yourlocaltreesimp - Tumblr blog

yourlocaltreesimp · 16 days ago

Text

Run, Rabbit

Here’s part two, as promised! A little shorter than I wanted, but that’s because there’s gonna be a part 3

synopsis: you’re turned into a bunny on accident… chaos ensues as Legend and Twilignt try their best to get you back

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 3 (in progress)

“So, My lover turned into a hare.” He sighs, his fingers putting pressure onto the ring on its chain, savouring each clack as the ridges slide past the links.

“That’s rough buddy.”

“Dude.” Legend stops sharply, though the change in pace isn’t much. He didn’t notice how he’d slowed to a near stop in his spiral. Twilight’s laugh is chalky; dry and slightly uncomfortable.

“My bad, my bad- it is tho’” He holds up both rough hands in a show of good faith. It does soothe the itching panic beneath the Vet’s skin, but airs out the annoyance that plied under his ribs.

“They’ll be impossible to find at this rate” His brow furrows, a wrinkle already carving at his youth from just how often he scowls. “Not like we know the way around here. And not like it’s easy to track something as small as a rabbit— ‘specially with all this leaf litter dampening tracks.” The sharp edges of his chewed nails catch on the teal felt of his hat, pulling off fibers as he methodically obsessively tugs it down. It’s ironic, almost. You were the one that got him to stop scratching at his skin to begin with; bandaging up the jagged scratch marks when he was too embarrassed to ask for them healed and too guilty to spend the resources doing it himself. You were the one that gave him replacements to his vices. Things that prevented damage to someone you thought so precious.

He hopes that if he finds you, you’ll ignore the growing patch or reddened skin on the softness of his inner wrist.

“Y'know, Lege’. Ya don’t *need* tracks t’ track” One of the Rancher’s arms settles over the back of Legend’s shoulders, forcing his arms to settle by his sides.

“I hate to be that guy for you Twilight, but it’s literally in the name” Shoving aside the sass, Twilight’s glad his brother isn’t past the point of joking. The few times where he has been were nothing short of haunting. No grin pulling at his lips or challenge in his gaze, just guilt tugging his lips, baring of his guilt, and the hollow fear in his eyes that things wouldn’t ever be ok again.

“Oh shush n’ let me have mah fun” He shakes Legend by his shoulders, the two of them sharing quiet laughter. “Y’ always gahtta be stealin’ my thunder now, ain’t ya?”

“Ok ok, go on then if you’re so proud of yourself”

“Well, as I was sayin, before I was oh so rudely interrupted” His accent emphasizes the R’s to a point it’s actually almost comical

“Yew, my good sir, have a huntin’ dog at yer disposal” He takes a few extra steps to be in front of Legend, turning to he’s walking backwards while he talks, gesturing proudly to himself. Legend has to suppress a laugh at the thought that he’s almost reminiscent of a smug dog after a job well done.

“Oh *really* now?” A single eyebrow raises in accordance to the single corner of his lips pulling over his teeth.

“Tha’s right”

“And you reckon we can find them before anyone else realises they’re gone?”

“Oh I more than reck- Aw!-“ Twilight trips over the knotted raised root of a tree, twisting out of the ground. Legend can’t find it within himself to hold back any more laughter and doubles over, clutching his stomach as he cackles. He throws himself up, back straight, as the pain begins to work its way into his bones, his fringe and hat lifting slightly from his head while Twilight huffs on the ground.

“Oh c’mon now d’ya want the help or not?” Legend’s only ever seen the look of pure defeat and deflatedness on the Rancher’s face achieved by Wild and Wind in their shenanigans. And despite the begrudgingness in the latter’s tone, they both already knew the answer.

𖦹

Somehow, Legend felt even weirder being an anxious wreck near Wolfie than he did Twilight. The mental image of him wringing at his hands, hoping you’re alive, all while this giant sassy dog sniffs about, is somehow rather embarrassing.

Wind shakes the trees, the silver side of the leaves showing as they wave. The sound is just enough to be calming, the world trying to put him at ease. He wonders about you quietly, that if you darted from the brush, would he be able to hear you over the tree? He finds himself at odds with his feelings. He’s always traveled alone. Before he even knew the life before him, he traveled on his own; in boots too big and with a sword too heavy. And he’d live alone too if it weren’t for his house being… housenapped… at the hands of Ravio. The point is— he’s lived life alone.

Painfully alone.

So why now, all of a sudden, does it feel so wrong? Why does it feel like his soul wants to leap from his body and return to you?

𖦹

The sunny patch between the raised gaps of root felt lovely on your skin.

Fur?

Right. That.

Well— point still stands, sunbathing is an incredibly lovely time, human or not. Once the puttering of your heart had slowed, and your head cleared of single-minded trauma, it turned out that this body wasn’t too horrible. In fact, flopped over on your back like this was immensely delightful.

The tree swayed above you, the roots tilting gently, almost rocking you peacefully back and forth. The roots echoed soft groans from where the wood gave way to the wind combing through.

Fine pieces of dirt loosened from where the roots shifted, settling as a line of dust where your coat pressed against the wood. You used your odd limbs to push yourself around, letting the dust settle well within your fur. The panicky part of your hindbrain felt as if this were safe, without risk. You stretched back onto your back when you noticed something.

The patterned prodding of something against the forest floor.

Just beyond the roots, broken up by the wood, but still slipping through the cracks to be felt. Large thumps as something stalks it’s way closer.

and closer.

You roll onto all four clumsy feet and feel as it pauses, taking a huff inward. You can’t quite make out what it looks like, but your small heart still *pounds* against your still-sore ribs. It pauses its steps to catch a few more deep inhales before it licks its chops, the unmistakable sound of tongue against ivory teeth. Your mind halts all other thoughts, the paranoid little voice whispering to you that you needed to get out. You both pause in uncertainty, before it rustles.

It… whines

Now, perhaps if you weren’t a prey animal, and your brain had any fraction of logic in its primal panic, you could appreciate the large wolf puppy as he bounds toward your little hiding spot. Though, that wasn't the case. And you were suddenly, rather achingly aware of just how much this thing might want to take your life.

Your fuzzy ears press against the roof of your root room –though now it feels more like a cage– as your eyes wildly search for the quickest way out. You had to get out.

The wolf’s fat snout pushes between the gaps in the roots, muzzle fully pressed inside, as your hind legs finally spring you toward a gap in the wooden bars. You had to get out. As it presses inward, you struggle further to get out, stuck between where the tree’s legs have bent so it’s slightly too small for you to get out– you had to get out. Your hinds begged purchase, clawing desperately to force your way out. The tree tilts as this wolf-dog (you’re seriously beginning to question if this were a stray wolfos) presses itself intently deeper toward capturing you, continuing on with its little whines. It sounds starved for food, and likely wouldn’t let up on the chase if you were the only option it had. You had to get out.

Like the nail in your coffin, another set of footsteps joined that of the dog’s. A man, with a heavy look of dismay set upon his brow, and the sword on his back more than enough to show anyone with eyes and a sense for danger that they should flee.

You. Had. To. Get. Out.

You feel the dog’s wet, twitching nose tap against the bottom pad of your left foot, and have something to kick against. You shove your legs back in instinct, paw pads no doubt digging harshly at its face while you push your way toward freedom. It's a struggle that convinces the man to a run, hands preparing to claw down so he might pick you up, no doubt for stew.

You feel the push of the animal behind you and the thuds of the man, each getting closer and closer and leaving you with less and less ways out.

Your mind is emptied with pure panic, the looped chants to get out becoming the symphony to this hellish pandemonium. Your heart blocks out even the snarling little whines from the wolf and whatever odd calls the man makes as he gets closer.

You only hear the pounding drums of your wild heard, claws against dirt, and your hunter gaining ground.

And as this utter discord of a crescendo finally reaches its peak, you finally push hard enough to be freed.

The second all four legs hit the dirt, you dash toward the shade. Wherever they couldn’t follow is where you would go. It wouldn’t be long, surely, before they’d begin pursuit all over. No man nor animal, though truly how different were they, would simply give up on dinner if they were that hungry.

You ran anticipating the case. You ran so hard and so far that you don’t even notice that there’s no one behind you. You’d won to see another day.

So why did your heart feel like sinking back into the mud.

Why now, after running so far and trying so hard to be alone, did you wish you hadn’t?

𖦹

Somehow, Legend feels worse.

He didn’t even think that was possible– he thought he’d gotten you killed. The one good thing in his shipwreck of a life, dead at his hands. And yet knowing you were alive was somehow worse. Watching, frozen, as you desperately fought to flee people you once would’ve considered safe. He’s hunted animals before. He had to. But even compared to his first time as a boy, does he remember being so disturbed by the wild bucking and thrashing of whatever animal had been caught. You looked terrified –partially of the wolf trying to chase you out of your hole– but partially of him. He could see the moment you noticed he was there and the second you doubled down on getting away as fast as you physically could.

Another part of him was disturbed because that reaction isn’t supposed to happen.

Usually, whenever he turns, and mirrored by Twilight, he keeps his senses. He knows who he is and recognises faces, and understands what’s happened. Sure– he’s a little jumpy, a little paranoid, but that can’t be helped. You… You looked no more person than animal. Your eyes were glassy, and wide, and not quite thinking.

He wonders, briefly, if the Wizzrobe changed things. If you weren’t really you and were instead actually a rabbit. He wonders if he did technically kill you, took the humanity and the care and the feeling of safety from your hands and left you to a body that only knows panic and fear.

He wonders how the hell he’s going to explain to Ravio why he’s building a rabbit hutch.

He’s shaken by his shoulders, head rocking back enough to give him whiplash, and begins to take in his surroundings. Namely, the extreme concern on his brother’s face. Twilight’s eyes hold a painful amount of knowing it makes the Vet want to gag. It seemed the Rancher too knew how it felt to be so close, and yet so, so far.

“Uuhhhh-” A thick country drawl finally breaks the heavy silence, “So that didn’ exactly go to plan…”

No shit, he thinks in response, too far deep in his spiral to even spit the words out. He tries, difficult as it may be, to at least bask in the knowledge that you’re some variety of alive. He hardly registers as the hands at his shoulders press him down to sit on the ground.

“They were scared” Twilight tires again, but stops to process when Legend reels back at the comment. “Mostly of me, you jus’ spooked em” He tries to jest, but it seemed that even the thought of causing you panic that bad was enough to shut Legend down. Twi coughs, trying to get to his point when his audience looked like his life had just been ripped from his hands.

“I mean if I- oh fer hylia’s sake quit moppin’ I have an idea” He gives up on easing Leg into it, seeing as he wasn’t the most receptive at the moment. Finally, that seems to get some attention out of him, his pouty eyes finally looking towards Twilight, who was trying his best not to laugh. Never in his life would he or could he have imagined the Vet looking like a kicked puppy, and yet here they both sat.

“If they’re scarred a us cause were huntin’ them, then they'll be a whole less scared of you– you as a rabbit like them though, woul’nt get much a different result like this” Twilight watches, bristling in pride as Legend takes in the idea, processing. The hardly covered despair shifts and gives way to consideration, and then again to some amount of hope.

𖦹

You stop upon a cracked clay shore of what used to be a magnificent river. The dried up bed is now exposed to the sun, and empty of vegetation. Still, a small brook of water carves its way against the dirt,

Your mouth is parched from all the running, almost as dry as the riverbed. Tentatively, you move towards the stream, keeping your ears perked in case you still weren’t alone. The cool water feels good against your paws, but even better on your face as you drink slowly. You weren’t exactly sure how long it’d be until you were back to normal. You still felt the buzz of magic keeping you in this body that wasn’t your own, strong and unweakened.

You make sure to savour every sip just in case.

You feel half tempted to flop right here in the sun, if it weren’t for the horrific lack of cover. There weren’t even reeds or soft ground you could burrow into, just hardened clay. For a moment you curse out that hunter, since that tree would’ve made for a good warren. But alas, here you were. You huff, longer teeth grinding in frustration when you’re interrupted. A soft chittery honking noise from a few metres behind you. Instinctually your ears perk and swivel to listen closer to decipher what the noise came from. It steadily moves closer and you raise onto your hindlegs to see better.

And just above where the land dipped for the river, is a rather large pink rabbit sticking out from the green grass

#linked universe #link x reader #linked universe x reader #lu legend x reader #bunny!reader #yeehaw

98 notes · View notes

yourlocaltreesimp · 17 days ago

Text

A Knight To Remember

Chapter 2: In Your Eyes

Notes: Part two of my gift to the amazing @yourlocaltreesimp, who gave me this wonderful idea and the courage to complete it <33

Masterlist | Previous Chapter

The man no longer in your room looked good in blue.

He looked good in everything, but there was something so outstandingly special about the cerulean tunic draped along his lean frame, as bright and proud as the Hyrule sky. And now, beside the Princess, he looked even better. Sir Killian had elbowed you. You returned the gesture with a glare hot enough to melt steel.

What did it matter? Link was climbing the ranks like a beetle; you should have been happy. You were happy—personal knight to Her Majesty—was a position sought by man, granted to one, and it was a great honor.

But…

The pomell was rough in your hands as you swung at the training dummy, hardly wincing at the shockwave spiralling up your left arm when the blade connected with the woven stomach of the construct. A myriad of noises rang through the training grounds as fellow knights practiced their skills, though you couldn’t help but feel as though there was more to this visit than the tantalizing promise of training. Sweat seemed to pool beneath your armor, slicking your skin until the air began to feel more humid than it had any right to be.

There was a figure in the distance; bluer than the sky, and just as golden. Today, Link wore Princess Zelda’s colors—draped in enough hand-sewn finery that you were tempted to avert your eyes to avoid burning holes in such a precious garment. His posture was something so painfully stiff that it made the muscles in your back ache, and a small squadron of armored knights formed a crescent shape around him, swords drawn and glistening in the blinding sunlight. The princess was nowhere to be seen, but it didn’t matter. Not when she had all but marked him for herself.

A snort escaped you.

Maybe you were upset. Maybe you were heartbroken. Maybe you were being a terribly dramatic helping of both.

And, since violence was the answer, you gathered the waning strength in your arms and swung at the dummy. Over and over, as all senses of form bled to nothingness and each strike felt like it was delivered to the same spot between your ribs, slamming through blood and bone and every other vital organ keeping you tethered to this hot, hot mess of a life.

A myriad of battle cries filled the training grounds, but it was all static in your ears. You didn’t need to look; you didn’t need anymore reminders on how beautiful Link could be with a sword in his hand and a furrow on his face.

Time slithered by like a lazy snake—fat and warm after a midmorning basking session—and it was only when a single golden ray pierced your eye over the mangled shoulder of the dummy did you give pause; chest heaving, breath puffing from your mouth like steam from the nostrils of an enraged dragon.

You bent to place your sword on the boot-loosened dirt. You stood to survey the damage.

It was a miracle that the training dummy was even upright at all. Long, deep cuts marred the tan-colored abdomen and chest, while a series of severe jabs had nearly separated the right shoulder from the rest of the body. The left shoulder was a cotton-y mess of vengeful slashes, torn fabric hanging out in every imaginable angle, and you would be lying if you weren’t somewhat proud of the sheer scope of devastation before your eyes.

The sunset blazed a bright tangerine that only seemed to enhance the destruction, until all you could see was flame-tinged fabric and rage and the hot burst of tears in the corners of your eyes.

This sucked. Not enough to hurt, but enough to burn, singing each individual tendril in your ribcage. Maybe, if you stared long enough, the sun would claim you as its own in a wondrous burst of fire and ash and everything that had dragged your heart to this point.

Your armor rattled as you sat on the thin ground—though it more closely resembled an undignified plop when your legs realized that buckling was an actual option—and folded your arms over the aching tops of your knees, staring at nothing and everything in particular, the silence only enhanced by the quiet rumble of your stomach.

When was the last time you’d eaten? Drank? Slept?

And, most importantly, when had your life become so completely and irreparably unrecognizable that not even you could predict it? Was this what love—or something so infinitesimally similar that they were one in the same—felt like? Were you even in love?

No, it couldn't be. Love was something soft—a shining blade uncoated by any blood or synonymous bluster—and there was simply no place for tarnish, or rust, or feelings so tangled that not even scissors could hope to separate them.

Your lungs burned when you sucked in another, impossible breath, diaphragm expanding painfully against battered rib-rows.

Beauty was pain. Beauty also held no contest when compared to Link.

With a long suffering sigh, you grasped the hilt of your sword, using the blade to leverage yourself into a standing position; hips aching, heart wrenching. The dummy was a sad sight, but you were sure the crescents beneath your eyes and mud on your cheek must have looked sadder, because there was a hand on your shoulder and a whisper of your name in your ear two seconds later.

Link must have been the luckiest man in the world, seeing the way he dodged the half-swipe you aimed at him in your panic. The movement was clean, practiced, and you were anything but.

“Shit,” you swore, sword arm trembling as it struggled to sheath the mercifully un-bloodied blade. “Link, I’m so s—”

Curiously, the man’s gaze was no less piercing from five feet away. He was unarmed, but all you could see was the shining blue of his tunic. “It’s fine,” Link said hurriedly, raising his hands, palm up, in a way you knew all too well. He paused, teeth peeking out to chew the pink flesh of one bottom lip, and continued: “I should have warned you.”

You could do this. You could have a normal conversation. “It’s fine,” you parroted, cheeks burning against the thin sheen of sweat blanketing them. “I wasn’t paying attention…”

There was a beat. The mood was supremely awkward.

Link’s gaze flitted over your shoulder, brows raising marginally as he considered the brutalized dummy. “Wow,” he—dare you say—breathed.

“Yeah,” you whispered; afraid to inhale, afraid to feel.

But he didn’t falter. “...We’re going to need a better budget.”

Everything needed a better budget, but you were too out of it to do anything but nod and shoot a wistful glance to the tangerine sky. It was getting late. Too late.

“Why aren’t you with her Highness?” You blurted, too tired to feel any sort of shame at your own bluntness. “You’re her appointed knight.”

Because that’s what he was, and what you weren’t. You didn’t know why, and maybe you didn’t want to, but that didn’t make the distance any less tangible.

For a few tortuous seconds, Link was silent, and your heart trembled with the fear that he was seeing right through you, but then he began to worry his lip and you were back to wondering if he tasted more like disappointment or hope. “Her Highness retired early,” he settled on, as if that solved everything. As if you were supposed to take it at face value. “...And you?”

A noncommittal noise bubbled from your throat. You rolled your shoulders, more for the disguise of movement than to alleviate any such ache. “Training,” and, upon realizing one-word answers were typically seen as rude, you amended with a cough. “I’ve been practicing my… stance. It needs work.”

“You have good stance,” Link said, perhaps a bit quicker than societally-appropriate. His ears twitched further against his skull, practically burrowing into that golden mess of hair. “I’m sorry for leaving.”

You blinked, processing. “...You were called away.”

“I could have said goodbye.”

Suddenly, your throat felt tight. Suddenly, the sweat in the corners of your eyes began to feel uncomfortably hot. “I thought that’s what this was.”

It was Link’s turn to blink. His voice was small—not quiet, because that was too minor a term to describe a change to infinitesimally gargantuan. “Do you want it to be?”

No, the little sarcastic voice within your mind whimpered on the tails of your punched-out lungs. All he was doing was looking at you, so why did it feel like you were losing your religion?

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t speak. You could only turn on your heel and march from the smoldering wreck that was your relationship with Link and gasp when a gloved hand clasped around your wrist and you were spun around and the taste of cherries was on your tongue as a pair of lips slotted against your own.

Link’s weight—even as your back pressed into the mangled training dummy—against your front was comforting in a way it had no right to be. A sword-rough hand fell upon your cheek; never taking, only holding, and you wouldn’t have pushed him away had you wanted to. Armor cool, skin warm, lips burning; he was far from dead, and so were you.

The sun had all but dipped beneath the stark horizon by the time the man’s mouth peeled from your own. His armor-laden chest heaved into your own, the solid metal prodding against all the rough parts of your own ensemble. Every part of you felt buzzed, even as a whisper of cool air wove between your bodies, and all you could do was stare into two bluebell eyes with a tepid mixture of bafflement and acceptance. Even the little sarcastic voice within your mind was speechless.

As quickly as he came, Link was backing away, leaving you to mourn the loss of warmth. His ears and cheeks were the color of a freshly-plucked rose, burning brighter than the newly-enshrouded sun.

You couldn’t breathe, only that it was for a completely different reason.

“I,” impossibly, his voice was even smaller. “I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t think, whether by choice or some other incomprehensible force of fate, and all but dove forward, gripping Link’s collar in a grip deadly enough to bend steel. “What are you?”

“I’m a man,” he told you; quietly, like the rising sea.

Your gaze was sharper than any holy blade. “Then kiss me like one.”

You and Link bled the same lie, and it would only get messier from here.

Knowing Link was an emotionally-explicit love affair.

Training dragged on the best of days—eating into your life until it was one and the same, and the man once in your room was but a mere specter to be encountered in the halls as his duties for the Princess established themselves—until your existence was nothing but a muddled blur of fighting, sleeping, and eating.

It was maddening. It was comforting.

So was your bed, if you closed your eyes and pretended it had ever felt like home, but dreams couldn’t help when the only things you had to your name were some clothes, a suit of armor, and one miniscule pebble. Maybe, in the future, when life was clearer, you would have a house, or a bed, or a place to collapse after the insurmountable drag of a hard day—

Clink!

—but that didn’t mean you couldn’t still have nice things. Just once.

The bed creaked as you slid to a standing position, bare feet brushing the cool wooden floor as you padded to the window. It was small and wooden, with a latch that only worked about half the time, but nothing so trivial seemed to matter when you caught a glimpse of the thin shadow many meters below the sill.

The rope was in your hands before you could stop it, followed by a night-sharp screech as eager hands forced the window open. A gust of frigid wind caressed your face as it peered out, eyes peeled for a very familiar shock of blonde hair. And, when any and all suspicion was reasonably dispersed, you uncoiled the rope and tossed it down, quickly looping the free end through the nearest gap in the bed’s headboard to keep everything in place.

Every nerve in your body felt tight when an experimental tug on the other side had the line growing tight, then slack before a more solid weight forced it taut once more. You held your grip on the scratchy fibers, leaning back slightly to let gravity do its work. Within minutes, the sound of heavy breathing could be heard, and it only made the little sarcastic voice within your mind even quieter.

Sword-rough fingers gripped the unyielding sill as Link hauled himself up to the edge, wearing a grin brighter than every shining star in the sky. “Hi,” he whispered, breathless and smirking.

Your response was nothing short of locked and loaded. “You do know you can use the door, right?”

Ocean blue eyes glimmered in the flickering candlelight, and it was a wonderful sight to see just how carefree he could be when coaxed. “Where’s the fun in that?”

With a grunt that had your cheeks pinking, the man pushed himself to sit partially on the sill, like climbing a rope up to the third floor of a building wasn’t some grand feat. It was, but he was Link, and you were starting to doubt there wasn’t anything he couldn’t do.

“I like your tunic,” you told him, even though, secretly, you couldn’t help but wonder what color the blue fabric would shine if burnt. Still smiling, Link hopped all the way into your room, and the two of you were kissing before any other words were said; chests melded together as forbidden warmth scintillated between layers of cotton.

Something in the knight’s bluebell eyes winked, and a small part knew immediately that you’d been caught. An apology was at the tip of your tongue as he backed away, only to peeter to an embarrassing halt when Link took it upon himself to yank the offending tunic off, folding it and placing the semi-neat bundle squarely on your nightstand. He faced you, wearing only that ratty tan undertunic, and something in your brain stuttered.

It could never be love, but, somehow, you swore there wasn’t any other name more suited to the blooming ache in your chest.

“You shouldn’t change yourself for me,” you murmured, glancing at the folded tunic on the nightstand.

I haven’t been myself in years, Linåk’s warm gaze seemed to say, unaware of how it curled across the exposed skin of your neck, trailing to lose itself in the loose strands of hair at your nape. Maybe he was right; you were starting to believe his gaze more than your own heart.

There wasn’t much time left. Fraternization among the ranks was strictly prohibited, even though it was more common than a green rupee; you heard the rumors, pretended not to notice couples sneaking off, and turned a blind eye to the even dullest incrimination of love. And, maybe, the Goddesses were smiling down on your loyalty with an affair of your own, so deeply intertwined with the matters of the mind to be anything but.

Two breaths later, you found yourself sitting on the small bed, soft blonde hair tickling your fabric-covered thighs as Link made himself comfortable, arms resting around the spot where your waist met your hips. His left ear—pressed into the flesh of your leg, twitched when you reached over and retrieved your fallen book, thumbing through the age-yellow pages until you found the small, crimson ribbon marking your place.

Voice but a whisper, you began to read, reciting as much as you could under the flickering candlelight. The story, freshly stolen from the castle library, was something straight from a maiden’s imagination; danger, romance, and enough grammar errors to make your heart cringe every ten minutes. Though the tale was of the utmost sordidness, it was a welcome relief in the cold silence of the barracks, which was shockingly more permeable than the night’s chill.

Link, to his unending credit, was soft and silent through each cough, rasp of breath, or snicker accompanying every typo discovery. Even with your nose practically buried in the book, you could still feel the burn of his bluebell gaze through layers of leather and parchment. Never speaking, always watching, even though his tongue was always a bit looser in the dark of your room.

Days prior, when you first cracked the book open, it was with a curious Link leaning over your shoulder, cheek half buried in the junction of your neck. He made no move to take it for himself, simply draping himself more solidly against your back as a mountain of words tumbled past teeth and off tongue. Maybe he wasn’t the best reader, or perhaps he liked your voice better; it didn’t matter any more than the inherent creakiness of your military-issued bed.

The candle had nearly burnt out by the time you finished the chapter, placing the bookmark back with a flourish typically reserved for the rare moments where life was worryingly bearable. A sleepy sort of grunt tumbled from Link’s mouth when you leaned forward to place the book on the nightstand, nearly squishing his face beneath the flat of your stomach, and you quickly remedied the betrayal with a careful hand in his hair, gently carding through unruly blonde hair that only appeared tamed in the worst of situations.

“You should go,” you said, not unkindly. If he was caught, it could mean the end of… well, you preferred not to think on such matters when the man’s head was quite literally in your lap, but that didn’t make it any less urgent. “If you get caught…”

This time, Link’s sleepy sort of grunt sounded noticeably personal. “Five more minutes,” he murmured; exhausted, pleading, and resigned to whatever fate lay in store for him.

“We’ll see each other at training,” you tried, half-hearted at best. You didn’t want him to leave.

There was a groan, then a shuffle as he attempted to situate himself even more comfortably atop your thighs. “Kicking your ass isn’t fun if I’m required to—”

You were instantaneously and irreparably offended. “Why you little—”

Creak.

You both snapped your mouths shut when a quiet creak emanated from the hallway, the once peaceful silence becoming heavy and oppressive. A thick knot—so cloyingly-wrong that you could hardly squeeze even a whisper of breath past it—formed in the back of your throat, and you swore that the iron taste coating your tongue had not been there a second ago.

A beat passed.

Creeeeak.

Any semblances of breath died before they reached your lips. You could feel Link in your lap, stiffer than a statue. He knew the risks, the consequences of something as sordid as sharing a bed in a time of war. Maybe, in another, braver world, it would have been fine to use the door, but the cloak of fear had already descended and you weren’t sure your poor heart would survive the raw terror thudding in your blood.

The silence stretched forward like a lazy snake, coiling in the still air with a precision nothing short of calculated. Still, Link didn’t tremble, or whimper, or grasp your waist in a grip you knew all too well.

Your eyes tracked a terrified path downward, meeting soft blue ones. They weren’t wide, but surprised all the same, like the consequences of your tryst were all some meager inconvenience in his whirlwind of a life, or, perhaps, you weren’t simply imagining that defiant spark flashing across vivid irises and inky pupils.

Another beat. Another breath.

Then, in the quiet of the deadly night, a chorus of footsteps tracked across the wooden floor, fading with each tepid step.

You waited, ears straining for any other source of sound. Similarly, Link’s ear flicked against your thigh.

Two more eternities dragged on, until your chest shook and an entire lungful of air tumbled from your mouth, stagnant with a special flavor of terror. The bed creaked and something in your heart splintered when Link moved to sit beside you, temptingly toasty as his side pressed against your own, lips brushing the twitching shell of your ear. “That was close,” he whispered; like an achievement, like a promise.

“You’re crazy,” you gasped back, though what you really meant was ‘I love you’.

“You love me,” Link grinned, pressed a butterfly kiss to the apple of your cheek, and leapt up with startling grace. His smile was apologetic as he crossed the room, taking hold of the prepared rope, one foot poised on the sil. He winked, and you knew a joke was coming before it even fell from his lips. “Try not to die while I’m gone.”

What kind of idiot dies for love?, the sarcastic voice within your mind sighed, before realizing that, yeah, you were one of those idiots.

And, as the man in your room slipped downwards into the familiar darkness, the corners of your lips pulled into a smile.

Writing this was an experience I won't soon be forgetting, so I hope y'all enjoy reading this just as much as I did writing it <33

50 notes · View notes