so when you start bullying his prostate, literally can't form sentences. it's just cussing and almost whining as he tries to kinda fight against your wicked thrusting but also isn't trying because he loves it. you've used it to your knowledge before; you don't want me to fuck you? is that it? ok, let me just pull out then. he cussed the fuck out of you for it, but you told him that if he wants you to keep going, he'll have to beg for it.

if he's taking the strap, legend is strictly bottoming. you love taking him from the back, bending him over a table, putting a nasty arch in his back on the bed. if it's more of a missionary style position, he has a hard time keeping his eyes open. it's not that he's fucked dumb or anything; he's just embarrassed by how vulnerable of a position you've put him in (/he put himself in) and how he's undeniably loving every inch of your strap. you've forced him to maintain eye contact before. you've also made him suck and gag on your strap first beforehand when he was being particularly bratty.

so. um, yeah. those are my thoughts :D

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