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stevebabey · 1 year

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let the kisses linger

word count: 3.3k summary: Steve Harrington is not your boyfriend, not yet. So far you’ve had a couple sweet kisses and an infuriating amount of dates spent with him making you nervous. Now, you just want to kiss him like you mean it, more than a peck, and maybe ask him to be your boyfriend while you do it. Steve beats you to it, on both counts. [cheeky tiny makeout + gn!reader (but r is mentioned to wear a bikini) + first relationship!reader]

It starts with a touch.

You’ve come to learn it always does with Steve. Fingers skirting along any bare skin he can find, drawing a line on your waist when just a sliver is exposed. Along the ridge of your neck, curling his hand to rest against your shoulder. His fingertips tease at your neck, feather-soft touches that can make you shiver if you’re not expecting it.

You think he does it just to see the goosebumps that trail in the wake of his touch. From the way he always grins, like the cat that got the cream, you’re probably right.

Steve can’t help it. You’re so responsive.

Maybe it’s because it’s new, this thing between you and Steve — you’ve been on a couple dates together after a string of painfully obvious flirtations over the Family Video counter that Robin had been forced to witness. You’ve just not quite sealed the deal yet.

However, even though Steve’s had more girlfriends than he can count on one hand, this part? Never gets old.

The electricity. The dance, the build-up; getting to see how you react when you’re not quite expecting him to be as close and touchy as he is.

He adores all of it. The delightful shudder you give when he slips his fingers into your hair, gifting a soft scratch along your scalp when you two had gotten cozy during a film. Your gloriously warm cheeks give you away even though Steve can read exactly when you’re nervous.

You’re utterly precious to him — and Steve wouldn’t exchange your shy smiles, flushed cheeks, or your nervous little reactions that are all because of him, for anything in the world.

Maybe it’s because you’re new to this.

First date, first time holding hands, first kiss — you’ve given them all to Steve. With the seriousness he takes them all, wholly prepared to blow your expectations out of the water, you feel you can trust them with him.

But even with trust, there’s no quelling the sticky nervousness that runs free beneath your skin when his hands begin to wander.

At first, it made you freeze. Not sure how to relax under hands that just want to hold you, touch you, just cos’ they can.

You think it took, maybe, a whole hour for you to relax and let yourself slump against Steve on your fourth date, curled up together on the couch. You think Steve knew of your nervousness and thanked him silently for his nonchalance at your stiffness. Not one comment was made.

You had relaxed into his side eventually. Steve, of course, had then gone and wrapped an arm around you and pulled you back into his chest and you’d gone straight back to tensed up.

His arms were wound around your middle, hands resting on your tummy and you hadn’t a clue on how you were supposed to be calm about it. You had mentally cursed his pretty hands, and his warm arms, and prayed to whoever was listening to grant you some semblance of strength.

And then, the bastard had leaned down, lips ghosting the shell of your ear, and whispered, “Y’can relax, sweetheart.”

You could practically hear the grin, cursing how you tensed up more — and forced yourself to melt against him. His arms tightened, pulling you closer as if this had been his plan all along. Steve’s chuckle wouldn’t have been audible if you hadn’t been so close to him.

Yeah, he definitely knew how nervous he made you.

The difference between then and now? Now, you want his wandering touch. Steve had been so sweet and good in the beginning, a little bit of teasing to watch you blush and squirm, and then he’d back off. Make sure you were actually comfortable.

You’re not sure you’ll shake the nerves with him — it’s just a Steve thing. He’s gorgeous, you’re nervous, the sky is blue, yadda yadda.

But how do you send a different message — tell him that he’s started a hunger in you that’s not quite satisfied with fleeting touches — when all you can do is shiver and blush when he puts his hands on you?

However you do, you need to figure it out, like, stat.

Today, in the blistering swell of summer, it’s getting near unbearable. At the Harrington house, Steve’s invited the party around for a bit of a pool party and you think you might die if you get to see him shirtless for any longer without getting your hands on him.

Steve’s meanly decided to forgo his shirt. It leaves him walking around in only slightly too short swim shorts and a smirk that says he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You get a tasty eyeful of his warm tan skin on display through the patio doors, your eyes tracking each mole on his skin. He’s scooping the pool free of leaves and you honestly feel like this is the start of some shitty porno with you lusting over the pool-boy. You’re fairly sure he knows you’re staring which makes it worse. He’s evil.

The muscles in his back ripple as he cleans, biceps bulging deliciously and you might seriously start drooling at the sight—how did you get him to go out with you, again?

“You’re drooling.”

Beside you in the kitchen, big sunglasses pushing back her fringe, Robin manages to startle you with her silent appearance. You jump just a bit, tearing your eyes away from Steve — you hadn’t heard her approach.

Your hand flies to your mouth, wiping fast. Embarrassment flushes up when you swipe at nothing and Robin cackles at the sight.

You roll your eyes but it does little to deter the heat in your face.

“I’m just messing with ya,” She nudges her shoulder against yours, her grin looking far too cheeky for your liking. Like she could read into every thought that had just been streaming through your head. You silently hope not.

“I wasn’t- there was no drooling.” You say, the conviction in your voice weakening with each word.

Robin wrinkles her nose. “That was a lie of epic proportions. You so were.”

You pout a bit, embarrassment still shining through. Robin just grins further and adjusts her sunglasses. She heads to the fridge, pulls it open, and plucks out some orange juice, beginning to drink from the bottle.

“No shame.” She says lightly, between a gulp, then reconsiders after a moment, her eyes bright. “Okay, a little shame — you looked ready to jump him right here and now.”

Your face might rival the sun in heat right now.

“But he’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?” It comes out a bit gargled from the juice she’s yet to swallow. Boyfriend comes out like bwoyfend. She continues after a swallow. “If anyone’s allowed to ogle, it’d be you, no?”

Uh oh. The B-word. The not-yet official name that you’re not sure you’re allowed to use in reference to Steve just yet.

“Um,” you cough a bit, wondering if you can skirt around the question. Yes some part of you sings, because you really really want him to be. You have to scold yourself for fibbing, even if it’s only in your head. Robin takes another swig, her eyes still on you.

“Not exactly.” You admit sheepishly, a hand coming up to rub the back of your neck. “We haven’t— he hasn’t- it’s not like that. Yet.”

Robin grins as she watches you fumble for words, screwing the cap back on the OJ. She leans her hip against the countertop, casting a glance out the window.

You go to follow her look and then think the better of it, focusing back on Robin. Like you need your blush to get any more fierce.

“Dingus is being stupid. He probably just needs a nudge.” Her eyes spy the thin cherry-red strap of your bikini, peeking out beneath your cotton shirt. “I’m sure that bikini will do the trick.”

She seems to hear herself, her eyes widening a moment later, slipping into a raspy ramble you know well. “Though, it should be said I totally believe Steve likes you for your personality. He’s not like— he wouldn’t just- he’s a multi-faceted man with many many layers!”

It all bursts out a bit frantic, so very Robin. You’re both amused at her insistence that Steve doesn’t just view you as eye-candy and grateful for the way she’s managed to melt off some of your nerves, huffing a small laugh at her dramatics.

“Who is?” Steve asks, voice cutting into the conversation.

You startle a moment, surprised. He’s standing in the doorway that leads out to the pool, both arms stretched above his head to grasp the top of the door frame, leaning into it. You can’t help the way your gaze instantly draws up along his arms, far too fixated on the delicious show of his muscles to properly focus on answering his question.

“Certainly not you, dingus.” Robin comments, already clocking the hazed expression on your face. She recognizes the same absurd flirting face on Steve she’d become far too familiar with at Scoops and takes her cue, orange juice in hand.

“People arrive in like 5 minutes, just remember!” The knowing in her tone makes you consider blushing again, just to be ashamed of how quickly she had read you for filth.

Steve certainly seems to know too. He drops his arms, waltzing in to meet you in the kitchen and you will yourself not to step back when he comes a little closer than expected.

“This is a nice little number,” he murmurs, voice low. His eyes are trained on your shoulder and before you ask what he means, his hand comes up, fingers toying with the strap of your bikini. Where his skin meets yours, fire streaks beneath it, like a connecting point of static electricity.

“You think?” You ask a little breathier than you’re intending. It nearly makes you scrunch your face up in cringe, feeling a familiar glow in your cheeks.

You don’t, only because when Steve nods, teeth scraping his bottom lip for a moment and eyes wandering over your face, he looks a little lovestruck. Like he can’t believe you’re real.

His other hand comes up, both his palms resting on your shoulders and he trails them down your arms lightly, soft touches, til both your hands are in his.

“Come show me out in the sunlight?” He asks, cocking his head back out to the pool. His hands tug you ever-so-slightly. You can’t help but oblige, letting him pull you out, barely holding back your smile as he does.

There’s just something about when he touches you. Steve Harrington is a man all about touch and you’ve been going crazy finding out just how touchy he can get when you’re the one in his heart.

You amble out onto the tiles behind him and squint just a bit at the change in lighting, the bright rays of midday casting down onto the backyard. It’s mildly warm out, balmy, and with just a hint of a breeze that ruffles your shirt for a moment.

Steve’s feet move nimbly to suddenly redirect you both — walking you both against the side of the house, til your back presses against the wall. You’re just out of view of the sliding doors, and you’d be foolish to think it’s not by design. Come show me out in the sunlight? His words echo in your head, inciting a familiar warmth in your cheeks.

“Steve—?”

“I’m gonna kiss you now if that’s okay,” He breathes, voice suddenly a lot heavier than it had been inside. Like it might actually ache inside if he doesn’t get his lips against your skin — like perhaps your lips held the antidote to a poison that was making his blood sing for your touch.

One of his hands releases your own to travel up, curling along your jaw, fingertips sliding into your hair. His eyes are still drinking in every detail of your face, affection mixed with something darker conveyed across his features.

His fingers caress along your scalp, thumb along your neck, tantalizing touches that you’re sure he’s not even aware he’s doing. But still, he doesn’t kiss you, waiting for a yes. God, he’s sweet.

Especially considering the answer is a huge fat unanimous yes.

It’s been a yes since the moment you saw him today. It’s been a thousand yes’ piling up in the weeks of seeing him, building up from the first time you kissed him and somehow bit his lip and he had only laughed and soothed it against your own.

Your yes has been growing inside you, the desire to kiss him like you mean it and leave him pink in the face and pretty.

It only takes one tiny please falling off your lips for Steve to close the gap, his lips brushing against yours. He kisses you, gentle for a moment - til a hunger overtakes and the kisses quickly turn hot and fast.

There’s urgency coiled up beneath your skin and it bursts to the surface at his kiss, the feeling you’ve been desperately craving. Steve gives you what you want gladly.

His grip in your hair tightens slightly, his kiss turning a little more fierce, and you keen and eagerly return it. His other hand has found your waist, startling a small gasp out of you when his warm palm covers your hip and bring you closer. His lips break away, just enough to take in some air and let you breath a moment, then he dives back in.

Kissing Steve, you’re quickly learning, is pure delirium.

His lips are soft and greedy and he steals kisses as quick as you can give them. There’s a quiet hum in the back of his throat, borderline a groan — and when you remember your hands, moving them from awkwardly hovering at your side to cup his face, fingers delving into his hair, the groan breaks free.

“You,” He pauses his attack of affection, lips still an inch from yours. Your eyes blink open, not aware of when they had closed. Steve’s scanning your face, looking for something, lips already pinker from your kisses. “You good? Not too much f’you?”

Your heart pounds a little faster at his care. His attentive gaze tracks your emotions to make sure he hasn’t pushed you too far, that you’re not overwhelmed by the affection. He’s so fucking nice.

You are overwhelmed, just a bit. It’s impossible not to when Steve kisses the way he does; so sweet, and like he envies anything that’s ever touched your lips. It’s pure passion, in a way you can’t even begin to describe.

The heat under your skin burns hotter. The places he touches you — his fingers in your hair, his hand on your waist, the press of his body against yours — all glow gloriously warm. Steve looks so stupidly hot, you nearly want to whine aloud about how unfair it is.

His chest is heaving a bit, a flush up his neck, his hair tousled from your grip on it. In the buttery sunlight, he’s golden and the same moles you had been staring at not 10 minutes ago look even more divine this close. You want to kiss each one, connect them with a press of your lips, and leave little marks of your own.

You want to devour him; you start and answer his question, with another kiss.

Steve’s surprise is only shown in his parted lips, a small gasp swallowed in the kiss, and you take it as an invitation, a hot swipe of your tongue across his lower lip. You take it between your own, a ghost of a nibble that makes him shudder delightfully beneath you.

Steve kisses back fervently and just when you think you’ve got the rhythm, sighing into his mouth, he pulls back. You make a noise of dissatisfaction and he chuckles lowly at it.

You don’t even get a moment to ask what’s wrong, your eyes still comfortably closed as Steve stays close, pressing his forehead down against yours. In a raspy whisper, just for you, he says, “Be mine?”

Your eyes fly open at that, some pocket of air whooshing out your lungs. He’s watching you intently, caramel eyes that give away his nervousness even if his voice hadn’t wavered. This close, you can see a smattering of freckles that dot his nose and you swear, inside your chest, your heart just sighs. He’s so pretty it hurts.

You’ve only been awed silence for a few seconds before his nose nudges yours, hand on your waist pulling you even closer. Before you can find your words, he asks it again— in between peppering soft kisses up the side of your face. “Be mine, please?”

“You- You wanna be my boyfriend?” You ask, not meaning to sound so disbelieving.

A nervous laugh titters out as you lean in closer instinctively. Your heart feels as though it’s going to beat out of your chest, as wild as a hummingbird’s wings, and it makes you grin— your lips curl up involuntarily, completely unable to help the way you beam.

“Of course,” Steve laughs lightly, nuzzling his nose against yours. Then, because he seems to have a pattern of being awfully repetitive today, his voice turns softer, all sincere when he whispers, “Of course.”

Damn him. Every time you think you’re close to settling those butterflies, to biting back the nerves that make your spine tingle, he swoops in and one-ups himself — does or says something else stupidly romantic so that all you can is grin like a dope.

You’re not proud of the giddy little noise that slips out of you when you nod excitedly, cheeks already starting to ache from how wide your grin is. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, trying to stop smiling enough to kiss him again but Steve doesn’t bother waiting. The next kiss is a bit fumbled, both of you smiling too much to properly kiss but one or two more softens your smiles.

You kiss him hard, remember your hands and tug him close, closer, he’s not close enough — a pleased hum comes from your boyfriend’s throat and even the word in your mind makes you smile too much to keep kissing him.

A sharp rap against the sliding doors makes you whip your head to the side, both you and Steve looking perfectly guilty of being caught in your makeout. Slightly swollen lips, bitten and pink, on the both of you, not to mention the close proximity of the pair of you pressed against the house.

“Ahem,” Robin clears her throat from where she stands, out from the doorway since she had come looking for you. “Guests are arriving if you’d cared to notice.”

Part of you droops, entirely fixated on stealing a thousand kisses from Steve and maybe leaving a few marks of your own. His disappointed huff, barely audible, lets you know Steve is well on the same page as you.

Extracting yourself from his arms, you press him back with your fingertips planted in the middle of his chest. Steve turns back to you, groans aloud like he’s about to complain, and it just furthers your smile into a smirk.

“Plenty of time for that later,” You say, still sounding too giddy to come out as confident as you’re aiming for. Internally, some part of you sings, glad you’re finally confident enough in yourself that you verge from skittish nerves into playful teasing.

Your fingers on his chest twitch, walking up to the line of his collarbones and lingering on the base of his throat. Steve watches you closely, gaze a little hungrier than before, and then he huffs again, playfully slapping your hand away from his chest.

“Oh my god, I’ve created a monster!” He covers his face dramatically and throws his head back, egged on by the laughter that escapes you. The expanse of his throat is bared, hot tan skin that is begging to be littered with love bites. You take the thought and bookmark it, for later.

“C’mon then, boyfriend.” You say, just ‘cos you can. Steve grins. Your chest burns beautifully, in a way you never want to quench.

Besides, you can quell that hunger later. He is your boyfriend now, after all.

#SLAYYYBOOOO this was fun to write #i think i say that with every piece but #I WANNA MAKEOUT POOLSIDE WITH MISTER STEVE HARRINGTON #this was written originally to write a makeout and then it kinda got too long by the time i reached the makeout lmao #oh well #[inserts bernie sanders meme] I Am Once Again Asking Is It Coherent & Does It Flow #i knooooo that i have to write in batches but it always irks me cos im NEVER exactly in the same brain #anyways bleh who cares bout that #actually i do Blease give me Feedback #would u like more of this? more of the angsty stuff?#ruby writes #ruby writes steve #steve harrington #steve #harrington #steve x reader #steve x yn #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x yn #steve fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve imagine #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington oneshot #POSTED AT 11.11 BABEY

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skyloftian-nutcase · 6 months

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Elastic Heart Ch 7 (Linked Universe story)

Summary: When Sky goes missing, the Chain scrambles to figure out where he is and what happened before it's too late.

(AO3 link)

First

<<Previous // Next>>

Hyrule Castle hardly felt like the safest place for any of the Links given most of their adventures, but it was as good a place to regroup and heal as any other. Although the entire group was well aware that the knights were useless, and the whispers of nobility hung close over their shoulders, the queen gave them as much privacy as possible and lent her best healers to their cause.

The next twenty-four hours were a somber affair. The heroes kept vigil at the beds of their fallen friends. When they weren’t fretting over them, they were wandering aimlessly, too forlorn for words and too anxious for rest.

It was late into the night after their return from the desert, and Time was staring into a fire contemplatively, his mind still trying to process everything. Twilight had already eased him out of his armor, which had been silently hidden until it could be cleaned of Sky’s blood. Somehow, despite all his experience, Time still seemed to be the least functional when someone was this injured.

How was it that in the span of four weeks he’d almost lost two of his boys? He still hadn’t figured out what had led to this, why Sky had been so terrified, so insistent that they leave, why he’d been apologizing with his dying breath.

There was just… so much. All of it was too much. The Shadow, Sky, all of it. Why had the Shadow taken his form and then spoken such words about Sky creating him? Was that why Sky had been so concerned with eliminating it himself? Some words about a curse, lies hissed between demonic teeth about how Sky had somehow made this mess?

Goddesses above… what had that thing convinced Sky? No matter what had started this… surely Sky wasn’t blaming himself for it?

That had to be the issue. Sky, sweet and soft, always in the background until he decided it was time to cause a little mischief… the boy had always been the least of Time’s concerns when it came to causing actual trouble. He’d always seemed the calmest, the most put together, the least traumatized, the most normal. Between that and his adoration for a sword Time would rather see at the bottom of Lake Hylia, the boy had never really been someone that Time had to keep a close eye on.

Yet here he’d been, taking on the weight of their journey himself and trying to leave the others behind. He’d nearly gotten himself killed for it.

Time had assumed the position of leader in this group and he’d nearly failed in recognizing when one of its members was in desperate need of help.

How long had Sky been spiraling like this? What had led him to this point? Had the Shadow spoken to him on the night he’d taken watch? Had it started before then? Did he blame himself for Twilight’s injury as well? What else was he hiding? What curse had the Shadow been talking about?

Time heard footsteps, and he turned to see the veteran walking morosely through the room, pointedly ignoring his leader. Twilight stood at the entranceway to the room sectioned off for their two fallen brothers, arms crossed as he watched Legend leave. When Time’s eye met his own, he said, “Finally convinced him to go to bed.”

“How are you holding up?” Time found himself asking before he could stop himself. He was worried for all of them, especially his descendant, who naturally took others’ wellbeing and protection as his own personal responsibility. They were all heroes, they all felt that burden, but his Ordonian made it his life’s mission to protect his loved ones far more than anyone else.

Not to mention Time had been doing a terrible job of checking in on anyone.

Twilight sighed tiredly. “I… would feel better if I were the one in the bed. It’s way worse just being the one helplessly looking on.”

Time would rather not relive the events of a month ago, but he knew what Twilight meant. It was the worst feeling in the world, being a child of destiny, someone who was so used to fixing all the problems, and being stuck in a situation where there was absolutely nothing to do.

“I know,” Time said simply, resting a hand on the young man’s shoulder.

“Cap’s still in there,” Twilight said quietly, eyes looking at the ground as his own emotions got the better of him. “I managed to get the rest out. Vet was the last.”

Time hadn’t even been in there since their arrival. Warriors hadn’t left the boys’ side. It was almost as if their positions were reversed from the last time. He wasn’t sure he should be happy about it or not. He felt almost guilty for not hovering the same way, but he’d been fairly useless last time. It would be better if he could actually help the others as Warriors had, but he’d spent the majority of the day in a daze, guided around by Twilight, who had taken the captain’s role in guiding and leading everyone else.

What an insane week this turned out to be.

“Get some sleep,” Time finally said, patting Twilight’s cheek affectionately before lowering his hand.

Twilight watched him uncertainly, biting his lip and nodding. He walked by without another word. The eldest Link took a steadying breath, heading into the room.

It was a fairly small chamber, with both beds’ headboards against the same wall. Time saw Warriors asleep in the chair between the two, scooted a little closer to Hyrule’s bed. The captain was dressed down in his undertunic and pants, scarf and armor set aside in his own quarters. Time pulled an extra blanket that was folded by the bedside and wrapped it gently around his fellow hero. Despite his attempt to be gentle, the captain stirred, one of the lightest sleepers in the group, and turned bleary eyes towards his elder.

“Go to bed,” Time said softly. “I’ll watch them.”

Frazzled and exhausted, Warriors let out a weary exhale, rubbing his face. Time thought better of his dismissal, recalling that the captain had checked in on him in the past, that he himself had just checked in on Twilight. He shouldn’t brush off the man just because he held himself together better than anyone else.

“It’ll… be all right,” he tried to reassure the man hesitantly.

Warriors stiffened, shoulders shaking, much to Time’s alarm. However, instead of sobs, he heard an amused snort. The captain looked up, eyes exhausted but somewhat alight. “You’re really not good at this whole emotional support thing, are you?”

Despite his own mood, Time found himself scowling mildly. “That bad?”

“Your tone isn’t reassuring at all.”

“I’m not used to saying things that…”

“That you don’t believe?” Warriors finished for him. “Me neither. That’s why I try distraction instead.”

Time huffed, looking between the two sleeping boys. They both looked so peaceful now. Not pale, not on death’s door, not desperate or begging for forgiveness.

He sighed heavily as his gaze returned to the captain. Not recognizing he was under scrutiny, Warriors had let his expression be more open, fear and worry pulling at him. He looked so damn tired. He’d seen this too many times. Time himself had seen the expression when Twilight had been dying.

Warriors was far more accustomed to this than any of them. And Time hated that.

The captain shifted to get up, but then he paused, staring at the bed. Time followed his gaze, watching with sudden intensity as their esteemed traveler scrunched his nose and twisted in bed a little, eyes fluttering open.

“Traveler? Link?” Warriors leaned forward alongside Time, his hand gently reaching for Hyrule’s shoulder.

The Hero of Hyrule blinked a few times, seeming to register his surroundings, and then he gasped, practically leaping into a seated position. Time immediately sat on the bed just as Warriors jumped forward, both placing steadying hands on the teenager’s shoulders.

“Sky!” Hyrule immediately exclaimed, squirming under their hold.

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Warriors insisted, putting a second hand on the boy’s chest. “He’s here.”

Hyrule paused, panting for air, eyes wide and wild, before they settled on the pair. “He’s okay?”

Time and Warriors exchanged a look before the leader spoke. “He’s here.”

Hyrule huffed, eyes wet, and then he laughed shakily, tucking his knees into his chest. “I—I thought—I thought he—I—”

He laughed again, more nervous than before, entire body trembling. Warriors settled on the mattress beside him, arm wrapping around his shoulders carefully. Hyrule wasn’t the most comfortable with touch and usually didn’t engage in it, and neither Warriors nor Time were particularly cuddly men, but after everything, they all felt the need to stick close to each other. The traveler leaned into the hold, tears trailing down his cheeks as he continued to chuckle, his breaths quickly accelerating into something akin to panic and relief, a conglomeration of emotions crashing out of him in a fashion that he couldn’t control. Warriors held him tighter.

“We’re glad you’re alright,” Time said softly, his thumb tracing across the boy’s collarbone. “You scared us back there.”

“Yeah, what with the Triforce and all,” Warriors piped up, squeezing Hyrule a little more tightly as he smiled. “You sure did have quite the trick up your sleeve.”

Hyrule’s tearful relief evaporated in an instant, eyes widening with alarm. Time felt his own concern rise – did the boy not remember using it?

“It’s okay,” Time assured him. “We’re all heroes here, Traveler. We’ve borne pieces of the Triforce as well. I just didn’t realize one among us had carried the entire sacred relic. That’s quite an honor.”

“R-right,” Hyrule mumbled, looking at his knees.

“How are you feeling?” Warriors asked, brushing past the distressing topic.

“Where’s the Triforce?” Hyrule countered.

The elder pair glanced at each other again before answering honestly. “We… don’t know. It vanished once you’d finished using it.”

Hyrule watched them a moment, still and silent. Then he buried his head into his knees.

“We’ll find it,” Warriors assured him. “One way or another. Such an artifact stretches far beyond our understanding – it might have returned to your era.”

“I—I didn’t want him to die,” Hyrule said in a trembling voice.

“We know,” Time soothed gently, sliding his hand along Hyrule’s back. “We didn’t want that either.”

Hyrule glanced up at him, cheeks stained with tears once more. “He’s okay, right?”

Time swallowed. Sky remained quiet in the other bed. He pushed lightly on the teenager. “Get some sleep, Link.”

XXX

It was the middle of the night when Legend finally gave up on sleeping.

His mind was whirling too much. Watching Sky basically die right in front of him, watching Hyrule nearly kill himself with the effort to wish him back with the Triforce…

It had been entirely too familiar.

He thought he’d gotten passed that. He thought he’d learned to keep moving in spite of the shadows cast over him by his journeys.

Clearly he’d been wrong.

So the young hero, a veteran of more adventures than any of the others individually, found himself incapable of handling the situation. And he hated that.

Legend wandered the castle, ignoring the cold and uninviting stone all around him. His feet guided him back to the room they’d set aside for Hyrule and Sky. The candle in his hand flickered slightly at the draft in the cavernous antechamber, chilled now that the fire in the large hearth had mostly died down.

When he slowly opened the door, he wasn’t surprised to see someone holding vigil. Time glanced up to meet his gaze.

“Just wanted to check on them,” he said dully, not bothering to hide his reasoning. This felt so different from when Twilight had been injured – Hyrule had been in there constantly trying to heal him. They’d avoided the area to let him concentrate. It had been awful, but at least there’d been a thread of hope to work with. It wasn’t as if there weren’t healers here, but the words they’d been given were little comfort.

They’d needed rest. There was nothing else they could do.

No potion could heal someone who couldn’t drink it. No spell could be cast when the one who knew the spells was the one who was unconscious. And so they’d all just done the last thing they could do, the only thing they could do.

They kept them company.

They kept them company, and Legend simmered with grief, guilt, and unresolved emotions from so many years ago that he didn’t even know how to put words to them.

Time pat the empty chair beside him welcomingly. Legend was thankful for the invitation, thankful that there were no questions being asked. He shuffled over to the chair, watching Sky sleep before his eyes drifted to Hyrule next.

“Our traveler woke up earlier,” Time said quietly.

Legend turned to him, eyes wide. “He did?”

“Yes. I think he’ll be alright with some more rest.”

Thank the goddesses, he thought. He didn’t remember the Triforce being so draining, but Hyrule had used it to augment his magic and grant a wish, so perhaps it worked differently than it had for Legend all those years ago.

Time’s words hung in the air, and then there was silence. Legend’s candle held steady against the darkness, illuminating his face, but he had no words to offer. For a moment, as he watched Sky, it felt like he was holding vigil over a body, a mourner lost in time, adrift in a different Hyrule altogether, grieving the loss of someone who was equally displaced and wholly forgotten to this era.

His breath hitched in his throat. He swallowed hard.

The silence seemed suffocating, but he had nothing to say. Time shifted uncomfortably beside him, clearly trying to find the right words. Legend didn’t care.

Sky. Sky had… just like…

There was usually something to distract him at this point, some task he had to accomplish that made him move forward despite the emotions dragging him down. But this felt like the end of a journey, after his first one or after Koholint, where there was nothing left but the emptiness in his chest, the fresh wounds on his heart. He had no road to travel on, no home to go back to, no Zelda to talk to.

He just stared at Sky.

“I have confidence that the Triforce healed the worst of it,” Time said. “Though I do not know if he will fully recover—”

“He died,” Legend interrupted.

“Veteran… he’s right here. He’s alive.”

“No,” Legend said firmly, feeling his throat tighten. He swallowed hard to fight it. “No. You don’t get it. None of you gets it. He didn’t just get hurt, he didn’t just fall. He died.”

They didn’t understand. They didn’t realize why they felt the way they did. Even he couldn’t truly comprehend it, but he knew why. He knew because it had happened before.

“The Triforce brought him back,” Legend explained. “But that doesn’t change the fact that he died. He died and none of you get that, he died, he died—”

Legend didn’t know when he’d lost the battle with his voice, when the tears had started to leak out, when the words had devolved into pathetic sobs, an admittance to a grief that he’d carried with him for years, a fresh wound and terror and horror that had ingrained itself into his soul.

Sky was one of his dearest friends. And he’d died.

He couldn’t even be angry at the Shadow, couldn’t even be curious as to what its words had meant, couldn’t even be worried about why Sky had left in the first place. All he felt was utter and absolute grief and loss.

Because Sky had died. They’d had to resurrect him. The others were caught in a confused haze of worry and fear, as if they were just watching an injured brother instead of acknowledging what had actually happened, instead of realizing that they should be mourning too.

Legend’s cries grew louder, inadvertently waking Hyrule. He didn’t notice. He couldn’t see it through his tears, through the darkness that engulfed him when Time pulled him into a hug.

XXX

Sky didn’t wake the next morning when Hyrule did. The others celebrated seeing one of their brothers slowly recovering, but the mood was certainly dampened by a lack of progress from their most injured. Wild found purpose in nourishing Hyrule back to health while Warriors started to fall into a field medic mode of sorts. Sky’s comatose state still necessitated care, though it brought a morbid curiosity in Wild – after all, he’d been in a similar state for a century.

Clearly the Shrine of Resurrection worked its magic to help sustain him. Sky had no such luck. His body still functioned as if he were awake, requiring sustenance, removing waste. He needed to be fed and cleaned, to be moved so he wouldn’t get bed sores, to be prodded to see if there was a reaction. It was a morbid affair, and it made Wild uneasy. He’d only been asleep for two days and it already felt like a century in itself.

Wild found it too disturbing to watch. Instead, he helped the others. He felt like he had to pull his weight somehow, had to blink the images of Sky’s broken body in Time’s arms. Hyrule slowly improving was something they could all latch on to. Warriors never seemed to leave Sky’s room, and Twilight spent a fair amount of time in there as well alongside Time. Occasionally Legend and Four assisted, but Wind was kept away, as well as Hyrule. Wild just couldn’t stomach the sight of the care his beloved friend needed. Whenever any of the boys lamented the situation, however, Legend would firmly and adamantly say that Sky was going to be fine.

It was strange, how confident he was. But with all his experiences, Wild had to wonder if he knew something of the matter. He latched on to the hope nonetheless. It seemed silly not to hope in a recovery, given his own history, but, well… that had taken a while. Sky didn’t have a century.

As the sun set on the second day, however, worry began to hover over them like a cloud heavy laden with an oncoming rain. After all, there was no way they could nourish Sky if he didn’t wake up.

“He’ll wake up,” Legend insisted when Four pointed this out.

“Assuming he does, that still doesn’t address the biggest issue,” Four sighed. “What if… what if when he wakes up, he tries to leave again?”

“He wouldn’t!” Wind argued.

“How do you know?” Four fired back. “He’d been running from us the entire time!”

Wild watched the exchange warily. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t wondered what had caused all of this in the first place, but it honestly hadn’t crossed his mind that it could happen again. He felt Hyrule shift uncomfortably beside him, and he turned his attention to his exhausted brother.

“You don’t think he wanted to leave us, do you?” Hyrule asked him quietly.

Words latched on to the champion’s brain, having first hooked in his mind when he’d heard them two days ago.

You don’t realize how terribly you failed.

This entire journey, Wild had been the failure of the group. Hearing those words had made him think the Shadow had been addressing him when he’d known, he’d known that it had been addressing Sky. But what failure was Sky responsible for? He hadn’t done anything wrong. Unless, of course, the Shadow was simply talking about Sky’s pursuit of it. But… Sky’s frantic attempts to argue, to silence it…

“No,” Wild answered distantly. “I don’t think he wanted to leave us.”

XXX

“It’s been two hours; we should move him.”

“I can do it.”

“No, it’s all right. You carried him last time. I’ll do it.”

What? What was… what?

Link felt impossibly heavy. His half-addled brain wondered if he’d become a sword spirit like Fi, made entirely of metal.

He was lying on something soft, he knew that much. He felt like he was sinking into it so much that he would never be able to get out.

Except he was getting out of it. Or, well, floating out of it. Flying? Was he flying?

Warmth wrapped around his back and shoulders, around the back of his knees. Two grounding forces, holding him steady in a vast expanse of nothing. He felt himself dangling and shifting in rhythmic motions.

Distant voices grew closer as the sound of creaking wood emitted beneath him in shuffles.

“Don’t spill it!”

“Oh, quit your fussing, Vet! Here, Traveler, just drink slowly. We kept it warm for you.”

“Are you guys done arguing? I have a story to finish!”

Grumbles. Sighing.

“Go on, Sailor.” That voice rumbled, buzzing in Sky’s ear with the warmth of a hearth and accompanied by a gentle heartbeat.

“So there I was, thirty bokoblins between me and my goal—”

“Oh boy, they multiplied again,” a voice remarked dryly.

“What are you talking about?”

Sailor. Sailor? What?

Link tried to focus, but he was being lulled back to sleep by gentle sways as if he were laying on a hammock on Skyloft.

“It seems each time you tell it more bokoblins appear.” There was that rumbling tone again, waking Link slightly, relaxing him and drawing him into a trance. It was so familiar…

There was a decidedly annoyed huff in reply. “Hey, I know what I’m talking about! Anyway, so there were fifty bokoblins between me and—”

Link finally pried an eye open. Then he blearily tried to do it with his other eye. Everything was so blurry.

The hammock he was on continued to sway gently. Back and forth. Back and forth.

“That’s impossible and you know it, Sailor!”

“Nuh uh, that’s what happened—”

“Sky?”

The swaying stopped, jostling Link out of his relaxed state a little more. He tried to look up, but he couldn’t muster the strength. However, his perception was finally piecing together an image in his brain, and he belatedly realized he was not, in fact, lying on a hammock.

Someone was carrying him.

Someone was carrying him, and the sailor was here. But not just the sailor. He recognized all their voices.

“Sky, can you hear me?”

The rumbling from before returned. The gentle, steady heartbeat had increased a little. Who was carrying him? Link tried again with all his might to move his head, to tip it back just enough to see above, to identify who was holding him. It definitely wasn’t the captain; the voice was deeper than his. That just left Time and Twilight.

It had to be Twilight, then. The man was freakishly strong, and Time would never—

“Here—move this—put him here, old man.”

Huh?

Link felt his world move as the person carrying him—Time—took a few steps forward. There was scrambling and shuffling of items, hushed whispers and excited laughs. Link felt something somewhat hard and warm rise up to meet his back as he was laid on top of something, and his head settled on someone’s lap.

A hand gently brushed his bangs out of his eyes before settling on his chest, giving it a soft pat. With his head facing towards the ceiling, he saw eight faces slowly come into focus, all encircling him like flower petals around its center.

He drank in the sight, having missed his friends so much. Twilight was the one his head was resting on, the one who had a hand on his chest and a reassuring, gentle smile directly over him. Time stood behind Twilight, a hand on the rancher’s shoulder, also watching him, though his expression was less warm and more concerned. To Link’s left were Legend, who quickly placed a hand on Link’s shoulder, Wind, who was smiling so brightly he outshone the sunlight, and Warriors, who had both hands on Wind’s shoulders as he leaned over to see Link more clearly. Hyrule sat a distance away towards Link’s feet, with Wild directly beside him and holding him steadily in a side hug, his face beaming. To his right, Four’s smile was genuine and trembling, his eyes glistening with tears. Link managed to get the muscles in his face to cooperate, and he gave a weak smile.

The group let out a collective sigh of relief, and then laughter echoed in the air. Link was bombarded by voices competing for his attention.

“We were so worried—”

“Our Traveler nearly killed himself to get you better, we thought we were going to lose both of you!”

“We missed you so much, Sky—”

“We really thought you were a goner! Like seriously, Vet was crying—”

“I was not crying!!”

“Are you feeling okay?”

Everyone hushed at the question issued by Twilight. Link watched them all, his smile fading alongside his energy. He took a deep breath, trying to piece everything together, his mind still too slow to process it all, and Twilight patted his chest again.

“It’s okay if you’re too tired to talk,” Twilight said softly. “We got you out of bed so you wouldn’t get bed sores, but now that you’re waking up, maybe it’ll be okay?”

Here Twilight directed his attention to Warriors, seeming to ask him if it would, in fact, be all right. The captain ruffled Wind’s hair, making the sailor giggle and step aside, and he drew closer to Link and Twilight. “Mostly. If he’s too weak to move, we’ll still need to do it for him.”

Link could hardly put anything together. But one sentence suddenly burned in his mind, registering and making him try to bolt into a seated position. His body refused to obey, and he barely had curled into his abdomen before his head flopped back on Twilight’s lap with a grunt.

“Easy, Sky,” Twilight soothed gently, pulling Link onto his lap completely with strong grips under his arms. Link settled his head against the elder’s shoulder, gasping for air at the exertion. “It’s okay. We’ll take care of you.”

“T-Traveler…” Link managed to scrape out, his heart racing.

Hyrule shuffled closer, sitting on whatever object Link had just been lying on earlier. He reached a shaking hand out to the Skyloftian, squeezing his upper arm. “I’m here, Sky. You’re okay.”

His grip felt so incredibly weak, even to Link’s addled mind. He felt his stomach drop.

He’d made it worse. Somehow, he’d made it worse. Hyrule had almost died because of him.

“I’m s-sorry,” he stammered, his eyes stinging with tears, his mind berating himself over and over and over.

“Sorry?” Hyrule repeated, confused. “Sorry for what?”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Twilight reassured him, his gentle voice relaxing Link’s body, even if his mind continued to whirl.

“Sky, we’re just happy you’re alive,” Four said quickly. “Please don’t—don’t try to do anything. Just stay here. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“N-no,” Link protested weakly. “I—I need—I—it’s my—I can’t—”

His entire world shifted as Twilight lifted him into his arms and stood. “Shh, it’s okay, Sky. Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”

Despite his complete exhaustion, Link almost wanted to snap. He wasn’t a child, damn it. He had to tell them, he had to make them realize it was best to leave him here, he could recover on his own and then he could hunt—

Wait.

“Shadow?” he asked quietly.

“He escaped, as he always does,” Time said from somewhere to Twilight’s right. “He’s a coward.”

“Yeah, but the Old Man left him with a pretty good parting gift!” Wind piped in. “Arrow to the chest! And Champion got one in his eye too!”

Link wilted in Twilight’s arms. The Shadow was still alive, and he hadn’t even been able to land any meaningful hits on him. The others had to come rescue him. The others, who bore the brunt of his own stupidity and weakness, and who continued to do so.

He was too tired for this. Too weak to hold back his brittle mind and body’s reaction. Too spent to care that he was suddenly weeping.

It just wasn’t fair. Why did they have to suffer for him? Why couldn’t he get this right?! How did he just keep compounding upon his failure?!

“Sky, what’s wrong? It’s okay, we’re all okay, the Shadow didn’t get anyone except for you.” Wild hastily said as Twilight hesitated in lowering him, instead opting to sway back and forth calmingly.

He felt someone card their hand through his hair and wipe the tears from his cheeks. “Hey, it’s okay, Sky. Everyone’s safe, and so are you.”

Warriors’ words were both a blessing and a curse. Link was eternally grateful everyone was fine, but this just wasn’t right.

“I—I s-should’ve—should’ve—”

“Link.”

He snapped out his stuttering, surprised at hearing his own name for the first time in ages. He had long since stopped viewing himself as part of the group, but he’d been remiss to throw his name out for the world to hear when he’d realized he was in Twilight’s Hyrule.

“No one is expecting you to eliminate the Shadow by yourself,” Time said firmly. “We wouldn’t all be here if that was the case. Whatever has convinced you to think you should handle this alone, it’s wrong.”

The room suddenly exploded into sound, cutting off whatever argument Link might have had.

“Wait, you wanted to take on the Shadow alone?!”

“Sky, are you insane, I thought you were one of the smarter ones in our group, what the actual hell—”

“The goddesses wouldn’t bring us all together if we could take the Shadow by ourselves!”

“You could have gotten yourself killed, Sky, what were you thinking?”

“Enough,” Time interrupted the group. “Let him rest.”

Link felt himself being lowered onto the bed, and the blankets were tucked all the way to his chin. He saw the group surrounding the bed worriedly, some looking more annoyed than others, some looking scared, and some hurt and bewildered.

Link sniffled helplessly.

Wind immediately jumped into the bed, kicking off his shoes and snuggling in beside him. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Everyone agreed with words that Link didn’t bother to discern, and he felt Wind tuck himself neatly in between his right side and arm, resting his head on his shoulder. Link suddenly felt sore, but he didn’t protest.

“Aryll loves cuddling when she’s scared or hurting or doesn’t feel good,” Wind whispered with a smile. “I figured you didn’t want to be alone.”

Link couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at his lips. He bit back another apology in lieu of letting the sailor have a chance to help, and he closed his eyes, resting his cheek on Wind’s forehead and closing his eyes.

The world grew warm and heavy. Exhaustion pulled at him, allowing him to settle back into sleep, but just before its gentle embrace could take him, his mind jolted back to—

Bleeding. He was bleeding so much. A bone deep exhaustion dragged his mind away, but he clung desperately. This was a different kind of tired, a far too permanent sleep beckoning him.

“S-Shadow…”

He had to know. He had to be sure.

“He’s gone,” Time said. “He’s gone.”

He… he did it?

He did it. They were safe. They were safe.

He felt tears sting in his eyes, his heart fluttering. His mission was… over.

He’d finally eliminated Demise.

He laughed, he laughed in relief. His brothers would no longer be haunted by that demon. He couldn’t eliminate the wounds of the past, but he could prevent any in the future.

“What were you thinking?” he heard Time whisper.

It didn’t matter now, whether they knew or not. But he still… he still felt obligated to say it. “M-making… amends…”

He could never truly make up for everything. But at least now he could…

He could rest. Goddess, he could rest.

I’m sorry Zelda, he thought. He apologized to her over and over, to Groose and to all his friends on Skyloft.

He knew. In his heart, he knew.

This was his last mission.

“I’m… sorry,” he said aloud before directing the apology at those around him. Because he knew he was leaving them too, and he knew he would never get a chance to truly apologize for all the harm he’d caused. “I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry…

The darkness pulled, and he drowned in it.

Link’s eyes snapped open. He’d—goddess, he’d—how—

Hyrule. He—he must have—

“Why?” he asked quietly, his voice little more than a whine.

“Hm…?” Wind perked up, already groggy, but his eyes were sharp as he looked at Link. “What’s wrong?”

Link couldn’t let this out on their youngest. But he couldn’t stop his raw emotions either, and before he knew it he was crying again. “Why?”

Wind watched him, eyes suddenly far older than they had any right to be. The boy held a gentleness and understanding to him, a sympathy and sorrow that intermingled, and he leaned down to hold him tightly.

“Because we love you, Sky.”

Sky fell apart completely, sobbing in his brother’s shirt.

#writing #elastic heart #linkeduniverse #linked universe #I... don't know how I feel about Time's POV :-/#I felt pretty good about Legend's as the point of his uncle's death and resurrection being very similar jammed itself into my brain #but... flow of this chapter... ehhh #oh well whatever just take it #I'm pretty ok with it overall #lu sky #all the boys #Warriors is not ok but he'll act it #I kind of want to address him too but I'm tired lol #somebody give Wars a hug for me #give ALL of them a hug for me #poor Legend #and Time #and just yeah #all of them

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