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yanderederee · 13 days

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SleepOver

June1st, 2004

a/n: coping w past trauma go brrrrrr— I thought it was a cute idea. I hope yall like it♡ longer than my usual words tbh, 3.5k words… whoops. ALSO!!! I love! Writing! For MamaBaji Ryoko! Why is she also lowkey a comfort character at this point? Pls read it for her if nothing else ♡

c/w: off screen child ab*se, fluffy comfort though.

before! › now! › after!

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Keisuke and Ryoko Baji were sat on their living room sofa, eyes glued to the TV. This was it, the finale of their favorite detective-murder-mystery show. Already half an hour into the episode, they were at the edge of their seats. All the answers to all the mysteries would soon come to light…

That is, until the shrill call of the home phone broke the tension.

“Kei, you get it.” Ryoko said quickly, eyes not leaving the screen. Keisuke clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Just let it ring, I ain’t missing this!”

His mother threw an empty beer can at him weakly. “It’s bad luck to not answer a phone call!”

Keisuke gave an exaggerated groan, before doing as he was told. “Don’t let me miss anything!” He called before picking the phone from its receiver. If only he could simply pause the show for a moment to pick up where he left off….alas, it is 2004—-

“What?” He asked rudely. Before he could even have the chance to correct himself with a proper greeting, the eerie sound of crying stopped him in his tracks.

“K-kei…” your strained voice rang loud— despite it only being a whisper.

“Y/n? What’s wrong? Where are you?” He rapid fired questions, already itching to throw on his shoes.

“H… he hit me… not l-like usual… I—“ you cried even harder, breaking your poor boyfriend’s heart.

“That fucking bastard… are you still at home?” He asked. Honestly, he was eager to speed over and beat your father to a fucking pulp. He’d only met the guy once, by accident. After he learned of your father’s disgusting habit of hitting you anytime he was frustrated, Baji made it a point to make sure you were home as little as possible. He should have rocked his shit the second he first found out.

“He… kicked me out. I kind of already started walking to your place… if that’s okay,” you said softly, worriedly. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you beforehand, if it any trouble- I’ll—“ you began to excuse yourself, in case inviting yourself over on such short notice was a nuisance.

“I’m on my way. Keep walking along the same path we always do, I’ll find you. I’ll take mom’s phone with me just in case, call me if anything changes, okay? I’ll be there in just a few minutes.” Keisuke sped his words out, turning to his mom expectingly. “I’m sorry….” You sobbed into the reciever. “Don’t apologize, don’t ever apologize. I’ll be there soon, I promise.” He replied softly. “I’ll see you soon, remember, call me on mom’s phone if you need me before I show up.”

After he’d receiving your confirmed response, he hung up the phone and ran to his room to grab his bike keys. “Who was that? Where are you going? Why do you need my phone?” Ryoko called out, worried.

“Y/n. I’m picking her up. Need your phone just in case, alright?” Keisuke said, rather than asked. Her eyes grew wide with worry, quickly pulling the decise out of her purse to hand it to him.

“What happened?” She asked, but her son was in too much of a hurry, already stepping on the heel of his shoes. “I’ll be back,” he gave no further explanation, before running out of his apartment and down the stairs.

After retrieving his bike, he was off like a bat out of hell on route to you. Keisuke could remember the path you both took to walk back and forth between each other’s homes even if he was blindfolded at this point.

True to his word, it had only taken 7 minutes to reach you; who was walking small on the furthest edge of the street. “Y/n!” He yelled after you, skidding his bike to a halt, too quickly had he hopped off and kicked over his kickstand.

He ran to you, arms open for you as you rammed yourself into his chest, tugging tightly to his tee shirt.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you.” He said calmly, careful to maintain his composure for you. He didn’t want you mistaking his pent up aggression as your fault. He could wait to release it the next time he saw your father.

“Keisuke..” you sobbed into his shirt, shaking like a leaf when his arms wrapped around you tightly. “I know. Don’t cry anymore, everything’s fine now.” He did his best at comforting you, even if he wasn’t confident in his ability to do so.

“Let’s go home, we can stop by the corner store and grab some snacks on our way. ‘You ate dinner yet?”

He pulled away, just enough to look at your poor face. God, you bruised fast. Keisuke hated how much the sight sent him over the edge. He always looked at you to feel steady and at ease with all the was wrong in the world. Yet now, seeing you so upset, hair disheveled, tear stained, and bruised… he wasn’t sure how long his restraint would last.

Still, your angelic smile took him out of his grotesque thoughts of violence. You smiled like you were so relieved to see him. Despite your poor state, you were happy to finally be held by your ever concerned boyfriend. “I’d like that…” you whispered, throwing your arms over his shoulders again before burrowing into the crook of his neck.

Baji took a deep— deep breath, before letting it out, and holding you tighter.

How many times would he break his promise of protecting you? The pain of not being able to do so was slowly eating away at him.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

When you both finally made it home safe, Ryoko was sitting at the table, fiddling with a cup of tea anxiously. Quick to greet you both, the mother all but froze upon seeing your bruised face. Similarly to her son, her stomach sank and turned. Unable to hide her prickling of tears, Ryoko rushed over to you and held you in her arms tightly.

“Oh honey…” she whispered into your hair, holding back from crying as best she could. Things like this didn’t usually upset her, she’d gotten used to her son coming home with much worse a long time ago.

But you were a different story. You didn’t deserve any of the hurt that came your way.

The feeling of being embraced by her motherly scent, you were quick to tip over the edge as well. You were just emotionally vulnerable right now, you couldn’t help when fresh hot tears came spilling over onto her shirt.

“Sit on the couch, I’ll be right back.” She said with a squeeze, a final look over of your face, before dashing off to the bathroom.

Unsure, you looked over at your boyfriend. He gave you a warm smile and smoothed a hand over your back. Walking with you andsitting next to you on the couch, he pulled open the bag from the corner store. “I know you said you were cool with it, but you’re sure Yakisoba’s alright for dinner? I mean, I do it all the time I guess so I ain’t one to talk but—“

“What? Have you not eaten?” Ryoko asked with furrowed brows, hands full with anti-swelling gel and an ice pack. Nervously, you looked down in your lap. Ryoko sighed, sitting on her knees while giving your face another look over. “It’s okay, I’m not mad sweetheart. I’m happy you’re here,” she said kindly, resting her hand on your opposite cheek. “If you ever need anything, we’ll help you. You don’t even need to ask, okay?” She said while looking you in the eyes, apparently emotional as she did so.

You tried to reply to her kind words, but got chocked up before you could. So instead, you nodded softly, hugging her. She hugged you back, looked at her son, glancing at the first aid materials laid out on the table, and back to him, expectedly.

Keisuke nodded to his mother when she gave you another final squeeze before lifting to her feet. “I was just about to whip up some dinner,” she lied with an award winning grin. “Any requests?” She asked, already halfway to the kitchen.

“Her cooking sucks, but it’s tolerable—“ Keisuke began to tease, expecting to have to dodge a thrown ladle in response. But given the situation, Ryoko’s death glare was equally as bone chilling.

You giggled at the exchange, feeling a weight of tension lifting off your shoulders being in the casual and warm home. “No ma’am, no requests.” You replied. “She likes extra konbu in her soup, and extra rice.” Baji called over, grinning ear to ear when you gave him an embarrassed shove.

“Here,”Keisuke held the ice pack up, now that it wasn’t dangerously cold to hold against your face. Still cold to the touch, you flinched unexpectedly. “Hold that on there for a while. ‘Less you want to be spoiled, I can hold it for ya” he chuckled in jest.

“I got it, thanks.” You chuckled back, and held the ice pack to your cheek.

Keisuke was practically a professional when it came to patching up wounds, ever since his mom started making him to do it himself years ago. He’d be sure to help you apply the anti swelling gel after dinner.

To waste the time, Keisuke quickly turned on the re-run for his show’s finale.

You’d seen enough episodes to know a few characters names, and some important plot points, but still fell short of many of the shocking twists the show threw at your flabbergasted boyfriend.

Sitting so closely on the couch was still a little foreign to you, normally used to sitting side by side on the floor pillows. It felt weird when your knees would touch eachother, or when his arm would casually fall behind you in the back of the couch, his warmth radiating against the back of your neck.

You felt yourself wanting to lean closer, to lay your head against his shoulder. Perhaps if you were alone, you would be so bold. But with his mother just a few feet away; you couldn’t bring yourself to do so.

“Damn that was good!” The youngest Baji hollered with glee. “I know right! Even I couldn’t have saw that one coming!” Ryoko hollered back with a laugh. “Alright, dinners ready!”

Quick to help you up from the couch by ever so chivalrously taking your hand in his, you both made way to sit at the table with giddy little smiles.

It wasn’t much, and while Baji’s off-handed comment wasn’t incorrect, you felt as though you’d just finished eating the best dinner you’d had in a very long time.

“Thanks for the meal!” You tried gathering the dishes together to help clean, but Ryoko simply wouldn’t allow it. “I’m glad someone appreciated it,” she chuckled before beginning the washing.

“About tonight, I’d offer you Keisuke’s bed tonight; but that brat can’t keep his room clean to save his life. The sheet probably hasn’t been—“ “I just washed them three weeks ago!” “Oh my god.” She sighed.

“Anyway, if you don’t mind sleeping on the couch, I’ll have Kei bring out a few blankets to lay on. Is that okay?” She asked worried.

“I really shouldn’t impose,” you tried to deflect the act of kindness, but the thought of going home made you physically want to throw up. “But… as long as you’re okay with having me, the couch is plenty. Thank you so much.”

Ryoko smiled happily, and gave her son a quick look, as if to tell him to fetch what she’d asked for. He obediently got up from his spot at the table, and left to bring in the spare blankets. “Do you need a shower?”

“No ma’am.” “You’re sure? You don’t have to be shy, I’ll lock Kei in his room so he won’t peek.”

“I WOULDNT DO THAT!” Keisuke yelled at the top of his lungs with a red face.

You laughed. “No, I’m alright, really.”

“Alright, I’ll be right back with some night clothes.” She patted your head before walking off to her room.

All the attention had began to overwhelm you, as you started fidgeting in the dinning room chair. It was a lot, more than you could get used to in such a short time.

“Sorry, I can tell you’re probably uncomfortable. That’s just the way she is.” Your boyfriend spoke in a quiet tone, as to not alert his mother in the room over. “She just really cares about you. ‘Appreciate you for putting up with her.”

You both sat in silence for a few seconds, until you stood up and helped with tucking in some blankets between the couch cushions. “You have a really good mom, Kei. I understand why you’re so serious about doing well in school now. Let’s work together to make her proud, okay?” You said to him, earning you a shocked look.

The shock wore off, and left behind a childlike smile. “Let’s do our best.” He agreed, patting your head gently, til his hands began running down the sides of your hair, and onto your cheek.

The genuine moment shared between you two made your heard pound. He’s touch was so gentle and considerate. Had you only known Baji as a brawler, the act would have seemed foreign coming from him. But you knew Keisuke as a gentle person, who loves animals enough to care for the local strays, who looked out for his friends, and fought on their behalf.

This was just another side of him you absolutely adored.

The tension created was undeniable, as you both slowly leaned into one another, threatening to share a kiss in his own living room.

“Alright, here you go!” Ryoko called out loud, as if intentionally. Your faces both went red at being caught to blatantly. “T-thank you!” You yelled back, quick to your feet and to grab the garments from her arms. “I’ll get changed.”

Quick to lock yourself into the bathroom, you couldn’t get over how hot your face was burning. The swelling on your cheek stung at the blood flow, eventually bringing you back to reality.

About why you were there in the first place. You looked in the mirror, assessing the damage for yourself. It was definitely dark, but the swelling was not as bad as it could have been.

As you changed out of your day clothes and into the clean night wear, you noticed something funny. The sweatpants fit fine, but the shirt was considerably large. Looking it over, it was a black shirt with a skull print. Definitely Keisuke’s.

Did she accidentally give you the wrong shirt? Still, as you brought the collar up to hide the lower half of your face, you could smell his usual scent over the laundry detergent. It was so comforting.

After folding your clothes as neatly as possible, you left the bathroom and headed back to the living room.

“Alright let’s see… a plastic bag to store your clothes… an extra pillow… that should be everything.” Ryoko yawned. “Alright, time to call it a night. I work in the morning, but I’ll be quiet so I don’t wake you. Sleep well Y/n~”

She escaped to her room, but quickly gave a shout, “You too Keisuke! Go to bed and don’t try pulling any funny business! My door’s open!”

Keisuke clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes at her final comment.

“Here, let me help you with this real quick, then I’ll be out of your hair.” He said while pulling out the gel from earlier. Careful as to not apply any unnecessary pressure, his middle finger gently rubbed circles into your cheek. You sat patiently as he did so, happy to be taken care of as if you were made of glass.

Once he’d finished, he tried retracting his hand, but… couldn’t. Keisuke looked over your face again, disappointed. “I’m sorry this happened…” he whispered, and hung his head. His hand followed suit, gripped in a fist as it rested beside you on the couch. “I keep saying I’ll protect you, yet…”

You smiled, accepting that it was your turn to comfort his insecurities. “You take care of me more than you realize, Kei… I couldn’t be selfish enough to ask for anything more.”

Baji sighed, laying his head in your lap.

“You should be more selfish, yaknow that?”

“I’ve always taken care of myself. I’ll manage.” You said softly.

It didn’t do anything to comfort him though.

Suddenly, an idea popped in his head. He smiled, and looked up at you from his resting position. “How’s learning self-defense sound? I’ll teach ya.”

Your eyes widened. “Learn self defense? Like, how to fight? I don’t think—“ you nervously looked away, but Keisuke took your hand in his, leaning closer. “Not how to fight, dummy. I’d rather kill someone than let you fight. Just some basic self-defense. Well, maybe more intermediate.” He thought about it eagerly. “Please? I swear I won’t be hard on you. I’ll even demonstrate with Chifuyu first so you know what to do.”

Keisuke has always been a pretty passionate guy, but right now, he was absolutely starry eyed.

Always quick to give in, you giggled at his eagerness. “Sure, I think that’s a good idea.”

After agreeing to his idea of teaching you how to defend yourself, and a final call from his mom to leave you alone, he finally departed into his own room.

Even with all the lights off, and no voices echoing through the small apartment… it felt like a home. A genuine home. It was nothing like the cold, large and quiet house you visited after school.

You felt safe, secure under the cozy blankets. The couch was comfortable, and the extra pillows elevated your head to lesson the swelling in the morning.

Therefore, There was no reason for you to be awake still, after two hours of tossing and turning.

It’s not like you were uncomfortable. Why couldn’t you go to sleep? Perhaps it was because your mind was working overtime. When you went home in the morning, dad was sure to be pissed at you for not coming home, even if he was the one to kick you out in the first place.

You were literally damned if you did return, and damned if you didn’t. You were worried about the consequences. Would he hit you the same as he did just a few hours ago? Would he ignore you? Ground you? Forbid you from seeing Baji ever again?

Well, it’s not like he knew Baji was your boyfriend in the first place. He probably already forgot all about his existence.

Still, the possibilities kept multiplying, causing you to stir with upset.

“Hey, you still awake…?” A soft whisper called from the other end of the living room. Turning to face the sound, you found Keiuske standing awkwardly. “Yeah…” you whispered back in a disappointed tone. “Can I sit with you?” He asked right after; already making his way closer to you.

You could never deny him, ever.

“Of course,” you smiled at him through the darkness, finally able to make out his facial features with him closer now, seated on the floor by your head. “Why are you still awake?”

Keisuke rested his arm on the couch, laying his head like a pillow against it as he stared at you. “I dunno.” He lied. It was easy to tell when he lied when he looked at you so sincerely.

“You sure?” You doubled down, propping your head up on your wrist to look down at him. He didn’t look away.

“I just…” Keisuke thought about his next words carefully. “I don’t know why, really… guess I’m just restless.”

You nodded, folding back a piece of hair that fell in his face. “Me too.” you lied. And he could tell. He didn’t call you out on it though. Playing with his hair eventually lead to you running your fingers through it, the same as you would when petting PekeJ. This brought Baji so much comfort, his eyes started slacking.

Not wanting to say anything to ruin the mood, you silently kept petting Baji’s smooth hair through your fingers., occasionally running your nails along his scalp to ease him further. While he began to doze off, you took time to appreciate how pretty your boyfriend was.

His clear complexion, although littered with tiny battle scars. His thick eyebrows, permanently narrowed to give him his signature resting bitch face. The faint scent of strawberry chapstick, the same one you gifted him after teasing him about how chapped his lips were for your first kiss.

Everything about him made you feel so at ease. Completely entranced, you couldn’t think about anything else.

No stupid stuff like your family, at least.

Once you were certain he had fallen asleep, you leaned in close and laid a kiss on his forehead. “I love you,”you whispered away from his ear, not wanting to wake him.

And despite not being conscious, Keisuke smiled.

You pulled one of the multiple blankets off of you, and gently draped it over him.

You laid your head down again, and watched the back of his eyelids dance in slumber, his soft snoring helping ease you to sleep yourself.

taglist: @lovley212 ,

#FragileDearest #I hope this post reaches you in good spirits #I’m sincerely unwell #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x y/n #tr x reader #Tokyo revengers baji #tr baji #Baji #Baji keisuke #keisuke baji #baji x reader #keisuke x reader #baji keisuke x reader #a letter from Baji Keisuke #letter from keisuke baji

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edsbacktattoo · 1 year

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hello my sweet Biscuit with Jam(s), just wanted to scoot by and apologize for the fact that my comment on OMTS this week is mediocre at best, bc tbh my week has been ass, but I still adored the new ch. just as much as the rest <3 i get every return kiss u send to me each week as well, even if i dont respond, i just like to keep them q.q also i just used one of the most Stedecore(TM) bathbombs ever, coconut with golden glitter in it and a gold doubloon for a prize inside :D

BUNNY!!! Bunny look at me. you listen here my love. never ever ever apologise for leaving a ‘mediocre’ comment because such a thing doesn’t exist. you could literally put a rock in my inbox and i’d pick it up and keep it for eternity. you could spit on my boots. you could punch me in the head. you are perfect and wonderful to me and i’m so so grateful for your enthusiasm each week. i’m actually obsessed with you?

i’m sorry you had such a rough week :( i will fight someone if i must. like i’ll fight them to the death to improve the state of things if that’s what it takes. i’m not afraid of murder or violence and i would commit crimes for you <3 but at least that bath bomb sounds nice! :D manifesting only good things for you forever and ever mwah

#i’m unwell about you btw. like i’m not normal <3 #i love you so sincerely #also i’m so sure the comment you left was stunning and hilarious as usual #pls never feel bad bc anything at all puts a spring in my step #kissing you #ask #💕✨

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soullumii · 1 year

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carnival lights | joel miller x f!reader

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you take joel to the yearly summer carnival.

warnings/tags: pure fluff, little bit of sexual humor, fake gun use! (water guns), carnival fun, no outbreak!joel, soft!joel, modern au, food, implied age gap (reader is in her 20s, joel is in his 40s), pet names (peach, darlin', sweetheart, baby), established relationship. (can be read as part of the stranded universe!), NO USE OF Y/N

word count: 3.5k

a/n: something cute while i work on stranded part 2. there's no plot, just vibes

taglist: @hecatombix @thatmemechick @sexygaypalpatine

“I can’t believe you dragged me out to this mess,” Joel grumbles.

Warm summer air settles over the both of you as screams from excited kids and terrified people on rollercoasters echo around you in the night. Joel’s scowl is illuminated by flashing lights from various pop-up mirror mazes, haphazardly put together ferris wheels, and scandalously painted funhouses.

Seriously, though, why does the children’s funhouse have a mural of a Parisian can-can dancer plastered on the front of it, her fish-netted vagina visible from quite literally any angle within this carnival?

It’s so incredibly ridiculous, and you absolutely love it. You just love carnivals—always have.

Even if they’re probably a safety hazard, even if the creepy clowns wandering about scared you a lot as a kid, and even if the sweet aroma of funnel cakes and fried Oreos and cotton candy mixes with the skunky smell of cheap weed. It brings back memories. And yeah, it might give you a headache after a few minutes, but it’s everything you adore, even if you’re in your late twenties now.

“It’s fun, Joel. Have you ever heard of fun?” You tease, dragging him along the dirt path littered with cigarette butts and mystery liquids. You get a whiff of hot dog.

Joel must get it too, because his nose scrunches and he steps aside a dubious pile of something inscrutable. “My definition of fun ain’t exactly this.”

“Look! That looks fun!” You point excitedly toward a ride called “The Zipper” rising high in the sky, its metal capsules filled with adrenaline junkies swinging back and forth as the entire ride spins on an axis.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel swears under his breath.

“What? Don’t you want to ride it?”

When you glance over at him, he’s looking particularly green, though you can’t exactly tell if that’s from the spinning cups next to you flashing green and white or if he’s truly feeling unwell.

“Are you okay?” You ask, sincerity coating your words as you turn to him.

“I’m fine,” he shakes his head. “I just—you should’ve taken Ellie and Sarah with you. I’m not any fun at these kinds of things.”

“Joel…” you say, a teasing smile growing as your hand lands on his arm. “Are you scared?”

He scowls, but hesitates in his answer, gaze darting away from you. “No.”

Liar. “Joel, it's okay if you’re scared,” you say. “We don’t have to ride any rides. I wanted to come with you just to spend time with you.”

His gaze softens and he sighs. “I know, peach. I wanna spend time with you, too. And for the record, I’m not scared, I’m just concerned about… my back.”

“Riiight,” you smirk. “Let’s go find something to do that won’t hurt your back then.”

You find a funnel cake stand charging $15 per cake. Joel grumbles about how ridiculous, and frankly, illegal it is that they’re charging so much for what is basically a scribble of fried dough as he pulls out his wallet.

“It's about the culture of it all, Joel,” you declare as you take a bite of doughy and powdered sugar goodness. “It’s just what carnival goers do. It’s only once a year, they can make the sacrifice.” You tear off a piece of it and give it to him.

“I guess seein’ Sarah smile after eatin’ fried oreos was worth it," he relents as he takes the cake and plops it into his mouth, humming gratefully and yes! you’re starting to wear him down!

“Exactly.”

After you both finish your funnel cake among a screaming swath of kids, you drag him toward the farm animals. This, he has to like.

You enter into the tent, Joel’s hand tucked in yours, and the smell of manure and dirt immediately choke the both of you, the scent trapped in by the heat and the plastic material of the tarp. Joel somehow seems to look even worse than he did when you mentioned the Zipper.

“These poor animals,” he whispers, eyes wide as he takes in the fences sectioning off llamas and sheep and highland cattle. “They should be out wanderin’ in a field.”

“They do, Joel,” you insist, squeezing his hand. “It’s just for tonight. Come on, let’s go pet one.”

After a snot-nosed child stumbles away from the sheep pen, Joel makes his way over. He frowns down at them, reaching a hand in through the fence to pet them. The sheep inch forward, pressing their wet noses into his palm, and he strokes their soft wool lovingly. Your heart flutters at the sight.

And then you hear him whispering to them: “I’ll get you out of here.”

Before Joel can do something drastic, like wrench open the fence on pure strength alone (which you know he is absolutely capable of), you drag him out of the tent. Your spirits are extinguished, the night feeling more and more like a failure. You have to get him to have fun, somehow.

“Those poor animals,” he says again, shakes his head as you draw him toward the game booths.

“They’ll be okay, Joel,” you reassure gently, rubbing his shoulder blades.

He just shakes his head again, and your heart fractures. You plaster on a smile and set him in front of a booth with two plastic water guns tethered to a ledge, at the far end of the booth are targets bobbing up and down, moving along a track.

“Let’s play this!” You say, handing the teenage booth manager a dollar bill. He chews his gum apathetically, and pulls the lever to start up the game.

This piques Joel’s interest and he watches you grab the pistol-shaped water gun, aiming it at a target, your eye winking as you train your gaze on a target.

“No, no, I can’t let you shoot like that,” he says, grabbing the pistol. He maneuvers your hands, “Left squeezes on the right, darlin’.” He then adjusts your arms and tries to grab the pistol from you, but it's sturdy in your new grasp, not going anywhere.

“There,” he says, proud, and grabs the other gun, pointing it at the first target. “Good luck, peach. You're gonna need it.”

“We’ll see about that,” you tease. You have no idea what you’re getting into.

“Start,” the booth manager monotonously drawls.

Before you can even pull the trigger, three of Joel’s targets are down, and he is cackling as he obliterates the others on his side. Your jaw drops, eyes widening.

Because, what the hell?

You scramble to catch up, pressing the trigger rapidly at your own targets, but only a few hits land. By the time the bored teenager calls ‘game’, Joel’s got his arms over his chest, watching you with a satisfied smile as you try in vain to shoot the last three targets on your side.

You turn to him in shock, but your bones feel light, your pulse beating rapidly because at least he’s finally having fun. And, admittedly, his skill is attractive.

“You should see your face right now,” he laughs.

“You won this,” the teenager drones, holding out a big fluffy teddy bear, half the size of Joel.

“I’m keepin’ this,” Joel says, grabbing the bear and holding it close. He looks ridiculous, holding that giant teddy bear in his corded arms, peppered locks falling over his forehead. Ridiculously handsome. Ridiculously cute. You've got to keep this going.

“What? Seriously? You’re not going to give your girlfriend the bear you won?” You pout. He just smiles wider.

“Darlin’, you’ve gotta earn this. Your shootin’ was pathetic.” He grabs another dollar from his wallet and hands it to the red-headed teen. “Another one, kid.”

Instead of grabbing his own pistol when the game starts up again, Joel comes in close around your back, warm chest pressing against your shoulder blades as his hands skim down your arms. He lays a chaste kiss on the side of your throat and your heart beats rapidly like a bird’s, warmth settling within you, a flush dusting your cheeks at his proximity.

His broad palms land on yours, and he adjusts your hold again like he did last time. “This was good. Your aim, on the other hand…”

“I’ve never shot a fucking gun before, Joel,” you defend.

“This is a water gun, peach.” You grumble as he drags your arms up, sets them in a position that is honestly not very comfortable, but you can see how it might be easier for aiming.

“Aim that ‘lil notch at the top of the gun in the middle of your target.” You follow his instruction dutifully. “Good, now shoot.”

It’s all in good fun, the gun light and cheap in your hand, but you treat it as if you truly are about to shoot a real gun, if only because your competitive nature likes to take over. You take a deep breath and let it out, then pull the trigger. The target goes down swiftly.

Joel pulls back, grinning down at you. “Nice job, peach.”

You preen at his praise.

“Alright, now hit the next one.”

You do just that. He holds his hand up for a high five and you slam your palm onto his, laughing giddily. "I'm so fucking good at this!"

He hisses, shaking his stinging hand out, “Why do you always high five so hard?”

“The game’s almost done,” the teenager warns.

You turn and deflate at the sight of ten targets still standing, confidence leaving your body in one fell swoop. You have about twenty seconds to shoot the last targets, and you wilt, knowing that’s absolutely not going to happen. You gaze sadly at the stuffed whale hanging from the awning.

Joel, noticing your disappointment, grabs his own pistol and fires off at his targets, each painted bullseye flinging back as the water hits it, the targets dropping one by one in quick succession. Even the moving ones he finds easily, spraying them with firm focus, eyebrows furrowed over his hard eyes.

He finishes with five seconds to spare, and a smirk on his lips. He makes a show to pretend to blow smoke away from the water gun’s barrel, and you can't help but laugh. You never see him this goofy, and it makes your body tingle with happiness.

The booth manager rolls his eyes and gets the whale down, handing it to Joel. You give him the biggest puppy eyes you can manage, lips puckered in a pout, and you can see the moment it hits him right in the heart, his smile growing soft, the way he looks away from you, turning to try and hide it. But he can’t, and you tremble at the sight feeling so full, so warm.

“Come on, Joel. I’m never going to be as good as you–which by the way, where the fuck did you learn to do that?” You say, grabbing the tail of the whale and tugging.

"Growin' up on a farm, darlin'. Tommy was always wantin' to shoot the ducks."

"Ah, so you're a master at duck hunting, huh?"

He shrugs. "You could say that."

He tugs the whale away from your grasp, gesturing to the booth. "Alright, one more game. Come on baby, you can do it."

You groan, and he hands another dollar over. The kid looks even more bored. Maybe even annoyed at this point. You don't blame him. You grab the pistol, and get to shooting, not without spraying some water at Joel first. He doesn’t even flinch.

Five targets later (you never could get the full ten), you're whooping and hollering as the kid hands you a fluffy monkey plushie.

"There we go!" Joel praises. “Nice goin’ peach!”

You do a little happy dance, not caring if you look ridiculous, and Joel tucks you into his side, throwing another dollar bill at the apathetic teen.

“For your patience,” he says. You giggle loudly into your palm.

“I don’t get paid enough to be here,” the kid mumbles as Joel tugs you away and back through the carnival.

You look up at him, taking in his carefree expression, the content smile on his face, and the way the lights flash off his eyes, making them sparkle. His strong arm is wrapped around your waist, your cheek pressed into his shoulder.

“Finally having fun?”

He looks down at you, eyebrow quirking. “What’d’ya mean? I’ve been havin’ fun this whole time.”

You stop, pulling back to really look at him, blinking in disbelief. “What? But you’ve seemed so… upset. The rollercoasters, the funnel cake...the animals."

Joel’s smile slips, and a clear sincerity takes hold in his eyes. “Darlin’ none of that matters to me. Just bein’ with you is enough to make anythin’ fun.”

“Oh,” is all you can say, nerves thrumming, mind racing.

“I’m sorry I made you feel otherwise, I'm not very good with emotions," he says, threading his fingers with yours, and your heart stutters. You knew that. He’s always been a closed book, and even if he does decide to be more open, it can be hard to truly decipher how he feels. Though he’s always quick to assure you that you mean everything to him.

“I’ll ride a damn rollercoaster with you anytime if you really want me to.”

This is why you love him so damn much.

You beam, though it turns teasing, “Thanks, Joel, but I don’t want to hurt you.” You poke his lower back.

Joel chuckles. “My back is fine. I’m just scared.”

“Oh really? Finally admitting it, Miller?“

"You know I struggle with admitting my flaws, darlin'."

"Right, because you hardly have any."

"Exactly."

"Well, anyway, I have an idea."

"Do ya now?”

You drag him toward the giant ferris wheel stretching high into the sky, the neon lights climbing its spokes flashing excitedly, drawing the carnival goers in.

You settle in a seat with Joel next to you, though because of the long line, you're forced to be seated with another couple across the way. An older couple, with matching t-shirts and candy necklaces.

"Hey there!" The woman chirps. "What a lovely night, ain't it?"

Joel nods awkwardly, "Sure is."

"It's beautiful," you add.

It truly is, a gentle breeze stirs the warm air, driving away mosquitos and the Texan humidity. The navy sky is clear, only a few fluffy clouds sprinkled about. You’d spend the entire night out here if you could.

"I'm Sharon, my husband Burt and I have been comin' to this carnival for the past fifty years," she says, gesturing to the man in overalls beside her.

"That's amazing," you say honestly. "I’d like to have a tradition like that, too.”

You tell her your and Joel’s names, ignoring the latter’s pleading glance at you by smiling at Sharon and Burt and complimenting their matching shirts.

Burt's says: Nothing Sense We're and hers says: Makes When Apart.

You despise the shirts deeply, but you might as well be friendly to the people you'll be stuck with for the next fifteen minutes.

"Thanks darlin'! Are you two a couple?"

You take Joel's hand, "Yep! Finally reeled this slippery fish in."

"Jesus Christ," Joel grumbles under his breath. You try not to laugh.

"Older men, so evasive, am I right?" Sharon whispers, a hand coming up to shield her mouth from her husband, as if he can't hear her in this tiny space.

"I hear you, sister.”

Joel rubs his thumb and forefinger against his temple.

"Well, enjoy your ride," she beams. "Just beware, my hubby gets gassy when we get halfway up."

You choke on a shocked laugh, your palm slapping over your lips. You lean into Joel, eyes wide, who looks green once again.

"Oh my god," you hiss to him.

"Now look what you've done. We're 'bout to get chloroformed by farts."

You can’t hide your laugh this time, “Joel!"

The ferris wheel jerks, and Joel's hand tightens around yours as it begins to ascend. You notice the tick in his jaw, the way his gaze pointedly darts from the spokes of the wheel to the pole in the center of the seat and back.

"Are you scared of ferris wheels too?" You ask.

"No," he hisses. "I'm scared of state carnival ferris wheels. They set this piece of shit up in three days. How can you even trust it?"

"I just like to think about possible ways I'd survive it."

"Yeah, like what? Grabbing onto the pole and just hanging there 'til they get ya?"

"Exactly, see, it'll be fine."

"That's if the whole thing doesn't detach."

"I think it's more likely we'll die from suffocating by old man farts than this thing detaching."

That gets a laugh out of Joel, and his gaze finally finds the land stretching out beneath you as the ferris wheel rises. The moon hangs high above the clouds, bright and full, and stars dot the dark sky like jewels sewn on a blanket. The breeze ruffles his hair, and you wish to run your hands through it.

"This is nice," he says. "I'm glad I came out here with you."

"You didn't have much of a choice, but I'm glad you're enjoying it."

You hear the man across from you pass gas, and you hide a grimace.

Joel leans in to whisper in your ear, his breath ghosting over your sensitive skin making you shiver. "This would be pretty romantic if it weren't for Mr. and Mrs. Clause over there."

"Watch it, you'll be approaching that age soon."

"I've got at least twenty years, peach. Maybe you'll be sick of me by then."

"Oh no," you shake your head, looking earnestly into his eyes. "I'll gratefully smell your farts 'til the end, Joel."

"You're messed up," he grimaces.

You just smile at him, and he grins back, his arm slung over the back of the seat, his thumb massaging your neck, and you melt into him, content to watch the world shrink as you near the top.

Eventually the ferris wheel comes to a stop at the top, and you gaze out across the dark world, head resting on Joel's shoulder. He pulls you in close.

"It's time for the kiss!" Sharon exclaims, grabbing Burt's fraying overalls and tugging him in to plant a kiss right on his lips. He melts right into her, and in mere seconds, you and Joel are witness to a geriatric couple making out.

"Ain't this somethin'," Joel says.

"Oh. My. God."

Sharon pulls back after a good thirty seconds, and turns to you and Joel. "Alright! Your turn!"

"Oh no, that's okay," you say, waving your hand. Joel is private in his affections, though his little show at the target booth earlier might say otherwise. Generally, he prefers keeping you to himself.

But tonight, he's full of surprises.

"C'mon, peach. Let's do it. Let’s give these kind folks a show, like they did for us."

"Yes! He gets it!" Sharon bounces excitedly. "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

You've been wanting to kiss him all night, so you're really not against it. Though, it's still weird, and you give Joel a pained look.

"I'll give you the whale for this," he promises.

"And the bear," you argue.

"Fine. And the bear."

You grin, and then his hand is at the back of your neck, pulling you in, his nose brushing your cheek as he slots your lips together. He tastes like funnel cake and cotton candy and you honestly don't want this night to end.

Your eyes flutter shut as he adjusts you to deepen the kiss, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip. Your hands plant on his chest, nails digging into the fabric stretching over his firm pecs.

"Woo! Yeah! Kiss her hard! Kiss her really good.”

Your lip is still caught between his teeth when Joel slowly pulls away, eyes trained angrily on Sharon and Burt. He clears his throat as leans back in his seat, and you avoid eye contact with the very strange couple across from you. Joel's hand is hot on your exposed thigh, and now you really wish you weren't fifty feet in the air stuck with some very questionable folks.

Finally, five minutes later you touch the ground again.

"Y'all have fun now!" Sharon squeaks and steers Burt toward the cowboy-themed carousel.

"Have a good night you two," Joel says, faintly as they beeline away from you, almost like you were the weird ones.

He hands you the whale but holds the bear for you as you make your way back to Joel's pickup.

"Well, that was something," you say.

"I don't think I'll get that image out of my head. Or the smell," Joel's nose scrunches.

You stop, turning toward him. "I'm sorry about this. I thought it would be fun. We'd play games and share a romantic kiss on the ferris wheel and feed the animals-"

The words fade as Joel's palm settles on your cheek, his thumb running across your bottom lip, his other hand landing on your waist. "Darlin', we did all of that."

"Yeah, but it all sucked. I can't shoot for shit. And you don't like the animals being all cooped up, and then Sharon and Burt practically eating each other in front of us, then getting turned on by our kissing? You don't think I saw Burt's hard-on?"

His eyes widen in disgusted shock. "His what?"

Your eyes well up. "I’m sorry, Joel."

He shakes his head, pulling you into his chest. "Peach, I had a great time. I love doing whatever you love. I love you, okay? So next year, you can drag me out here again and we can be Sharon and Burt's spank bank material and I'll enjoy it just as much as I did today."

Your laugh is watery against his chest, and he tilts your chin up to softly press his lips against yours again, this time shielded from the hungry gaze of strange old people. He thumbs away your tears.

"By the way," he whispers against your lips. "I liked watchin' you fail at shootin'. It's cute."

You glare half-heartedly at him, pushing him off of you and rounding to the passenger side of the truck. "I always knew you were into humiliation."

"Maybe we should try it, just to know for sure," he smirks, leaning against the door frame, towering over you.

You look him up and down, eyeing the muscles of his forearms and the way his t-shirt stretches across his broad chest. Your voice comes out lower than you expect it to.

“Get in the damn truck, Miller."

"Yes ma'am."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller #tlou fic #game joel miller #pedro pascal #soft joel miller

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shawnxstyles · 1 year

Text

blood alert!

DATE: DECEMBER 29, 2022

summary: peter notices you’re unwell at school and instinctively wants to help. as he does, the schoolwide douchebag decides to make a scene after school.

requested: very :)

song: Yours- conan gray (i was listening to this)

words: 4.3k

warnings: mentions of blood (not too gory), mentions of periods, mentions of anxiety, sexual innuendo/insults, minimal language, and a protective peter :o

note: part four?!?! i think this is my favorite yet?? and it’s the longest! peter parker masterlist

—

“please please i didn’t mean to!” the unknown man’s pleads were muffled by the blood gushing from his mouth. peter tsked behind his mask, wondering when they’ll ever learn to never touch a woman when they don’t want to be touched.

nothing gets him more mad than things that aren’t consensual.

“sure didn’t seem that way. i mean, you didn’t even apologize,” peter says condensingly, eyeing his webbing work. the man’s hands and legs were attached to the wall while multiple layers covered his torso. over time, his placing and aiming of the webs got easier. they do say practice makes perfect.

the man groans in pain and irritation.

like he has the right to be making any noise right now.

“i think you deserve an apology. don’t you think, miss?” peter tilts his head in the direction of the distraught woman, who seems to be in her mid-thirties (at the latest). after peter had comforted her, she calmed down once she realized who he was and that he could handle the situation. she contemplates his question, crossing her arms.

“yes i do,” she replies, glaring at the fickle man. he growls under his breath, spitting out the crimson blood drowning him. annoyed, peter shoots another web at his torso, not hurting him, but shocking him and pushing him snuggly into the brick wall of the alleyway. the man screams, frightened, and finally agrees to apologize.

“okay, okay! i’m sorry, i won’t touch you or anyone else ever again. just don’t kill me!” he begs again. it’s funny how he can change from growling and groaning to begging and pleading because he thinks he’s going to die. peter has more power than he knows sometimes.

“relax. i don’t kill,” peter waves him off and turns to the woman once again with sincerity. “will you be okay to walk home?”

“i’m feeling quite better now. i think i’ll catch a cab this time. thank you, spiderman,” her face softens and a gentle smile rests on her lips. her heels click away to the open sidewalk, waving for cabs until one halts for her. peter looks at the man positioned like a star on the wall.

“now what will i do with you?”

—

after bringing the attacker to the station, peter swings on home. he assumes it’s past ten, given the dark, starry sky. when he reaches his window, he lifts the creaky wood up and slips inside. he knows his aunt, may, is going to be upset because he came home late again, but she knows he has responsibilities to upkeep.

“peter!” may shouts from the kitchen while he rips off his mask. she opens his bedroom door and softens at his rough appearance.

“sorry for coming home late again.” peter mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.

“it’s alright, i want you to be safe. you didn’t kill anybody, did you?. you know—”

“i know, may. i know.” peter sighs because she gives the same lecture every time he comes home. she wants him to be safe, not to kill, don’t hurt anyone unless needed, etcetera etcetera.

“okay. well then go shower. you have blood all over your suit…”

—

peter was glad to go to school the following morning. he was going to see you during third period and you two were going to talk like you did yesterday. his heart fluttered happily in his chest just thinking about it.

however, when peter saw you during second period passing, you looked unwell. maybe you were sick with a cold or the flu? you trudged around the hallways and you didn’t socialize with anyone.

of course, you wouldn’t want to get anyone else ill.

peter assumes to himself as you lay your head tiringly on your locker from a far distance across the hall. a pang of hurt hits his heart knowing that you’re feeling so ill.

he wishes he could take care of you. he wishes he could give you soup and turn on your favorite movie. if he was with you, he knows he wouldn’t care about getting sick and would lay in the bed and watch the movie with you. he wishes he could comfort you. he wishes he could be the one to make you smile when you’re having a bad day.

peter wishes you’d want him too.

he frowns to himself, ripping his stare away from you. he knows that’s a hard concept to even conspire, but it still makes him dejected that you’ll never feel the way he feels for you. the ache in his chest grows, but for a slightly different reason now.

“this cold weather is really preparing me for the cabin. speaking of…” ned rocks back and forth on his toes, while peter turns to him with sorrow still in his eyes. ned doesn’t notice. “you really don’t want to go with us?”

“i’m sure. it’s a couple’s thing. i obviously don’t have a date and i would never want to impose,” peter replies shutting his locker slowly. ned squints his eyes at him.

“you good, peter?” ned questions more seriously than before.

okay, he did notice.

“yeah, yeah. just tired is all,” peter fake yawns with a soft smile to ensure that he is fine. he didn’t know that his sudden sadness would be that burdening so fast. it wasn’t even that big of a deal. it was just something that he had to accept, whether he wanted to or not.

it’s insane how emotions can be so intense and rapid when they’re connected to something important.

—

you were late to english. again.

you really tried not to be late to your classes, but it wasn’t always your fault. sometimes, you were having sex in the bathroom (which you hated yourself for) or mother nature decided to come early. you never had sex on your period, either.

so, today was the latter.

you skipped first period because you were curled up under your warm blanket and your body refused to get up. you were extremely tired as well, which didn’t help. but you knew how hard it was to get back on track with school work, even if it’s only a one-day absence. you trudged out of the comfort of your bed and into the cold fog outside.

when the final bell rang for third period, you didn’t attempt to run. not that you ever really ran, but sometimes you did a fast walk. with every five steps a cramp clawed your uterus, and you reconsidered going to class today. but you knew this project was worth a good chunk of your grade, and you didn’t want your partner to do all the work.

you plod into the mostly obedient classroom, all eyes staring at the teacher while she speaks. she doesn’t acknowledge you and continues to instruct. you don’t mind, and slot through the columns of desks.

“damn what happened to you? out too late last night?” jax obnoxiously chuckles behind his hand as he daps up his nearby friends. unlike the movies, he isn’t well liked by the whole school, only by his lame sidekick friends. the only thing that’s comical is how he’s wearing a letterman for the world’s most boring sport (golf) and he suddenly thinks he’s the most admired man on campus. if there was a sport for douchebags, he’d make varsity and be the star player.

jax has been like this since freshman year. he acts immature, rude, and arrogant to most people, but especially to you. he always goes out of his way to insult or make fun of you for entertainment. although you know the underlining reason for his harsh treatment, it doesn’t bother you any less. it’s hard to desensitize from negativity when you’re surrounded by it like oxygen.

you cringe at his comment and the unfolded scene. you barely have enough energy to get through today, let alone waste it on a dumbass jock who thinks he’s the ‘top dawg’ or whatever he says. another cramp kicks you, which makes you practically limp to your seat in the back.

“look she’s limping,” he points out to his friends with shoulder nudges. “he must have given it to her hard.”

more laughs are muffled behind their jacket sleeves, while you focus on breathing and reaching your desk. the class is too distracted with the teacher’s announcements to notice or care about the little interaction.

peter wasn’t listening to a word the teacher was saying.

his senses picked up on the chattering near the back of the room. he’s learned when to engage his power on his own, but his senses are automatically heightened when someone is involved in harmful situations. he has never eavesdropped on your conversations ever before, but conversations don’t sound like that.

peter heard the ‘jokes’ jax made about you, right to your face. it made him upset knowing that someone would talk like that. but it made him fucking furious that anyone would talk like that to you. you didn’t deserve that. peter didn’t know you as well as he wishes to, but he knows that jax is a jerk inside and out. an immature asshole to better say. no matter how high of a pedestal jax puts himself on, he’ll never hold a candle to you.

peter clenches his jaw so hard, he thought he might shatter his own teeth. it took everything in him to breathe instead of strangle jax with his webs in front of the whole class.

it’s like everything may ever told him was thrown out the window.

when the teacher finally dismisses everyone to continue their partner projects, peter doesn’t hesitate to snatch his backpack and head toward you. his heart pounds angrily in his chest, furious, yet still underlined with nerves because he’s approaching you like it’s normal.

he takes the seat beside you. you’re slouched with your hands resting on the desk while you fiddle with your fingers. peter softens his gaze, heart still beating rapidly.

what does he say?

“hey,” he gently starts, patiently waiting for you to say something. you blink a few times before turning your head toward peter.

“hey, parker,” you tiredly smile at him, trying to sit up straighter. your head subtly pounds from the nonsense you experienced with jax because that kind of stuff is so regular for you. if you look like shit one day, everyone assumes you had a previous late-night hookup. if you look gorgeous on another, they think you’re a slut who just wants attention.

can’t a girl just dress for herself?

at first, it angered you that people cared so deeply yet so little about you. now, it was so constant and repetitive that you didn’t dwell on everyone else’s small talk about you. but you can’t help but wish it would stop. it had a mental toll on you.

but deep down, you were only mad at yourself for giving in to the pressure of people around you.

peter gazes delicately at you, his teddy bear eyes easing some of the mental and physical pain away.

you wish all guys were as good-natured and self-aware as he seemed.

“are you okay?” peter breathily questions. he sees the heaviness under your eyes and your eyelids seem desperate to close. overall exhaustion is laced in your expression. he assumes you don’t want him to stare at you, so he tries his best to avert his eyes. but even when you’re sick, he still thinks you’re gorgeous. you always radiate such glowing warmth, so when you’re a little colder, there must be something wrong.

“uh,” you grumble, hesitant. you consider admitting to peter that you’re on your period and not just tired or sick. again, you didn’t dwell on other people’s thoughts, or their judgment. if anything, he’d probably disregard it anyway because that’s what guys always do. without stopping yourself, you admit. “i'm on my period.”

peter slightly widens his eyes, not expecting you to say that. he knew you were forthright, but he didn’t think you’d share personal information with him. his heart races quicker before he realizes his reaction probably isn’t helping.

“oh um… is there is anything… i can do to help?” peter stutters and he mentally curses at himself for acting like an immature fool. to be clear, he wasn’t flustered over the menstrual cycle part, they’re completely natural and uncontrollable, but by the fact that you told him so bluntly (even though he asked) is what shocked him.

you genuinely smile at his endearment, causing spots of warmth to spread over your chilly skin. your shoulders relax, releasing tension you didn’t know you had been storing in your muscles.

“unless you have chocolate, nothing is going to mend the stabbing pain in my uterus,” you dryly joke, moving some hair from your face. a gray hood lays on your head, protecting you from the uncomfortably cold air.

peter curses to himself, again, for not having chocolate in his bag.

sometimes, he wishes he could read minds instead of having the behavioral abilities of a spider. he has to remind himself that some people don’t have powers at all and he should be grateful and blah blah blah.

“i’m sorry, i don’t,” peter frowns again like earlier. “do you have a favorite?” he asks suddenly.

“a favorite chocolate?” you face him with curiosity, trying to forget the jamming headache. your cramps have halted more now than they have all morning. probably because you’re sitting comfortably for once.

“yeah or a favorite food you crave,” peter knows about the food cravings because of may.

when may’s favorite snack (pickles) were gone and she was too unwell to retrieve them, she would send peter to go to the store down the street. he hates seeing may in pain, but it only lasted for a couple of days before she was okay again. he doesn’t remember exactly when he stopped having to go, but he didn’t worry as long as she wasn’t hurting.

he would definitely bring you something if you asked.

“i mean, i really like chocolate pretzels? i don’t know why. probably because i always ate them a lot growing up,” you share openly. you spit out the first thing that came to your mind without hesitation. you were being oddly open. no one really cared to ask personally questions to you before, so you didn’t really know how to respond.

“noted,” he remembers how ned loves them too, so he’ll have to ask him where he gets them. peter curls one side of his lips into a tiny smile, while you smile back with skepticism all over your face. he feels his chest restricting and wonders if he’ll die. and least he would die a happy man. “we should probably get to our project.”

“yeah, yeah. we should,” you shake your head to look away from his soft features. he turns down and searches in his backpack for the papers. your eyes don’t drag away from him like you’d hope they would.

he wore jeans today. they appeared a little loose, but fitting enough so he’s not sagging. you could never imagine him in jeans; he always seemed like a khaki guy. a classic flannel shirt peaks beneath a navy sweater, and you wonder where he gets his style from. his hair is neatly combed, and it overall made him look put-together. you couldn't imagine yourself appearing that way, even if you wore pretty little clothes and did your makeup.

peter tilts his head back up and places the papers on the desk. he scoots the table closer to you with ease, and you two continue to work on the presentation fundamentals.

time flies when the bell suddenly rings. peter tucks everything back into his bag in a specific folder. his body freezes when his scalp feels your soft fingertips ruffle his hair. a blush arises on his face as he stares at the floor. when he finally looks back up, you’re gone.

you left the class with a small smile, feeling a little less worse than you had.

—

during lunch, peter instantly asked about the pretzels.

“oh, these ones?” ned plops them out of his backpack and peter gasps dramatically.

“you have some? can i have them?” peter pleads, without context. he’s never asked for them before when ned had brought them.

“since when do you like chocolate pretzels?” ned quirks a suspicious eyebrow at peter. he doesn’t like hiding anything from ned, so he gives in and tells him with a sigh. he doesn’t tell him everything, only that you’re the one that likes the pretzels, not him. ned doesn’t need to know that you’re on your period and the ‘conversation’ that happened with jax.

“does she need all of them? i just bought these yesterday,” ned complains, while betty sits next to him across the cafeteria table and kisses his cheek. peter envied their love, even if it was questionably odd sometimes.

since peter sits so close to you in english, he envisions kissing your cheek while you answer a question on the sheet. you’d try to hide your heavenly smile, but then you’d give in and giggle next to him.

he daydreams about you so much, some might think it’s exhausting, but they’re really what keep him going.

ned explains to betty how peter needs his pretzels for you and peter interrupts him with an embarrassed “ned!” because he said that “peter is practically in love with you.” which isn’t… he can’t. betty then convinces him to hand over the bag.

“fine, but you owe me,” ned groans and rolls his eyes while betty giggles and kisses his cheek again.

—

peter couldn’t find you at lunch.

however, he did spot you at the end of the hallway where he unexpectedly ‘caught’ you yesterday.

your hood was covering your head, but the way your backpack dangled loosely from your shoulders alerted him that it was you. your bag had a single stitch on it that he’d never noticed before as he gazed at you in the hallway.

the place was nearly empty like before since the day had ended. you pushed open the door and hissed at the icy breeze, instinctively crossing your arms for more warmth.

peter follows you through the doors and catches up with you. your eyebrows raise in shock and you halt your movements, but you relax when you notice it’s just peter. you remove your earbuds and pause your music.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to startle you,” he instantly apologizes, cheeks flushed. it was probably from the sudden chilly weather, but it looked adorable on his cheeks. his lips were more prominent, rosy and pink against his fair skin.

“you don’t have to apologize. it’s fine,” you tighten your arms over each other, teeth nearly chattering. you weren’t a fan of the fall or winter because you got cold very easily. you were definitely more of a summer gal.

“i, um,” peter lost his words. you would probably think that he’s a freak for actually getting you the pretzels. you’ll probably think he’s crazily obsessed with you (he kind of is, but not like that). his hands are shaking, and it’s not only from the weather. “i got these for you.”

you peer down with skepticism, a small bag of chocolate-covered pretzels in his hands. you look back up at him with awe in your eyes. your heart clutches tightly in your chest from the kindness. you’re not someone who cries a lot, or at least in front of people, but no one has ever done such a thoughtful action for you. it was such a small thing, but it affected you more than you could have imagined. you blame your hormones for the brimming tears in your eyes.

“oh no. are these the wrong ones? i’m sorry—”

“no, peter, these are perfect. thank you. i…” you were speechless. he's so sweet. too sweet. he probably did this for everyone who needs it. you wish you had someone as endearing as him in your life consistently. you need it. peter’s wide smile is soon washed away.

“y/n? well, i didn't think you’d go for as low as a nerd,” the familiar snobby voice of jax makes both of your heads turn. he wears a smirk on his face, arms crossed as he approaches you two more closely. his ‘sidekick’ friend follows behind him submissively. jax looks down at the pretzels in peter’s hand and laughs. “the nerd got her chocolates. what is this, valentine’s day? please, how pathetic.”

when people talked or spread rumors about you, you tried not to care. you never engaged because it would never stop. you just learned to live with it because it’s been years. you’ve heard jax talk shit about loads of people over that time. however, hearing jax disrespect peter right in front of you made your blood boil so much, you didn’t feel as cold anymore.

“leave him alone, jax. he’s done nothing to you,” you glare at him with daggers in your eyes and a strong jaw. you were much shorter than him, but your distaste for his attitude was bigger. “i know you don’t like me, but don’t take it out on him.”

“sweetheart, i can do whatever i want,” jax clicks his tongue condescendingly while inching closer to peter.

those words flashed a different image through your mind, but you forced yourself to stand tall. you don’t need reminding of the past.

he rips the pretzels out of peter’s hands and chucks them on the ground. peter barely moves, staring at jax’s soul with small backward steps.

please, don’t hurt him. you plead to some higher power.

“she doesn’t like you. she wants you to think that. she’ll make you think that she wants to sleep with you, so you look like a fucking fool,” jax snarls in peter’s face with clenched teeth and an flared nose.

“shut up,” peter grumbles with clamped fists so compact his knuckles start whitening from the pressure. protectiveness spread throughout his whole body like a disease.

“what did you say? speak up,” jax provokes, glaring down at peter with a snarl on his face. you have a feeling this will get ugly and you really don’t want peter to get hurt.

“shut. up.” peter huffs out each word, and jax finally swings. peter ducks quickly, so jax punches again with his opposite hand. peter dodges it swiftly, sliding away from his predictable hits.

jax growls in impatience and swings more wild and aggressively. peter blocks his ‘hardest’ punch with his forearm. he latches onto his wrist and twists him around, pushing him backwards.

“i don’t want to fight you, jax,” peter states honestly, with his hands up. he’s annoyed with his perseverance in this fight that he’s not going to win.

he practically jumps towards peter with anger brewing in his eyes. with his arms wide, he tries to cage peter against the nearby tree, but fails horribly. peter simply ducks and sweeps his leg, causing him to tumble onto his back. if he didn’t, jax would have collided face first into the wood. jax stumbles back onto his feet while his friend watches with a gaped mouth. peter knew he couldn’t fight jax, especially not at school. he definitely wasn’t scared to, but it’s not morally right to himself, may, or you.

but god, did he want to beat the living shit out of him.

what is wrong with peter’s thoughts?

“beginner’s luck. i’ll be back,” jax spits on the ground, trying to make a statement before stomping toward the gym with his not-so-much sidekick.

you stand frozen, your body in shock from peter’s incredible defensive skills. he walks over to you with worry cascading his face.

“are you okay? i’m sorry, i didn’t want to fight him—”

“peter, stop apologizing. i’m fine and that was… pretty cool,” you cut him off with your hands on his chest. his heart was racing and his cheeks were flushed, but he did just finish a fight.

and he totally won too.

peter thought he might dissolve. even in the cold weather, he might melt right into a puddle on the cement from your palms resting on his chest. he knows you feel the pounding organ behind his rib cage, which makes him blush even more. if he stands still any longer, he’ll be permanently frozen in overwhelming affection. to avert himself, he bends down to retrieve the forgotten pretzels and hands them your way.

“do you still want them?” peter cringes at the wrinkled bag in his palms.

“of course, i do,” you snatch them from his hands and tuck them possessively into your arm. “i mean, you fought for these! they must be really good.” peter chuckles, muscles relaxing at your optimism.

there was your warmth again.

“so do you walk home or take the bus? or can you drive?” you ask with some energy. the fighting woke you up and opened your eyes. literally. jax’s always been a douche, but fighting through an innocent person about something that happened years ago? that’s pathetic.

“i can drive, but i don’t have a car. i usually take the bus, but it’s long gone by now,” peter scratches his neck and shuffles awkwardly. sometimes he feels comfortable with you, but most times he gets so nervous he forgets sentences. or words. or thoughts in general. even though his anxiety was heightened, he really wanted to walk you home. he would float to cloud nine. “what about you? do you drive?”

“i’m in the same boat as you. or car…?”

“do… you want me to walk you?” he felt his fingertips trembling and stomach clench. every second you didn’t say something, he prepared for disappointment.

“i would like that,” you smile. you smile. with teeth and everything. your cheeks looked soft and your expression was genuine. peter felt his heart flutter and fly away, while his stomach was littered with butterflies.

you both begin walking along the sidewalk, the school fading in the distance behind you. walking made talking less anxiety inducing, and more comforting for him.

“so where did you learn to fight like that?”

—

HOW DO WE FEEL ABOUT PART FOUR??!?

tags: @percyjacksonspeen @rafecameronsbadussy @slut4tomholland

#shawnxstyles #mcu peter parker #peter parker #tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland fan fiction #tom holland fan fic #peter parker fanfics #peter parker fan fiction #spiderman #mcu spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you

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linksthoughtbrambles · 3 months

Text

The Seeds of Love, Well Worn

A gift for @newtsnaturethings for Midna's Merry Mixup! I'm sorry this is so late!!! I am officially saying Newt is also a coauthor of this fic because it is based on a very old, very silly conversation we had that was so much fun! This fic was also inspired by "The Calamity of Link's Cargo Shorts" by @zeldaseyebrows! It is excellent and should be read!! A big thank-you to @bellecream for beta-reading! This fic is also available to read here on ao3. Post-TotK Zelink, Canon-Compliant, Rated T, ~9,400 words

At first, Zelda thought nothing of it. After all, Link was entitled to some eccentricities. He couldn’t be the legendary hero if he were ordinary, could he?

Certainly, his renewed desire to play hide-and-seek with the koroks struck her as odd.

And yes, his sudden willingness to spend time away from her also seemed odd, especially as he’d clung to her so fervently since her fall from the sky—why insist on leaving her behind now?

Perhaps he wished to give her uninterrupted time to pursue her studies. She’d shooed him from her well and atrium often enough, though always with a smile. And yes, she’d been busy with concerns in all corners of Hyrule, leaving her less time to attend to her new garden, and she’d been frustrated with her efforts to populate the lovely pond Link had built into their plateau—had she been short with him? Had she seemed distant? Perhaps she’d hurt his feelings.

“I apologize sincerely, Link,” she blurted that night over dinner.

He blinked at her, all blue-eyed owl. “Huh?”

Apparently not.

His spectacular grin an hour later as he tossed her on their new bed confirmed it.

Definitely not.

Her concern grew as Link traveled further and further afield.

“Link- must you find them all?” she asked. “Surely that’s unnecessary.”

“I need more Korok seeds,” he said.

Her eyes flew wide. “S- eeds?”

“Yeah!”

“Ah. And… how many of these have you collected?”

Link shrugged and jammed his hand in his korok pouch. It emerged overflowing with tiny, golden nuggets. A few fell to the floor as the distinctive scent invaded Zelda’s nostrils.

“Link-“

He deposited them on the table-

“Link-”

-and reached back in, his fist again brimming with the deceptive little pellets. Zelda’s nose wrinkled as she waved her open palms in the direction of his belt.

“Link, this is our dining table!”

“So?”

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t you want to count them?”

“Well- not here.”

Link blinked at her. “Why not?”

She stared at her erstwhile knight, helpless to shut her jaw.

He didn’t know, did he?

She supposed it had never come up.

To be fair, they did look somewhat like seeds.

“How many fistfuls of these would you estimate you have in there?” she asked quietly.

“Oh, fistfuls? Maybe…” he scratched the back of his head with a squint toward the ceiling. “Maybe about twenty?”

Zelda blanched. “And… that’s not enough.”

He snorted. “Noooooo.”

His obsession struck her all the more strangely.

Link would stop at nothing. In short… he would create a mountain out of a molehill, right there on their dining room table, a tribute fit only for a king.

Or so Link seemed to believe.

She began to wonder if he was unwell.

The Rasitakiwak Shrine activated up the hill just before sunset. Link bounded into her garden at an unreasonable pace.

“Hahaaa!” he kissed her cheek with an intentionally long, wet smack and a shoulder-squeeze.

Zelda couldn’t help but giggle. “Link!” She then wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too,” he said. “I got sixteen today.”

Zelda’s smile became quizzical as she wondered if he’d washed his hands.

“I’ll be on Hebra peak all day!” Link announced with a sideways smile and two fists proud on his hips.

Zelda tried to appear as though she were not at all worried, and that she was, in fact, happy for him to be so excited about visiting an incredibly dangerous high-altitude frozen wasteland on a whim. “The peak, specifically?” she asked, voice bright, though the slight curl of her lip may have given her away.

“My korok sense is tingling,” he said.

Zelda’s cheek twitched. “I wasn’t aware you had one.”

Link pulled a leaf-shaped mask from his pouch and donned it with a ya-ha-ha. It explained nothing.

She clasped her hands before her with a deep breath. “Will you allow me to accompany you this time?”

“Nope!”

She sighed. “Why ever not?”

“You have things to do! I know you want to-“ he began to count on his fingers- “jam a Zonai charge in that guardian-claw-contraption with Robbie, zip to Lookout Landing and see if Purah’s gotten any Zonai abilities working with the purah pads, weed and water your garden, do your measuring and extracting stuff there, see if any of those frogs you caught are still anywhere near our pond, go to Hateno and check how our critters are doing there, check in with Symin about the school… I mean- you have a lot going on.”

Zelda shook her head. “You’re not wrong, Link, but perhaps you might stay with me today? Can the koroks wait until tomorrow?”

He hesitated. He removed the mask to scratch his nose. “Well- I mean, will they still be there? Yeah! They’re shockingly dedicated to their game, which… is weird considering Hestu stopped playing with them seven years ago.” Link squinted, his eyes defocusing a bit. Zelda kept her laugh silent—a mere flurry of quivers of her diaphragm.

“Huh,” Link finally said, shaking his head, his eyes forcibly wide. “That is really weird, isn’t it? But… I kind of have to hurry. Even if the koroks are… insane. Or messing with me.”

That struck Zelda as disturbingly likely.

Link nodded, apparently resolute despite his targets’ nebulous motivations. “I should go today.”

She couldn’t help her falling face.

“Aw,” he said. He stuffed the mask back in his pouch, took her in his arms, and curled himself around her, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You miss me?”

“Yes,” she said, a little sheepish.

He held her tighter.

Then he bear-hugged her.

“Heh- Link!” she smiled, pushing at him playfully.

“It’ll be worth it,” he said. “Really. Please trust me? I promise there’s a good reason.”

“Can you tell me?” she asked.

He loosened his hold and kissed her forehead with the softness of a cloud. “If I could, I would.”

She studied his eyes a long moment.

He certainly appeared to be his usual self. His eyes sparkled with mischief, with his ever-present love for her, and with that shadow she’d seen in him ever since she’d fallen into the depths, whisked into another time.

The shadow- it worried her, kept her worrying beyond what would otherwise be reasonable. He’d never been the same.

She could even feel it in the cadence of his breath—shortened without apparent cause, always a twinge on the end of each, a restlessness in his fingers as he held her. They just kept moving, even when his hands were still.

Why this would drive him to scour the countryside for korok droppings, she didn’t know.

She ought to enlighten him about that at some point.

It ended on an unremarkable day in late spring, as suddenly as it began.

Zelda had no explanation.

Link said nothing of it.

His korok-seed fever simply ceased.

She wondered if someone else had revealed their nature to him.

He spent two entire days never leaving her side. The most accurate word she could think of to describe his mood was ‘barnacle.’

Zelda-barnacle. Yes, that was it, she thought as she clipped a sample off one of her more mature sundelions, his chin on her shoulder, his nose in her hair, his eyes on her work, and both his arms wrapped securely about her middle. Even his legs were flush to hers a good measure of the way down.

That night, the sound of the shrine’s transport platform reached her in her sleep. She opened her eyes to find Link gone, his place in bed beside her cold. She heard him enter the house soon afterward.

He returned to bed and wrapped his arms around her as though he’d never gone.

“Where were you?” she asked quietly.

He kissed the crown of her head. “Kakariko.”

“Why?”

He chuckled. “Can’t tell you.”

He made several more clandestine journeys, each time unsuccessful in the sense Zelda knew he’d gone. He always returned to bed, and she always asked where he’d been.

“Kakariko.”

“Hateno.”

“The korok forest.”

That one made her sit up. “Oh?!”

He laughed.

She squinted down at him, his bare stomach shaking with mirth.

She squinted hard. “So many koroks…” she said.

“Hm. True,” he answered, mock-seriously.

“…Are you collecting seeds again?”

“Nah.”

She eyed him suspiciously.

Then she tackled his abdomen, tickling hard with all ten fingers.

It hadn’t been wise, truly. He overpowered and tickled her easily, his utter lack of mercy keeping her breathless for the following five minutes.

She learned nothing more from him that night—and he made no more secret journeys after that, as far as she could tell.

The summer solstice arrived.

Zelda opened her eyes to the sight of Link’s lovestruck gaze, the dimple deep in his left cheek. He pushed her hair behind her ear. “Happy Birthday,” he said softly.

His first gift to her arrived immediately, with no need even to leave their bed.

The second waited, a centerpiece on the dining table: a large box tied with a wide, royal blue bow, every bit as obvious as Link’s excitement for her to open it. He’d adopted barnacle-stance once again, using his legs to walk hers toward the table.

She laughed, shifting off-balance as the odd gait forcibly waddled her. He stopped them directly in front of the box, though he didn’t let go.

“I take it you’d like me to open this before breakfast.”

“Yes please,” he said, his laugh higher than normal, burying his eyes in the nape of her neck. “I’ve been keeping it secret soooooooo long.”

She chuckled, her arms and hands covering his, warm, around her waist. “My poor knight,” she said, a habit from days long gone.

He hummed a breath into her, nuzzling her nape and ending with as much of his face as he could tuck into her hair as possible.

She patted his arms and tilted forward. He slid his hands to her waist and leaned around her, watching.

The ribbon fell open easily. She lifted the top off the box and folded back the protective paper to see- “Pants?”

“Take them out!” Link urged.

She lifted them by the waistband. Her head cocked in confusion as they unfolded.

“Shorts!” she said, amazed at the array of large pockets all over them. They were otherwise simple, black, as though to replace her riding pants. Their shorter length would be welcome in summer, and she absolutely could do with pockets. The pouch at her hip wasn’t enough, though Link, of course, would allow her to put anything she wished in his.

“Look inside,” Link whispered, bouncing a little on his toes.

Zelda gave him an amused look. She then held the waistband open and peered downward. As predicted, she saw black fabric. She also saw her own feet on the floor through the leg holes.

“No, no no no no,” Link said. “Look in the pockets.”

“Ah,” she said. Thinking he’d secreted something within one for her, she slipped one strap from its loop, lifted the flap, and rummaged inside.

“Goodness,” she said. “This pocket is quite deep.”

Link produced a snigger.

She eyed him suspiciously once more as she slid her arm further and further into the pocket… still contacting nothing. She withdrew, confused.

“I-“ she lifted the garment above her head. Then she examined the pocket’s outer seam. She pressed her hands on either side of it. It appeared to be utterly ordinary – larger than her hand, certainly, but…

She shook her head and inserted her hand once more. She watched, fascinated, as more and more of her arm disappeared into it, until the pocket’s edge reached her shoulder. She wrapped her other arm around it to feel where her arm had gone inside the cloth.

The answer, it turned out, was nowhere. The fabric pressed flat to her torso.

She gasped, a slow smile spreading across her face as she turned to see one of the biggest grins Link had ever given her.

“It’s like your pouch!” she cried.

“YA HA HA!” Link yelled as she tackled him. “Oof-“

“Oh my goodness- oh- Link- Link think of what I could do with this!”

“I did,” he chuckled.

“Are all the pockets this way?”

He nodded; then he looked up and to the left for a moment, a half-squint on. “Well- yeah they’re all enchanted, but it’s not quiiiite the same.”

“Oh?”

“I had- requests for these pockets. Special ones.”

“Such as?”

“Well…” He opened a larger pocket lower down. “Check this out!”

She did.

And she gasped.

She was peering into a space, perhaps the size of the main room of their new house, with a lush, grassy floor, a medium-sized dogwood tree, and a pond.

With lily pads.

She stared.

She stared more.

She goggled at Link, dully noting his arms supporting her, his eyes positively twinkling.

“is this…. for… frogs?” she asked, her tongue extremely dry.

“Well,” he said waggling his head. “It doesn’t have to be. But I thought-“

She kissed him.

Link examined his work as a myriad of frogs hopped, croaked, and plain-old-chilled out around him, quite proud of himself. The ruby rod was definitely staying put—and unlike one of the old flame blades (damn, he missed those), it wasn’t going to cook every frog that touched it. “I think I got it!” he yelled.

The sound of cloth-on-cloth preceded Zelda’s face appearing in what seemed to be a slit on a dark wall about even with Link’s head.

“Oh!” Zelda said. “You’ve embedded it!”

“I figured it’d work best if it was actually in the water,” he said, trying but failing to see any steam visibly rising from the little pond’s surface.

“Indeed!”

Link wondered if there’d be clouds—like rain—or if droplets would just condense on that nebulous, sky-blue ceiling above. Verrrrrry slowly.

“I’m still concerned about the lack of sunlight,” Zelda said.

Link smiled, pulling his eyes from the unsky to make his way toward her. He stuck his face right up to the opening. “It’s magic, Zelda. Don’t worry too much. It was like this in the sword-trials.”

“It’s unclear whether those were physically real, Link.”

“True, but there were loads of plants inside the Zonai shrines.”

“Hmm. There still are,” she said. “I suppose that suggests whatever the light source is, it’s sufficient for them.”

“Yup. So don’t worry.” He pointed up. “I bet it’s sky blue up there for a reason.”

She huffed a laugh. “I suppose I agree with you, for my instinct is not to take that bet.”

Link raised his chin, proud of himself for the third time that day. “Nice! So… is it testing time?”

“If you’re ready, Link, then certainly. I shall be gentle, but I suspect the fact the pond has remained intact means this will be entirely uneventful.”

The sound of shuffling cloth accompanied the strange sight of her hands, the wall, a painting, and then the ceiling moving beyond the opening followed by a wild motion of the wood, glimpses of Zelda’s armpit, her hair, her nose, and a single green eye as she pulled the garment on. He heard her fasten it.

“Link?” she called.

“Nothing happened down here!”

“Excellent.” She peered down at him. “Link? You are officially in my pocket.”

He snorted. “I’m in your pants.”

“As is typical for you,” she said with a mischievous glint.

Being in Zelda’s pants (literally) turned out to be less interesting than Link thought it would.

She’d warped to Hateno rather than hike or paraglide down to Tarrey Town.

“What if the shorts fall off?”

“Do your pants usually fall off when you paraglide?”

“Of course not, but if they do, you are in them, and you shall hit the water, and if it comes pouring in, what will happen to you?”

Link shrugged. “I’ll swim out.”

“Perhaps, but what if the entry fails to expand?”

“Why would it?!”

“No- we must be scientific about this. Nothing risky is to be done without proof of concept.” Her spine straightened suddenly as though shocked. “Goodness. What if I fall? Same potential result—possibly worse, for we do not know how taking on water affects the weight of the pants-“

Link started laughing. “Zelda, they have a tree and a pond and- DIRT and things. They don’t weigh anything.”

“Yet what if they do, Link?! Perhaps a fraction of their weight is transferred. We don’t know. We cannot test it without removing the material, and frankly I have no wish to ruin that lovely environment in order to haul a tree out. No, the only way would be to add material and weigh the shorts afterward.”

“Ze-“

“Of course, I would do that with the similar pocket on the left rather than disturb the pond...”

He’d been about to suggest he just… paraglide down with her and hop in the pocket in town. They could be discrete about it—ask to use the bathroom at the Hudson Construction office or something—but he liked to hear Zelda talk, and she’d clearly started one of her long thinking-out-loud rolls. So, he’d listened while making mental note of the locations of niiiice, big, heavy boulders he could shove in the bottom left pocket.

And now, here he was, chilling with the frogs, listening to Zelda’s footsteps and chatter with the townsfolk, making yet more mental notes of any jostling (which was… really easy since there’d been none so far), and trying to think of how else he could kick the frog habitat up a level. Luckily, he could hear Zelda even with the flap closed, so he had some entertainment other than the sticky frog that had decided his back was comfortable.

His head shot up.

Neither of them had thought to test whether he could leave with the flap shut. That, to him, seemed a much bigger deal than anything else. What if she was hurt and he couldn’t get out to help her? What if something attacked her? Zelda could defend herself, sure, but he couldn’t be stuck in here, helpless, if someone or something meant her harm. Bokoblins. Moblins! One of the remaining gleeoks he hadn’t yet purged from the depths. He can’t possibly have found them all, and those things could fly like anything, come out of nowhere. He’d never seen one leave a chasm but there was absolutely no reason he could see why it couldn’t, and chasms—dear Hylia, they probably hadn’t found them all and what if she was walking somewhere and she didn’t see it and she slipped and she was falling and falling and falling and he couldn’t catch her again-

“Link?” Zelda called.

Link’s pulse rushed fully tactile in the left side of his neck, audible especially in that ear. Sweat had begun to seep into his clothing.

“Yeah!” he yelled.

“Any motion?”

He laughed a little, rubbing the back of his neck. He’d stopped paying attention—but he hadn’t noticed anything. “I don’t think so!”

He could practically hear her mind whir on that one.

“Alright!” she said.

He shook his head and rolled his eyes at himself. He’d done it again. He really, really, really needed to stop doing that. Hadn’t that been part of the point of this gift to her? Yeah, she loved the pockets, but also he’d had to get used to letting her be alone. He must’ve been driving her crazy. He’d barely been able to let her garden for five minutes without checking on her.

Better that she missed him than got unbearably sick of him hovering around her all the time. It’d happened before, all those… very many long years ago. It could happen again.

He scrubbed his face.

He had to think about something else.

He eyed a particularly quick hot-footed frog.

His nose wrinkled. He wished he didn’t know what its secretions tasted like. He wouldn’t enjoy being stuck in here with nothing but those things to eat. He didn’t expect sticky frogs to be any better, or ordinary tree frogs for that matter.

Not that he planned on eating them. But if it was him or the frogs-

The frog on his back made a soft ‘ribbit.’

Link craned his neck. He could see the moist, blue tippy tip of his stowaway’s nose.

…Eh. Okay, the frog was cute. He could eat other things first.

Grass! There was grass. And flowers.

Could you eat dogwood trees?

He’d have to dig himself a latrine.

…

It would be really gross.

Not as bad as Zelda being hurt. By a lot.

But still… disgusting.

And she’d never let that happen to him unless she was hurt, so it was a moot point.

… Or unless the shorts fell in the lake.

He smacked his forehead. He should know by now that Zelda was always right. Because if lake water started pouring in here and he couldn’t get out because the flap was closed?

He was effed with a capital f.

Much better that he was in here than her. He wouldn’t make it five minutes if their roles were reversed. He’d be hauling her out of here forcibly. Once they knew how it worked, sure.

Hestu hadn’t seemed to know much about it, either. Magic, inventory-expanding dances? He had those in the bag. The mechanics of the bag? Nope.

“No, thank you, Manny.”

Link’s eyes shot to the closed flap.

“It’s a spectacular collection of crickets, to be sure.”

“Turns out Lasli didn’t want them, either.”

Link groaned.

“Eh he. Yes, I heard you telling Link last time.”

He was still on this?

“She didn’t like the frogs, either. But you do, right, Princess?”

Link would not tell Manny Lasli loved fireflies. Because she actually did, and he wouldn’t inflict Manny on anyone for real.

“I know you like them.”

…Link didn’t appreciate that tone in Manny’s voice. Not that he knew what it was, exactly.

He just didn’t like it.

He didn’t like Zelda’s silence either.

He stood and padded barefoot over the grass to try and peek out the flap.

“W- eh- ll. I- suppose I- do like frogs-“

“I have a hundred for you, Princess. Do you want them?”

Link really didn’t like that tone of voice.

“U- ahem. Do you mean the frogs?”

NOT ONE BIT.

Link shoved at the flap, too high-alert to be happy it didn’t resist him. He grabbed the edge with both hands and stuck his head out.

He found himself looking at Zelda’s midriff.

“AaaaaAAAAAAHHHH!” Manny screamed, and he wasn’t the only one.

Several things happened in quick succession.

People and cuccos scattered (Link could hear them), something hit the ground hard and rattled, and several doors slammed open against their stops.

“ARE THOSE DAMN SKELETONS BACK?!”

“It’s daytime, dad!”

“Heavens, Princess, what are you wearing?!”

“MY LAUNDRY!”

“Princess!!! There’s an animal in your pocket!!”

Zelda’s arms shot out above Link’s head. “Oh! No, it’s—" a number of crickets landed on her midsection. “Oh, my,” she said, hers the calmest voice in earshot as Link tried to figure out how to turn his head the right way.

“MANNY WHAT THE HELL, MAN?!”

“BLEHHHHGHGHGHHHH BUGS!” (A door slammed shut).

Someone was shrieking high on the letter ‘E’ as Link, with a great deal of confusion, managed to twist around and see the street.

It didn’t help.

Manny was trying to scoop crickets out of the air and fling them back in the wood-and-mesh cage he’d kept them in, its latch flopping around. The appearance of Link’s eyeballs knocked him back onto his hindquarters with a strange cry, almost as hard as if Link had punched him physically. The cage landed lopsided—which was probably what happened a few seconds ago, too—and crickets streamed outward.

Ivee seemed every bit as terrified of Link’s disembodied head as she’d been of the potential pocket-critter and then some. One of her knees rose and crossed her body as she squealed, dropping her broom.

Her father managed to make a wide-eyed scowl at Link. “What in Hylia’s green hills?! Link?!”

Manny panted, gulped, and leaned forward. “L- Link, man. It is you.” He then looked from Link to the pocket below him, and up to Zelda’s face, an idea clearly forming.

“You-“ Link said, waggling a finger at him- “and me- we’re having a talk. Soon. Got it?”

For some reason Manny grinned wide. “Got it,” he said with a wink.

Link was confused, but he’d take it for now. “Good!” He twisted up to see Zelda. “Hi,” he said. A cricket landed on his forehead.

Zelda shook with laughter. “Hello, Link. Any jostling?”

“Not a thing!”

“Excellent. Well. Shall we continue?” she asked, shooing his cricket away.

“Depends,” Link said. “Do you actually want those frogs?”

Zelda shook her head. “It is far too many frogs. Manny?”

“Y- yes, Princess?”

“You ought to return those hot-footed frogs to the wild where you found them, though keeping a few would be alright. I have enough in here already.”

“E-enough?” Manny stuttered as Link leaned out to see just how many frogs there were and where the heck he was keeping them.

The sticky frog on Link’s back made its bid for freedom.

It launched through the air with a loud croak and landed on Ivee’s hip.

She shrieked, flapping her shirt wildly in attempt to fling it off. Link moved reflexively to yank himself out and recover the frog. Instead, Zelda toppled as Link simply appeared, connected to her leg. They landed in a heap, Zelda on top, with her face in Link’s hair and Link’s legs still dangling in the other-dimensional space.

“I got heavy again, didn’t I?” Link said to the dirt.

Zelda nodded in his hair.

“I’ll get you a new frog,” Link offered.

“No need,” she said, having turned her head to rest it on Link, watching Ivee quiver in fear as the blue terror slowly scaled her torso. “It’s not going anywhere.”

Link rotated his face to look Manny in the eye. “Seriously. You’re still trying this? What do you do, wait by the village entrance and offer critters to everyone who passes you?”

Manny leaned forward conspiratorially. “Only the hot babes,” he whispered.

Link groaned and put his face back into the dirt.

It was better.

“Here you are, Link,” Zelda said, passing him yet another apple.

Not that he wouldn’t take it, but wow, she wanted him to eat today, didn’t she?

“Thanks, Zel!” He grabbed it and made extremely short work of it. He tried to shove the core in his own pouch again, wrinkling his nose when it just hit bottom and got his hand sticky. “Aw. I keep forgetting.”

Her hand reappeared in the opening as she chuckled. “It must feel strange to suddenly have an ordinary pouch.”

“You bet. Don’t know how I managed before.”

“Well, fret not. You shall have access to your many thousands of odds and ends once you emerge.”

Good thing, too. He’d’ve had some kind of breakdown if bringing his pouch inside THIS pouch had broken his pouch forever.

He had over a dozen omelets in there, to say nothing of a now exceedingly rare undecayed eightfold blade.

It struck him real suddenly why she was feeding him so much. He couldn’t just reach in and pull out a snack like he usually could.

He found himself very warm and fuzzy. He turned his eyes on Zelda, still peering curiously at him. “Thanks, Zelda. You’re… really thoughtful. You know that?”

She blinked at him slowly. “You’re… welcome, Link.”

Link now understood his disembodied appearance in Zelda’s pocket was both an asset and a curse.

Sticking his head out among adults, unexpected? Chaos.

Sticking his head out in the Hateno schoolyard? Also chaos. But the screams were fun-kid-play screams, not screams of abject, world-view-upending terror.

The schoolbell rang.

“Awwww,” Azu said. “We just got started!”

They had, in fact, just started chucking insects, sticks, and chunks of bark into the pocket and watching, fascinated, as they fell sideways upon entering the magical space.

Zelda gave an indulgent chuckle. “I’m sure the frogs will be appreciative of your efforts, and It’s not as though we won’t be back. Go to class!”

The children grumbled a little as they traipsed inside. So did Link’s stomach.

“You know, they fed the frogs, but did I get anything? Nope.”

“Hmm. I imagine that’s because they’d eaten their lunches already.”

“Aww. I wouldn’t take the kids’ lunch.”

Zelda hummed a laugh, her forehead wrinkling slightly. “Are you hungry already?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Truly? It’s not as though we didn’t have our own lunch… and quite a few snacks for you.”

Link shrugged. “Hungry anyway.” She was still… looking at him, but not in the ‘oh look it’s Link, he’s so attractive and I’d like to be back at home in bed right now’ way or the ‘look at Link, he’s so silly, he makes me laugh, he might do something else funny if I keep watching’ way.

He could usually de-code if he studied her hard enough—but right now he had to look partway up her nostrils to do it. “You… have your thoughtful-face on,” he said.

“I’m always thinking,” she said with a smile.

A suspicious smile. “Yeaaaaaah, but sometimes you’re thinking harder.”

She cocked her head, still watching him.

He cocked his, too, with half a grimace on.

Maybe it was the ‘he might do something funny’ face.

It couldn’t hurt to try.

Link spun around, spotting a stick Karin had tossed inside. He snatched it up, looked Zelda right in the eye, and took a nice, hearty chomp.

Her head reared.

“Mmm,” Link said. “Sassafras!”

It tasted like skunky-root-beer-meets-a-whole-box-worth-of-matchheads, but the look on Zelda’s face was worth it.

She only laughed a little, though.

He’d have to up his game.

Either that, or he’d just have to be attractive later.

He chuckled to himself. Why not both?

In the meantime, he had a bunch of items to arrange. Now that Zelda had this pocket, and now that it had frogs in it, and the kids had not only seen it but put stuff in it, they were absolutely going to want to visit the frogs and see all their stuff in use in the frog habitat.

Link sighed, looking at the feeble collection of dead tree matter near the opening.

As if on cue, Zelda reached in, a long, curled section of papery bark in her hand. “Would… you like this, Link?”

“Sure—thanks!” he said. He grabbed it and snatched up the rest, intent on turning the kids’ offerings into a tiny frog village in the corner.

“Link,” Zelda said, her voice carefully nonchalant. “Here’s some oak wood.”

Link arrived at the flap and took it from her. “Oh great, yeah, thanks!” He gave her a huge, excited grin and an eyebrow flash. Then he raised it to his wide-open mouth and stuck it right in.

Zelda swallowed, wide-eyed.

He disappeared to the left again with some small shuffling sounds.

She then heard a crack, and a happy sound from Link.

Zelda began to think frantically.

“H- here you are, Link,” Zelda said.

Link turned from his task to see her hand dangling a scrap of leather into the opening.

He bounded over to her, reaching for the offering. Zelda seemed a bit less happy than he’d have liked, her lips pressed together and held there by her teeth. He looked her over. Then he looked the leather over. Not terrible leather. Not great. Nothing special. Big enough to be a blanket for a frog. He snorted.

He’d stuck a few different kinds of wood in his mouth since the stick made her laugh at least a little, but when she got serious he did, too, going about his construction efforts. A bunch more bark, several sticks, chunks of wood, and a sheet of slate later, here she was handing him leather.

What was he supposed to do with it?

She was watching him so closely!

…Maybe she got serious because he got boring? His mouth pulled in deep on the left. He studied Zelda’s downturned face. Maybe he hadn’t gone big enough. “Look. Do you want to see me eat this? Because I can totally eat the whole thing.” He could, too. He’d eaten way worse.

Her eyes flicked elsewhere, then back to him with a little shimmy of her head.

It was cute.

He smiled.

“No, Link,” she said.

He blew a puff of air out. He’d hoped so. “Just checking.”

She looked so expectant.

What was he missing?

“…Thanks, Zel! Be back in a minute.” He jogged past the tree and out of Zelda’s direct line of vision.

What to do with the leather? Zelda didn’t just do things for no reason. Maybe he should just ask her. But she wasn’t saying anything, so she must think he already knew, so it must be something for the habitat and he must be being dense, and-

Oh.

OH.

He was… really thick sometimes. He smiled to himself.

Of course. He’d even thought it was about big enough to cover a whole frog! It could be a little frog blanket. Or a mat. Or frog armor for a teeny tiny little frog army.

Link’s entire form lit up.

No, no. Zelda was studying the frogs, not playing with them. The kids would play with them.

…It would be so cute.

He sighed. He would resist. Little mats? For the cute little frog houses he’d already made with the sticks and stuff? Sure. He could make frog-tents, too. It was always light in the habitat. They probably needed someplace dark they could go hide in sometimes. Yes!

Link got to work, realizing pretty quickly he didn’t have all the tools he needed. He wandered back to the flap.

“Hey, Zelda?”

“Yes, Link!”

“I need some thread and some long, thin lengths of leather. And more rectangles of leather. Maybe…” he thought for a moment. “Thirty-six pieces.”

She stared at him. “Thirty-six?”

“Yep. Just to be safe.”

I am extremely concerned that Hylian mental status is negatively affected by enclosure within my cargo shorts’ lower-right pocket, Zelda wrote in her research journal.

As Link expressed his hunger despite his frankly gargantuan intake of food, I recalled that items retrieved from Link’s pouch emerge exactly as they went in. Food does not spoil. Vegetation does not wither. Animals do not perish. And indeed, nothing has occurred to harm the frogs we’ve placed in the habitat for study. Yet one would think if time stood still, they would not hop (etc.). Clearly, whatever magic occurs is complex.

I would be merely curious rather than concerned had Link not proceeded to eat sassafras wood (notably unhealthy). Indeed, for each piece of wood I passed to him after that, he thanked me profusely. He then appeared to develop an insatiable craving for soft leather! Is he unable to appease his hunger if he enters in a hungry state? And was Link willing to eat these items because he was truly that hungry, or has the space had an effect on his thinking?

I oughtn’t allow him to go back in. It took a good deal of convincing to get him to come out. He insisted he ‘wasn’t finished.’ I had to lower a rope in and ask him to climb it to test the effect of our gravity vs. that of the gravity within the pocket as he climbed. I was quite relieved when he agreed.

“Morning, Zel!” Link chimed from the kitchen—Zelda had made her way partially down the steps to the alluring aroma of honeyed flapjacks.

“Good morning, Link,” she said, her smile a little more tired than it should have been considering her large amount of sleep. She breathed deep. “That smells delic…ious.”

Zelda stared at the low table along the far wall. “Link?”

“Yep?”

“What are those?”

Link followed her gaze. “Oh! Yeah, the leather was a really good idea. I’ll bring those ones in with me today.”

She blinked, shaking her head. “You… what?”

“Into the pocket today,” Link said, flipping one of the pancakes. A few dark spots revealed wildberries embedded in it. “I’ll bring them in with me.”

“Link- I… was thinking perhaps you shouldn’t go in there today.”

“Huh? Why not?”

“Well, for one thing we’ve other concerns. We are overdue for our visit to Rito Village. I know Tulin has been anxious to discuss his Zonai stone, and we shouldn’t put that off for any of our modern-day sages. There ought to be- some manner of succession, or-“

“Zel,” Link said, a quizzical look on his face as he slid the honey and blackberry flatcake onto a plate. “This… is nothing new, and none of them are…” he shrugged, waving his pan and his spatula- “old, or… sick, or anything. It can totally wait.”

“It’s not as though the pockets can’t wait.”

“Zel, you literally just started testing them out yesterday.” He squinted at her. “You were worried about just keeping frogs in there without understanding how the fake environment would affect them. Right?” He waited.

“Well… yes.”

“And they just plain old don’t like our little L-shaped pond thing. Right?”

“…They do not seem to particularly enjoy it, no.”

“Because they leave.”

“Yes.”

“So you can’t just take the little guys out and put them in our pond.”

“Not if I expect to see them again.”

“And you like frogs.”

“They are fascinating,” she said. “Not that other creatures aren’t – they certainly are – but, at least in our time, their effects on speed, strength, and stamina were poorly understood, though of course we can make some elixirs from them, and now with these sticky frogs having sprung from the caverns opened in the upheaval, there is so much more to learn. It’s not even just the frogs, it’s-“

She stopped at the huge, dimpled smile on his face.

“What is it?”

“You,” he said. He replaced the pan on the wood stove and dolloped some batter in it—then he circled the table and wrapped her up in his arms. “I love how curious you are,” he said.

“Even after all that time,” he said, far more quietly.

She’d snuggled into him, but his tone had her pulling back, examining his face; his smile had vanished. She traced his lips with an unthinking fingertip. “Link…”

He tried and failed to smile under her touch.

She stroked the subtle hollow of his cheek. It disturbed her a little that he even had a hollow of his cheek, with all the food he took in. He never used to. He’d had rounded cheeks, always.

“Sorry,” he said. “It hits me sometimes… how long you waited. For me. Because I-“ he swallowed. “Because I missed.”

She shook her head and crushed him to her, pressed his face to her shoulder. “No, Link. No. Truly. It wasn’t like that. It was as though…. a long dream.”

He nodded against her. She’d told him before—many times—yet it continued to haunt him, evidenced by moments like this. Sometimes she thought he didn’t believe her.

Sometimes she suspected hethought about it far more than he let on—wondered if the occasions on which he acted strangely were fueled, somehow, by that fall of hers into blackness and its consequences.

Not for Hyrule. He’d saved that.

But she’d spent eons and eons so very far not only from him, but from her own consciousness—and self-recrimination kept surfacing within him for it.

Zelda thought of his months-long korok obsession. Of his need to have hundreds upon hundreds of ‘seeds,’ and that need utterly overriding his usual (over)protectiveness of her, even to the point of him going when she specifically requested he stay.

There had been no pocket to affect his thinking, then. Perhaps an oddity of the flow of time had nothing to do with his behavior.

She worried at her lip and thought of the scraps of leather lined up on the table partway behind her. “…Link?” she asked.

“Yeah, Zel?”

His voice sounded thick.

She stroked his hair and took a deep breath. “What is the leather for?”

His eyelashes fluttered against her skin. He lifted his head to look at her. “Frog tents.”

“…Frog tents?”

“And mats and blankets, and I was thinking of making cute little sets of leather frog armor, but I figured that was just me being a little bored and not actually something that would spruce up the habitat, though the kids would sure enjoy it. Maybe we should get them to make some.”

Zelda breathed a sigh of relief. “You-“ she shut her mouth. Should she say something?

“Zelda?”

She smiled, her thoughts turning. “Link- you… you worried me yesterday. Considerably.”

He looked nonplussed. “I did? How?”

She gave him a look, then patted his shoulders—he released her. She walked over to her hung shorts. She reached into one of the storage pockets and removed a birch branch.

She returned to Link and held it out to him expectantly.

He just stared at her. He flicked his eyes to the branch once. Then he stared some more. “Uh.”

“What… would you do with this if I gave it to you?” she asked.

Link scratched the back of his head. “I mean… usually I’d whack a bokoblin with it- ONLY if it was red, mind you. But now with the pond, I could give it to the frogs like all the other stuff.”

She blinked at him. “You could… what?”

“Yeah, I can arrange it around the pond- well… it’s really in the corner, I didn’t want to put it right next to the water. It looks pretty neat already but it’s not even close to finished yet. It’ll be like a little frog village. Little log seats and tents, and an itty bitty frog campfire for them to sit at, and little mats for them to sleep on, and…” he trailed off at the look on her face. “What?”

“You haven’t been eating these?”

He stared at her.

Then he burst out laughing. “What?!”

She spread her arms wide. “You have been- taking bites of wood, and bark, and even rocks—though granted this is not the first time I’ve seen you eat rock-“

“Salt’s a rock.”

“That is beside the point, Link, the darling, obtuse love of my life.” She gripped his shirt with two fists and put some of her weight on them. It made him lean over with a bit of a droll smile on his face. “You were displaying- extraordinarily odd behavior once more. Please, please, explain your actions if not to sate your seemingly inexhaustible hunger while inside the pocket?”

“You thought I was eating wood because I was too hungry?”

“Of course!”

He huffed a laugh. “Why wouldn’t I just ask you for actual food?”

“I wondered the same thing!”

“You could’ve asked me why.”

She blinked, drawn up short.

His thumbs drew gentle shapes on her biceps. His eyes wandered all over her features. One eyelid twitched just slightly more shut. “Why didn’t you ask?” His voice had softened so much.

Her mouth opened and shut, her fingertips on his face again. She made a study of his features with them, moving from place to place.

Link’s nostrils flared a second before she noticed the burning smell.

“Sh-!” he leapt almost comically over the table (comically except that he was Link, so the leap itself was graceful and perfectly executed to place him directly in front of the stove). “Ahhh, this happens so much…” He flipped the offending flapjack with a flick of his wrist. The underside was, indeed, rather burnt, but she knew he’d finish cooking it anyway.

He didn’t turn around.

His shoulder blades shifted as he jiggled the pan.

Zelda circled the table, arriving at his side, his nearer hand still on the pan’s handle. “Link?”

His face turned toward her, and while he showed no outward sign of tears, she knew that face on him. They weren’t far off.

She caressed his bicep, his hairline where his head and neck met. “What is it?”

He half-laughed, shutting his eyes and leaning into the hand at his neck, just for a moment. “You tell me. You… didn’t answer my question.”

Her cheek came to a slow rest at his shoulder, her eyes on his, at a loss to explain. She didn’t know where to start.

Her silence seemed to hurt him, almost bodily. He winced. He moved the pan onto a thick potholder. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut. He took a few deep breaths before returning his eyes to hers.

“Well, you wanted to know what I was doing, so… I was just trying to make you laugh. At first, I mean.” His smile was very, very weak. “The joke didn’t land, huh?”

Her eyes had widened a little. “I.. thought-“

“It’s okay,” he said. A small smirk touched his face. “I’m funnier when I’m not trying.”

A small laugh puffed out her nose.

“Oh ho! Yeah, see? I thought so.”

“I am sorry, Link. I thought it was hunger because you were simply insatiable all morning.”

He flashed his eyebrows twice.

She giggled. “That is not what I meant.”

He smiled anyway.

“You devoured breakfast, lunch, and every other piece of food I passed to you while you were in there!”

He shook a little in a laugh, though his face remained far less than jovial. “How is this unusual?”

“Do you realize how much food it was?”

“OH yeah.”

“And you were still hungry?”

“I’m always hungry. I can literally always eat.”

“You say that, but your stomach must be of limited size.”

Link shrugged.

“I’d begun to wonder if I the space you were in was affecting you.”

“Well, again… I don’t understand why you didn’t just ask me.”

The shadow she’d been seeing in him became all the more obvious.

“Link… you always say you’re alright.”

He shrugged. “I always am.”

“No, you are not,” she blurted, surprising even herself. “Link… I see it in you.” She pressed her hands to his face, cradling him. “You’ve not been- you’ve never been the same since I came back,” she said, almost whispering. “I see it there, in your eyes- and more than that. It’s a change in your entire body, your full self. Yet you always insist you’re alright. I do not ask because-“ she just realized it herself- “you would not tell me truthfully.”

She could see him floundering, but her mouth would not stop. “You have been acting strangely. For months, you were collecting korok- seeds- with such fervor, willing to leave me for long stretches of time, which had up to that point been quite unusual for you—and you refused to tell me what that was about, too. And then-“ she snapped her fingers- “nothing. No more.” She softened at the odd twitching which appeared in his left cheek—she’d no wish to come across as harsh—she simply could not contain it any longer. “Your night excursions worried me at first, too, and then especially when you mentioned the forest.”

“But,” he cut in, “you know what it was about now, right?”

“Yes, obviously now I know,” she said.

He shook his head, then cocked it strangely at her. More quizzical than she’d ever seen him be—there was another word for it. She couldn’t quite place it, perhaps because she’d never seen it on his face.

“So… why are you… still worried?” he asked.

She ducked, seeking his eyes from below. “How can you not know?”

He splayed his hands wide, face up, shaking his head. “I- don’t!”

“Link. You spent months feverishly collecting pellets of korok dung!”

He blinked. A lot.

Then he looked somewhere straight above Zelda’s head.

“Oh,” she sighed, her face in her hands. “I- I am sorry, Link, it was obvious you didn’t know, and that in and of itself wasn’t my concern. Why- why collect them in the first place? Even if they were seeds in the literal sense?”

Link groaned. Then he grabbed her biceps and rested his forehead on hers with a flabbergasted smile. “Wow. Wow. Okay, so, yeah, I didn’t know they were turds. Holy Hylia, I could kill Hestu.”

“Who is Hestu?”

Link shook his head. “Tell you later. No, you know what? I’ll introduce you later. We can shake the maraca tree together.”

Zelda opened her mouth, but Link shushed her with his fingerpad on her lips. “I get it. Why you thought I was nuts. Because that’s what this is about, right? You thought I was losing it, so you didn’t want to ask me, because of course if I was really insane I wouldn’t know anyway, so the answer doesn’t matter. Does that about sum it up?”

Her eyes welled with tears.

“Hey- hey- no, no no no, please. Don’t cry.” He kissed both her eyelids with a loving smile. “Yeah, I’d’ve thought you were losing it if you were collecting feces without it being some kind of study.”

She burst into a tearful giggle. “But not if it were a study.”

“No, pff! Of course not. You’ve studied nastier things. But that’s kind of my point. Like- I really thought I had given the game totally away when I told you I didn’t have enough seeds.”

“I… don’t understand.”

“Did I never tell you this?? Hestu- who you will meet- is the guy who does the magic to expand the pockets. And you have to pay him in korok seeds to do it.”

“What?!”

“Yeah!”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“That’s absurd!”

“He’s a trickster. Now I know!”

“What would he possibly want them for?”

“His maracas.”

“His what?!”

“His maracas! He sticks them inside and shakes them around and does this ridiculous dance and BOOM—expanded pockets! He can even make spaces within the spaces which is how I can keep all my swords separate, and my bows, and… and…”

He must have seen the look on her face.

“So…” she said, “if anyone is mad, it is this Hestu.”

Link snorted. “I sure hope so. Because if not, then it’s still me who’s lost his hold on reality.”

Zelda smiled at him. “I would love you anyway.”

He took his time folding her into his arms. “I know.”

“I… am still surprised you were willing to leave me for such long stretches of time. I was becoming lonely. At least, now, I know the entire ordeal was with the aim of creating a truly spectacular pair of shorts.”

He shook with silent laughter against her. “Yeah. Though… I was also trying to leave you alone.”

Her arms pressed him extra-tightly for a beat of her pulse. “Why?”

Two puffs of air exited him quick, fluttering the hair near her temple. “Because it’s been so hard to.”

The shadow in his eyes had risen to the surface, bared for her.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said, soft, her lips near his, her eyes treating each of his to touch after touch of her sincerity.

Link cupped her face and kissed her, his lips a bare brush, a gift of pure emotion, nothing taken. “It was. Shhh- I know. I know what you’d say, but it was my fault. I dropped. And it wasn’t because I couldn’t stand. It was because-“ a disgusted laugh left him- “it hurt.”

“Link,” she said, aghast. “The gloom killed your arm while still upon your body! It took even your shoulder. You were in agony-“

“But I could have stayed standing.” The loathing in his unfocused stare found her shrinking, though she knew it directed toward himself. “It would’ve saved me about half a second. When you fell. And I’d have caught you. As it was, I felt the air from your fingers as I missed.”

She couldn’t stop shaking her head, touching his face, his hair. “Please. Please, my love, do not do this to yourself. Do you not see…?“ She straightened. “You do. You do see. For if you didn’t, you would never be willing to leave me alone for a single instant of the rest of my life, ever. Yet you already have. You’ve intentionally forced yourself to do so. And why?”

His eyes shut under her hands’ ministrations. “Because I don’t want to drive you nuts.”

She nodded, her forehead against his so he could feel it despite his shuttered eyelids. “Which means you recognize constant, incessant vigilance is unreasonable. And if it is unreasonable under normal circumstances, it is certainly unreasonable in the case of an agonizing injury—one single moment in relation to it, and that is all.” She kissed his cheek. “It is not. Your. Fault.”

A tear met the bow of her lip.

“Oh, Link,” she said, kissing it away.

“It feels like it is,” he said on nearly no air, his diaphragm having already crushed the rest from him.

She took him against her shoulder as he shook. Saltwater jumped in fits and starts between the peach fuzz at the nape of her neck. She stroked his hair. “I know,” she said. “I know it does. We will work on this together, Link. Alright? When you feel this way, please speak to me.”

He nodded against her, the movement slowed by a nuzzle.

“And also… I do not at all mind you being my barnacle.”

A laugh burst from his mouth, cooling the freshly laid tracks of moisture on her.

“Please,” she chuckled. “Do so as much as you wish. In fact, do so even more, for I enjoy the unique sensation of my strides riding entirely upon yours.”

“You got it,” he said, his hand running warm over her back, as though he were the one comforting her.

She returned the gesture.

When Link recovered enough for his stomach to rumble, she insisted he sit. She served him the one flapjack he’d successfully cooked. She made the rest, and she did quite a good job of it, too (though in fairness, Link had already prepared the batter—by far the trickier part of the task).

They ate on the same side of the table, always touching. While Link had been right—she did want to study the pond-pocket carefully, and sooner rather than later—the day's priorities had changed. She decided to forego her investigation in favor of bed, where Link enthusiastically joined her.

Late at night, Link burst to wakefulness, shooting upright with a cry.

“Whhhhfauuha?” Zelda said, bleary.

“They’re all in on it!” Link said in horror. “Every last one of them. Every single korok.” The look he turned on Zelda might’ve been lucid.

Or he might’ve been sitting up in his sleep.

She just laid the flat of her forearm on his chest and pushed him down, snuggling back up to sleep. He didn’t resist.

“Hi, Hestu,” Link said, his smile completely relaxed.

“Link! It’s good to see you. Did you bring any more seeds for me?”

Link’s smile widened. “Actually, today I brought the Princess to see you.”

“The PRINCESS?! Shakala!!!” Hestu waved his maracas in a ponderous mockery of semaphore.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Hestu,” Zelda said. “Now please, in no uncertain terms, explain precisely why you manipulated Link into delivering thousands upon thousands of korok droppings to you in exchange for your inventory expansion services.”

The maracas went utterly still.

Zelda’s smile remained pleasant.

“Mmmm?” rumbled the Deku Tree’s voice. “What has my grandson been doing?”

Hestu remained balanced on a single, awkward, stubby leg, maracas-out, his only movement a slight shivering of the leaves in his branches. Then something hit the ground with a deep thump.

“I- I’ll be right back!” Hestu said, his wood-moustache shivering as he scampered with all the grace of a land-manatee down the path toward Mido Swamp.

Link stepped forward, feet shoulder-width apart, eyes groundward. He nodded with a sniff.

“What is it?” Zelda asked.

Link tilted his head. “Well. You know that saying about shitting bricks?”

Zelda peered curiously past him. “Oh. My.”

“Yeah.”

“Well.” She clasped her hands. “Perhaps we should collect it.”

Link took an extremely long moment to turn and look at her.

The corner of her mouth twitched.

Link burst into relieved laughter.

“I couldn’t resist,” Zelda said.

#zelink #tears of the kingdom #totk #post-game #post-totk #legend of zelda #loz #fanfic #romantic comedy #humor #fluff #hurt/comfort #midna's merry mixup #established relationship #link's house above tarrey town #frogs #a little unhinged at ponts

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noona-is-afk · 4 hours

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I feel like Lovely Runner might ruin me for all other rom com dramas

Like the acting? Phenomenal. Everyone cast is giving their best performance of their careers. I already love Byeon Woo Seok and Kim Hye Yoon in all their other dramas. But they are somehow outdoing themselves again?!

The directing? Insane. Giving me heart palpitations with all the slow mo and symmetry to past scenes. The blue and yellow colours throughout are so gorgeous. Some of these shots will live in my head rent free forever.

The writing? Making me unwell. Truly. The parallels in every scene. The deep, sincerity in talking about mental health. The fact that I’m invested in the murder plot? Truly a feat unmatched. The pacing is so good too, every episode makes me excited for the next.

I’m just enjoying my time so very much. I’m so glad we’re only half way through, I need moreeee. But how the hell am I supposed to cope once this over?!

#also please give me more of the OST I need it #full music videos #I need to see my boy Sun Jae dancing around like a cutie #spoilers #lovely runner #also I’ve seen True beauty and this is miles better #like this writer pls give me more now #I trust you with my life #byeon woo seok #kim hye yoon

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thetarttfuldickhead · 1 year

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“Coach, I know that you have me best interests at heart, or the club’s anyway.”

I’m sorry, do you mean to tell me that Jamie will

a, uncomplainingly forgo a wild night out with the team to train right after having played an entire game of football

b, allow Roy to take his bad mood out on him

c, patiently and goddamned gently teach Roy to ride a bicycle in spite of aforementioned bad mood

and d, sincerely apologize for being a dick himself

even though he still isn’t sure that Roy cares about him on a personal level? Even though he apparently still believes that Roy training him is primarily or even solely for the benefit of Richmond?

Um. I am unwell, truly I am. Jamie Tartt.

Just. Jamie fucking Tartt.

#jamie tartt #roy kent #3x06 #ted lasso #my stuff

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goldenempyrean · 9 months

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A Luthor's Vulnerability

〚 Notes - Hello, hello! So @ekowolf (I hope you don't mind the tag) requested to do a pt2 to this fic with some Kara and Alex looking after Lena which I thought was a super cute idea so I hope this suffices :D 〛

〚 Pairing - Supercorp 〛

〚 Summary - It's the day after the conference and Lena isn't feeling any better so Kara takes it upon herself (with some extra help) to look after her. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 1500 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

〘 Part 1 〙

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When Lena woke up the next day she was in bed, not where she had previously fallen asleep on the sofa the previous night and judging by the sleeping blonde nuzzled into her side she deduced that Kara had carried her here.

She tried to sit up but stopped at the overwhelming woozy feeling nestling in her head, even just moving sent the room orbiting around her. Lena let out a soft groan, feeling the throbbing ache in her head intensify. She winced, trying to remember what had happened the night before, but everything was a blurry haze. All she remembered if that the press confer-

Oh god. The conference?! Ignoring the jolt of aches it sent through her, Lena quickly sat upright and reached over to the nightstand and grabbed her phone from the charger (again, she had Kara to thank for that) before frantically googling her name followed by CatCo. 

To her surprise the majority of articles and news reports which appeared weren’t slandering her name, mocking her or even criticising her judgement. Instead they were sympathetic, highlighting her dedication to work despite clearly being unwell.

As Lena scrolled through the articles, she couldn't help but let out a small sneeze. It was followed by another, and then a third, each one making her feel more miserable. She felt Kara stir beside her, and with a soft groan, the blonde slowly opened her eyes.

“Lena? You okay?” She mumbled, rubbing her eyes as she sat up beside the ravenette.

She nodded, “Kara, it’s fine now. I’m fine now.” Her attempt at dismissing her concerns may have been a little more convincing if she hadn’t trailed off into a couple of raspy coughs which had ultimately upset her sinuses and sent her sneezing loudly down into elbow.

"Bless you, you're such a fibber Lena, you can’t fool me.” Kara sighed as she raised her hand to Lena's forehead to check her temperature. “Still really warm and coming from me that’s not a good thing, we should get you some medicine.”

Lena hesitated, her stubbornness wrestling with her weariness. "You don’t need to. I'm used to taking care of myself, Kara. I've never had anyone look after me when I was sick," she admitted, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

Lillian certainly wasn’t a good mother. Sure, when her darling, prized Lex was ill, she’d be sure to swarm him with affection and love, but for Lena? Hell no. She’d be given a box of tissues and be told to deal with it silently. There was no room for weakness in the Luthor household. As such, she’d leant to fend for herself, but just because she could do it, didn’t mean she was good at it. It was only a few years ago that she’d neglected herself to the point of developing pneumonia and even still, she’d worked through it.

Kara's concern softened her gaze as she gently cupped Lena's flushed cheek. "You don't have to go through this alone anymore, sweetheart. I want to take care of you, so please, let me?" Kara's warmth and sincerity melted the walls Lena had built around herself and the Luthor rested her head against her shoulder.

As Lena leaned into Kara's comforting embrace, she felt a sense of relief wash over her, finally allowing herself to be vulnerable with someone who genuinely cared for her well-being. It was so different from what she had been previously been through but it felt amazing. Kara smiled softly, brushing a few strands of hair away from Lena's forehead.

"Okay, maybe I don’t feel the best.” Lena gave in, muffling a cough into her elbow sharply.

Kara's tender touch extended to Lena's back as she guided her to lie down comfortably, making sure her frame was supported with a pillow, "I know you don’t love so just rest for a moment, and I'll get you some medicine and warm tea," Kara said with a reassuring smile before leaving her with a soft kiss as she left the room briefly.

As Lena lay there, she couldn't help but feel touched by Kara's caring nature. It was such a contrast to the cold and distant environment she had grown up in. Her thoughts were rudely interrupted by a sudden tickle in her nose, and before she could react, a loud sneeze escaped her, followed by another one.

"Bless you," Kara said as she returned with a cup of hot tea, medicine and a box of tissues. "Looks like you're in need of these."

Lena chuckled softly, feeling a little embarrassed. "Thanks Kara, you’re so good to me.”

Despite taking the medicine as the day progressed, Lena's fever continued to rise, leaving her feeling weaker and more miserable. She was shivering one moment and sweating the next, her body seemingly unable to regulate its temperature. Kara could see the distress in Lena's eyes, and her heart ached at just how helpless she was in the situation.

So, she gave in and did the only thing left, Kara waited until her exhausted girlfriend had fallen back asleep before picking up her phone and dialling Alex’s number.

“Hey Kara.” The warm, familial voice already made her feel reassured.

“Alex, Lena’s fever still won’t go down and it’s been hours, and I read on Web MD that that’s really bad and I don’t want her brain to melt or I-“ Kara spilled out into a hopeless ramble before being cut off by a small laugh on the other side of the phone, “Alex- Alex, why are you laughing at me? This is serious.”

“Kara, honey. Lena’s gonna be fine. She probably just has the Flu or something. First of all, don’t ever look on the internet for advice, it’d tell you that you ‘likely need brain surgery’ for a simple headache.” Alex explained, easing her sister’s worries, “But if her fever won’t break then she probably needs a stronger medicine, do you want me to come round and drop one off?”

The blonde felt her nerves relax a little, “That’d be amazing, thank you.”

About an hour or so later, Alex arrived at the apartment holding two small white carrier bags. Kara opened the door for her and welcomed her in with a hug with was warmly returned before the pair put the bags on the table.

“There’s some medicine in here and some of those gel patches things which go on your forehead, that should help a little.” She explained before handing the other bag to Kara, “I bought some soup as well from the place you both like, it just needs reheating. There's potstickers in there for you too because I’m guessing you haven’t eaten today.”

Kara’s eyes lit up at the mention potstickers, “Oh my god, Alex you’re amazing.” She excitedly blurted before going over to the microwave to reheat the soup, she could’ve used her heat vision but the last thing she wanted to do was make it to hot and burn her poor girlfriend.

As Kara waited for the soup, Alex went to go check up on Lena in the other room.

“Hey you,” Alex kept her voice soft, being mindful of the headache she probably had as she came to sit on the edge of the bed where she was laid, “Kara said you’re not feeling well, how are you feeling?”

“Shitty.”

Alex laughed at her stark response, “Yeah I can see that, I brought some stuff round for you, Kara’s just reheating the soup.” 

Lena managed a weak smile at Alex's presence. "Thanks Alex, I feel terrible, but Kara's taking good care of me, but she did ask me earlier if I felt ‘like your brain is going to drip out’ so I think this is a new leap for her.”

Alex shook her head as she tried to hide her smile, “Yeah that sounds like her. But as far I can see your brains haven’t leaked out all over the pillows, so I think you’ll be okay.” She said, ignoring Lena’s protests when she began cleaning up the mess of crumpled tissues and cough-drop wrappers littering the bed, “We just need to get your fever settled.” 

As if on cue, Kara came in with a small tray, Lena’s soup and the medicine sat neatly on it. “Alex brought some supplies.” She said, shooting her sister an appreciative look, “Can you sit up for me darling?” Kara asked as she came to sit beside Lena, settling the tray on her knees.

Lena mustered a small smile, touched by Kara's caring nature. She took a spoonful of soup and slowly sipped it, feeling the warmth spread through her body. "This is so good.” She murmured softly before sipping another spoonful, “Thanks you two, really, I’ve never been treated like this before.”

Alex gave her a reassuring smile. "Well, get used to it, because Kara and I are here for you now. We're family, and family takes care of each other."

〖 Join My Taglist! 〗 @natashamaximoff69 @lovelyy-moonlight @santana1437 @kljhsong @inluvwithfictionalwomen @shamelessbearunknown @kathleenmikaelson @bloomingflowersthings @observeowl @scrambled-brain-eggs @natashamyl0ve @somber-sapphic @poison-blackheart @lexasaurs634

#supercorp #lena luthor x kara zor el #lena luthor x kara danvers #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #sickfic #fluff #whump #comfort #lena luthor #alex danvers #kara danvers #kara zor el #lena luthor sickfic #supergirl sickfic #supergirl fluff

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theweightofakiteofdreamsingold · 9 months

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Torn II - Jacob Kiszka

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, mature themes, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, language, MINORS DNI.

A/N: Sorry it took me so long. 🫣 I wasn’t gonna do smut, but I’m a whore, so it’s inevitable. I hope you all enjoy. ♥️

✨Bajabule✨

-Ken

“Jake stop!!!!! I can’t breathe!!!” Your giggles filled the room as Jake pinned you down, tickling your sides.

“Then say it!” A grin painted his face as he watched you wiggle and squirm, trying to escape.

“Okay, okay, OKAY!!!! YOU’RE THE GREATEST HUNGRY HUNGRY HIPPOS PLAYER TO EVER EXIST!” Tears were spilling from your eyes, and your sides were aching from laughing so hard. He took mercy on you, letting his hands fall to his sides.

“See? Was that so hard?” He leaned down, giving your nose a light peck before climbing off of you. You stayed on the floor, your chest rising and falling rapidly, trying to catch your breath. A few stray giggles escaped you as you remembered the torture his fingers and put you through.

After a few minutes, you felt more pulled-together. As soon as you sat up, you felt it. A wave of nausea rushed over you like a wildfire. You hopped up and raced to the bathroom with Jake hot on your heels.

“Honey, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

The concern in his voice made your heart flutter. You wanted to tell him he did nothing wrong, but you knew you’d puke if you tried to speak. You raised your hand, trying to shake off his worry as you stumbled into the bathroom, swinging the door shut before he had a chance to follow in.

………….

You turned the bathroom faucet on, letting the water soak your toothbrush as you squeezed out a glob of paste. You heard a soft knock. The doorknob rattled as he looked his head in. His eyes, filled with worry, scanned over you before meeting yours. You gave him a weak smile as you brushed your teeth.

“What happened, love?” He rubbed slow circles on your back as his other hand tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

You leaned over the sink, spitting and rinsing out your mouth. You wiped your mouth with the hand towel hanging on a hook next to the sink.

“I don’t know. Must have been something I ate. I feel fine now.” You shrugged, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

His eyes bore into yours, his eyebrows scrunched.

“Jake, I promise. I’m okay.” You smiled and lifted your hands to his chest, pushing him gently.

A smile played at the corner of his lips as he stepped back and let you move past him, out of the bathroom. Once you made your way back into the living room, your bottom lip jutted out in a little pout, seeing the game board and boxes no longer on the coffee table. You turned back to him.

“You don’t wanna play more games?”

He filled the space between you and wrapped his arm around your waist.

“I just thought we should rest. I can make you some soup and we can watch a movie.” He kissed your forehead before guiding you to the couch.

“But Jake, I said….” He held up his hand stopping your sentence.

“Let me take care of you. Please.” His face was sincere and pleading.

You could tell he was worried. He always worried when you were unwell, and he always tried his best to nurse you back to health. He was so gentle and caring to the ones he loved. You knew there was no use in protesting any further. You sighed and pulled the fluffy blanket draped over the back of the couch over your shoulders.

Satisfied with your compliance, Jake handed you the remote before turning toward the kitchen.

……….

The bed sank under your weight as you laid down, the exhaustion hitting you after you finished your soup. Jake laid next to you, his arms open and awaiting you to fill them. You snuggled into him, your head resting on his chest. His arms wrapped around you, making you feel warm and safe.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, just above a whisper.

“I’m feeling much better. Dr. Jake’s famous, healing chicken noodle soup has done it again.”

He let out a huff of air from his nose. You let your hands wander over his chest and stomach. He was so firm, yet soft. Your fingers brushed his side, over his ribs, making him shiver and sigh. He was leaving for the band’s Starcatcher World Tour in a few days, and you were overcome by the sadness of him going. Tears stung your eyes, a few letting loose and forming puddles on his skin.

He placed his hand on your chin, lifting it upwards. His brows scrunched together as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you onto him. You nestled your face into the crook of his neck your silent sobs shook you.

“What’s the matter, dove?” He squeezed you tight.

“I- I just don’t w-want you to leave,” you stuttered out through your tears.

“Oh, honey.” He pulled you up so you straddled him, a soft smile on his lips. “It’s only a week until you fly out and stay with me. And then you’ll be with me until it ends.”

A few more tears streamed down your face, collecting on your chin. He reached a hand up, brushing them away. You nodded and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“I know. I- I don’t know why I’m so upset.” You sniffed, trying to push away the sadness.

He pulled you down into him, his lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss.

“Let me help ease your mind,” he whispered, pulling away.

He flipped you over so you were laying under him. He kissed your cheek, making a trail down your neck to you collarbone. You sighed into him, closing your eyes. He slid his body down yours until he was resting between your legs. He pushed your sweatshirt up until your bare breasts bounced free. A low groan escaped him as his fingers found a nipple. He rolled it between his pointer finger and thumb, pulling softly.

You whined, looking down at him. With his eyes on yours, he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. You arched into his touch, making him smile.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart?” He scattered kisses along your torso.

You nodded your head, wiggling your hips under him. He laughed faintly before removing his hand from your hardened nipple and resting it on the lace top of your panties. He hooked his finger under them, pulling them down delicately. He kissed every inch of your mound as he uncovered it, making you feel loved and worth savoring. Once your panties were at the top of your thighs, he let his tongue slip through your folds, teasing your clit with a quick flick.

“Jacob,” you pleaded, your hands finding his mess of chocolate waves. He looked up at you through his lashes as an innocent smile spread across his face.

He continued sliding your panties down your legs, stopping to suck a pink mark on your inner thigh. As soon as he had them completely off and on the floor, you spread your legs wide for him. He sat up on his heels gazing down at your dripping core.

“I love how messy you get for me.” He laid his stomach between your legs, his hands wrapping around your thighs. His fingers dig into your skin as he leaned into you. His eyes stayed on yours as he stuck out his flattened tongue and ran it from your entrance to your clit. Your eyes rolled back as you let out a sigh.

“You fast so good, baby. Like cherry pie.” He swirled his tongue around your heat before sliding it inside you. A thumb shot to your throbbing clit, making slow circles.

“Jake, oh my god.” Your hands were in fists, gripping the sheets at your sides.

You watched as he slid his tongue in and out of you, fucking you with it while his thumb moved fast over your clit. Your legs shook as you felt the familiar feeling of warmth grow in your belly.

“J-Jake….,” you moaned loudly as your head fell back. “I’m gonna cum.”

You felt him remove his tongue and replace it with his fingers. You lifted your head to protest, but he spoke first.

“I want you to look at me while you cum. I want you to watch your cum coat my tongue.” He licked him lips and leaned in to suck your clit.

You fought the urge to close your eyes as you let out a stream of lustful curses. He flicked the underside of your clit before licking from it back to your entrance, where he slipped back into you. His eyes stayed glued on yours as he fucked into you. He curled his tongue upward with every thrust, hitting your sweet spot. You felt the warmth radiating through your body, making your toes curl.

“Jake, I-.” You were cut off by the fire inside of you exploding. You couldn’t help but close your eyes, riding out your climax on his tongue. Once it started to pass, you collapsed on the bed, your chest heaving.

You felt his touch disappear from between your legs as he moved onto you. His lips me yours in a deep, messy kiss. His tongue licked at yours, letting you taste just how sweet you were. You moaned against him, ghosting your hands down his chest. Your fingers rested on the elastic waistband of his boxer-briefs. They slipped inside just enough that you could feel the small patch of soft hair just above his cock.

He pulled away from you and gently grabbed your wrists. He pulled them up to his mouth, kissing each one. He shook his head and offered you a soft smile.

“Don’t worry about me, baby. I just wanna make you feel good tonight.” He laid beside you and covered you with the blankets. He pulled you into him, his arms wrapping around you.

You wanted to argue about the lack of attention on him, but the energy to do so was gone. Your eyes, heavy with sleep, slowly closed, and you were in a dreamless slumber.

……….

“I don’t know. Kinda sounds like you’re pregnant,” your sister spoke through the phone.

You huffed and rolled your eyes. “I think it’s just the stress of Jake’s tour and trying to get everything ready.” You took a bit of the chicken salad sandwich you’d made for lunch.

It was Sunday, and Jake had gone to the studio to meet up with the rest of the band. Your sister was coming over to keep you company.

“Okay. Well, I’ll be there in fifteen.”

You glanced at the clock hanging on the wall above the fridge. “Alright. The door is open. You can just come in.” You both said your goodbyes and hung up the phone.

As you took another bite of your sandwich, the thought of being pregnant danced in your mind. You weren’t pregnant. You weren’t on birth control, but you and Jake were always careful. Except for that one night about a month ago. You stood up and turned to the calendar on the fridge. It was the 25th. You were almost two weeks late.

Your eyebrows scrunched together as you sat back down at the dining room table. You couldn’t be pregnant. Not now. Not while Jake had so much going on. You tried to shake the thoughts out of your head as you heard the front door open and close.

Your sister appeared in the doorway of the dining room with a brown paper bag. She tossed it on the table in front of you. You picked it up and opened it. Your stomach dropped when you saw the ClearBlue label staring up at you.

“You need to find out,” she said quietly.

You looked up at her with worried eyes. She moved closer to you and grabbed your hand.

“It’ll be okay. I’ll be right outside the door.”

You nodded as you stood up and made you way to the bathroom.

“Put a baby in me.”

“Let me make you a daddy.”

Your words from that night echoed through your mind. Your weren’t serious when you said those things, were you? It had just been something to get Jake hot, hadn’t it? We’re you really ready to have a child?

You stared at yourself in the mirror as you waited for the test to develop. Your mouth was dry, and your stomach was doing backflips. It felt like ages before your phone went off, letting you know the 5 minutes were up.

You took a deep breath before picking up the test and meeting your fate.

……….

Hold on, guys. Y/N is calling. Jake excused himself from the room. He slipped into the hallway of the studio before he answered.

“Hi, baby.” The smile on his lips slowly disappeared as he sensed the worry in your voice. “What’s wrong, honey?” His brows pinched together as he walked a few more feet down the hall.

You were rambling. Saying anything and everything to stall. Your stomach tied itself in knots as you tried to find the words.

“Y/N, you’re not making any sense. Do I need to come home?” He turned around, heading for the studio door, ready to grab his things and leave if you needed him.

“No. Jacob… I’m… I’m pregnant.” You fought back tears, unsure of how he would respond.

He halted his steps, his eyes scanning the hallway as he processed your words.

“Jake?” You whispered.

“That’s wonderful, baby.” The biggest smile he could ever remember having spread over his face.

You exhaled in relief as tears escaped your eyes. You laughed through your sniffles, wrapping an arm around your belly.

Jake leaned against the wall, resting his head back. His heart was so full of love for you and the child you were carrying.

“I love you, girl. More than you’ll ever know.” He laughed into the phone, a tear running down his cheek.

#greta van fleet #greta van smut #greta van fic #starcatcher #gvf #jake gvf #jake kiszka smut #jake kiska fic

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