#seeing double

you should feel bad. you do. you know it's awful. know you're using satoshi in a way that disgusted you to your very core— but what did it matter?

he probably fucked more girls than you could count. probably had them in this position. squeezing their thighs and calling them his babydoll while he rubbed their clit and told them to cum for him.

you knew guys like him too well. unfortunately well. you wouldn't be fooled again. so really— were you in the wrong for imagining his nerdy twin?

you're sure it didn't matter to satoshi anyway. as long as he had a warm pussy to fill and a hit for the night. guess you're both using each other, huh?

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ was eating up all of your attention. he thought he'd have to go back to chasing you down again after that night. but to his surprise, two days later you were giving him eyes in an empty hallway and batting your lashes.

. . . should he really be at fault for the way he shoved you into the lockers with a hand buried in the back of your hair and a hand squeezing your ass? could he really be the one to blame when he crashed his lips to yours and shoved his tongue in your mouth when you were looking at him so sweetly?

"babydoll," he groaned, whined, as he sucked on your tongue. "keep looking at me like that and I'm gonna make sure we get expelled."

and when you nipped at his lip piercing and called his name so softly? he just had to dive back in and kiss you until your knees were shaky. not caring in the slightest for the footsteps that stopped at the foot of the hall.

˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ for the second time, has never wanted to break his brother's jaw more.

or should he blame you? surely you knew by now that he took this hallway to get to quantum physics class. surely you knew that there was a chance he'd walk down this hallway and catch you face-fucking his brother. right?

the assignment sheet he'd been reviewing in his hand crumpled. fist shaking and jaw tight. fine. fine. if you wanted his brother so bad? you could have him.

it's hopeless anyway. satoru wouldn't even know how to treat you if he had the chance. too inexperienced. too emotionally inept.

˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ made sure to avoid you like the plague. he never should have let impulse take over. never should have kissed you in that library. fucked you on his fingers so clumsily and made you realise how useless his hands were when they weren't practising equations and flipping through textbooks.

he hated how he still wanted you. how he still thought about you. how he'd bury his face into a pillow and hump on another until he was grunting and cursing your name into the fabric. until he was whimpering it— like some pathetic boy who got his candy stolen.

"I hate you—" he huffed, voice shaking as his hand still had the nerve to squeeze around his tip and rub another pitiful spout of cum out of him.

"I hate you. I h-hate you— fucking hate you." his head tips back, breaths fogging his glasses that hang off his nose. thighs twitching from three orgasms spilled all over his sheets just because he can't get you out of his fucking head.

what did it matter? you're the kind of girl only satoshi would know how to please. and it seemed you knew that.

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ was confronted by his best friend, sukuna, one thursday morning. yanked into some empty classroom with his helmet still tucked under his arm and cursing at the pink haired jock.

"the fuck's your problem?" he grumbled.

"should be asking you that shit." sukuna huffed.

he found out very quickly what sukuna was on about. asking if he was okay, if he was on something, if he finally gave in to peer pressure and decided to snort a line of some shit because he absolutely was not acting like himself. not looking at girls, denying numbers, missing parties. it wasn't like satoshi. not the campus heartthrob who just had to smile and wink a pretty blue eye to get whatever he wanted.

"you've been all over that girl." sukuna said. "you've never been this hooked. heard you last night too."

satoshi had to bite back his smirk. right. he had you bouncing on his cock last night. grinding your hips up into his and whimpering for him to help since he's just too big and your poor pussy's struggling. wait—

sukuna's rough hand shook him by the arm. "see? you're fucking spacey. what the hell's going on with you?"

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ got a firm talking to. got told he was actually falling in love— and that vulnerability scared the piss out of him. love? he didn't know how to love— not really. girls liked his dick and his bike and the filthy things he'd whisper in their ear when no one was looking. but love. . . fuck.

the way his heart was hammering said it. the way his chest fluttered when sukuna brought you up.

"what the fuck do I do?" he mumbled, hating how soft his voice was as he raked a hand through his white tuffs. "yeah— okay, maybe I like her. but what the fuck do I do?"

"take her out. maybe somewhere to eat. somewhere fun. can't be fucking her every time you meet up." sukuna flicked his arm.

satoshi winced. then considered it. maybe he could finally take you for a drink like he'd first offered. or maybe a party? a midnight ride?

"yeah well, she wants to fuck me whenever we meet up." he mulled, then shrugged. "guess I can combine the two. maybe that's just her style, y'know?"

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ thought about it a little more than he'd like to admit. spaced out in his classes, spent his lunch scrolling through food joints, hell— he even made a note on his phone. he wasn't good at this stuff. wasn't sure when last he went out on a date. girls usually wanted him for his body and that was it. they cried on his dick and scratched up his back but he never really offered them to hold their hand in some romantic coffee shop or whatever.

it hit him in the dead of night. when he was in bed and on his routinely hour of thinking about you. he phone has buzzed with a gallery memory. a picture he'd snapped from the photo album, of a kid him and satoru at a fair with their parents. satoru was hugging some big stuffie while satoshi lingered behind with a half-eaten funnel cake.

and that's when it hit him. . . a fair. they're fun, there's food, they're cute. that's what the couples in the movies do, right?

he sent you a text immediately. then flopped his phone down onto his chest and grinned at the ceiling like an idiot.

well. until a cold realisation washed over him, and he had to call up his best friend in the dead of night to awkwardly ask for some pointers.

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ couldn't believe it. you actually agreed. you were actually standing right beside his bike and holding the helmet he'd handed you. with a cute little dress on and that lip gloss he had the urge to smear in heated kisses. but he held back.

"so you just had another helmet lying around?" you asked, brow arching as you fiddled with the straps.

"nah." he waved his hand. "just snatched one from the store."

he blinked at the look you gave him, then grinned as he took the helmet. plopping it on your head and clasping the strap beneath your chin. "meant I bought it baby. whatdya take me for? a delinquent?"

he flipped the visor up. crooned at your little glare and stroked his thumb on the side of your neck. "you really want me to answer that?" you huffed.

"don't look at me like that."

"or what?"

he pressed his lips to your temple. hand squeezing on your waist as he hoisted you up against him.

"or I'm gonna have to do some nasty things to you right over my bike, babydoll."

he always loved how flustered you got. the way you shoved at his shoulders and huffed at him as you turned away. but despite his wide grin and his low words— he didn't want any of that tonight. he just wanted to take you out. treat you right. if you initiated, well, he guessed he couldn't deny you but. . .

tonight he wanted to try to love you the way that you deserved. just for tonight.

˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ sent you a text. he couldn't help it. he saw you leave capmus with satoshi. saw the way you were bickering and he was grinning. what, were you off somewhere to fuck like rabbits again? off somewhere to forget about how it was his dick you were begging for in the library? the insecurity, the hurt, it all spilled over into harsh thumbs and harsher words.

gojo satoru: he's good for you. you're both whores.

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ got you whatever you wanted at the fair. sweet treats? drinks? that oddly shaped teddy bear that he caught you glancing at when you passed one of those overpriced ring toss games? he made sure to win it for you. had no problem catching the rig in the game. he remembered when his parents would take him and satoru to these fairs and his dad would win the prizes. satoru often got them but— whatever. satoshi didn't wanna focus on that now.

all he cared about was the way you tried not to smile as he victoriously handed you the deformed plushie. "guess that means you owe me a kiss huh?" he hummed, leaning over you like some lovesick puppy.

he didn't catch the way you hesitated. nor the itch in your palms. he was too distracted by your gloss on his lips and the kiss that he melted into. shoulders sagging and heart fluttering as you hooked your arms round his neck. pulled him in deeper. gripped his hair.

he was all dazed. so drunk on your lips and the idea that he was here. kissing you at some fair with butterflies in his stomach and his heart in his hands. he didn't even process your mouth that slipped to his ear.

"I spotted a photobooth not too far. wanna go make some memories?"

as you nipped on his lobe. his chest fluttered.

wait.

that didn't sound very cutesy romantic.

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ wasn't aware that the only reason you pushed him into that photobooth and climbed into his lap was because you were thinking of his brother. had no idea that satoru had even texted you. that the only reason you started humping on his lap and whining his name into his ear was because his twin had pissed you off and your pussy was throbbing for satoru. not him. but satoru.

he was a fool, really. gripping your waist and drowning on your lips. groaning into your tongue as he bucked up into you. catching on your clit just right and gripping the back of your neck as your pretty moans pitched.

"hah— gonna get us caught." he mumbled. too high on the way you ground on his cock to focus on how he was distracted by lust rather than love. on how you'd turned a sweet kiss into a filthy makeout session in a photobooth.

"that what you want? wanna get caught bouncing on my dick?"

his words were muffled by your heated lips. the hot tangle of your tongue and the dirty grind of you hips. blissfully unaware that you just needed him to shut up so that you could imagine his twin while you ground yourself to an orgasm.

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ felt his knees shake as you both eventually crawled out of the photobooth with a strip of filthy pictures. unbeknownst that it was a testimony of you wanting his body because he looked like a man who actually held your heart.

he still folded it. fixated on the perfect shot of you both kissing. then tucked it away in his wallet.

he should have known better. he really should have.

but he was so lost in the fantasy of this date. in the idea that he was doing well for once— treating a girl in a way he never has before. outside of sex. outside of what his fingers, tongue or dick could do. no technique, just tenderness. he gave you his jacket at some point in the night. his heart throbbed at how pretty you looked in it.

yeah. satoshi was a bit oblivious to the way your hands were all over him at the haunted house attraction. he had to push you against one of the walls and kiss you stupid. but it's just because you needed him so bad— right?

yeah. he didn't think much of the way your hand crept on his lap while you both sat down to share a sundae. he just slipped his fingers down and wrapped them around yours. gave you a little squeeze.

he surely wasn't paying attention when you'd kissed him hard as the ferriswheel stopped at the top. all he heard was the fireworks above. all he felt were your hands pushing under his shirt. the way you climbed back into his lap and gripped the back of his hair.

no. satoshi didn't care. all he cared about was that you were kissing him. and it was beneath the fireworks. doesn't get more romantic than that, right?

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ was all loopy as he drove you both back home. his head spinning cause your head felt so warm laid between his shoulders as he steered the bike back to campus. he skipped a red light. didn't even care about the speeding ticket that'll probably await him.

all he cared about were your arms looped around his waist and the fluttering in his chest.

he walked you up to your dorm. told you to keep the helmet, and the jacket. smiled— not grinned or smirked or anything smug of sort.

he smiled when he told him goodnight.

"don't I get one last kiss?"

he couldn't help it. he was greedy for what he thought was his.

and here you both were now. with him pinning you to the opened door. hands gripping your thighs that plushed on his waist. his mouth on yours. hot and hungry and the kind of desperate need that he hasn't felt before with any other girl.

your hands were in his hair again. they always were. holding your mouths together as you rutted your hips into his.

"babydoll," he groaned, withdrawing so that saliva webbed both of your lips. a few messy strings caught on his tongue piercing. his white lashes fluttered over blue eyes practically shaped into little hearts. "you don't know what you do to me."

his breathing was ragged. something clenched in his chest. then lodged in his throat.

something he couldn't quite name but wanted to say anyway as he looked into your glassy eyes and felt your hot cunt throbbing on him through his jeans.

he sucked in a breath. one large hand cupped your face and tilted it up. he drew closer. breaths bated. heart stuttering. "I—"

bzztt!

he cleared his throat. something told him to pull his phone out. the text floating on his screen had him blinking.

toru: dude I need your help.

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ set you down. smooched you for good measure and apologised. called you his babydoll one last time and told you he had an emergency. satoru never texted him for anything. and as much as he'd love to spend another night between your thighs— his brother came first.

he rushed off. leaving you panting and with a heavy stone in your heart as you shut your door and pressed your back into it.

did you really just do that? did you really just use a man because he had the face of your rival who you fell in love with? because his voice sounded just like satoru's when he said the right thing in the right tone?

you looked at the helmet in your arms. remembered the jacket wrapped around you.

you felt sick.

but you shoved it down. told yourself that satoshi only wanted sex. that you'd never love someone like him. that this was fair transaction.

as you plopped the helmet on your desk and drew a heavy sigh. still hot and bothered between the legs as you flopped onto your stomach into your bed. pulling your pillow closer and burying your face into it with a muffled, exagerated whine at your own heart.

his jacket still felt so warm around you.

sleep. you just needed some sleep. needed to stop thinking about the twins that you were caught in some messy triangle with. your eyes hung heavy. fluttering shut as your breath slowed. body easing into the sheets. you allowed sleep to drift you off somewhere warm.

that was until. you felt a weight press down on top of you.

˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ was shaking. actually shaking. his hands were shaking as they snatched your waist. his knees were shaking as they shoved into the bed. he watched you panic. watched you squirm. watched you jerk up— only to freeze when you saw him.

"sat— satoru?"

and he kissed you. harder than he had in the library. harder than in any of his dreams. it was clumsy and fervent. a clash of teeth and tongue.

the worst part? you kissed him back. fuck. you kissed him back. you want him. some part of you wanted him. even though you keep giving yourself to his bastard twin.

he gripped the back of your hair. shoved your face down and rutted his hips against your ass. slow, and rough and haphazard as groans caught in his throat.

he lurched down. nose pressing into your cheek and his cock throbbing against the back of your thigh.

a part of him thought his heart would stop from how hard it was beating. thought he'd pass out from pure hyperventilation with how heavy his breathing was.

his voice was ragged. it didn't sound like him. he didn't feel like himself. didn't know what he was doing— only that he was so. fucking. tired. of seeing you with satoshi.

"you wanted it?" he jammed his hips harder into yours. grinding in frantic bucks. "then you're gonna take it."

teeth clenched. eyes glossy behind his glasses. he shoved your head into the pillow further and nearly whined at your muffled moans as he pressed his panting mouth against your ear.

jaw ticked. breath jagged.

"even if I don't know how to give it. you're gonna fucking take it."

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒎. no plagiarism or ai training authorised. divider: @/cursed-carmine. art cred: @/_teaforgods (ig).

♡ ₊˚‧ enjoyed this piece? consider joining my patreon or commissioning me <3 I appreciate all the support!

The current got suddenly faster, and Wild breathed in some water as he got smacked against the rocks, coughing and hacking as he struggled to get any air. He managed a wet gasp when his head briefly poked up, but then he was pulled under again.

Air wasn’t the only thing Wild had gotten when he went up though— he’d also gotten a sight of the river up ahead. And at the sight of the waterfall rapidly approaching, his struggles grew even more frantic.

I need to reach shore, he thought as he continued to cough and claw his way to the river’s edge in a panic. I need to reach shore now, I need air I need—

The angle of the water shifted, and Wild was shot out of the waterfall, the rapid change in direction making his head spin.

He found himself in open air, water still in his lungs, and he clumsily grabbed for his paraglider as the lake below rapidly approached. Wild managed to snap it open just in time, but he didn’t manage a good grip on the handle.

His arm slipped, and Wild slammed into the sand near the shore, a choked yell escaping him as pain blazed up his shoulder.

All he could do was cough up water for a minute and catch his breath, trying not to wrench his shoulder more. Something was broken in there; he wasn’t sure if it was his shoulder itself or his arm or collarbone, but it hurt. He could barely move without his whole arm lighting up in agony, and hoped blearily that none of the others had suffered the same fate as him.

Then he heard a splash behind him, and his stomach sank.

Had one of the others fallen in the portal already? Or was it something else? That hadn’t sounded big enough to be a splash from something falling from the waterfall, but then again, he could be wrong.

“There, look!”

The voice sounded familiar, but Wild couldn’t place it over the sound of the water behind him and the blood rushing in his ears. He tried to raise himself up, and pain tore across his senses, and for a minute all he could focus on was the fire ripping through his shoulder.

“—know who he is? He looks just like—”

“—in the water, don’t—”

Two voices floated around his head as the fire eased, and Wild took a deep breath, opening his eyes again. His hair had fallen in his face, and between that and his blurry vision he couldn’t see much, especially through the damp strands. Unless he moved again, but that seemed like a bad idea.

Wild groaned, blinking to try and get the hair away from his eyes, but he barely succeeded. His wet hair slipped to the side, but all he could make out were two blobs, silhouetted by the sun shining behind them.

Then he heard a soft gasp, and the sound of a weapon being drawn.

“How is this—”

“This has trap written all over it,” a different voice than the first interrupted, soft, but sharp. Cold steel nudged Wild’s chin, and he stiffened. “Don’t go near him.”

The other voice made a worried noise as Wild weakly coughed. “I don’t think he would have fallen down a waterfall on purpose and hurt himself like this if that were true.”

“It could still be a trick.”

“I know... but we won’t get any answers if he’s too dazed to speak.”

Wild heard a huff, then the sound of footsteps padding towards him in a familiar way. A hand settled over his shoulder, and Wild groaned again, a soothing noise coming from the voice.

“Hold on just a moment.”

Then a feeling like that of a gentle stream swept over his shoulder, quiet and small, but carrying the mighty power of water along with it. Wild automatically relaxed, sinking into the bubbly feeling. A blue light flickered in his vision, healing his shoulder in a familiar way, and Wild relaxed even further before he abruptly stiffened again.

Wait...

The smooth magic trickled into his middle, down to where his lungs were still burning from the water he’d inhaled. It soothed the ache, and though Wild still felt exhausted, he could tell his shoulder had been completely fixed as well. Even the various scrapes and bruises from the fight before the river had been healed.

Which meant...

The bubbly rush of magic faded away, Wild’s vision fully cleared, and his stomach dropped out.

Red scales. Yellow eyes. A petite figure covered in scales that were smooth and shiny in the sunlight, and healing magic that was fading from slender hands.

“M... Mipha?” Wild choked out.

The Zora woman (it couldn’t be Mipha, it couldn’t—) gave him a concerned look, but before Wild could do or say anything further, the steel was back at his neck.

Wild stilled, and followed the blade resting at his neck up to the person holding it. His already fast heartbeat tripled, and he choked for a second time.

The person holding a blade at his throat was himself.

His double’s hair was much shorter, pulled back into a neat ponytail, and instead of the champion’s tunic he was wearing the Zora armor Wild had received. His eyes were steely as he watched Wild, but the most shocking thing about him was the fact that the right side of his face was entirely smooth.

He didn’t have a single one of the scars that had killed Wild.

I’m unconscious. I’m dreaming. I hit my head on a rock and I’m hallucinating—

“Explain yourself. Who are you?” his double demanded, not appearing to notice how Wild’s world was caving in on itself. Wild stared, and coughed once, still feeling tired from his fight with the river, and just... unable to process this. What could he even say?

What was going on?

“I asked you a question, who are you? What are you doing in Zora’s Domain?” his double repeated, voice even sharper.

Mipha sucked in a worried breath as she stared at Wild, and touched the double’s arm. “Oh no, did... did a little guardian bring you?” she asked, and Wild stared at her, her words jumbling in his head as he stared.

Mipha.

Mipha.

Mipha was alive here. Wild was alive here, and missing his scars, and wearing the Zora armor that Mipha had crafted to give to him as a—

“Wh... who are you?” Wild whispered, throat suddenly dry as bone. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it was just a mistake, a strange coincidence, but he— he had to know. He had to know.

“We asked you first,” Link’s double replied suspiciously, and Mipha set a hand on his shoulder.

“Link, he was just injured and half-drowned, I believe he’s confused. If he were here to kill us, he already would have tried,” she said pointedly, studying Wild with an intent look. “I think he looks too much like you to be a coincidence.”

“It could still be a trick. A Yiga or something,” his double said suspiciously. Wild didn’t blame him. That did sound like something the Yiga would do.

“But why add the scars and long hair?” Mipha countered, and the double looked frustrated.

“To confuse us, I’m sure there’s a motive. He’s probably here for you, you know you’re—”

“If you say “at risk” again Link, I will set Sidon on you,” Mipha said with a little huff, and turned back towards Wild with a kind-if-cautious look. “My apologies. I am Princess Mipha of the Zora, and this is my husband, Link.”

The words were like a slap, even though Wild knew they were coming.

Husband. Mipha. Zora armor.

Husband.

Link.

Wild would have fallen over backwards if he’d been upright in any way, and he stared between Mipha and his double, wondering if he was about to be sick.

They all knew the portals were transporting them through time. Wild had been a part of Time and Wind’s discussion on fractured timelines, and they all knew that there were splits and sections where the history of Hyrule didn’t make sense.

But this...

Was this a timeline where Wild hadn’t failed?

Mipha’s face grew more worried the longer Wild stared at them without speaking, and even his double started to look a little concerned.

“Did I miss an injury?” Mipha asked, scooting closer again, and Wild froze as she approached.

“No, no you got— you got everything,” Wild choked out. He felt perfectly healthy apart from being tired and his falling-apart mental state, just like if he’d used Mipha’s grace. Even though he hadn’t used it in nearly a year because the champions were finally at rest and they’d passed on and Mipha—

Wild lurched to his feet, using a rock for support, and immediately the other Link’s blade was raised again.

“Stay where you are,” he said sharply, and Wild stumbled backwards towards the water. His double’s face grew fierce and he leapt around him and blocked him off from the river. “I said stay where you are! We’ve told you who we are, now tell us your identity or I will treat you as a threat.”

Wild stilled, and swallowed. He might as well explain.

“I’m... well, Link,” he began, and the other Link didn’t move. “You... probably figured that out. I... I don’t know how I got here— I mean, I do, but it wasn’t on purpose, I-I... I don’t know what you mean about a guardian, but one didn’t bring me here.”

Wild looked at Mipha again, and swallowed thickly, his eyes stinging.

“This isn’t a trap. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m not here to hurt you,” he croaked, and the other Link pulled his sword back just a hair. “I— my companions and I are traveling through time, but... I think something went wrong,” he finished in a whisper.

We’ve never had anything like this happen with the portals before.

Did the Shadow do this?

“Time travel...” Mipha said thoughtfully, and exchanged a loaded look with the other Link.

His face had creased further, but in a different way, and he finally pulled the sword away from Wild’s neck. He kept it at the ready though, and watched Wild intensely.

“How did you get here?” he asked again, a little less accusatory and a little more curious.

Wild exhaled. “It’s a long story... but it was through a portal,” he said, deciding he would just... ignore what was going on for now. It was that or completely freak out, and he wanted to know more before passing out due to shock. “My group is hunting a Shadow, one ripping holes in time. We’re trying to stop him.”

“So no Terrako then?” Link questioned, and Wild shook his head in confusion.

“No? No... Terrako. Just portals that sometimes spew powerful monsters.”

Link and Mipha both stiffened.

“These monsters, do they have darkened blood?” Mipha asked, and Wild nodded. “Oh my. We’ve seen some up in the highlands, remember that moblin, Link?”

Link grimaced. “Yes. What a disaster. We assumed it was just leftover magic from Astor or something of that nature, not... time travel related. Bazz is still recovering.” He paused for a second, then his eyes went wide and he whipped his head back towards Link. “You said you came through a portal that expels these monsters?”

“Yeah, from upriver somewhere,” Wild nodded. “But it’s not sending out monsters right now. I fell through it, then fell right in the river.”

Link frowned. “So no monsters were coming out when you went through?”

“No, they were all on the other side, my group was fighting their leader. But I don’t know—”

“Papa?”

Link froze, and Mipha looked worried as Wild turned around towards where the voice had come from.

A young, orangey colored Zora was poking his head up from the water, and he looked between Wild and Link, a wide look on his face.

“Papa?” he repeated in a curious voice, and Wild stared, studying the little Zora’s features.

“Stay in the water, Ty,” Link said seriously, and the Zora hesitated, eyes darting between Mipha and Link and Wild. Then he hopped out and scurried over to stand next to Mipha. He hid behind her leg and watched Wild with large blue eyes, and Wild began to shake, recognizing them as his own.

Oh Hylia, haven’t you put me through enough?

Mipha put a hand on Ty’s arm, and he continued to watch Wild, his expression concerned as he studied his face.

“Papa... hurt?” he said worriedly, and Link shifted around so he was standing beside him, and placed a hand on his head.

“No, I’m not hurt,” Link reassured, and Ty switched to clinging to his leg instead, still staring at Wild. His orange scales shone brightly in the sunshine, like the last rays of light before the sun set.

“Wh... who is...?” Wild choked out, and Mipha gave him a look that was as conflicted as he felt.

“This is our son. Tyde,” she explained gently, like she knew the words would hurt.

They did, hitting Wild like a laser, and he felt a mixture of longing and wonder and grief so intense he was nearly sick.

Tyde was small, and as he shifted around the other Link’s leg, Wild saw that his left arm was shorter than it should be, the fins the wrong size. He had Wild— Link’s eyes, and his frame was proportioned more like a Hylian, but he had golden-orange and white scales all along his body, and had the Zora tail on the back of his head.

All in all, he was exactly what Wild would expect a child of his and Mipha’s to look like.

A tear fell down Wild’s cheek without his permission, and he sank back down to his knees, overwhelmed. He was married here. He had a child here.

This was what would have happened if he hadn’t failed?

This was how much Mipha had loved him?

Wild began to shake, and barely even noticed as Mipha approached and knelt beside him, so lost was he in his own mind.

“You’re from the world the older Sidon came from, aren’t you,” Mipha said quietly, and Wild shakily raised his head to look at her. “I... doubt he remembered in order to tell you. Zelda theorized they all wouldn’t recall anything from their time here.”

Wild gave a small shake of his head, and Mipha sighed.

“It’s complicated I’m afraid, but we’ve dealt with time travel before,” she explained. “And me and Sidon, we... we talked a little, about things. He said that in his time the champions were slain, and that you nearly were along with us. But you were placed in a sleep for one hundred years in order to heal, and then you saved the princess.”

Wild nodded mutely, and Mipha’s face turned further grieved. She carefully reached forward, and Link couldn’t help his flinch as her cool palm rested on his cheek, right over his scars.

The other Link behind Mipha had gone white, his sword finally lowered. Tyde tugged at his pant leg, and Link wordlessly picked him up, holding him tightly to his chest as he locked gazes with Wild.

Wild could only imagine what was going through his head.

Mipha wiped the tear off Wild’s cheek then withdrew her hand, giving him the same smile that he barely remembered from a hundred years ago. It almost made Wild fully break down, but he choked back his tears. He didn’t want her to feel like she had to comfort him.

“I’ll h-have to hear about this adventure Sidon had,” he said, managing not to make his voice sound too watery. “Sounds like it w-was something.”

“It was,” Mipha said quietly. “He always spoke so highly of you.”

She looked like she wanted to say more, but Wild’s double spoke up then, Tyde still nestled up to his chest.

“In your world, we... lost?” he asked in a quiet voice, and Wild swallowed thickly.

“We... did. I failed,” he whispered, not looking at Mipha. “The champions... our weapons turned against us. Overwhelmed us. I only survived because of a Sheikah invention that took a hundred years to work so I could fix my failure. So many died...”

He took in a shuddering breath, and looked at Mipha and his double again, their child still watching him intently.

“But you won here. You did it, you won—”

Wild’s voice choked off, and he barely noticed Tyde tug on his father’s sleeve, trying to get his attention. He did notice when Tyde pointed at Wild though, his brow scrunched up.

“Hurt,” he said with another tug, and for some reason that one small word made Wild lose the rest of his composure.

Suddenly it was too much, the sight of himself holding his and Mipha’s child, Mipha herself sitting beside him, her hand on her husband’s arm. It was a family Wild never had, never would have, and the fact that there was a timeline somewhere where Wild hadn’t failed them, where they had the opportunity to exist, it was just—

A small sob escaped him, and he pulled back, his shaking starting up again. Before he could bolt though, Tyde suddenly squirmed out of his father’s arms and padded over to Wild. Wild froze as he put a tiny hand on his arm, and when Wild looked down at him, he ran his hand up and down for a moment before nodding.

“Better,” he declared, then scampered back to Wild’s double.

Wild could only stare, tears dripping down his cheeks as Tyde climbed back into his father’s arms.

“He’s seen me heal before, he thinks he can too,” Mipha explained with a faint smile. “He does that whenever anyone cries, he thinks they’re hurt.”

A thick laugh burst from Wild’s throat, and he smiled shakily through the tears only running faster down his face. Tyde kept watching him, and Link swallowed back the gigantic lump in his throat in order to speak.

“Thanks,” he managed through his tears, and Tyde gave him a shy smile before hiding his face in Link’s chest.

Wild breathed out shakily, shuddering with a sob he tried not to let escape, and Mipha and his double stayed quiet as they let him cry, Tyde quietly watching them all. Mipha put her hand on his arm at one point, and Wild only cried harder, wishing he could remember her more, wishing she hadn’t died, wishing he didn’t even know what.

He merely cried, and Mipha let him, a different version of himself watching in pale-faced silence.

That was where Wolfie found them barely a quarter hour later, Wild’s eyes red as he quietly explained more about the infected monsters, Mipha and his double asking worried questions about what was going on, Tyde resting against his knee.