smallfisheyes

[smallfisheyes]

you pierce link's ears

cw: some mentions of blood.

“Yarna’s daughter said no sewing needles!”

“It’s all I got.” Link shrugs.

You guffaw, snatching the needles from him. "No hollow needles, then no piercings!"

That was two weeks ago.

Even with the correct needles, you’ve never seen yourself frown so deeply. Two hollow needles sit in the bowl of hot water, ready for poking. The tips are so sharp and shiny, perfect for piercing, but you've heard plenty of horror stories of ear piercings gone wrong.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Positive,” Link responds, grinning at his reflection. He eyes the lobes of his ears, already picturing the two piercings he begged and begged for. He flops his head side to side, hair falling with his movements, imagining two blue hoops moving with him. 

This entire excursion feels like a fool’s journey. The air smells sharply of sliced lemons and lavender from Link’s burning incense. Two hollow needles stolen from the resident healer in Hateno Village sit in a bath of boiling water. Sweetly, Link had placed two hooped earrings carved from blue stone into the sauce plate you had handmade for him for his birthday last year; your thumbprints forever pressed into the clay. Now, his new birthday gift was sitting on his old birthday plate.

Even with his reassurance and the eager kicking of his feet, Link’s tooth gap does little to calm the rapid beating of your heart. 

“Okay. Yeah, stupid question.” You shake your hands, head downturned. You fiddle with the clean cloth draped over the back of Link’s chair, frown falling deeper and deeper. 

Your ears were pierced as a baby, but you know it’s supposed to hurt. Your grandmother had told you over and over again how you wailed, how your ears hadn’t healed for months, and that the needle didn’t cleanly exit your lobe. Paintings of you as an infant specifically left out the angry lumps on your ears. They had nearly fallen off. 

What if you did the same to Link?

You inhale sharply before speaking again. “I mean, I should be asking you if you want me to do this. I think Yarna’s pierced—”

Link catches your eye in the mirror, a small smile growing bigger and bigger the longer he holds your stare. “Positive,” he repeats. “I wouldn’t want anyone else to do it.” 

His voice is so even, so calm, that you believe him. Just for a second.

What was that swirling feeling between your lungs, and why does it feel so nice?

You huff. “Yeah, whatever.” 

Link laughs. It sounds like tinkly bells; the very sound of joy released from a crystal jar.

Too much research and planning was put into this anyway. It would be selfish to back out, especially since this was supposedly your gift to Link.

“It’s my birthday, so you have to do what I say,” he had sing-songed, hands planted on his hips in a wide stance. A goofy grin stretched his squishy face.

Needles stolen, gathering research from Yarna’s obnoxious daughters, the timing aligned with his sister and dad’s biweekly visit to Sanidin Park to spy on the horses and ogle Hyrule Castle; you had to do it now. 

So, hands washed and spritzed with lemon juice, you pick the needle from the hot water. Yarna’s daughters had talked about something called “disinfectant” to prevent “infection because of germs,” whatever that was. 

“You don’t want to give your boyfriend lumpy ears, do you?” she had teased you. She waved a skinny finger at you, her red hair tied into frizzy dual braids. They looked more like horns.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you grumbled. What a way to remind you.

You stomped all the way back to Link’s house, slamming the door behind you. Link had wondered why you returned so grumpy. You even had the notes you promised you would get from Yarna’s daughters, everything from preparing sliced lemons and what needles to use. What was there to be upset about?

Needle in hand and ear lobes already marked where Link wanted his earrings to go, all you had to do was poke him.

“Ready?” You speak more confidently, head raised higher. There’s the excitement Link was looking for. His eyes grow bigger.

You do just as you had written in your notes: place a piece of cork behind the ear. Align the needed to the penned mark. Ensure there’s a ninety-degree angle between the ear and the needle so that the earring does not sit funny.

“That tickles,” Link giggles.

“Okay, smiley. Try not to move.”

You swear Link’s tooth gap grows a millimetre or two. He smiles into the mirror, watching your movements. 

You begin a slow countdown, the tip of the needle brushing Link’s skin. “Three, two, one.”

You push, pushing the lobe against the needle. It makes a clean exit, the sharp point poking the cork.

The first thing you sense is Link’s squirming.

“Hylia! Hylia!” he screams.

You screech, eyes bouncing all over Link’s face, scanning for pain. He flinches, Link’s pretty face scrunching into a yelp, eyes closed, and mouth biting hard onto his teeth.

Oh. Oh no.

The world is ending. The world is ending. You want a Like Like to swallow you whole and never spit you out. You hurt your best friend.

“Did it work?” Link suddenly says. A calm washes over him, limbs no longer flailing like an armoured porgi on the shore. “Did it work? Did it work? That wasn’t bad.” 

You blink, rapidly. “It—it did.” You gently remove the needle from Link’s ear. Shock pushes you to grab the clean cloth on the bathroom counter, gently holding Link’s bleeding ear. Your voice comes out small. “Does it still hurt?”

Link’s tone is soft. “Just aches now.”

You meet Link’s eyes in the mirror. He looks so beautiful, bloody ear and all. His hair is messy and tucked into a ponytail. A streak of dirt is still on his face where you had lightly slapped him. He snuck up on you while working on the rice paddies. How could you not?

Your smile grows. His smile grows with yours. You fall into a fit of giggles, shoulders shaking. You feel golden.

Link turns in his chair to shake you by the shoulders. “Put the earring in now, weirdo!”

Giggling, you rush to pluck the blue earring from the birthday sauce plate. Opening the clasp, you slip the earring through Link’s new piercing.

There’s a beat of silence. Link stares almost emptily into the mirror.

“It’s perfect,” Link breathes. The air leaves his body. He waves his head side to side, just as he had done pre-piercing. The blue loop shifts right and left; to and fro.

“Thank you.” His voice is soft; fragile. Link gives his head a final shake. 

You smile. Link watches you in the mirror.

“You have to pierce my other ear now.”

You huff, gripping your knees. “Give me a second to recover.”

“No. Earring. Now!”

You move to choke Link.

It is a joy to see him with his earrings now, ears healed with the help of dabbing lemon juice every night. You watch the swing of his blue hoops when he playfights with you, wooden swords in hand. You admire the jump of his blue hoops as he nods, listening to you attentively. Lately, you’ve been rambling about your apprenticeship with the witch of the village, specializing in elixirs and potions. How his earrings lay by his bedside when he sleeps, two perfect blue rings.

You have been seeing Link less and less. Ever since his stunt with the pot lid when a guardian had lost control, his promotion to appointed knight to Princess Zelda frightened you. Even worse, distanced you.

All you can do is research elixirs and clean your ex-mentor’s dusting storage cupboards. What happened to dueling with wooden swords and squishy grins?

Even if you see him very little now, and as he grows higher and higher, you just remember he’s your friend. A very good, long-distance friend.

That is until he bursts through your shop’s doors. Only one blue hoop swings from Link’s ear. You look closer. Oh. 

“I need your help,” he murmurs. The piercing had closed up on his other ear.

You smile, rising from your stool. “Help me find some hollow needles, will you?”

i am almost done playing botw. i just need to beat ganon's bum now D:

[smallfisheyes]

you pierce link's ears

cw: some mentions of blood.

“Yarna’s daughter said no sewing needles!”

“It’s all I got.” Link shrugs.

You guffaw, snatching the needles from him. "No hollow needles, then no piercings!"

That was two weeks ago.

Even with the correct needles, you’ve never seen yourself frown so deeply. Two hollow needles sit in the bowl of hot water, ready for poking. The tips are so sharp and shiny, perfect for piercing, but you've heard plenty of horror stories of ear piercings gone wrong.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Positive,” Link responds, grinning at his reflection. He eyes the lobes of his ears, already picturing the two piercings he begged and begged for. He flops his head side to side, hair falling with his movements, imagining two blue hoops moving with him. 

This entire excursion feels like a fool’s journey. The air smells sharply of sliced lemons and lavender from Link’s burning incense. Two hollow needles stolen from the resident healer in Hateno Village sit in a bath of boiling water. Sweetly, Link had placed two hooped earrings carved from blue stone into the sauce plate you had handmade for him for his birthday last year; your thumbprints forever pressed into the clay. Now, his new birthday gift was sitting on his old birthday plate.

Even with his reassurance and the eager kicking of his feet, Link’s tooth gap does little to calm the rapid beating of your heart. 

“Okay. Yeah, stupid question.” You shake your hands, head downturned. You fiddle with the clean cloth draped over the back of Link’s chair, frown falling deeper and deeper. 

Your ears were pierced as a baby, but you know it’s supposed to hurt. Your grandmother had told you over and over again how you wailed, how your ears hadn’t healed for months, and that the needle didn’t cleanly exit your lobe. Paintings of you as an infant specifically left out the angry lumps on your ears. They had nearly fallen off. 

What if you did the same to Link?

You inhale sharply before speaking again. “I mean, I should be asking you if you want me to do this. I think Yarna’s pierced—”

Link catches your eye in the mirror, a small smile growing bigger and bigger the longer he holds your stare. “Positive,” he repeats. “I wouldn’t want anyone else to do it.” 

His voice is so even, so calm, that you believe him. Just for a second.

What was that swirling feeling between your lungs, and why does it feel so nice?

You huff. “Yeah, whatever.” 

Link laughs. It sounds like tinkly bells; the very sound of joy released from a crystal jar.

Too much research and planning was put into this anyway. It would be selfish to back out, especially since this was supposedly your gift to Link.

“It’s my birthday, so you have to do what I say,” he had sing-songed, hands planted on his hips in a wide stance. A goofy grin stretched his squishy face.

Needles stolen, gathering research from Yarna’s obnoxious daughters, the timing aligned with his sister and dad’s biweekly visit to Sanidin Park to spy on the horses and ogle Hyrule Castle; you had to do it now. 

So, hands washed and spritzed with lemon juice, you pick the needle from the hot water. Yarna’s daughters had talked about something called “disinfectant” to prevent “infection because of germs,” whatever that was. 

“You don’t want to give your boyfriend lumpy ears, do you?” she had teased you. She waved a skinny finger at you, her red hair tied into frizzy dual braids. They looked more like horns.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you grumbled. What a way to remind you.

You stomped all the way back to Link’s house, slamming the door behind you. Link had wondered why you returned so grumpy. You even had the notes you promised you would get from Yarna’s daughters, everything from preparing sliced lemons and what needles to use. What was there to be upset about?

Needle in hand and ear lobes already marked where Link wanted his earrings to go, all you had to do was poke him.

“Ready?” You speak more confidently, head raised higher. There’s the excitement Link was looking for. His eyes grow bigger.

You do just as you had written in your notes: place a piece of cork behind the ear. Align the needed to the penned mark. Ensure there’s a ninety-degree angle between the ear and the needle so that the earring does not sit funny.

“That tickles,” Link giggles.

“Okay, smiley. Try not to move.”

You swear Link’s tooth gap grows a millimetre or two. He smiles into the mirror, watching your movements. 

You begin a slow countdown, the tip of the needle brushing Link’s skin. “Three, two, one.”

You push, pushing the lobe against the needle. It makes a clean exit, the sharp point poking the cork.

The first thing you sense is Link’s squirming.

“Hylia! Hylia!” he screams.

You screech, eyes bouncing all over Link’s face, scanning for pain. He flinches, Link’s pretty face scrunching into a yelp, eyes closed, and mouth biting hard onto his teeth.

Oh. Oh no.

The world is ending. The world is ending. You want a Like Like to swallow you whole and never spit you out. You hurt your best friend.

“Did it work?” Link suddenly says. A calm washes over him, limbs no longer flailing like an armoured porgi on the shore. “Did it work? Did it work? That wasn’t bad.” 

You blink, rapidly. “It—it did.” You gently remove the needle from Link’s ear. Shock pushes you to grab the clean cloth on the bathroom counter, gently holding Link’s bleeding ear. Your voice comes out small. “Does it still hurt?”

Link’s tone is soft. “Just aches now.”

You meet Link’s eyes in the mirror. He looks so beautiful, bloody ear and all. His hair is messy and tucked into a ponytail. A streak of dirt is still on his face where you had lightly slapped him. He snuck up on you while working on the rice paddies. How could you not?

Your smile grows. His smile grows with yours. You fall into a fit of giggles, shoulders shaking. You feel golden.

Link turns in his chair to shake you by the shoulders. “Put the earring in now, weirdo!”

Giggling, you rush to pluck the blue earring from the birthday sauce plate. Opening the clasp, you slip the earring through Link’s new piercing.

There’s a beat of silence. Link stares almost emptily into the mirror.

“It’s perfect,” Link breathes. The air leaves his body. He waves his head side to side, just as he had done pre-piercing. The blue loop shifts right and left; to and fro.

“Thank you.” His voice is soft; fragile. Link gives his head a final shake. 

You smile. Link watches you in the mirror.

“You have to pierce my other ear now.”

You huff, gripping your knees. “Give me a second to recover.”

“No. Earring. Now!”

You move to choke Link.

It is a joy to see him with his earrings now, ears healed with the help of dabbing lemon juice every night. You watch the swing of his blue hoops when he playfights with you, wooden swords in hand. You admire the jump of his blue hoops as he nods, listening to you attentively. Lately, you’ve been rambling about your apprenticeship with the witch of the village, specializing in elixirs and potions. How his earrings lay by his bedside when he sleeps, two perfect blue rings.

You have been seeing Link less and less. Ever since his stunt with the pot lid when a guardian had lost control, his promotion to appointed knight to Princess Zelda frightened you. Even worse, distanced you.

All you can do is research elixirs and clean your ex-mentor’s dusting storage cupboards. What happened to dueling with wooden swords and squishy grins?

Even if you see him very little now, and as he grows higher and higher, you just remember he’s your friend. A very good, long-distance friend.

That is until he bursts through your shop’s doors. Only one blue hoop swings from Link’s ear. You look closer. Oh. 

“I need your help,” he murmurs. The piercing had closed up on his other ear.

You smile, rising from your stool. “Help me find some hollow needles, will you?”

i am almost done playing botw. i just need to beat ganon's bum now D:

[smallfisheyes]

i have a03 now :)

[smallfisheyes]

wizard cat :)

[smallfisheyes]

i beat my roommate at catan >:D

[smallfisheyes]

kento’s favourite noise is hearing your wedding rings clink together.

it’s a soft sound, not a harsh wobble of metal or the screech of a steel sheet cut in two, but like the ripples of water interrupted. it is delicate and brief; a perfect clink. when kento hears it, he sees pink.

clink it goes when kento reaches for your hand when you wake up in the morning, half asleep and head buried deep inside your pillow. he can’t see your face, so he reaches for you instead. his gold band clinks with your more delicate gold ring. it feels softer than cashmere and the yarn of your crochet projects.

clink it goes when you pass him back the spoon he handed you to taste test dinner. the food is hot from the pot and blown carefully by him. it’s a recipe an older woman from the grocery store gave to kento. apparently, her husband would make it for her, so now kento will cook it for you. struck by humour, he didn’t tell you about his encounter until your first few bites into dinner. you choked, tears streaming down your face. kento would make more for you, to which he would receive a reluctant “thank you” and a glare as piercing as cotton balls. you’d never known a love so quietly overwhelming until you met him.

clink it goes when you lightly slap his hand when he’s being silly. kento’s straight line mouth (which you lovingly stroke until he smiles), bursts into the shape of a lemon slice. he can’t help but make you squirm. he likes the little dance you do, your high-pitched “stop it’s” and “you’re so weird, kento’s”. it’s almost as sweet as the clinking of your rings, but somehow, it’s unmatched.

look at you. you’ve conditioned him to associate your love with the clinking of your rings. how dare you.

kento’s favourite noise is hearing your wedding rings clink together.

just finished the hardest design studio i’ve done so far for school :’) i’m still in school but hopefully i can start posting again. sorry for the silence

[smallfisheyes]

kento’s favourite noise is hearing your wedding rings clink together.

it’s a soft sound, not a harsh wobble of metal or the screech of a steel sheet cut in two, but like the ripples of water interrupted. it is delicate and brief; a perfect clink. when kento hears it, he sees pink.

clink it goes when kento reaches for your hand when you wake up in the morning, half asleep and head buried deep inside your pillow. he can’t see your face, so he reaches for you instead. his gold band clinks with your more delicate gold ring. it feels softer than cashmere and the yarn of your crochet projects.

clink it goes when you pass him back the spoon he handed you to taste test dinner. the food is hot from the pot and blown carefully by him. it’s a recipe an older woman from the grocery store gave to kento. apparently, her husband would make it for her, so now kento will cook it for you. struck by humour, he didn’t tell you about his encounter until your first few bites into dinner. you choked, tears streaming down your face. kento would make more for you, to which he would receive a reluctant “thank you” and a glare as piercing as cotton balls. you’d never known a love so quietly overwhelming until you met him.

clink it goes when you lightly slap his hand when he’s being silly. kento’s straight line mouth (which you lovingly stroke until he smiles), bursts into the shape of a lemon slice. he can’t help but make you squirm. he likes the little dance you do, your high-pitched “stop it’s” and “you’re so weird, kento’s”. it’s almost as sweet as the clinking of your rings, but somehow, it’s unmatched.

look at you. you’ve conditioned him to associate your love with the clinking of your rings. how dare you.

kento’s favourite noise is hearing your wedding rings clink together.

just finished the hardest design studio i’ve done so far for school :’) i’m still in school but hopefully i can start posting again. sorry for the silence

[smallfisheyes]

it is my birthday 👉👈💖✨🎉🎈

[smallfisheyes]

here i am thinking that i knew the full scope of your cleverness, yet you prove me wrong once again. fish, i’m simultaneously so happy you shared this with me and furious that you didn’t until now!

bias aside, your works are so well written and amazing character studies. i look forward to being your beta reader from now on. i also look forward to using my shiny new journalism and communications degree to become your literary agent. i also look forward to being included in your acknowledgements.

i love you i love you i love you. so excited to read the rest of you works :) 🩷☺️

@maybellsinjune is my editor now :)

i love you

[smallfisheyes]

Hi! I juat wanted to say, you're SUCH a good writer, and I'm LOVING what you're putting out!!!

The way you write Nanami is so full and rich, it's like you're intimately familiar with the thoughts and longings of his heart and I am devouring it voraciously!

Thank you, thank you, thank you! 🥰

THANK YOU THANK YOU! it took me a really long to respond bc i’ve been so busy with school 👉👈 but thank you so much! you’re so kind :)

hehe feeling nanami’s love isn’t enough (for me at least hehehaha). i was interested in how he may think and writing under his perspective. i’m glad you enjoy it! happy day/night!

[smallfisheyes]

thank you so much for the 1000+ notes for grapes under the table everyone! i’ve been writing fan fiction on and off for a very long time (i think since i was twelve!). i ditched writing when i was sixteen, and i knew i would return, i just didn't realize i'd be much older when i did. it means so much, especially after calling out to the void for so long. i wish i could hug and speak to each one of you :)

i have to get back to school now :(

thank you for all the love <3

fish

[smallfisheyes]

Corrections below! Please read if you’d like to know more about uvas de la suerte (the Spanish tradition the Tiktok trend derives from).

OMG! I didn’t realize eating grapes under the table was a Spanish tradition! I wish I knew sooner 👉👈 (I heard about the tradition by word of mouth and not TikTok lol. I’m not on enough). Thank you for telling me!

It must be very cool to see people all over the world eat grapes on New Years (and for it to show up in fanfics lol!). My family has a lot of silly New Year traditions, too (I’m Filipino!). We wear polka dots (for wealth), toss coins on the ground as soon it’s midnight (I think for luck), and also collect 12 different types of round fruit for each month (my dad always gets grapes!). There’s lots more! Jumping to get taller is my favourite :) I have not grown since I struck 15.

Thank you for reading!! I will keep doing my tappy-tap on my keyboard (tap tap tap) ⌨️

CORRECTION: I said eating grapes under the table is a Spanish tradition but that is specific to a Tiktok trend. Tiktok has taken the original Spanish tradition and incorporated eating grapes under the table as its trend. Whereas the Spanish tradition uvas de la suerte brings good fortune, and a grape is eaten at each stroke of the clock once it’s midnight. There’s more to its tradition, too!

Thank you to the kind people that have informed me of the difference! I will try my best to do more research. I am sorry for misinforming anyone and take full responsibility. Please keep correcting me in the future! I have so much to learn.

Here is an article by CBS too!: What is eating 12 grapes under the table? What is the original tradition?

it's silly, you know, but you have to try it. may the grapes work.

nanami kento can’t find you when the clock strikes midnight.

there was a ruckus, the release of fireworks outside (who permitted fireworks on school premises?), and cheers of happy new year. itadori toots one of those awful noisemakers. tuna mayos and hugs are exchanged. as planned, nanami maintains a wide berth from gojo, recalling his attempts at a slobby kiss the previous year. it is a new year; the year of the snake.

but you are nowhere in sight.

why does nanami's belly feel like it's sinking? he smiles, but there is an ache in the centre of his chest. his eyes flick left and right, the festivities unfolding before his eyes. the school had been decorated by the students with the funding of gojo's shiny black card, reds and golds streaming along the walls. stuffed snakes (inumaki's idea) were thrown haphazardly onto the ground. the remnants of the party games from earlier scatter the table-clothed tables.

in your stead, shoko meets nanami's eyes. he nods, giving her a brief hug, sure to grip her just below the shoulder and just above the waist.

"happy new year," he mumbles. shoko smiles. it is politeness exchanged with a colleague and friend, but this is not how he pictured his first interaction of the year (and with whom it was shared).

kento had planned it down to the tee: your favourite wine, no more than two whiskeys, arriving just after you to seemingly rescue you from forcing yourself to yap about things you did not care about (work) with a person you could not care less about (gojo). kento was meticulous, more meticulous than he was at that awful firm he worked at in his early twenties. he had to be. the moment must be perfect. you deserved a wonderful evening. yet, there was a variable he forgot to consider: he couldn't find you.

"ah, nanamin," shoko hums. kento steps back, offering his full attention. there's that awful look on that face of hers, one that dates back more than ten years. the teasing one that reminds kento he is nothing but a lost junior; a silly, unkowing little boy with punk bangs. one that is about to be berated by the scary bobbed girl with a cigarette habit.

a force seizes his lungs, halting their movement. may the berating begin.

"are you looking for someone?" shoko teases. that tone. how grating.

"what gave it away?" no frustration laces kento's voice, only soft desperation.

shoko stacks her hands together and brings them to the side of her face. she tilts her head, her voice sing-song-y. "nothing, just that look of yearning."

kento huffs in frustration. his fists curl in impatience. "where is she, shoko?"

shoko steps to the side, an evil scientist revealing her latest experiment.

when kento sees what is behind her, the world tilts just right.

there you are, under the table, crouched and feral. kento draws back at the sight of you: a monkey, primitive and on the hunt for food. in quick succession, large and luscious green grapes were thrown into your mouth. you were a chipmunk. you stuffed your face full of grapes before you even finished chewing. 

you were always a wonder.

shoko's voice is soft, her note of contentment complimenting kento's sudden leisure at the sight of you. "happy new year, nanamin." she pads away.

kento makes a note to gift shoko a red envelope the following day.

there you are; his little star. kento moves, crouches, and parts the red tablecloth.

"you never told me you liked grapes."

your grape-a-thon veers to a halt. absolute horror stills your chewing. you have at least five grapes in your mouth. 

kento smiles wide. a rush of warmth washes over him. he could squish you.

this too much attention from a too handsome man. you turn your head away to fend off the rush of blood to your face.

"they're soh exsensiv hare," kento makes out between your voice and the grapes. you chew rigorously, averting your eyes. you hold a hand in between your wobbly mouth and kento’s eyes, falsely creating a front to maintain your dignity. "tha’s why you don seh meh eaving them. gofo saeh he woulv give them tah me."

kento bristles. he would get grapes for you anyday. command or none.

"may i join you?"

you chew a little more in thought, grimacing as you swallow. kento tries hard not to watch your throat, but he can’t resist. 

“of course.” you’re sincere. you’ve gone shy. his heart aches. he wants to make you get bashful like this every day.

you scooch over to make room for large and long nanami kento to sit beside you under the table. he’s still wearing those winged shoes you love, but opted for a white knitted sweater that makes you wonder how soft it is. you almost reach for kento’s arm, but you draw back. you’re under the table eating grapes for a reason. you deflate. five more grapes to go.

“you don’t need to be under here with me,” you reassure kento. kento looks like a stuffy that got pounded into a too small toy chest. his neck cranes and his bottom is awkwardly sat in a cross cross. you smile. you want this to last forever. 

“i can’t let you be here alone. it’s new years.”

you wring your hands together. you need to eat four more grapes. “thanks, kento.”

you eat your grapes now, but slower. this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. weren’t you supposed to eat all twelve grapes before midnight was over? you glance over at the clock. it’s already too late. 

you open your palms: four beautiful green grapes, grown and harvested in japan. when you arrived here, you hadn’t realized fruit was a luxury. fruit is difficult to grow. the majority of land is ill-suited for fruit. 

four wasted beautiful grapes.

“that’s enough grapes for tonight.” kento gently takes your hand and rests them on his own. he cups yours, creating a shield. his hands are warm. they’re so much bigger than yours. “you never needed them.”

“yes i did,” you insisted. 

kento shakes his head. “no. you don’t need any of that nonsense.”

your frown is deep. your eyes are in a different place. kento cups your hands more firmly now. “you never needed the grapes, darling.”

it’s instinct, the little “no” that forms on the tip of your tongue. it takes a second, another, to realize the precious thing kento had called you.

darling. YOU. darling?!

suddenly, you’re the one gripping kento’s hands. “what did you say?!”

kento shakes his head, patting your hand. “you make this difficult.” 

“you! you called me–” you guffaw like a fish when kento nods a tired affirmative, like it was obvious all along. “please don’t lie.”

kento’s eyes turn icy. “i would never lie to you.”

your lips wobble pathetically. you hate this man. he makes you silly and makes your heart beat too fast. he makes you want to turn away and stare all the same because he is too handsome. too kind. so him. and you had always wanted him. but the yearning? you never expected it to be returned.

“nanami kento, were you always on tiktok?”

kento throws back his head and laughs. you stare for too long. you’re allowed to now. “i have three wonderful students.”

the year of the snake will be a wonderful one.

you leave the remaining grapes for gojo. he needed them more than you.

i can't stare at this anymore please take it as it is. happy year of the snake everyone :) hissss

[smallfisheyes]

fish's aquarium

(in order of date published)

jjk! nanami kento

clink - drabble! kento's favourite noise (wc: 325)

nanami kento who just doesn't love you - drabble! you love him, but he doesn't love you (wc: 1014)

grapes under the table - oneshot! it is the year of the snake, and eating grapes under the table is circulating around your tiktok’s for you page. it's silly, but you have to give it a try. (wc: 1236)

undesirable - drabble! you feel undesireable. nanami makes you feel otherwise (wc: 359)

legend of zelda! link

ear piercings - oneshot! botw!link asks you to pierce his ears (wc: 1,390)

as always, thank you for the support everyone :) it means so much

note: please do not republish any of my work on other websites and tumblr. plagiarism and running my work through ai is forbidden. reblogs are appreciated.

[smallfisheyes]

You capture nanami so well, and you write him so well too. I’m so grateful for your works.

OMG!! you are so kind. waking up to this made a really hard day into a good one. thank you so much :) i’m grateful you thought my writing was worth reading. i’ll keep trying my best!!

[smallfisheyes]

one suggestive paragraph hehe.

nanami kento who just doesn’t love you.

he tries. really. you are so easy to love, but he just can’t seem to love you more than admiration; more than the god-awful belittling role of a friend.

you are kind. he has seen you pick children from rubble. you had single-handedly halted an impeding panic attack that consumed the fushiguro boy. you pay out of pocket so that the children can do normal student activities: arts and crafts, team building activities, classroom and party decorations. he’s watched you be the most beautiful human that he has had the privilege of watching, defending innocents with, laughing with, but for some reason, he just can’t love you.

nanami kento who makes you cry because he says he loves you. trust him, he loves you so much, but as a friend. you had confessed your love for him. he broke your heart.

it was in the parking lot of your favourite post-mission meeting spot: the convenience store. (it’s family-owned, kento had said to you as he gently took you by the elbow. it was his retreat. it would be yours too. you cradled the side of your face, your one eye badly bruised and rapidly swelling. you’ll like it here, he insisted. i promise).

the son was at cash that dark morning. kento would get the egg sandwich and coffee, you a banana milk and noodles.

“i’m on a mission to try every flavour,” you had declared one night, feet kicking and humming into your first dinner.

you had shrimp-flavoured noodles that fateful early morning. it was around 2:00 a.m., two second-grade curses with paired techniques. the following day, nanami turned down the offer of a sushi lunch with shoko. he wouldn’t be able to stand seeing shrimp tempura.

nanami kento who understands why you can no longer look him in the eye when you pass each other in the halls. you walk a tempo faster, a cold wind whisked up from your sudden distance and speed. it stings as you pass by. it stings when you rush to exit the staff room when he enters. he only dares to watch you when your back is turned and retreating far, far away from him. something between his sternum aches. he misses you. don’t you know?

it’s so hard to avoid him. he’s so big and he’s everywhere. he’s at work, he’s in the staff office, he’s in your mind. curses, he’s always in your mind.

before, fleeting images of nanami passed by. his small smiles. the big ones you managed to pull because “your humour is so childish” but it makes him laugh anyway. the rumble of his voice that soothes you to sleep, especially the hard nights. there are also the nights that you cannot sleep, and your hand sneaks below the covers, then the hem of your pants, and thoughts of him doing less than innocent things to you flood you. you couldn’t it, not when he looked like that.

“what’s with you?” nanami would ask the odd morning, then the next morning, then every morning. it took you about half an hour some mornings (then most) to look him in the eye, your hands trembling around the mug he handed you. did he do something wrong? did he make you uncomfortable? should he back off? (or get back on?). stop thinking like that.

so, why can’t you seem to hate him?

you have seen him pick children from rubble. you have watched nanami perform four black flashes in succession during the black parade when it mattered most: students injured left and right. he pays out of pocket for lunches: yours and the students, with an exception of gojo. (he has a black card, kento had said. he doesn’t need charity, just an ego check). you’ve watched him be the most beautiful human that he has had the privilege of watching, fighting with, laughing with, but for some reason, you love him and he just can’t love you.

if he does not love you, you fear who he does love. would she have long hair? short? curly hair? straight? does she have an excellent taste in fashion? is it more refined or street fashion? lolita or office-type? does she stand taller than you? is she funnier? does she have a million degrees and you’re out on the field doing the exact job nanami despises and fears? is she skinnier? prettier? the woman he would love (loves?) would just be better. he deserves better.

you cannot blame nanami kento for not loving you.

unknowing to him though, he does.

nanami kento stands at the till at the (your) convenience store.

“where’s your buddy?” it’s the son today. he looks to be in his twenties. the son scans nanami’s items: egg sandwich, transparent bandaids, a single carton of banana milk.

“by buddy, if you mean my partner, she is not with me,” nanami explains.

buddy. nanami wants to scoff. what an odd way of describing you.

“sorry, man. i didn’t realize you guys were together.”

there is a brief shock that pulls at nanami’s eyes. they widen, his mouth narrowing. together. why was that a less odd way of describing you?

“she is my partner at work,” nanami corrects. he speaks in a murmur, eyes downcast. banana milk. he didn’t even like it that much. a childish drink; childish humour. so full of energy but only experienced by a select special few. (why did you think he’s so special?)

“hmm,” the boy hums. “thought you guys were together. she seemed super into you. she looked at you like,” the boy shrugs his shoulders nonchantly, pressing buttons on the till screen, “like you meant a lot.”

nanami’s stomach sinks. he has to be the worst.

the convenience store bell tolls when nanami exits, paper bag in hand. the coolness of the night hits him. from this far out, he can see the speckle of the stars.

partner, nanami muses. the name suits you. it suits you and him. a pairing. together. as friends.

but not for long.

sorry guys but does anyone else wonder what would happen if nanami didn’t love you? and you love him? i do it all the time lol. if i feel it y’all have to feel it >:)

also it’s 2:00 am here please excuse the thought vomit.

[smallfisheyes]

one suggestive paragraph hehe.

nanami kento who just doesn’t love you.

he tries. really. you are so easy to love, but he just can’t seem to love you more than admiration; more than the god-awful belittling role of a friend.

you are kind. he has seen you pick children from rubble. you had single-handedly halted an impeding panic attack that consumed the fushiguro boy. you pay out of pocket so that the children can do normal student activities: arts and crafts, team building activities, classroom and party decorations. he’s watched you be the most beautiful human that he has had the privilege of watching, defending innocents with, laughing with, but for some reason, he just can’t love you.

nanami kento who makes you cry because he says he loves you. trust him, he loves you so much, but as a friend. you had confessed your love for him. he broke your heart.

it was in the parking lot of your favourite post-mission meeting spot: the convenience store. (it’s family-owned, kento had said to you on your first visit as he gently took you by the elbow. it was his retreat. it would be yours, too. you cradled the side of your face, your one eye badly bruised and rapidly swelling. you’ll like it here, he insisted. i promise).

the son was at cash that dark morning. kento would get the egg sandwich and coffee, you a banana milk and noodles.

“i’m on a mission to try every flavour,” you had declared one night, feet kicking and humming into your first dinner.

you had shrimp-flavoured noodles that fateful early morning. it was around 2:00 a.m., two second-grade curses with combined techniques the reason for the late meal. the following day, nanami turned down the offer of a sushi lunch with shoko. he wouldn’t be able to stand seeing shrimp tempura.

nanami kento who understands why you can no longer look him in the eye when you pass each other in the halls. you walk a tempo faster, a cold wind whisked up from your sudden distance and speed. it stings as you pass by. it stings when you rush to exit the staff room when he enters. he only dares to watch you when your back is turned and retreating far, far away from him. something under his sternum aches. he misses you. don’t you know?

it’s so hard to avoid him. he’s so big and he’s everywhere. he’s at work, he’s in the staff office, he’s in your mind. curses, he’s always in your mind.

before, fleeting images of nanami passed by. his small smiles. the big ones you managed to pull because “your humour is so childish,” so ridiculously stupid, but so stupid it makes him laugh anyway. the rumble of his voice that soothes you to sleep, especially the hard nights.

there are also the nights that your hand sneaks below the covers, then the hem of your pants, and thoughts of him doing less than innocent things run like a leaky faucet. it floods your mind, and suddenly, you can’t sleep. the only solution is to keep going until you’re tired. yes, that’s reasonable. besides, how could you not, not when he looked like that.

“what’s with you?” nanami would ask the next morning, then the morning after that, then every morning. it took you about half an hour some mornings (then most) to look him in the eye, your hands trembling around the mug he handed you. did he do something wrong? did he make you uncomfortable? should he back off? (or get back on?). stop thinking like that.

so, why can’t you seem to hate him?

you have seen him pick children from rubble. you have watched nanami perform four black flashes in succession during the black parade when it mattered most: students injured left and right. he pays out of pocket for lunches: yours and the students, with an exception of gojo. (he has a black card, kento ranted into his black coffee. he doesn’t need charity, just an ego check). you’ve watched him be the most beautiful human that you’ve had the privilege of watching, fighting with, laughing with, but for some reason, you love him and he just can’t love you.

if he does not love you, you fear who he does love. would she have long hair? short? curly hair? straight? does she have an excellent taste in fashion? is it more refined or street fashion? lolita or office-type? does she stand taller than you? is she funnier? does she have a million degrees and you’re out on the field doing the exact job nanami despises and fears? is she skinnier? prettier? the woman he would love (loves?) would just be better. he deserves better.

you cannot blame nanami kento for not loving you.

unknowing to him though, he does.

nanami kento stands at the till at the (your) convenience store.

“where’s your buddy?” it’s the son today, the one in desperate need of a haircut. he looks to be in his twenties. he scans nanami’s items: egg sandwich, transparent bandaids, a single carton of banana milk.

“by buddy, if you mean my partner, she is not with me,” nanami notes.

buddy. nanami wants to scoff. what an odd way of describing you.

“sorry, man.” the boy holds his hands out in apology. “didn’t realize you guys were together.”

there is a brief shock that pulls at nanami’s eyes. they widen, his mouth narrowing. together. why was that a less odd way of describing you?

nanami doesn’t notice his chest rising and falling rapidly. “she is my partner at work,” he corrects. he speaks in a murmur, eyes downcast. he studies the yellow carton on the till counter. banana milk. he didn’t even like it that much. a childish drink; childish humour. so full of energy but only experienced by a select special few. (why did you think he’s so special?)

“hmm,” the boy hums. “thought you guys were together. she seemed super into you. she looked at you like,” the boy shrugs his shoulders nonchantly, pressing buttons on the till screen, “like you meant a lot.”

nanami’s stomach sinks. he has to be the worst.

the convenience store bell tolls when nanami exits, paper bag in hand. the coolness of the night hits him. from this far out, he can see the speckle of the stars.

partner, nanami muses. the name suits you. it suits you and him: a pairing. together, as friends.

but not for long.

sorry guys but does anyone else wonder what would happen if nanami didn’t love you? and you love him? i do it all the time lol. if i feel it y’all have to feel it >:)

also it’s 2:00 am here please excuse the thought vomit.

[smallfisheyes]

thank you for the sweet comments and feedback everyone! it means a lot 👉👈💖

it's silly, you know, but you have to try it. may the grapes work.

nanami kento can’t find you when the clock strikes midnight.

there was a ruckus, the release of fireworks outside (who permitted fireworks on school premises?), and cheers of happy new year. itadori toots one of those awful noisemakers. tuna mayos and hugs are exchanged. as planned, nanami maintains a wide berth from gojo, recalling his attempts at a slobby kiss the previous year. it is a new year; the year of the snake.

but you are nowhere in sight.

why does nanami's belly feel like it's sinking? he smiles, but there is an ache in the centre of his chest. his eyes flick left and right, the festivities unfolding before his eyes. the school had been decorated by the students with the funding of gojo's shiny black card, reds and golds streaming along the walls. stuffed snakes (inumaki's idea) were thrown haphazardly onto the ground. the remnants of the party games from earlier scatter the table-clothed tables.

in your stead, shoko meets nanami's eyes. he nods, giving her a brief hug, sure to grip her just below the shoulder and just above the waist.

"happy new year," he mumbles. shoko smiles. it is politeness exchanged with a colleague and friend, but this is not how he pictured his first interaction of the year (and with whom it was shared).

kento had planned it down to the tee. your favourite wine, no more than two whiskeys, arriving just after you to seemingly rescue you from forcing yourself to yap about things you did not care about (work) with a person you could care less about (gojo). kento was meticulous. more meticulous than he was at that awful firm he worked at in his early twenties. he had to be. the moment must be perfect. you deserved a wonderful evening. yet, there was a variable he did not consider: he couldn't find you.

"ah, nanamin," shoko hums. kento steps back, offering his full attention. there's that awful look on that face of hers, one that dates back more than ten years ago. the teasing one that reminds kento he is nothing but a lost junior: a silly, unkowing little boy with punk bangs. one that is about to be berated by the scary bobbed girl with a cigarette habit. a force seizes his lungs, halting their movement. may the berating begin.

"are you looking for someone?" shoko teases. that tone. how grating.

kento sighs, his voice of defeat. "what gave it away?" no frustration laces kento's voice, only soft desperation.

"that look of yearning."

kento heaves a deeper sigh. he can't wait anymore. "where is she, shoko?"

shoko steps to the side, an evil scientist revealing her latest experiment.

when kento sees what is behind her, the world feels right.

there you are, under the table, crouched and feral. kento draws back at the sight of you: a monkey, primitive and on the hunt for food. in quick succession, large and luscious green grapes were thrown into your mouth. you were a chipmunk. you stuffed your face full of grapes before you even finished chewing. 

you were always a wonder.

shoko's voice is soft, her note of contentment complimenting kento's sudden leisure at the sight of you. "happy new year, nanamin." she pads away.

kento makes a note to gift shoko a red envelope the following day.

there you are; his little star. kento moves, crouches, and parts the red tablecloth.

"you never told me you liked grapes."

your grape-a-thon veers to a halt. absolute horror stills your chewing. you have at least five grapes in your mouth. 

kento smiles wide. a rush of warmth washes over him. he could squish you.

this too much attention from a too handsome man. you turn your head away to fend off the rush of blood to your face.

"they're soh exsensiv hare," kento makes out between your voice and the grapes. you chew rigorously, averting your eyes. You hold a hand in between your wobbly mouth and kento’s eyes, falsely creating a front to maintain your dignity. "tha’s why you don seh meh eaving them. gofo saeh he woulv give them tah me."

kento bristles. he would get grapes for you anyday. command or none.

"may i join you?"

you chew a little more in thought, grimacing as you swallow. kento tries hard not to watch your throat, but he can’t resist. 

“of course.” you’re sincere. you’ve gone shy. his heart aches. he wants to make you get bashful like this every day.

you scooch over to make room for large and long nanami kento to sit beside you under the table. he’s still wearing those winged shoes you love, but opted for a white knitted sweater that makes you wonder how soft it is. you almost reach for kento’s arm, but you draw back. you’re under the table eating grapes for a reason. you deflate. five more grapes to go.

“you don’t need to be under here with me,” you reassure kento. kento looks like a stuffy that got pounded into a too small toy chest. his neck cranes and his bottom is awkwardly sat in a cross cross. you smile. you want this to last forever. 

“i can’t let you be here alone. it’s new years.”

you wring your hands together. you need to eat four more grapes. “thanks, kento.”

you eat your grapes now, but slower. this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. weren’t you supposed to eat all twelve grapes before midnight was over? you glance over at the clock. it’s already too late. 

you open your palms: four beautiful green grapes, grown and harvested in japan. when you arrived here, you hadn’t realized fruit was a luxury. fruit is difficult to grow. the majority of land is ill-suited for fruit. 

four wasted beautiful grapes.

“that’s enough grapes for tonight.” kento gently takes your hand and rests them on his own. he cups yours, creating a shield. his hands are warm. they’re so much bigger than yours. “you never needed them.”

“yes i did,” you insisted. 

kento shakes his head. “no. you don’t need any of that nonsense.”

your frown is deep. your eyes are in a different place. kento cups your hands more firmly now. “you never needed the grapes, darling.”

it’s instinct, the little “no” that forms on the tip of your tongue. it takes a second, another, to realize the precious thing kento had called you.

darling. YOU. darling?!

suddenly, you’re the one gripping kento’s hands. “what did you say?!”

kento shakes his head, patting your hand. “you make this difficult.” 

“you! you called me–” you guffaw like a fish when kento nods a tired affirmative, like it was obvious all along. “please don’t lie.”

kento’s eyes turn icy. “i would never lie to you.”

your lips wobble pathetically. you hate this man. he makes you silly and makes your heart beat too fast. he makes you want to turn away and stare all the same because he is too handsome. too kind. so him. and you had always wanted him. but the yearning? you never expected it to be returned.

“nanami kento, were you always on tiktok?”

kento throws back his head and laughs. you stare for too long. you’re allowed to now. “I have three wonderful students.”

the year of the snake will be a wonderful one.

you leave the remaining grapes for gojo. he needed them more than you.

i can't stare at this anymore please take it as it is. happy year of the snake everyone :) hissss