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saucyminxbrainspill · 2 years

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Broken Things - Chapter 2

A/N: This fic mingles both film and book canon, especially in the area of TIME (i.e. how long it takes to actually travel to & through certain regions during the dwarves’ Quest for Erebor). I vastly prefer the travel timeline in the books to the super-condensed “there’s always someone chasing us” version in the films.

Fandom: The Hobbit (book and films)

Setting: first part of the Quest for Erebor – The Lone Lands (somewhere between Bree and the Trollshaws)

Characters: Fili x fem!reader, Balin, Gandalf, Bilbo, Thorin, Kili, The Company

Chapter Warnings: mentions of grief, naked dwarf ogling, allusion to past trauma

RATING: PG-13 – angst, implied nudity

Word Count: 2835

Summary: Fili thinks he’s found his One in Y/N, a human linguist and healer accompanying Thorin’s Company on the Quest for Erebor. All he wants to do is find a way to confess his feelings and court her properly. But unbeknownst to him, Y/N carries hidden trauma from her past. Can Fili help her overcome her demons and win her heart?

Barely half a day’s ride beyond the village saw the end of tilled fields and farmsteads, and the beginning of woods and wild country. Y/N avoided Fili altogether, riding at the head of the column with Gandalf and Thorin, or in the rear with Bilbo and Bombur, but always several pony lengths removed from the blonde prince and his brother. At first the younger prince tried to tease the elder, wondering loudly and often – much to Fili’s chagrin - what might have happened to alienate their new friend: that is, until he noticed Fili’s sullen glare whenever he spoke her name. Soon, Kili’s chatter succumbed to his brother’s brooding silence, until finally there was no conversation between the princes at all. Eventually, Kili moved up the column in search of more amicable company.

This continued for the better part of a fortnight, while the Company rode on under fair May skies. Apart from the awkwardness between Y/N and Fili (a known fact that everyone tiptoed delicately around at all costs), it was a merry time. The dwarves told stories and jokes as the ponies ambled along, often at the expense of one or more of their fellows. And most evenings after supper had come and gone, they sat around the campfire and sang. Y/N loved these nights best.

Many of the lyrics featured bawdy or comic scenarios, drawing gales of laughter from the whole group. But sometimes late at night, when the smoke from their spent pipes hung over their heads like wisps of forgotten dreams, the melodies turned somber. When the singing shifted into Khuzdul, Y/N sat entranced. Although she understood only a word or two of the secret language, she felt the weight of the music. The deep hum of dwarven voices stirred something within her: age old sorrow and a loss so deep she could feel the ache in her bones.

“What does it mean?” she asked Balin one night after the conclusion of a particularly mournful dirge. He sighed heavily and gazed up at the sky for a long moment before answering.

“It is the Song of Burning: an elegy for the souls lost at the Battle of Azanulbizar. So many of our kin fell before the gates of Khazad-Dum that day. Those who lived were not enough to bury the dead. So we gathered the fallen onto a pyre and burned them, and the smoke of it darkened the sky for three days and nights.” He looked again at the dying fire, and Y/N saw the memory of other flames reflected in his gaze. His next words were so low, she almost missed them. “My father was a burned dwarf; as was Thorin’s younger brother, Frerin. Nearly all dwarrow suffer from that loss. It is likely we will never recover from it.”

Long moments passed in heavy silence as both stared into the embers. Finally Y/N dared to ask the question that had begun to burn her heart. “I would like to learn to understand it. Khuzdul, I mean. I have spent my whole life learning languages, but I know almost nothing of your speech or your people. Could you teach me?”

Balin looked up at her and frowned, studying her face intently. Y/N held her breath.

“We dwarrow guard our ancient tongue jealously and rarely teach it to outsiders, lass. This is no small thing you ask.”

Y/N had expected this, knowing how closely dwarves kept their secrets. She was prepared. She turned a neutral gaze on Balin then spoke the words she had rehearsed. “Among my people, dwarves are regarded as suspicious at best and vagabonds at worst. The elders of my village taught us that yours is a vulgar race, best suited to hard labor and lacking all gentility. I have been watching you all very closely these past few weeks on the road” - Well, one of you more than the others! - “and whether you wanted me to or not I have learned a thing or two about dwarrow.”

She leaned heavily on the last word, then paused to see what effect her speech had had on her audience. Balin levelled a cool gaze at her from beneath his snowy brows, his former vulnerability transformed into a stony mask. She picked up a stick and began to poke at the fire, avoiding his eyes as she continued.

“Most of my family believe that dwarves are greedy, mean, and incapable of honest dealings. And while you certainly presented yourselves well when we met back in the Shire, these past weeks spent on the road together have revealed your true character.” Pause for effect!

She couldn’t keep the straight face any longer. Looking back up at Balin, she broke into a grin. “My family are all fools. It’s one of the reasons I chose to become a scholar. Traveling in your company for the past month, I have found Durin’s Folk to be kind, honest, and loyal to a fault.” She paused for a breath, decided not to mention the particular Durin who had cemented this impression on her, and then continued. “Despite the coarseness of your manners and your slightly off-color humor, you have treated me with greater respect than my own kin. You have shown honor of the highest quality. And hearing your stories and songs has left me no doubt as to the richness of your culture. Yours is a venerable, noble heritage unrivaled by anything my village elders can boast. My people know nothing. And for my own part, I could never condone the views of such small-minded clodpolls.”

She put on her best pleading face and launched into the finale. “Please, Balin: teach me your language, your history, your stories and songs. I want to tell the world how wrong they are about you. I have become very fond of you all, you know.” Her oration concluded, Y/N sat back and waited.

Balin remained so still that for a moment she wondered if she had gone too far with the insults. Then a smirk appeared on his face and he shook his head, chuckling. “You are a force to be reckoned with, lass. It has been long since I have had to match wits with the likes of you. ‘Venerable’, eh?” He chuckled again, more warmly.

“Aye. I cannot see what harm it could do. I’ll take it up with Thorin.” Then the old dwarf stood, bid her goodnight, and lumbered off in the direction of his bedroll, leaving her to begin the first watch in the company of her own thoughts.

Y/N couldn’t keep the grin off her face. Perhaps Gandalf had been right. Perhaps here, among these fierce, proud, stubborn, fascinating dwarves, she could trust and be trusted. And with trust, maybe friendship would follow. Maybe even . . .

Ghosts of the past flitted about the edges of her thoughts and she shoved them away, pivoting her focus with a speed born of long practice. She gave the fire a few good pokes, stirring it to life and adding more wood. As the flames licked greedily at the fresh log, she raised her head to scan the camp. Most of the Company had taken to their blankets for the night. But just at the edge of the firelight, Y/N caught the gleam of eyes watching her. She stiffened reflexively. Fili’s golden mane shone in the glow of the renewed blaze, even as his eyes snapped shut. She had caught him staring outright this time. She sighed heavily and tried to relax, but the whispers at the edge of her mind would not fully disperse.

Damn the past! Even without it, she had enough to worry about in the present.

The following day dawned unseasonably hot, and by mid-morning the singing and laughing gave way to sweating and grumbling. Even Gandalf grew sullen (“Well,” said Bilbo testily, “more sullen than usual at any rate!”). By late afternoon, everyone’s neck was sunburned, everyone’s thighs chafed, and everyone’s tempers worn thin. After toiling up a particularly long and dusty ascent, Gloin, riding at the front with Gandalf, gave a shout. The party drew up at the crest of the hill and gazed down upon a welcome sight. A small green valley fell away below them, leafy tree tops stretching away down the slope and sunlight glinting on water at the bottom. The dwarves cheered, and raced down the rocky incline into the shade of the wood, Y/N and Bilbo – whose riding skills were a bit less accomplished - following somewhat slower behind under the watchful eyes of Gandalf and Thorin. By the time the stragglers caught up with the rest of the group, the ponies had been tied up in a circle and already half-unladen, and a campsite was quickly unfolding on the verge of a small, clear lake.

“I guess we make camp here tonight” Thorin rumbled dryly, but Y/N caught the hint of a smile that played upon his lips as he watched his nephews shedding their clothes and weapons in a mad dash to the water. Y/N smiled too. A swim sounded like the best thing in the world at that moment! But – she glanced up just in time to see Kili dive headfirst off an enormous boulder, his chiseled body cleaving the surface with a splash – she would have to wait her turn. While nobody who knew her could call Y/N a prude, the dwarves had shown a deep concern for her modesty and “reputation”, and out of respect and affection she refrained from challenging their peculiar sensibilities.

“I’ll go help Bombur get out the cooking gear” she sighed, angling her pony towards the center of the campsite. But it wasn’t long before Bombur too, in an uncharacteristic display of rowdiness, shed his layers and went roaring off the top of the rock himself, swamping his companions with a mighty wave. Y/N laughed heartily and watched the company members for a moment as they wrestled and splashed; especially the blonde prince as he lifted his brother bodily and threw him off the rock down upon the surface of the water with a resounding ‘SMACK!’ She winced in solidarity, then looked away, smirking to herself as she built up the fire. Just because she had to wait her turn didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the view!

Suddenly a shadow loomed over her. “My dear Y/N!” Gandalf’s voice interrupted her colorful thoughts.

“Hmm?” She raised her eyebrows and glanced up at him with an innocent smile. “Yes, my dear Gandalf?”

The wizard’s eyes glittered beneath his hat. “Why don’t you and Bilbo put your plant lore to good use and see if you can’t find something to add to our pot. Hmm?” He arched one tremendous eyebrow knowingly at her.

Y/N grinned wickedly. “Spoilsport!” she whispered loudly, then rose off her haunches and called to the hobbit, “Bilbo dear, Gandalf wants some vegetables for his stew. Would you care to accompany me?” Bilbo, looking uncomfortably hot and a little flustered himself (while he generally didn’t mind bathing amidst the dwarves, the sort of rough play currently churning up the lake made him more than a little anxious) hurried after her down the shore in search of wild greens and edible flora.

When they returned sometime later, arms full of wood sorrel, watercress, and mushrooms (Bilbo was especially proud of the large number of black morels he had found) the dwarves had finished their swim and set up a well-ordered camp. Y/N and Bilbo’s vegetables, combined with a quantity of dried meat, salt, and barley, promised a hearty supper, and everyone’s spirits felt lighter for it. Everyone, that is, except Y/N and Bilbo, whose sweat-damp clothes and burning skin now begged for a dip in the lake. The moment Bombur set the cauldron over the fire, Bilbo scurried off towards the water, now blessedly calm and free of dwarven gladiators. Trying not to look too eager, Y/N gathered her pack and set off down the shoreline away from the others, her mind already adrift on the crystal waters.

“Don’t wander too far, or we won’t be able to hear you and come rescue you if you drown!” Kili taunted her retreating form.

Without turning or breaking stride, she yelled back, “I’m not the one who needs to worry about drowning! Your back flip was a disgrace!” Kili frowned. “That dive was excellent! Where does she get off, telling me that-” Then his brain caught up with her words, and he flushed crimson and began inspecting his bow with single minded focus, pretending to ignore the jeers and whistles of the Company. Fili, however, found their exchange less than amusing. The words “drown” and “rescue” tugged at his heart, and he turned to Thorin where he sat on a log with Gandalf blowing smoke rings.

“Shouldn’t someone go with her?” he asked in what he hoped was a nonchalant tone of voice. “I mean, at least within earshot?” Thorin raised a questioning eyebrow at his nephew, while Gandalf tried – and mostly failed - to disguise a chuckle as a cough.

“I think,”, Thorin began carefully, “that Y/N is perfectly capable of handling herself in broad daylight, sister-son.” It was true. The sun had lowered towards the tree line, but nowhere near set. Fili could hear Bofur snickering somewhere behind him, and his stinging pride urged him to take a swing at the cheeky Broadbeam. Instead, he nodded curtly to his uncle, who returned the gesture graciously, then went to sort out his bedroll.

Y/N floated on her back, letting her mind drift along with her body in the still waters of a secluded cove. The lake did not disappoint, embracing her chaffed and sunburned skin with waves of cool relief. She knew as soon as the sun dipped behind the trees the temperature would drop uncomfortably, but until that moment she planned to enjoy her swim to the fullest. She gazed up at the cerulean sky, pondering nothing in particular, except maybe how the cloudless blue expanse reminded her of Fili’s eyes . . . She blinked. Then she sighed. Damn it, Y/N! This will not do!

In the days since the market, she had kept her distance from the dwarven prince, unnerved by the intensity of . . . whatever had passed between them. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, trying to piece together how she felt. He was definitely handsome, with his leonine locks, breathtaking eyes, and adorable dimples, and he moved with purpose and certainty: attractive qualities in and of themselves. But she knew from both education and experience that beautiful forms often hide beastly souls. Her thoughts darkened, and she shoved the cloud away with a shiver that had nothing to do with the light evening breeze.

She closed her eyes.

Who are you, Fili? . . .

Not the past. It is dead, buried. It cannot hold me. This is the present. Now. You are here, now.

So, who are you? You are . . .

He was everything she had told Balin last night, and more. Laughter without cruelty. Bravery without bravado. Gracious. Competent. Strong of heart. You love your brother and uncle; will suffer hardship and danger for them. You exude inner light. So different from . . . Her mind reached the edge of an abyss she did not wish to gaze upon, and in retaliation all thoughts stopped. For a handful of heartbeats, she was completely blank. Then she inhaled deeply and repeated the words:

The sins of others do not define me.

The sins of others do not define YOU. The past is dead, buried. It cannot hold me. This is the present. Now. You are here now.

I am here now.

Now, not Then.

Now, not Later.

Now.

But who was he to her now? She had yet to decide. Ever since that unsettling day, despite her intense scrutiny, her instincts remained quiet. She did not sense danger from him, not even a glimmer of ill intent: no prickle at the back of her neck, no knots in her stomach, no urge to flee. On the contrary, she felt an inexplicable desire to get closer to him, to be seen by him. She even contemplated risking the unthinkable: letting her guard down.

And then there was that whisper of something more: that something in his eyes which had lanced her heart and left her reeling, breathless and astonished.

When he looked at her . . . Elbereth preserve me, those eyes! . . .

Y/N’s heart sped up, and she felt a warmth under her skin that had nothing to do with sunburn or saddle sores. An upwelling of emotions cascaded over her, sweeping away her chronic fear. She remembered how her heart raced when he held her gaze; how her entire body tingled at his touch; how his eyes poured a torrent of questions and feelings into her, unlocking a corresponding flood in her own heart.

She snorted, remembering Kili’s recent jest.

“Who’s going to save you if you drown?” she murmured to the sky.

TAGLIST:

@justfollowtheroad @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @lathalea @blairsanne @fandomfaery @fandomfaeryreads @luna-xial @luna-writes-stuff @i-did-not-mean-to @guardianofrivendell @theblogofdurin @midearthwritings @legolaslovely @laurfilijames @soyeahitsmiddleearth @krispypotato @shiinata-library @izuoyarmin @fortheloveofdurin @eilin-brillewin @filiandkili-sluts @spidergirla5 @tschrist1 @anitdot @brokennerdalert @witchylittlewolf @witchkingachilles

#the hobbit #fili durin #fili x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #balin remembers #dwarvish singing #hobbits and mushrooms #slow burn #the hobbit fanfiction #kili durin #thorin oakenshield

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justkeepdancing-nemo · 2 years

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Bird Song: A Game Of Thrones, Bard-inspired Playlist

I'll journey on, I'll sing and dance And the greedy ones can make their stance With pockets for souls they'll never fill With happy heart, I'm smiling still

Walk in the sun, stay in the light And when we're done, we'll take flight Only desire what you have Only desire what you have

So I thought it would be fun to try to find songs that Nemo would actually dance/sing/perform to while he is staying in King’s Landing! Descriptions below~

My Mother Told Me

To me, this song is a ‘prologue,’ and a kind of gather-around-the-campfire or dinner table vibe. Not only is it a classic folk song that many people will know the words to, but it mirrors Nemo’s own backstory as the song talks about a mother telling her son he would “Sail to distant shores.”

Angel’s Flight

This is a lovely instrumental song with some chanting/vocalization in it! I imagine this would be a wonderful song for a troupe of dancers to perform to. Gotta continue our flight motif for Nemo or who would I be tbqh.

Touch The Sky

Ah, from Brave! But let’s all pretend this is another common folk song. What I like about this song is 1. there is the flight motif and also 2. I love that it describes the kingdoms, persay:

“Where dark woods hide secret And mountains are fierce and bold Deep waters hold reflections Of times lost long ago“

As the Old Gods are important to Nemo, I also like how nature is personified in this song.

Bird Song

“Listen to the sound of my heart beat slow Yeah, my heart's like yours, my heart's like yours Listen to the sound, oh it feels like home”

This is a song I imagine that Nemo could actually sing! Once again, it reflects the motif of Nemo as a bird. I also think it represents Nemo’s beliefs as someone who rejects classism and politics and all of that, basically.

Dragonfly Keeper

Another instrumental piece, which sounds lovely and would be wonderful to dance through. The piano is so light and fluttery, like the quick steps of a dancer...or the wings of a dragonfly, represented, say, by a fan ;D I can imagine Nemo using his fan to dance to this one is what I’m saying.

From Father to Son

I represented Nemo’s mother. Of course I gotta throw in a song for Marlin! This is another upbeat instrumental song but I love how boisterous it is. I imagine it’s like Marlin’s supportive and proud voice. This is a ‘get everyone up and dance’ song!

For the Dancing and the Dreaming

Another folk song that I imagine is popular throughout the realm and of COURSE it’s about marriage. I can see this being performed in honor of the marriage taking place in King’s Landing. I also like it because Nemo is a dancer. And a dreamer.

Five Bells

This is the ‘funny’ performance song, though I mean it’s not THAT funny, but it’s that song where you have two people doing a call/response conversation of sorts, it gets people laughing and clapping and chanting along. I like that it talks about travel since that’s a big theme of Nemo’s journey in this au.

Flaming Red Hair

This is another jig. I threw it in here because I like to think the ‘flaming red hair’ is both a slight allusion to Nemo’s og orange hair that I always associate him with, but also of the land of Dorne, the land of the Rising Sun. Fireflies

What can i say i love throwing a bardcore version of a modern-day song. Plus, fireflies are winged insects, much like dragonflies. I just think this song has very Nemo energy and once again feels like a song that perhaps worshippers of the Old Gods play.

Only Desire What You Have

This one is an excellent theme for Nemo’s particular story. He isn’t after money or fame or power. Instead, he values his freedom and he values his religion, and wants other people to have those things. It’s also upbeat and fun to dance to which is very important.

Where No One Goes

We all need an epic closer to any bard/troupe show right??? That’s this song. Big and bombastic, I imagine lots of breathtaking tricks. Lots of flips! Spins in the air! Fire-breathing!!! And of course the lyrics have my two themes: flight and travel. We just love a journey banger.

#yeah i did do his bio first so i could post this #i just love a playlist and we all know it #look... this playlist is good /says that about all my playlists #swyntask #music

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miam0re · 2 years

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Roasting Marshmallows | Xiao

Warning: Xiao and his dangerous chubby cheeks (SFW)

Pairing: Xiao X GN!Reader

Mia's Notes: This is for @xiaosmoon Holiday writing collab!

If you find any terms which are not gender-neutral for the reader, please do tell me because there is a chance I may have made a mistake.

Eri this was so much fun to write and as always, I may have gone a bit overboard and off-topic. Either way, I loved doing this.

Happy reading and Merry Christmas everyone!!

WC: 2k

“What…is this?” Xiao muttered, poking the bowl of marshmallows you place on the table. You giggled and walked towards him, sending a quick smile to Aether and Hu Tao as they tended to the bonfire.

The lands of Liyue were covered in a blanket of snow at this time of the year, well at least the lands where you lived. The Wanghsu Inn was bustling with customers avoiding the snowy nights during the holidays while you decided to make most of the environment, inviting a few friends for a session of singing songs and roasting marshmallows around a campfire. What better way to celebrate Christmas time than with the ones you love?

You picked a marshmallow from the bowl and walked closer to Xiao, lifting the sugary treat to his lips. “Open your mouth, Love.” You smile, seeing his eyes widen in distrust. “You know it would be much easier if you just tell me what it is?” He scoffed and started backing away from you, dodging your deft fingers trying to feed him.

He was acting like a toddler avoiding vegetables and it was quite a hilarious sight, Zhongli would agree since he was seeing from afar and chuckling to himself. The boy who was like a son for him was quite hard to deal with, especially with how he’s always on his guard. Zhongli will forever wonder how you managed to creep into the little Yaksha’s heart and make his life all the better.

You laughed merrily, and something in Xiao fluttered. His heart most probably. He froze and stared at you, taking in all of you. He was smitten. Taking the opportunity, you grab his chin and pry open his mouth, stuffing the marshmallow in his mouth. He shrieked in surprise and would have spit it out, had it not melted and coated his tongue with it’s sweet flavour.

“How is it?” You pushed with a giggle, your fingers ghosting over his forearm as he wrapped his arms around you in a fleeting hug.“It…tolerable.” He blurted with a full mouth, blushing and gulping the rest of it down when he heard how silly he sounded.

Seeing his flushed state, you leaned forward to peck his cheek, relishing the way his pink cheeks tinted red, golden eyes finding anywhere else to look, except your own orbs, sparkling with mischief under the Christmas lights at the inn.

“Come on now, we have to hang out with everyone else.” You tug his hand, pulling him to where all your other friends sat around the outdoor fire. He groaned and trudged behind you, reluctantly following you to the small gathering of humans and adepti.

“Do we really have to? Can’t we just go back to the room and spend time with each other? You know I don’t exactly like…social gatherings.” He gritted his teeth. You laughed and pet his head, squealing when he grabbed you wrist and pulled you into his hold, digging his face in your neck.

“Xiao…okay how about this. If you come sit with everyone else, then I’ll treat you to something better than the marshmallow you just ate.” You cooed, tugging him closer as you stood behind one of the logs set around the fire as makeshift seating.

All of your (and Xiao’s; he’s too insecure to admit it) friends sat around the cackling warmth. Everyone was intently listening to Hu Tao telling a story of Santa’s Ghost roaming around the plains of Liyue while everyone slept and eating all the milk and cookies in their houses. Some listeners cowered in their wrapped blankets, some showed no belief in her tales, and one said that he would make it his duty to dispel the evil spirts, all while enjoying his frosty popsicle.

“I never said the marshmallow was good. And even it if was, I don’t see how you can make it any better.” He hissed when you pouted up at him, leaning to rest your hands and your chin on his chest, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

He groaned and ran a hand down his face, dragging it down and letting it drop to your fluffy Santa hat adorned head. “I’ll indulge you just this once.”

A high pitched squeal of pure joy escaped your lips as you jumped on Xiao, kissing him all over his face. He was stunned, but still allowed you to touch him and love him like so. If it were anyone else, he’d be reaching for his mask right then.

Getting seated on the log and as comfortably as possible, you wrapped a spare blanket around your bodies, scooting closer to Xiao. “We’ll get more warmth if we’re snuggled up close.” You tease, pecking his nose as you lean to grab a skewer offered by Zhongli.

“What are you doing?” Xiao leaned his chin on your shoulder, watching you as you penetrated the marshmallow and hover it over the open fire. Xiao’s arms are circled around your waist, nose nuzzling into your hair as his eyes never leave the dancing flames enveloping the marshmallow.

“Is this a method of cooking a marshmallow?” He whispered into your ear, seeing as to how some of the others were doing the same with their own marshmallows.

Xiangling had taken up the role as head chef, preparing roasted marshmallow dishes for everyone else, apart from the savoury dishes she was making, an assortment of grilled vegetables and meats. Keqing gave a helping hand, passing out plates to everyone gathered around the fire. On your right, Childe and Zhongli were bickering about the formers terrible use of chopsticks, whereas to the left of you Paimon was eating some golden shrimp balls, much to Aether’s irritation who was saving them for himself.

“Yep! And I promise, you’re going to love them.” You grin, turning your head to kiss the knit between his brows before giving your attention back to the darkening marshmallow. “Want me to do something to help?” Xiao offered in a whisper, warming your heart at his arms tightening around your body.

“This is my treat for you, and I am not going to accept any form of help!” You huffed, poking your tongue out. Xiao hummed to himself, sitting up and leaving your body, a shudder going down your spine at the missing warmth.

“If that’s the case, I would like to treat you as well. Teach me how to do this?” Xiao lifted a skewer and a marshmallow, poking it into the white pillowiness, the way he saw you do before.

Chongyun was shrieking and scolding Xingqui for burning his marshmallow, Qiqi was hiding behind Ganyu, away from the roaring flames, and Xinyan was piling up food on her plate, enough for two.

The smile that graced your lips was soft and adoring, the smile of your finding Xiao’s tense lips in a tender kiss. He submitted himself to you and moulded his lips against yours, slowly and perfectly. When you pulled away, his eyes were sparkling. And if you ever point that out, he’ll scoff and say it’s the reflection of the fire in his eyes.

You guided him through the steps of roasting a marshmallow, pointing out how he had to keep rotating it to prevent it from burning. When the outer layer of the sweet had charred to a perfect golden, you reeled it back in.

“And now we take two crackers and a piece of chocolate…” You picked the required ingredients from the bowl kept on a makeshift table. You placed everything on the plate in your lap and started assembling your s’more, instructing Xiao throughout.

“Am I doing this right?” He asked, his fingers shaking slightly as he tried lining up the crackers perfectly. You chortle out a laugh and bump his shoulder. “You’re doing great, and now that your s’more is prepared, we move on to the next step. Eating.”

Xiangling appeared in front of you and tsk’d, requesting you to let her add her chef special touches to your s’mores, the way she had done for the others. You could see across the bonfire, girls giggling at how the peppermint went well with the s’more and the boys trying to keep their many composure, not wanting everyone to see them get soft for a little sweet treat.

“No thanks. I don’t want you tainting our desserts.” Xiao hissed like a threatened cat. Of course Xiangling just laughed it off and walked to her next target, not before sending you a wink over her shoulder.

You made a face in her direction and your battle of silly expressions was interrupted when Xiao poked your arm with his plate. “Here, have the one I made for you.” He spoke in monotone, but the visible redness on his face gave away his nervousness.

“Let’s dig in!” You beamed, sending a playful wink in Xiao’s direction and biting into the treat, letting the sweet gooey goodness flood your tastebuds. You hummed and shook in pleasure, looking from the corner of your eye and seeing Xiao hold back a smile of his own.

“This is…not that bad.” He mumbled, taking another bite eagerly, but brushing it off as a situation of ‘the food almost fell so I dropped it in my mouth.’

Everyone was enjoying themselves, chattering about light, happy topics. The delicate scarce snow that fell from the fluff cloudy made the scene all the better. Laughs and giggles erupted when snowflakes landed in weird places, Ganyu’s exposed shoulder or Qiqi’s nose. One such snowflake drifted its way down to Xiao’s cheeks.

“You know, you’re quite similar to a marshmallow.” You giggled, tilting your face towards Xiao until he could feel your warm breath fan over his face. “Well, at least your cheeks are.” You attach your lips to the chubbiness of his cheeks, biting his skin gently. Your dear lover squealed and pushed your face away, so very embarrassed at what you just did.

“Y/N! Don’t!” He groaned, darting his eyes around while cleaning his face with the back of his glove. You sigh happily and lean your head on his shoulder. He stiffened in case you planned on pulling another stunt, but seeing how your eyes drifted close and you wrapped the blanket tighter around the two of you, he found his walls crumbling. In the best ways obviously.

“I love you, Xiao. Thank you for agreeing to this.” You gave him the most genuine smile of the night.

Everyone else was exchanging softer words, a few of your friends having dived into the blankets and fallen asleep. Xingqui, with Xingling’s assistance, started balancing marshmallows on top of Chongyun’s head, who managed to fall asleep siting up.

“It’s fine. I did it for the marshmallows.” He spoke, grabbing your hand and playing with your cold fingers. He lifted it to his lips, kissing each of your fingertips and then the palm that very much required the warmth of his affection. Your heart elated at his way of telling you that he love you as well. Well, with words falling short to express his deep love for you, he chose to show you through his actions.

“Would you like one more? Maybe we can share.” Xiao offered, pressing a quick kiss on your forehead. “Sure, let-“ You started, but your sweet, gentleman of a yaksha wouldn’t even let you complete your thoughts.

“Let me do this for you. You…can rest on my shoulder.” Xiao insisted.. You sigh in love, nuzzling into his warm neck, adoring every ounce of love for you he was radiating.

He picked three marshmallows from the bowl.

One for you to eat.

One for him to eat.

And one for the fire to cook to perfection.

#mia.collab #genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #xiao x reader #holiday writing collab #merry christmas #roasting marshmallows #mia.writes

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dionsabbathenthusiast · 3 years

Note

Hello, darling! I saw you liked/reblogged my post about Arthur Morgan x Plus Size Reader writers! (Feel free to ignore this if you're not taking requests/don't want to write etc.) Drunk Arthur is just a big ol' softie love bug who refuses to let anyone think you're not his beautiful soft sweetheart. Will proudly proclaim on top of a table that he'd marry you in a heartbeat. Hard to be self-conscious when he's so vocal about it!

hi hon! im sorry this took like... a month for me to write lmao but here you are! this is my first fic ever posted online so i hope it fits your fancy and is so short cause school is kicking my ass. ~ bam

author's note: this is written in the third person point of view

trigger warnings include: alcohol, swearing, micah being the rat he is, arthur being the self loathing shit he is, pet names (? i know some folks don't like them)

——————————————————————————

Arthur had arrived to Horseshoe Overlook after rescuing Sean over an hour ago and currently he was drunk. Drunk as in shit faced.

The gang gathered around the campfire to sing a couple songs, Sean nd [Y/N] singing with each other and Javier playing the guitar with a soft smile on this face.

Arthur stumbles over, another bottle of whiskey in his hands. "[Y/N]! There's my precious girl!" He yells as he hugs her tightly, a bit of the alcohol spilling out on the ground when he bends over.

She giggles and pats his arm gently. "Why don't you sit down, Art. Before you trip over your own two feet." She says softly and holds his arm and shoulder to help him sit.

He gulps down his whiskey before tossing the bottle on the ground. "How you been, honey? I missed ya while I was savin' the irish fool." He laughs and pulls her into his lap, watching lovingly as her round face scrunches up in a laugh.

"I missed you too, Arthur. I'm just glad you made it back to camp safe and everyone else is safe too." She smiles softly and rests her hand on his cheek, pecking his plump lips gently. He leans into her touch and softly grabs her hand, kissing her palm.

"How did an old cowboy like me find a pretty lady like you, [Y/N]?" She taps his cheek with a soft pout. "You know how I feel about you talkin' about yourself like that now, Mr. Morgan."

Arthur sighs softly and holds her hips, a sad expression on his face. "Yeah, I know princess, I know." He rests his head on her chest and sways to the soft and gentle beat of Javier's strumming. "I love you."

She runs her fingers through his hair, humming softly as he runs his hands down to her thighs and squeezes them as a reminder that he loves all of her. "I know." She whispers as she kisses his head.

Micah (being the asshole he is) decides to pipe up with his shitty opinion that wasn't needed. "Hey, Morgan, better move off the lady if you don't want a crushed leg." He laughs and his voice makes [Y/N]'s skin crawl.

Sure, the comment hit home but she had planned to ignore it and just continue to sit with Arthur, but the big man wasn't going to have it.

"Hey! You listen here ya rat bastard! [Y/N] is one of the strongest, bravest and most gorgeous women I know. She's amazin' and you're just jealous that she don't like you, Micah!" He defends and throws his arms around as he talks, slurring his words. Micah just waves it off and walks away, too tired or whatever his lame excuse was to bite back.

Arthur pulls [Y/N] into his chest and wraps his arms protectively around her. "It's alright, honey, I'll always be here to protect ya from assholes like that."

She hums in response and snuggles up to him. "Thanks, Art. I don't know what I would do if you weren't here." He rubs her back softly and looks down at her, a smile playing on his lips.

"Marry me then."

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #plus size reader #red dead redemption imagine #rdr2 #writing requests

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sweetpickolwarrior · 3 years

Text

The Three Times You Didn’t Want Them To Hear You, The One Time You Did (Part 3)

Established fic

Small!Brown!Female!Reader

Not too apparent but just letting you know in case.

Fic summary: You have been travelling with geralt and Jaskier for quite some time, you had always been told that your voice would take you places before you had no choice but to abandon your previous life. You still loved it though. This fic explores the times you let go and let yourself sing. We also explore your backstory and the developing relationship with your older and protective companions :)

PART 1 HERE PART 2 HERE

Chapter summary: Bit of a filler chapter, the wait was more so to plan out the rest of the story clearly. Y/N wants to repay geralt for his kindness and show Jaskier that she does not hate him, but has trouble with words and such. Further apologies for the wait... enjoy!

The fact that you had not been sober enough to truly appreciate the room that Geralt had decided to treat you with left you with a pang of guilt, but a wavering reluctance to bring up anything about that night lest he unnecessarily recall the sound of your voice. You don’t suppose he cared much, as far as you could pick out from that night, it wasn't something that mattered very much to him… but then why the room? The situation slightly baffled you. You much preferred going from contract to contract, tavern to tavern, losing yourself in the endeavours of your companions. You roamed the streets of this new, unusually pleasant town, the bustle of the morning bubbling through. Your mind turned to the small sack you had swaddled at the very bottom of your pack buried beneath your myriad of gatherings from your travels. A small, worn leather sack with a drawstring through the top, wrapped in an old sock that had outlived its original duty a few winters ago sat almost full, the weight of the coin inside at most an apple or two. You had kept it for emergencies, a few loaves of bread and some meat if rations had become sparse, a promise payment for a healer or mage, should one or more of you fall incapacitated while coin was low, an emergency room should the cold threaten to settle in someones bones too cosily, and should you feel the need to express gratitude to a generous but stoic witcher, apparently.

You wandered past a bakers stall, sweet pastries dusted with sugar beckoned, small honey dipped loaves with specks of lavender peeking through the golden slopes glinted in the morning light, puffy buns that had been baked with a clever twist in the top to result in a soft swirl sat in a neat row identical to the sweet fresh bread Jaskier had pressed into your palm earlier. You cringed at the thought of leaving so abruptly and didn't like all this coaxing going on, and hoped he would drop the subject so you could shove the topic down your tunic and carry on your simple shenanigans with the bard.

You strolled through, eyes on the dry dirt of the worn path through the centre, ladies walking with shawls wrapped tight around their shoulders gave you curt, tight-lipped greeting smiles as you passed through looking thoroughly disheveled. You had given up on dresses, petticoats, stockings and other such extraneous garments when tripping up on hems or sweating through layers upon layers had become more trouble than your chagrin had been worth. A tunic and breeches were sported now, along with unkempt, thick jet black hair. You tended to forget what a sight you would be to normal folks, constantly surrounded by the bard in his gaudy and intricate clothing (you still didn't know how he survived on the path) and a burly witcher clad almost always in armour and under that, similar garments to yourself. you supposed the three of you stuck out like an arrow between the eyes. Your mind flashed to what your mother may have said should she see you like this. It confused you for a moment, these memories suddenly deciding they were welcome in your conscious thoughts over the past few days. you stuffed the sudden pang of guilt and shame back into oblivion as your hands moved to your tangled mop, carding roughly through so you may find some semblance of being put together.

~~~~~~~~~~~

You tried hard not to cast your eyes down to your fingers, out of practice as they were. You tried to feel the sections, pick up more as you went, comb through soft with your fingers lest the ends get tangled, keep hold of the ribbon. Roach was being very patient with you. The fire warmed your back as you sat on your knees, tending to a horse who had decided to sit for you. You didn't know much of equine tendencies, but had heard that horses do not sit save for when it was going to rain. Your mind moved to days where your little troop had no choice but to trudge through hail, rain and thunder. She did not object and kept on wonderfully through these times and was rewarded with kisses and slips of dried fruit from you later on.

She had decided to understand what coaxing her to the floor with a brushing, soft words and rubs on her neck had meant that night and folded her legs, coming down with an impressive and somehow graceful thud. You supposed you couldn't know everything about everything and the clearest answer was that she’s just a very good girl. You relaxed as your fingers fell into a rhythm - right strand, left strand, ribbon, taking care to adjust the material so the nicer side was showing. “Expensive.” Geralt stated simply from behind. He was checking through his own pack, counting off vials of witcher potions and such. “Yes, well - an extra room must have cost.. and the food I didn’t touch” you focused on your hands, knowing Geralt was probably trying to avoid eye contact, too. After hearing a somewhat soft “hmm”, your attention returned to your fingers, having now grown a mind of their own. Roach’s auburn mane turned a dark coal in your minds eye, her soft huffs to small complaints of tugging too hard “hush now, or it won’t look nice” you barely whispered as her head jerked, it was an impossible task to try tie the hair of any child into a neat row, your sisters no exception. Your breath slowed as your mothers lullaby sat in between your lips, you tried to grasp the first note of the soft song.

Sisters? Here?

Your knees were cold and sore, kneeling on the ground so long, knobs of grass settling aches into your muscles; your hair unkempt and hastily scraped back, with a small leather tie, bumps hilling over your scalp that you had no care of. Your hands were dirty, grubby from foraging scraps of dry wood to keep warm through the night. Calloused from the past few years of plucking the string of your bow with arrows that reminded you with every swift hit that death was something permanent, immediate, inescapable. These hands were not the same ones that softly put braids in your sisters’ hair. These calluses were not the same ones that came from making music.

The first note of that bloody lullaby froze on your toungue.Best to stop trying to live in the past. Not that you were, trying that is. You wanted nothing more than those memories to keep sitting in the little box in your mind where they were meant to be. Happy, silent, unbothering. Instead they kept feeling the need to rise up, to pester you and drag you away, remind you that those days would never come back, that your whole life had vanished.

Well, this was your life now and different as it was, you needed to live in it. You pushed away the offending memories for the second time that day, focusing on finishing Roach’s mane.

Impeccable timing as always, Jaskier came strolling through after having washed everyone’s clothes in a nearby stream, no doubt a vein of the river you had found yourself in those few days ago. “Honestly, why do I bother? They're bound by fate to stink of ash and dirt anyway- I know! I could write a shanty about the smoked Witcher’s shirt - a real pub sway! Sometimes he smells of heroics and adventure! The whiff of a lady’s perfume often, but will always return to the ash of a trusty campfire” he leaned to put the folded pile down neatly. You were in awe of how these thoughts came running from your musical friend, you were convinced that he could write a song about watching clothes dry and still make it magnificent.

Ah. Exactly.

A dramatic gasp came from the bard, no doubt with a soft hand upon his chest. Your fingers tensed as you pat roach and tried to seem as nonchalant as possible.

"Now! Which one of you has been able to tie a bow so pretty all this time?”

You had laced the ribbon, as careful as you could to not disturb the strings, behind where they were pulled taut to the tuning pegs of Jaskier's lute, taking care that the tails would not brush against the front or impair his hands while playing. The ribbon you had bought was a soft lavender colour, embroidered with a deep violet, floral and feathery motifs weaving through the sleek fabric. You turned to see Jaskier caressing the fine fabric “I shall have to have an outfit made to go with this! Oh what a look that could be for the bardic competition this autumn! Simply revolutionary, a great stride forward in musical fashion! Bows woven through lutes, gods-” a theatrical palm to the forehead “How had I not thought of this before- and Roach! Oh! Exquisite, Y/N,” it seemed he had finally clocked onto the fact that this was your doing, both you and Geralt huffing amusedly as he was practically flying with excitement “I daresay Roach could be a fine show horse! Beautifully healthy and muscular, a shining coat, those deep glistening eyes- “She’s not a show horse” Geralt grumbled "I said could or rather might've been, had the twines of fate been wound a little looser.." You chuckled softly as your trusty bard rambled on into the night about how he knew a thing or two about show horses (being one in a past life, most likely) and you prepared your bedroll, smoothed it out with your hands and checked how close your damp clothes were to drying. When you reflected on Jaskier's words, you thought about how the warm and bitter smell of ash and smoke and fire made from Witcher magic was comforting to you. As you settled, you tried to smell other things, maybe someday you could smell half as well as a witcher if you trained hard enough. Ash, smoke.. the small burnt remnants of a meagre fish dinner, the distinctly horsey smell of Roach, the faintest traces of lavender lingering in your hair. You supposed you could try to hone in your hearing, too. You got comfortable, wriggling a little further in, catching a glimpse of the fine ribbon you had bought before closing your eyes...it was nice to see the splashes of the bright colour woven through your little group. You could first hear Jaskier mumbling on, the scratch of his quill onto the notebook he carried, the pops and snaps of the fire, the wind breathing contentedly through the leaves above, the last clinks of Geralt's potion bottles, then the slight crunch of careful steps in leather boots, his hands patting roach and hushed, almost inaudible whispers of him calling Roach his "pretty girl".

A/N : Hello, dears! I hope you've all been well and taking care of yourselves - I know it has been a tremendous wait. i've been planning the rest of the story out (i'm rly annoyingly particular about it) and lots of things have been a bit crazy the past two months. I hope this chapter isnt dissapointing given the wait but get ready for big angst, hurt/comfort and further progression of the story and characters in the next two chapters. I feel this filler was needed to transition into the next part of the story. I might change the description some as this story is not only about the fact that Y/N can sing, but also focuses on the way that changes her relationship with the boys.

More on the interactions of this night for the boys' POV in the next chapter probably x

I'm hoping the story is well fleshed out and flowing, and that its clear that singing is a great comfort and big part of Y/N's character. I hope its easy to immerse yourself and such. Again, its such a pleasure to receive likes and comments, and i'm very grateful to anyone who has read so far... be ready for great developments! As always, constructive criticism is welcome xxx Thanks gang!

Also yall thank my lil sister for helping me write this, she doesnt have an tumblr account so I cant tag her or anything but she super cool and rambling to her rly helps me organise my writing.

stay blessed!

tagged people:

@ladylizzieofdarbyshire i cannot find @sihxm i did try xxx

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goodmanmorgan · 3 years

Note

Okay so we all know Arthur is kinda unsure about PDA which is all find and dandy, But I feel like when he’s drunk he’s probably a little more lenient about it. Do you think you could write a short fic about Arthur and a Male reader sitting around the campfire with a few other of the gang members. Having just a fun old time drinking and singing dumb little tunes.

Like, for once everything just feels at peace. The reader can sit in Arthur’s lap and just laugh and pepper his face with kisses without anyone being bothered. Maybe a soft nsfw end? Nothing too graphic but just imagine Arthur tenderly looking into your eyes as he makes love to you. 🥺 Sorry if this is too much!

First request!! This is a really good prompt and I hope I did ok for my first RDR2 fic!

Arthur is drunk, and we all know what he's like when he has a little bit too much to drink :)

Word Count: 923 Warnings: Alcohol, Period typical homophobia (only a small paragraph near the end) Reader: Male For the first time in a long time, spirits in camp were high. Sean had just been rescued from Blackwater and everyone was celebrating his safe return. You were sat around one of the tables at Horseshoe Overlook with Karen and Grimshaw, watching their game of rummy and listening to Javier strum his guitar at the nearby campfire amongst the chatter and sing-song from others around camp.

You smile and pick up your drink, going to take a sip, however, finding it empty you shake the bottle and grumble. Getting up and tossing the bottle over your shoulder you hear the bottle make contact with something solid, followed by a quiet grunt. Looking over your shoulder to make a quick apology you see Arthur stood behind you, flushed face and eyes hazy, rubbing his shoulder where the bottle made contact.

“Arthur! Fuck! 'm so sorry!” You slur out, stumbling over to him and laying your hand over where the bottle hit him. “'m okay darlin'” he chuckles, pulling you closer to him by your belt loops as you try to fuss over him. You look up at him with a guiltily and move to cup his face in your hands, bringing him down to place a light peck on his lips.

He smiles against you and pulls back a little, shifting slightly so he could lean closer to your ear, whispering “If you want to make it up to me, may I have a dance?” the slight playful lilt in his voice betrayed how much he'd had to drink, as did his actions. He'd never really do this around gang members without a lot of liquid courage.

You snort out a laugh and nod, waving a goodbye to the two women sat at the table and pulling Arthur by the hand to make your way to the front of Dutch's tent, the two of you stumbling slightly every now and then. Emerging from around the side the two of you spot Molly and Dutch holding each other close and dancing, gazing into each others eyes with soft smiles and chuckling to themselves whenever he dipped her. The sight made you smile and lean into Arthur, they had been so tense recently – they needed this.

Arthur wraps his arms around you as you move to be chest to chest with him, copying the moves of Molly and Dutch the two of you sway together slowly, your head on his chest and his head resting on top of yours. You were like that for a while, both of you just existing in the other's arms – feeling at peace. Untouchable. Nothing and nobody could ruin this moment, Not Micah, not Colm, not even the Pinkertons.

The phonograph eventually stops, both of you pulling apart and bowing at each other with small grins. You kiss Arthur on the cheek as a thank you, murmuring about going to get another drink and he nods, kissing you on the forehead and wandering off to go find something to do.

Heading over to the drinks on the table in front of Dutch's tent you grab a bottle and your hazy mind travels to how touchy Arthur is when he drinks. 'He deserves to let himself go every now and then' you think, grabbing another bottle for Arthur, watching Karen and Sean sneak off to John's tent with a chuckle as you do so.

After uncapping both bottles and taking a swig from yours, you eventually drift to where most people still celebrating were gathered around the campfire, singing along to Javier playing Jack o' Diamonds. You take another mouthful of whiskey and spot Arthur sat next to Uncle on a set of crates singing along, looking more carefree than he has in weeks.

You make your way over to him and all but throw yourself in his lap, finishing your drink and passing him his, his free arm settling around your waist to stop you from slipping off and colliding with Uncle. You give him a cheeky grin and he squints at you slightly, trying to guess what you want from him before he falls into a chesty laugh as you pepper his face with feather-light kisses, the rest of the gang sat around the fire joining him, watching your antics make Arthur turn a darker shade of pink.

Eventually you stop, shifting in his lap to face the fire and lean against Arthur's chest, listening to him joining in some of the songs with his beautifully rough voice right next to your ear, leaning his head on your shoulder.

A brief thought crosses your drunken daze, thinking about how lucky you both are to have the gang. In most areas, two men seen in a relationship together could be hung, but here, in this den of thieves, outlaws and murderers no one -apart from maybe Micah- really paid it any mind. It made you happy. Being here made you happy.

You relaxed back into Arthur further, lazing like a content cat, barely registering the movement out of the corner of your eye. Slightly turning your head to see what it was you spot Karen and Sean sneaking back out of John's tent, hair messed up, flushed and smiling like idiots, Sean more so than Karen. Arthur follows your line of vision to them when you squeeze his arm, pressing a kiss into your shoulder and tightening his arm around your waist, finishing his drink. A silent invitation, one which you accept with another squeeze of his arm.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x male reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 x male!reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 x male reader

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theyscreamjade · 3 years

Note

can you make some headcanons about how bakugo,denki, dabi, and shinso would react to a seemingly super intimidating s/o who looks mean but is actually rlly chaotic and funny once u get to know them? thank u 🖤🖤

Never Judge By Looks

I INSTANTLY RELATE TO THIS SO MUCH! A lot of people look at me and think I’m mean but I’m the nicest person you could ever meet. So, being the strange little coffee bean that I am, I'm rather funny. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Cursing, Crackhead Energy, and lastly..a sliver of smut.

_________________________

Katsuki Bakugo.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* When he spotted you, everyone was completely intimidated by you. I mean everyone, including Mina and you know that’s something.

* So, who broke the barrier and asked you a random question?

* Tsu’s bold-self, she walked over and simply asked where did you get your shoes from because she took notice of the limited edition brand you were wearing.

* How do you respond?

* Doing an epic fucking pose and giving a show dropping thank you as she stares in complete confusion as Mina screeches as loud as she can. That boils a friendship THAT SHOULDVE FUCKING HAPPENED!

* As much as he hates to admit it, he loves how random and chaotic you are. He loves how you can make even him laugh at how you are.

* It keeps a smile on his face though he doesn’t want to have it often. To him, it adds spice to the relationship you two have.

* He loves that every time he comes home, you’re doing the most random of shit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Katsuki walked into the home, groaning as he walked towards the hallway, before freezing. He paused and turned towards the open door in his office as he flickered the lights on.

You slowly turned to face him with the cat in your lap as you smirked. “Welcome...To my evil lair.” You said while smirking as he stared at you in pure disarray.

“SINCE WHEN IN THE FUCK DOD WE GET A FUCKING CAT?!” He yelled as you smiled.

“I adopted one..and a dog..” you replied. “But the Pomeranian doesn’t seem to like his new feline friend, Mr. Snuggles.” You added, kissing the kitten as it meowed.

Katsuki sighed and held his nose. “Where is it?” he asked as he started looking around for an animal.

“I’m looking at him.”

_________________________

Denki Kaminari

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* This is a match made in fucking heaven.

* He didn’t even care how intimidating you were, when you pulled out your phone case and he spotted something even he likes.

* He’s zapping to you and that’s that.

* You guys are called ‘The Chaotic Duo’. Mina, Ochako, Momo, and even Toru and Tsu loves you and how random you can be.

* You two together can make a simple trip to the store a ride to remember.

* The last adventure you two had, ended in you two being kicked out because he decided to charge all the fucking appliances in the Walmart technology.

* THAT WAS A BAD IDEA FROM THE BEGINNING.

* Let's just say..he fried the power..and even the backup generator they had.

* Best night ever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Babe! Have you seen m-“ Denki stopped his sentence as he saw you, standing at the entrance of the hallway? You were dressed perfectly in an Ash costume. You held up a poké-ball and tossed it at him.

The ball slapped him against the chest as he looked at it while it sat on the floor. “Pikachu! I choose you!” You said as he looked at you with a dorky smile on his face.

“Pika Pika!” He responded, running towards you while you squealed, bursting into a fit of laughter as he tackled you to the ground.

_________________________

Hitoshi Shinsou

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* (I’ve been dying to use this man for the longest.)

* I see Shinso as a vibe guy, he’s extremely observant, unlike others. He doesn't go by personality but by how you are as a person, what type of energy you present. Though you wore a straight face, he knew that wasn’t the case.

* So, he already knows how weird you were though everyone else was still trying to find out more about you.

* He broke the ice himself and simply sat beside you, starting a simple conversation that became an awesome one. No one will know how a simple conversationwent from what’s your favorite color to how cats you owned and the werid shit they did at night.

* When you two started dating, everyone was shocked because after finally seeing the real you, they would’ve never expected him to be happy with a soul like you.

* He laughs at your jokes, might even do a few things with you, but he'd have to brainwash a few people so you guys can get off clean.

* He genuinely loves everything about that chaotic side to you to a T. You make his darkest nightmares to a beautiful dream.

* Your jokes make his day every single time, ignoring every comment that the world brings into him. You’re there to make it better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Kitten? Kitten? Where are you?” Shinso asked, looking around the empty apartment which was strange because you were babysitting Eri.

He walked around in confusion before he heard a giggle, making him pause. He looked up before walking out to the roof of the apartment building.

Eri and you sat side by side in a giant beanbag, holding your hands over when portable fire pit. “Let’s gather around the Campfire and sing our campfore song. Our C-A-M-P-F-I-R-E S-O-N-G song, and if you don’t think we can sing it faster then you’re wrong, but it’ll help if you just sing along!” You and Eri sung together before breaking out into a loud sing-a-long with her.

Hitoshi couldn’t help but laugh softly, watching you with her before he walked over to you two. When he sat down, you snatched her up and screamed.

“AHH, IT’S A SEA BEAR!”

————————————————————————

Touya Todoroki (Dabi.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* Another man who already knew you before anyone else.

* Dabi’s very observant, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that. He doesn’t watch you like a hawk but when you joined the LOV.

* You made Shigaraki laugh, that’s a fucking miracle in itself.

* Toga, Twice and others loved you, especially Twice. You made both sides of him laugh until tears rolled down his cheeks.

* When you two are together, it’s more of a cat and mouse relationship. He follows and watches you, he may join you during your random or weird moments but it’s not his type of thing.

* You and Toga, on the other hand, are amazing. You two do the craziest of things, like Harley and Poison Ivy.

* You’re his star in the dark sky in his heart and he loves you for that. You shine so brightly, it blinds him sometimes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What the hell happened?” He asked, looking at you and Toga confused. Shigaraki looked just as confused as him. “And what the fuck are you wearing?” Shigaraki asked.

You were dressed in a sexy mouse costume and Toga was wearing a cat costume to match. “You told us to get into that party right?” You asked, looking at them.

You reached into your mouse ears and pulled out the papers, Shigaraki needed. He hesitated to take them but he pulled them away. “The...the party’s attire was formal..” Shigaraki spoke up, looking at you two confused as you took the mouse ears off your head.

“Yeah, but we would’ve been seen if we just wore formal attire. They had kids in there and a little brat gave me the papers I needed in exchange for Toga chasing me out of the party.” You said, smirking. Shigaraki snickered softly as Dabi smirked.

“When will it be my turn to chase you?”

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wincore · 4 years

Text

wasted nights | liu yangyang

pairing: yangyang x reader

words: 5.5k

summary: firstly, you don’t think you should have survived this long. secondly, this might be the zombie apocalypse but your survival doesn’t feel as threatened by zombies as it does by liu yangyang. thirdly, you’ve chosen the worst time to develop a crush.

genre: zombie apocalypse!au, fluff, humour(?)

warnings: mention of injuries & blood, violence (against zombies), dumbassery, do not attempt during an actual zombie apocalypse

song rec(s): wasted nights - one ok rock

a/n: october birthdays get halloween specials~ although this one is just full of unnecessary appearances by cats. also campfires because october campfires hit different. (i’m definitely saying this because i was born in october) also not me writing this as a joke and reaching 5.5k words </3

It’s two hours till sundown.

What would you be doing on a day within the ordinary? Likely getting back from after school activities, chatting with a friend or feeding the stray kittens by the school building, or maybe pretending Liu Yangyang doesn’t exist—the possibilities were endless. Now there’s only one.

“Yangyang,” you call, more worried than not.

On a day out of the ordinary, you wish you hadn’t prayed for your exam to get cancelled the day all of this broke out. You wouldn’t be scavenging like some sort of rodent and you wouldn’t be standing at the gates of an abandoned shrine, though now is undoubtedly a better time to pray. It’s not the best of situations (especially not with a certain little rascal attached to your side).

And understatements are definitely your thing now.

“Yangyang,” you call a little louder this time, eyes shifting around the shrine area.

Should you step in? He asked you to wait, the stone steps now looking a little glum without him skipping over them. The only signs of life you’ve seen around has been a family of raccoons looking rather smug and a single spotted dove preening itself atop a branch. The lack of visibility into the forest surrounding the shrine bothers you, like something could jump out any minute and you suck your teeth, growing annoyed. Where is that boy?

You tap your foot against the ground soundlessly. What if a zombie were to pop out? They might be slow but the sight of them is still gross enough to paralyze you. Yangyang has his baseball bat with him, which leaves you defenseless in terms of weapons. Still, it’s not like the bat would have done you any good. You are, in the truest sense of the word, average at any sort of combat and freezing at the limbs comes to you more naturally. Zombies are not fun; whatever nonsense Yangyang has been trying to explain to you for weeks is optional, as is every other suggestion that comes from his mouth. It’s quiet and quiet, creepy shrines have never been your favourite place in the city.

You hear a low growl behind you, stiffening at the sound. Best case scenario, it’s a big rat. You’d rather not think of the worst case. Eventually, you gather some courage and turn slowly only to jump back with a short scream.

Yangyang takes the old festival mask off to reveal a giant grin on his face, urging you to knock it right off. The anger that follows is natural and he should be used to it by now. Yangyang continues smiling, as if he didn’t just pull your soul right out of your body, and when he opens his mouth to say something, you’re quick to land a swift punch to his gut. He lets out a pained cry, dropping to the ground in a squat.

“Don’t do that,” you seethe. “Why can’t you greet me normally?”

“I’m okay!” He signals a thumbs up while the other hand clutches his stomach.

“I didn’t ask.”

He moves his hand to place it over his chest. “Ow. Oh, and to answer your question, it’s because you don’t want to do my special handshake with me.”

“Hm. Get up. You said there were supplies here. What did you find?”

He pouts, finally getting up. “I can’t believe you’re just using me for supplies.”

You cross your arms. “Just get up already.”

Yangyang springs up despite the (admittedly) strong blow to his stomach and presents to you the plastic bag he’d been holding. In any other circumstances, it would spark some disapproval on your behalf but it turns out, those things do outlive most everything. For a moment, the ridiculous image of pulling a plastic bag over a zombie’s head crosses your mind.

Yangyang finally responds, taking out whatever items he recovered. Not everything is useful however; he’s simply taken to collecting knick-knacks.

“I found toothbrushes! Maybe your breath will stop stinking—”

You raise your clenched fist as a threat.

“—I was kidding. Obviously. You have lovely breath.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose in an attempt to contain your exasperation.

“Also, I found clean water so I filled up some bottles and yeah, I couldn’t find much else but oh! There was this huge cat and I mean huge like a big chonk kinda guy, you know? And I’m sure he was, like, trying to tell me something, like, he kept hissing when I went near him but…”

You wonder if Yangyang ever gets tired from speaking so fast, his words fading out of your comprehension. You shake your head, clearing your throat.

“Can we leave now?”

Yangyang raises an eyebrow, almost smirking as the gears in his head turn.

“You’re not… superstitious, are you?” he asks. “I heard there’s a lot of reported sightings of ghosts here.”

“No,” you blurt, quick to deny. Yangyang might have seen you crying after getting lost in the dark, almost fainting after encountering a zombie for the first time or even in deep sorrow after you lost your friend—but there’s still part of your dignity to protect before you can admit your fear of ghosts. There’s just something about this abandoned shrine; there are no visitors apart from the caretaker and if loneliness is responsible for anything, it’s making lonely things seem a whole lot scarier. You’d rather leave before the sun sets.

Yangyang laughs. “Who do you think would win in a fight? Zombies or ghosts?”

You roll your eyes. “That’s so stupid. Obviously ghosts.”

“No. Okay, maybe. I just think…”

There he goes again.

You wonder if he was always this way—when you passed him by in the hallways, when he shot you a polite smile at club meetings or when you saw him being loud with his friends blocking part of the sidewalk. You’re sure he couldn’t have been entirely sane.

“Oh my god.”

Yangyang’s voice jerks you back to the present. You follow his line of sight to a cardboard box beneath a particularly dense shrub; it's a large one—quite possibly a carton of some commercial product which doesn’t matter anymore. However, it’s not the details of the box itself so much as it is the contents that grab your attention.

You can almost see the sparkle in Yangyang’s eyes as he views the cats huddled together inside the box. They don’t seem to mind each other within their personal space—you count four of them, tightly packed and eyes closed in a late afternoon nap. How the box hasn’t ripped apart yet is quite a mystery, and what’s more troubling is how at ease they seem to be with the entire human race in disarray.

You grab Yangyang by the collar before he can make his way to them.

“Don’t harass them,” you say, massaging your temples. “Jesus, it’s like they’re glued to each other. Do they have to be in the same box?”

“It might just be the last cardboard box left on earth.” Yangyang shrugs.

The cats mind their own business, grooming their fur or closing their eyes in an odd sort of bliss. You wonder what it would be like to be so unbothered by all the chaos. It reminds you of someone.

“Come on,” you urge, thinking back to older times. “Don’t think I forgot how much you used to bother old Louis back then.”

Louis was the university cat, fed with so much love that he eventually started avoiding people like the plague. You wonder how he’s holding up for a brief moment.

“Don’t think I forgot how you were back then too.”

“What do you mean?” you snap, glaring at him.

“You were already a zombie,” he says before engaging in a cheap mimicry of you, drooping his eyelids and taking slow steps muttering, “I… must… maintain… gpa… grr.”

You almost take off your shoe to throw it at him before deciding it’s not worth your time. Ah, if only you had done that during club meetups, perhaps you’d have felt better about him joining. Everyone treated him so differently, and you hate to admit you now understand why.

Everyone loves a good troublemaker.

And there happens to be another thing special about your sole competitor for the debate club’s president position. Apart from his strange antics (charms, he says), even this virus—this fuckall literal killer virus can’t infect him. He’s immune—an occurrence with a possibility lower than you finding him attractive. (There, you said it.)

You look at Yangyang still talking about Louis and a small smile crosses your face. You’d feed your right arm to a zombie before you admitted it but it’s nice having him around. You furrow your brows at the sudden familiar bubbling in your chest and shove it away in a flash before your conscious decides to tell you what it is.

Your heart jumps to your throat when you make eye contact with Yangyang, turning away in a rather awkward manner. Oh, the end of the world does awful things to you.

“Are you listening?” Yangyang raises an eyebrow. “Oh my god, you weren’t listening at all.”

You roll your eyes. “I was distracted.”

“By me?” he offers in a sing-song voice, prompting a smack from you. It’s easier to pretend this way.

Yangyang massages his shoulder with a huff. “Why are you hitting me so much today? I’ve counted like eight and the day’s only just over.”

“Sorry,” you mumble before clearing your throat. “I mean, you’ve also said something annoying, like, more than eight times today.”

“I’m not annoying.”

There’s a pause.

“Okay, maybe a little bit.”

The sun starts to lay in rest by the time you reach the city. Compared to the green, red and yellow of the yet standing shrine, this place is in dull monochrome with the occasional coloured signs that flicker to life. You force yourself to think but have a hard time remembering if it was always this way. Was it any different with the rushing cars or apathetic crowds? You can’t tell. You were part of them, after all.

“Hey, how about a bottle flip challenge but with traffic cones?” Yangyang thinks aloud, walking backwards as you pass by a particularly well-lit alley.

You roll your eyes in response. Is it the lack of people making him that way? Your unflustered companion looks at home among neon lights, all of them seeming to point towards him as an answer to a question you haven’t quite figured out yet.

You glance at the alley just a second longer. The electric lanterns still glow red, and although dim, there are many. The shops almost look like you could enter and be greeted with a crowd of university kids or a group of office workers drinking away in celebration of the weekend. You sigh. It’s most certainly deserted inside; there’s no doubt. At the most, the tables are still arranged neatly and the meat grills aren’t completely rusted. You wonder if it’s a Friday.

There was never much grass in the city but whatever growth there was has withered into a mustard yellow or a lamenting grey. An empty city is hardly appealing, but you can’t deny the ill-favored things you’ve done the past few months in the absence of people—a part of you questioning whether breaking into supermarkets is still against the law when no one’s around to keep it. You smile at the memory of Yangyang pushing you around in a shopping cart, though you’d gotten drunk off the (stolen) liquor prior. The neon lights hanging as a banner over sketchy shops sometimes spark alive before dying down over and over again, and to be fair, you don’t think they ever shined too bright. Ironically, they’re the liveliest thing about the city now.

The sky’s soaked in ink at a time you assume to be around seven in the evening. You walk closer to Yangyang without realizing; it’s not often you’ve been out this late the past few months.

“Hey.” Yangyang snaps you out of your daze. “Be careful.”

The words are strange coming from him but you understand why. You look up ahead with caution and a shiver runs down your spine as you stare at the intersection, a lone, tattered figure droning aimlessly. It’s only one, you tell yourself. And they’re slow.

The memories of your previous encounters send warnings over your skin, shivers begging you to run as fast as you can. You would if it weren’t for Yangyang’s grip on your hand, tugging you forward gently and though it’s something he does every time, you wonder if he knows how you’re really feeling. His footsteps are soundless, with the same red sneakers he’s worn since the beginning of this but something tells you it’s not the shoes that give him a cat’s footfall. The purple lights flicker on and off over the shop on the opposite street, the suddenness of it making you latch onto Yangyang for a short-lived moment. You’re quick to let go, throat too dry to make any sound.

You curve around what would be a straight path, careful not to be in the creature’s line of sight when you cross. The streets seem wider when they’re so empty, and somehow it feels more unlawful this way. Yangyang signals to you to stay closer, and you follow before bumping into his back when he stops abruptly. There’s absolutely no sound, the feeling in your gut much worse than at the shrine.

“Something’s wrong,” Yangyang whispers.

A strangled shriek erupts from your mouth when something launches itself onto the two of you, making you land on your butt. You would’ve placed your hands over your eyes, but you’ve learned how to be less of a coward these past few days.

A shaky breath leaves you. A cat. It was a stray cat. The little asshole looks at you with almost twinkling eyes, tail swishing from side to side before deciding you’re not worth its time. Your shoulders sag, a moment of relief despite your stiff muscles.

“Uh, (name)?”

You look up only for your stomach to fill with dread. The zombie from before is staring directly at the two of you, the same vacant look in its eyes that has haunted you for the entirety of the apocalypse.

“It’s okay, he’s too slow,” Yangyang reminds you, voice barely a whisper as he helps you stand.

“We can just take the other street—it’s a little longer but it’s mostly safe and there’s no way he can—”

Yangyang is interrupted by a sickening growl from behind you and you jump back. There’s another one. And another. You count four more before holding back a swear. Yangyang grabs you by the shoulder and the two of you take a step back, onto the sidewalk. There’s a shop behind you; you read a smeared sign above the plastic door curtains indicating a dumpling place. Even if you were to hide in there, there’s no guarantee you’d be safe.

But if you’ve learned anything in these months, it’s that anything is always better than nothing.

The night has settled in completely, you realize. You’re about to tug Yangyang to the inside as you turn around, only to freeze up in your spot. A pale woman emerges from the store, her makeup still fresh but you know that look, the look in her eyes. How cruel.

“Please,” she mumbles, taking a step towards you and you think you might just cry. It’s not long before she turns, you think with dread.

You stumble back to Yangyang when she emits a blood curdling screech, lunging at you and to either your alarm or worse, relief, Yangyang pushes you back. You watch with wide eyes as the woman sinks her teeth into his arm, nausea growing at the sight of blood. He moves fast though, his arm swinging the baseball bat to meet the woman in the head, hard enough to knock her out. In these few moments, one of the zombies is close enough to reach an arm out towards you and you swear you can hear the horrid sound of his bones cracking when you step back. The longer you remain in this state, the slower you are. You suppose you should take comfort in these words but when you look at it, you still see a man.

Hollow. They’re all hollow.

You take a deep breath.

Just as the thought crosses your head, you see Yangyang swing his bat again, meeting the zombie on the head and much to your wide-eyed horror, the head flies off into the dumpling shop and the body reacts with just about as much confusion as you do. It wildly waves about its hands in the now vacant spot before crumpling onto the road with a quiet realization.

Yangyang makes a face, pressing his knuckle to his mouth to prevent himself from what you presume is gagging. However, when you look closely, he seems to be holding back a laugh instead and very painfully so. You know he has a habit of laughing at the most inappropriate times but this, it really takes the cake.

“Home run?” he suggests, turning to you with a sheepish half-grin. There’s no hint of malice in his voice and you think that it’s probably not that he enjoys swinging his baseball bat at zombies.

“You’re disgusting,” you reply, shaking your head.

“Maybe I should leave you here then.”

You can’t believe he has the gall to be cheeky with blood running down his arm and four of the undead drooling at the sight of you two.

“Do you think we can find ingredients that aren’t stale here? I miss having dumplings.”

“Yangyang.”

“Okay, okay.”

The other ones are still far enough and the two of you take this chance to run off towards the street Yangyang mentioned earlier and safely out of view. You notice him panting heavier than before, and your eyes scan over his arm in worry. The bite is ugly, red with oozing blood, and you hold back the urge to ask him if he’s anaemic.

Yangyang follows your eyes before an ‘ah’ leaves his lips. He spins his head to the right, trying to catch a glimpse of the wound in the same manner a dog chases after its own tail. He puts the bat down to try and twist his arm to see the injury but you stop him, clicking your tongue at his silly behaviour.

“You’re not twelve, Yangyang,” you scold. “Let’s get back to the hotel first.”

He shrugs, and you think some provoking words are ready to leave his mouth when he simply picks up his bat and walks off. You blink before quickening your steps to catch up with him. The blood dripping down his forearm makes you feel a little unwell but you know better than to touch infections.

It takes around fifteen minutes longer than usual to reach the hotel—Yangyang was right. It is safer here, with no zombies lurking around the corners. He must have been out late when he was scouting, you think with distaste.

You reach the now-rusting gates of your haven without trouble and the moment you reach, Yangyang falls to his knees, heaving a breath he seems to have been holding. You rush to him, eyes frantic when you reach your hand out to him, and he flinches, moving away from you.

“Don’t,” he mutters before getting up. “You turning into a real zombie would be my personal nightmare.”

It’s not enough to curb your worry but you follow him nonetheless, the stupid, wavering grin on his face making you unable to decipher what he’s really feeling.

The familiar smell of honeysuckle washes into you as you pass by the entrance, locking the door behind you as Yangyang falls onto one of the chairs in the lobby. Kunhang happened to be passing by, a muffled swear leaving him when he sees the blood on Yangyang’s arm.

“You didn’t touch him, did you?” he asks, pulling on his gloves to further see the wound. A former med student is the best you have here, and somehow, you’ve never seen him complain about having to take care of someone as bothersome as Yangyang.

You shake your head in reply to Kunhang and watch as he runs from shelf to shelf to procure more bandages than you’ve ever seen in your life. You’ve been seeing an awful lot lately.

“We’re going to run out of bandages in a week if he keeps this up,” Kunhang says with a frown, moving so fast you can barely see his hands. “He’ll be okay, I guess. The virus just makes him dizzy.”

He’s probably thinking the same thing you are. Something serious happening to Yangyang is a little bit of a miracle. Maybe he’ll finally be set right in the head.

Even so, you know Kunhang is worried despite his quick response, his frown lines deepening once he’s done wrapping up. He sighs before waltzing off to discard his gloves.

It’s not that you aren’t impressed by Kunhang; you’ve just seen him do that too many times to count. And of course, it’s mostly Yangyang on the receiving end. They might be good friends but this also happens to be the only time they're serious together. Moreover, Kunhang seems to beat Yangyang in the talking-for-twelve-hours-straight department. You have to admit though, being in charge of first aid for the few people stuck in this hotel is not an easy business.

You take a seat opposite to Yangyang, dozing off in his chair and wonder if you should wipe the drool off his chin. Disgusting, you think to yourself, but another part of you dares to offer the word cute.

The best thing about barricading yourself in a hotel during the apocalypse is not having to worry about beds. There’s at least five hundred rooms in this skyrise, more than enough for, what, sixteen people? The place is so big that you hardly run into the others. The only rule around here is regarding the pantry—to write down who’s taken what on the notepad stuck to one corner. Despite what movies show, people are far more helpful to each other in times of need, more so than usual even. You relax into the chair, the velvet cushion feeling comfortable against your back.

There’s a nice communal feeling in this place.

You frown. It’s not like you can stay here forever.

At the very least, you can pretend each sundown and sunrise is ordinary here. You close your eyes, and slowly, thoughts of why you’re trying so hard to remember life before this drift away.

Yangyang wakes up before you do, grinning like crazy as he shrugs you awake. You stare at him through groggy eyes, untangling your limbs from yourself. The cold seeps into you and you shiver, hugging yourself.

“We found the keys to the lounge,” he rushes, albeit in a gentle voice. “Guess what?”

“Unh?”

“There’s a campfire spot over there! The others already started but I thought I should wake you up.”

It’s just like him to be excited about something like that. You get up nevertheless, Yangyang pulling you through the stairs and onto the only elevator that seems to work around here. There’s quite a few things about this hotel left to be figured out. You’re going to have to start worrying anyway when the power from the generator runs out.

Kunhang and an older man, Mr Kang, are the only ones there once you reach. You had expected it but the lounge is gigantic and a small part of it provides the artificial campfire area. There are paintings of wild animals and trees for children, you assume, on the walls only cut off by a large vent on the ceiling. The fire burns bright over the large circle of soil and firewood, whose authenticity is debatable. You sigh at the warmth, having grown tired of the autumn weather’s mood swings.

Kunhang greets the two of you with a grin before delicately poking Mr Kang to at least acknowledge your presence. It’s funny, the lot of you.

The place is a little small, considering there’s a literal fire in the middle of the room. You almost sit on Yangyang because he shifts too suddenly at Mr Kang’s disapproval of proximity, a small yelp leaving you whereas Yangyang, for the first time, looks like he’d rather die. He mutters an apology, and two of you manage to sit a good two feet apart, sudden awkwardness rising in the air—all of it unnoticed by Mr Kang. You heard he was a banker but if Kunhang and Yangyang had a polar opposite, it would most certainly be him. You can’t even remember the man’s voice.

You think you should say something but Kunhang’s laughter breaks the silence. There’s an unspoken exchange between him and Yangyang, piquing your curiosity though you aren’t sure what you should be asking. You just assume it’s one of their stupid inside jokes.

“I left your gift on your table. You can add it to your dumb shoe collection,” Kunhang tells Yangyang, smiling before standing up to stretch. “I’m going to bed. Mr Kang, won’t you accompany me?”

Mr Kang gets up begrudgingly and you’re about to ask them to stay longer when Kunhang turns to you enthusiastically. “Good night, (name). Don’t have too much fun. Although, I suppose there’s no better time to have too much fun either.”

You watch with furrowed brows as the two disappear into the doorway and down the stairs. You spend a couple of moments in silence before clearing your throat. When it goes unnoticed, you turn to Yangyang despite the warmth on your face.

“It’s not dumb,” he mutters to himself, a little zoned out.

You stare at him for a few moments and the familiar feeling rises in your throat, now with a little voice to accompany it.

Cute.

You cough, distracting yourself with any and all thoughts you would rather have, even of the zombies. Now isn’t the time—or is it the perfect time? You shake your head, calming yourself.

“Does it… hurt?” You ask, eyeing Yangyang’s arm.

He looks up as if broken from a daze, the campfire lights still dazzling in his eyes. You hold back a laugh. He really is a child; if he’s so easily mesmerized by fires, that is.

“Probably not any worse than the lady I whack-a-mole’d. Now that must’ve hurt.” Yangyang puffs his cheek before looking straight at you.

You stare back. It’s not the weirdest thing he’s said.

“What? I feel bad beating the crap out of zombies sometimes,” he says, scratching the back of his head.

You hum in response. The thought of Yangyang developing a conscience is almost as bad as having to think about zombies. Though, you’ll have to admit, it does give you a strange relief. Zombies can’t really feel pain—they are, after all, numb in every possible sense—but some part of you wonders if it’s alright like this. Morals and survival aren’t meant to overlap.

You feel the need to distract yourself with something.

“Hey,” you call, moving closer to Yangyang such that your shoulders almost touch. Before you know it, you brush the hair from his face, trying to style the mess into something more neat—a thing you’ve been wanting to do since the first time you saw him. Every time you’d see the messy mop of hair at an official event of the debate club, you’d have this strong urge and an almost putrid form of annoyance. You still don’t know how he managed to get in.

“You don’t look terrible with parted hair,” you muse. “You could’ve looked more decent at the debates.”

You look down from his hair to see Yangyang frozen, eyes wide as if a deer in the headlights.

“Are- Are you not breathing?” you ask.

Yangyang sucks in a large chunk of air, fast enough to choke on it and break into a coughing fit as he turns away from you. You reach out to pat his back but he waves his hand at you, indicating he’s fine before he can turn to you.

You look at him with no particular emotion, the night breeze having worked its way to you.

“What was that about a gift? Are you and Kunhang getting things for each other without telling me?” you say, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

There's a short pause, filled with the crackling of fire.

“It’s my birthday,” Yangyang says with a small smile as the campfire lights dance across his cheeks.

And yet, the words come out sad as if he’d been waiting for an occasion to tell you. You look at him, eyes widening ever so slightly accompanied by the loss of words and take a sharp breath.

“I’m not going to ask for a gift,” Yangyang teases. “Don’t look so worried.”

You open your mouth and close it again, unable to explain the gentle wash of sadness overcome you when you see just a boy. For all the talking he does, he never asks for much.

“I mean, I- I liked spending the day with you. Why do you look so sad? Did I say something? Again?”

You look over his features, from his brow bone to his wide eyes to his lips and the conclusion arrives as gently as the end of the world. What’s the worst that could happen?

You quickly pull him into a hug, still careful of his injury, and a vaguely embarrassing sound escapes Yangyang, something akin to a sheep’s call. He clears his throat which turns into coughing before he can wrap his arms around you, his breathing soft against your shoulder.

“I’m- I’m alive, you know? I don’t think I’m dying any time soon. I- I can’t even get infected! You know that.”

“That’s not why I’m- I…” You pull back, steeling your eyes so you don’t feel the warmth of embarrassment.

Just like you prepare for debates, you think to yourself. Maybe Yangyang was right about you being a zombie—the way you follow the same drudging formula.

“I like you,” you say, your words more of a strained whisper but they’re out before you know it. You can fake confidence, you tell yourself. It’s horrible timing and spending your (potentially) last days with someone who rejected you is just another way to shoot yourself in the foot.

But part of you has been wanting to do this for so long that you almost don’t mind.

Yangyang sucks in a breath, pressing his knuckles to his mouth as he straightens.

“That was- Wow. Okay. I- Uh. Wow.”

You let the heat grow stronger in your cheeks, racking your head for an explanation or even a lie. Maybe you can say it was a mistake.

“I- I meant…” You lose track of your words. You can’t lie.

“I’ve never been confessed to,” he blurts, and if you squint, you swear you can see him blushing.

“Huh?”

Yangyang coughs again, followed by the same embarrassing sound. “That was- That was the first time.”

The silence between you is accompanied by the crackling of fire and the soft path-making of wind. You’re at a loss for words, something that you should be used to by now—they clearly belong to someone else.

“Oh my god, that was so stupid,” he says, pulling a horrified face as he frantically waves his hands about. “I meant to say I like you too but I- I guess I forgot to say it out loud. Ah, crap- I sound even stupider now, don’t I?”

Your lips twitch, trying to contain your smile but you’re seized with uncontrollable laughter anyway. The mortified expression on Yangyang’s face makes you burst into another fit of giggles before you can somewhat compose yourself.

“I think that’s the longest you’ve been quiet for,” you say in between recurring laughter. “Did anyone ever tell you being able to talk fast doesn’t get you ahead in debate clubs?”

Yangyang frowns.

“Oh, I just joined because I thought it’d get on your nerves,” he says, not a hint of jest in his voice.

You straighten away from him, the smile dropping from your face.

“You can’t be serious.”

He grins sheepishly, scratching the back of his head and offering no explanation. You huff in exasperation, getting up abruptly to avoid another oncoming headache. It’s a little difficult, considering you have the human version of it right beside you.

“Wait- Where are you going?” Yangyang scrambles up to his feet. “It’s my birthday, you know?”

You turn around and put your hands on your hips, a small smile on your face at the sight of him. “It’s midnight already.”

“Oh. How was I supposed to know?”

You laugh, shaking your head. Maybe the little rascal is special.

“Hey,” Yangyang calls. “You know, since this is the end of the world and all…”

You stare at him, heartbeat erratic at the lack of distance and despite the fading of teenage fantasies. Yangyang shifts nervously, glancing here and there while simultaneously trying to keep eye contact with you, an action which makes you hold back a chuckle. There’s a particular twinkle in his eyes but he can’t seem to be able to look at you straight.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, finally.

And what a daring end to the world it is.

#yangyang x reader #wayv x reader #cznnet #yangyang scenarios #wayv scenarios #yangyang imagines #wayv imagines #yangyang fluff #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct scenarios #moonwrites #if you think the header is stupid thats bcs it is #graphic design is my passion <3 #you can pry the troublemaker x good kid trope out of my cold dead hands :)

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fanfiction-inc · 3 years

Note

After that last Dutch request where his S/O pretends to be his wife, can you do one where he catches a female gang member skinny dipping and joins them? Maybe things get a bit steamy there (*wink wink*)?

But of course, darling! And check for the surprise at the end! 😉

((A.N: As always, the smut is under the cut 😘))

Silence.

All Dutch Van Der Linde requested was a bit of silence and a chance to work on his next big plan.

The camp needed more money.

They needed more time.

But each time Dutch attempted to slip away into his thoughts and found that eureka moment, the moment was ruined.

Heavy, drunken chatter outside of his tent as the gang passes by.

Music flooding in from the campfire that mingled terribly with Armas Järnefelt's "Ouverture Lyrique".

He stands with a huff, fingers rubbing at his temples as his eyes begin to strain on the map.

The sudden sing along to one of the many camp songs begins to grow irritating and soon he's going to the edge of the tent, about to call out and silence the flock.

But his hip bumps the gramophone playing the growing melody, the record scratching and creating a terrible noise that sends his fist to clench and hands to shake.

He exits in a hurry, needing to calm his growing anger.

It wouldn't help his plans a single bit if he let all this anger out on those who were just trying to enjoy their time while they can.

You never know when a Pinkerton will decide to come along and fuck everyone over.

His steps carry him out to the woods, sigh leaving his lips when silence finally takes over the area.

He leans against a nearby tree, cigar taken from his vest and match settled between his fingers.

As the match is struck, he hears it. The shift of water and the splash as someone swims about.

He searched with his gaze until meeting just who was intruding on his time.

You, rising from the water in all your glistening glory.

Hair flipped to be out of your face.

Breast highlighted by moonlight.

The cigar tucked between his lips nearly slips out, clinging to the dry skin and sticking there, mouth agape at the form he had yet to see before.

Perfection.

You were absolute perfection.

He catches the cigar before it hits the ground, a grin forming on his lips as he lights it and approaches the waters edge.

"So, seems someone isn't celebratin' with the rest and decided on a midnight swim." He takes a long drag of the cigar, smirk forming when he sees you whip around in shock at him.

The color rising to your cheeks as you duck your body under the water, hiding as much exposed skin as possible.

The way you tried to avoid his gaze as best as possible.

"How rude of ya to not extend an invitation m'way, Ms. (Last name)." He blows the smoke out, giving a light lick to his lips to prevent the cancer stick from sticking to them. "I would have loved a dip in them warm waters."

When your gaze finally comes back up to meet his own, he's not looking away from you.

A smug look rested on his features, cigar returned back between his lips and a twinkle to his gaze as he watched you.

"Well, Mr. Van Der Linde, I suppose an invitation is better late than never receivin' one." Your form relaxed a bit as you swam backwards, breast peeking almost teasingly above the waters. "Care t'join me?"

He pauses, taking a final drag before snuffing out the stick on the closest rock he could find and tossing it aside.

"I thought you'd never ask, sweetheart." He sends a grin your way, stealing a quick glance around the area before he begins undressing himself.

It's almost like a show put on for a one person audience.

His vest taken off with skilled fingers, the buttons of the crisp white shirt beneath following oh so slowly.

Inch after inch of skin revealed and hair begins to show on his chest.

He's grinning at your locked gaze, savoring the expression and color that begins to come as the shirt is thrown away and belt soon to follow.

Guns set aside, polished shoes toed off and soon enough he's down to just his drawers, or lack thereof.

Nude to the night and to the captivated gaze, he tossed his hat to the pile of clothing and finally entered the luke warm waters of the spring time.

"Now tell me, Ms. (Last name), just why are y'out here all by y'self? Just anyone can see your," He pauses, as if adding a dramatic effect when he sucks in a breath of an appreciative nature, "stunnin' physique."

His body shifted closer in the waters, nearly against your own as his brown eyes locked with your (eye color) eyes.

"Perhaps you're of the adventurous sort. Wantin' to be seen." He shifted so his nose nearly brushed yours. "Wantin' to be caught."

"Maybe I did want to b'caught."

Your reply both surprised and excited him.

You, the rough and tumble girl who can gun down a group of men or get them drunk enough to rob them blind, being the exhibitionist out of the gang.

It fascinated him, but it also left him aching at the idea of what else could happen tonight.

A shiver traveled up his spine when your body was fully against his, the breast he had seen before that nearly made him lose his cigar against his chest and breathing steadily.

Up, down, up, down. You were as calm as the waters that you both floated in.

You were the picture of beauty that captivated him like the best view money could buy.

He couldn't buy you. He couldn't own you.

There was no need to do so, nor did he seek the idea of a monetary possessiveness to you.

You were no working girl, you were simply one of the best goddamn members of the Van Der Linde gang.

Your lips just barely had a chance to brush his own before he was pulling away, body dunking under the water and leaving you to float and wait for him to resurface.

"Really, Dutch?" Your voice called softly, body shifting in the water as you attempt to look for the man in the darkened waters that only sparkled on the surface with moonlight. "I swear if y'pop up and try t'scare me."

Silence. You began to worry.

Then a set of arms wrapped around your middle and you're being dragged to the shore.

The noise of startle that comes into the air when he's pulling you has him reeling, chuckling as a slap to his chest is delivered when he can finally feel the lake's floor beneath his feet.

The way you glared at him in a weakened hatred and his own playful gaze in turn setting the mood.

He was in it to play now.

"Y'bastard!" Your voice came out shrill, contrasted by the deep rumble of his chuckle when you pushed away from his arms.

"I thought a woman like y'self doesn't scare easily." He teased, hair sticking to his face, the pomade washed away and leaving his longer locks to show their true length.

A low, almost feral growl, leaves his throat when your fingers take hold of the damp locks, gaze growing dark and hungry when your hushed tone arises from somewhere deep within you.

"I don't, Van Der Linde." There was a bite, as if reaffirming that you weren't some weak woman he could do as he pleased with.

In a way, he understood from your personality alone that you were a woman that should be reckoned with.

He's seen your skill, your talents as a thief and gunslinger.

If he didn't know you, and didn't know you were capable of a softer side, he'd be scared shitless.

He just wasn't a stranger to you.

"I don't believe you understand what you're startin' here, Ms. (Last name)." His rumble and tone alone had your core aching, needy for the man who threatened unlike anyone else.

It wasn't a threat of death, or of using your womanhood against you.

No, this was a threat to be far rougher than he had intended when moving into the waters with you.

He was going to play nice, be fair, but now as you give his hair a tug and press your form closer to his own, that control was lost.

"Oh, I know where this is gon'take me." Your lips press against his own when you tug his head to your own, firm hands coming to gather your hips and bring your legs to wrap around his waist.

He's quick, breaking from the grasp and alluring lips that pressed oh so hungrily to his own and replacing the absence with the flesh of your neck.

Rough nips and harsh suckles litter your flesh in growing shades of reds and browns.

His breath came out in harsh puffs when his lips got to your breast, a nipple taken between his lips and lavished with the same treatment your neck had been littered with.

A couple steps back and he's landing on the water's edge, rolling your bodies so his looms over your own.

His gaze met your own, the noises leaving your lips sending his body into a frenzy of heat and arousal.

Dutch wanted to hear your voice, even at the risk of someone coming out to see just what that noise in the distance was.

It excited him to no end.

His upper half stayed braced on his forearms as his lips did the talking, suckling at the perky bud that ached when his teeth ever so slowly dragged.

How your chest raised and fell with each quickening breath and the tremble of your form when his mustache grazed the sensitive skin with each lingering peck.

When your hands began to trace his form, moving from his hair down to his chest in a selfish drag, he couldn't help the appreciative noise that left his throat.

Nor the throb of his cock that rested oh so nicely against your inner thigh, able to be placed wherever it needed to go at a moment's notice.

He gets a firm grip on your hip with a single strong hand, bringing you flush against his member, the length slipping between your folds and getting slickened by the wetness growing there.

"That's it, sweetheart." He purred out into the air, groaning when your hips jut up in an attempt to get him inside.

His hand gives a swift smack to your rear from the side, a noise leaving your lips that earns a smirk.

"I told ya you're startin' somethin' ya don't wan'be startin'." He gave a hard trust, cock grazing your clit deliciously. "Keep pullin' stunts like that and I may just leave ya wantin', and I don't think y'want that now, do ya sweetheart?"

He watched as you glared at him.

As the color rises on your cheeks.

"No." You reply in a quick, almost frustrated quip.

"No what?" He wanted a rise out of you, a chuckle leaving his lips when your eyes roll and you bite at that delicious bottom lip of yours.

He would love to kiss on them for as long as possible if he could.

But sadly your time was limited together.

He just had to make it worth it, and he was gonna try his best.

"No," He watched your pause, how you worried your lip further in an internal fight of dominance and submission, "sir."

He smirked, a lick to wetten his lips following as he moved them to rest close against your ear.

"Good girl." His hips push forward finally, sinking down within your hot cavern.

He lets out a low groan when he bottoms out, hips flush against your own and teeth delivering a soft nip to the lobe of your ear.

He sets a steady pace, wasting no time with that slow shit.

Every second passing is another that someone from camp could come out and see the activities transpiring.

Every sound could be a cause for concern to drunken ears and demand investigation.

He needed to get his satisfaction, but also deliver your own.

He adjusted the legs around his hips so they're higher up on his body, the angle changing and causing your head to throw back with a steady moan.

Each noise had his breathing picking up and body heating further in the night.

With a hand abandoning your hip and now taking a breast in hand, he fucks into you not like a lover but as a man who had fucking in mind.

It was stress relief.

It was a moment of clarity.

He was like a great Greek artist venting his troubles into his latest muse and using it until the picture was finally put together.

Fucking you would help him leave the troubles of the night behind.

Fucking you may help blossom the inspriation for a new plan.

But above all, fucking you meant he gets to see that beauty of a face controting in pleasure because of him.

He needed you just as badly as your body needed him.

Dutch is surprised when your arms loop around his neck and nails dig into his scalp, bringing him into a bruising kiss as he fucks into you like a desperate man needing release.

He's quickening each time your walls tighten, that spot within you receiving every brush that goes by.

His whole body is going into it, abdomen flexing with each pump inside of your tightening core.

"S-Sir, I'm gonna-" You started, a kiss given to your lips to silence you before he's sitting up and returning his hands to your hips once more.

"Go ahead, sweetheart, let that wave hit ya." He purred, knuckles going into a white grip as he fucked into you.

Your orgasm hits you hard, walls tight around him and a string of curses falling between you two in increasing volume.

He pulls himself out, hand pumping his cock steadily until he's decorating you with his seed.

A groan leaves his lips when he leans back on his legs, taking a few breaths to steady himself.

Then the color drains from your collective features when a voice comes from the woods.

"Dutch? (First name)?"

A glance is shared between you both as you try to get out of the orgasmic bliss and scramble for the water.

Just because he gained excitement from the IDEA of being caught, didn't mean he wanted to test his luck.

He looks up as quickly as a deer hearing a gunshot when a branch is broken close by, meeting the concerned blue gaze of his son.

Arthur paused when he saw the scene, seeing the two nude bodies trying to get into the waters and stand there with widened gazes.

Then he laughs, a deep belly laugh that carried out among the woods.

"So that's where y'all slipped off ta!" His laughter is booming, making your cheeks heat and Dutch release a frustrated groan.

You two would never live this one down

RDR2 TAG LIST:

@lise-soontobemarried | @imtootiredforreddit | @morgans-cowbaby | @btsloversaregreat | @sokkasdarling

#dutch van der line x reader #dutch van der linde #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #ns/fw hc #ns/fw ask #lovely anon #thank you anon #anon ask

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boomboomjaz · 3 years

Text

𝕝𝕖𝕥 𝕚𝕥, 𝕤𝕟𝕠𝕨

suna x gn!reader

genre: winter fluff

word count: 1491

summary: a trip with your best friend to a cabin, but it doesn’t stop snowing

author note: a holiday gift for robin @bokuwu-kowo for the holiday exchange in alice’s server. if you would like to see what more of us wrote, you can check it put in this link masterlist

The winter holidays are the time that family gathers together or the start of a hallmark moment in someone’s story. Where people sing holiday songs and watch hallmark movies. Going out to ice skate or enjoying a winter breeze with warm coffee in hand. Nothing can go wrong with the most magical time of year, right?

With different winter holidays coming around and everyone’s family being hectic about the holidays. It was just becoming unbearable especially when everyone wanted to know what their present was going to be. So you and your best friend Suna agreed that the two of you needed an escape.

“It’s too cold. Let’s go somewhere warm,” Suna argued.

The two of you sat on his bed trying to find a nice location to escape to. So far Suna wanted someplace warm to visit. But the prices for those types of locations were a little…

“Rintaro Suna. I know you see that we can’t afford that with our collective broke student budget,” you explained. “Everyone is trying to warm up or have some special Hallmark movie moment in their life right now. We are better off with something cheap for the weekend.”

“My cousin has a cabin that we can probably borrow.”

You stared at Suna in disbelief. He couldn’t have told you this sooner so the both of you wouldn’t have wasted time picking a place to go. But at least the two of you moved onto the things you could do at the cabin. Maybe a small hike, a campfire, or perhaps building a snowman. Otherwise, the two of you would probably just relax and not think about your responsibilities.

___

The trip to the cabin was long and tiring with everyone traveling for the holidays. The train was packed and then trying to find a bus or cab to take the two of you to your destination. You were surprised that Suna survived the trip because he was complaining about wanting to get some sleep. But the second the two of you arrived at the cabin, it was lightly snowing.

To see a door that would lead to a bed excited Suna as he ran in with his luggage. You followed behind him taking in the scene. It was decorated like a hallmark movie scene. You were half-convinced that you stole someone’s movie with Suna.

Suna looked up from his phone while he laid on the couch to look at your shocked face. He let out a chuckle.

“My cousin’s wife heard we were coming to stay here so she came to make it look ‘presentable’. I think she went overboard,” Suna explained. He continued to look at you in a half daze before he remembered something. “Y/n, there’s no service here so we have to connect to the wifi.”

After connecting to the wifi, the two of you settled in. Turning on the heaters, putting away luggage, making a quick grocery run to make dinner. While some of the food was cooking, you and Suna even went outside to sled on the small hill nearby.

The two of you would run up and down the hill to sled down while the other person tried throwing snowballs. It was fun to goof off without family judgment or the stress of trying to impress anyone nearby. The two of you could just be yourselves in a place away from wandering eyes.

But soon it was time for the two of you to go inside and have a nice dinner. You set up the table while Suna got the food. And while the two of you ate, you watched Frozen 2 and chatted about the most random things. How the semester was going, how you want to scream and yell sometimes, how you always wanted to take a small vacation like this…

“You always wanted to come to a small cabin in the middle of nowhere with no signal with me?” Suna asked. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Yes!” You yelled while giggling. You grabbed your spoon and pointed it at him. “You figured out my secret plan now give me what I want.”

“A kiss?” Suna asked. You put the spoon down and looked at him.

“Suna, don’t play with my feelings like that.”

Suna looked at you with a dead serious face. Paying close attention to your body movements and how you felt uncomfortable. He was quick to change the subject about how the lizard from Frozen didn’t really play a big part in the movie.

The morning light hit your face. Or at least it was supposed to hit your face. You woke up, feeling cold as if the heater wasn’t working. You wrapped your blankets tighter around yourself and went ahead to open the curtains to the window. Instead of seeing trees and a typical cabin view, you saw nothing. There was a pile of snow right outside your window.

This freaked you out. First, it was Suna hitting a spot close to home. Because of course, he would joke about something that made your stomach flutter. That made you wish he was serious when he said the word kiss. It just made you uncomfortable that it could have been a joke. Now, you had to shovel the snow outside your window.

You quickly changed into warmer clothes and headed to the front door. Only to open the door to see more snow. Quickly, you closed the door and sprinted to Suna’s temporary room. You jumped on his bed and woke him up.

“Suna! I think we are snowed in and I’m freezing!” you yelled.

Suna didn’t waste a second to grab you by the waist and pulled you closer. Letting his body heat warm you up and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Are you warm now?” Suna asked.

“Yeah?” You replied confused.

“Great because I’m hungry,” Suna responded. You nervously laughed as you removed yourself from his arms.

You could once again feel yourself falling in love with him.

In the kitchen, you sat at the table while Suna tried turning the lights on. Apparently, the electricity went out so he had to light some candles. And for breakfast, he had to manually light the stove and make eggs for the two of you.

While Suna was invested in his breakfast, you were trying to come up with ways to contact the outside world. There was no signal in the cabin since the electricity was out. No way to call for help. And the only source of heat was from the fireplace, blankets, and body heat. Oh man, the body heat from Suna’s body that morning felt good. To be back in his arms like that.

“Why are you so tense? Loosen up,” Suna told you.

You gave him a glare.

“Why aren’t you freaking out? We are snowed in a cabin together!”

“I mean, it’s not so bad. You don’t need to act so nervous,” Suna replied.

Nervous? He could tell you were nervous? But were you nervous about not being able to get out or being even more trapped in a place with the guy you like?

“Nervous about what?” you accidentally said out loud.

“ I like you back, y’know,” Suna answered.

You pulled your blanket even closer around your body, trying to heat up as you looked at Suna. Dumbfounded as how he knew.

“Don’t act surprised. I knew all along,” Suna told you when he noticed your face in shock.

“How?”

“Y/n, the second that you started hesitating when I hugged you or just started tensing up whenever I teased you was enough,” Suna explained.

You sat there soaking it all in. He was really your best friend for being able to pick up on all the hints you left him. That he understood your feelings and you were like an open book to him. If soulmates existed, he would be your one true love. You would probably fight just to be near him. But how do you tell him you want to be more than best friends?

Suna examined you once more, carefully deciding his words. He knows how you can get when you overthink a situation. He wanted to be as smooth as he could be so you could feel more comfortable.

“We can be whatever you want, but I know you’re freezing and we can cuddle up on the couch to warm up- besides I want to hold you again.”

And that is how you found yourself on the couch. Under a blanket in Suna’s arms as both of you watched a downloaded movie on his phone. Completely forgetting that the two of you were snowed in. Because, honestly, this was your hallmark movie with your boyfriend and you wouldn’t have it any other way. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

So let it, snow. Keep the film rolling, you were in a wonderland.

#haikyuu suna #suna x y/n #suna rintaro imagine #suna rintaro x reader #suna imagines #suna x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! au #haikyuu au #haikyuu!!

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soulthefunnyman · 3 years

Photo

Finally got something akin to a reference for Lawnsie, since I can’t draw lmao. At least I think my writing’s giving them justice.

Much more coherent background, still can add to it but that’ll happen more as I make use of them.

Minor Details

6’1, just taller than Filbo.

Mid 20’s, young blood in the journalism industry that gives Clumby more headaches than she can count.

Colour scheme is largely orange, orange fur, orange nose, orange paw pads, whole lotta orange. Eyes are a light aqua though.

Wears a black vest/turtleneck with a lot of pockets to store whatever they need, notepads, pens and pencils, any pictures…

No over or underbite, has sharper teeth.

Legs are slightly longer than their arms, but not overly so.

Always wearing sunglasses, helps with their photophobia. The only times they are off is when it’s dark, they’re resting on their head otherwise.

Frequent urban explorer, loves the thrill of exploring decrepit buildings and finding things long forgotten.

Post Snaktooth, they decided to room with Filbo in order to assist him with his new political career and to have someone to rely on after nearly losing everyone.

Frequent patron to Cromdo’s karaoke bar, surprisingly enough. Enjoys singing stupid songs with their friends.

Backstory

Growing up, Lawnsie always had an interest in the unknown, particularly creatures of the unknown. This stemmed from fears as a grumpling, always blowing things out of proportion and seeing everyday things as something unknown. They left it for a short while as they got older, focusing on other branches in their life, but that curiosity never quite left them, eventually leading them into photographic journalism. Their parents were rather supportive, if confused, but they trusted their decisions.

They believed that there were things out there. Things that couldn’t be easily explained. They sought to figure out those things.

They hung around the lower end of the job ladder for a few years, eventually landing a job in the GNN after a couple freelance articles caught their interest. This is where they met Clumby, who would come to know her as their boss, and someone to fear if crossed.

It was around this time that they picked up the interest of exploring abandoned buildings in New Grump City, very quickly becoming their hobby outside of work. It was also when they discovered their dust allergy. The feeling of exploring a place that was left to rot, seeing what was left behind, piecing together what it was like before everything was left to gather dust… figuring out why it was abandoned.

They fell in love with it all. It made them feel like a detective.

This was their life for another couple of years, working under Clumby, handing many articles that often pertained to their cryptid passion, questioning many about what they saw and attempting to bring the truth to light. Then the Grumpfoot article got published.

Everything went down after that. It wasn’t as if they were well liked publicly anyway because of their constant articles about supposed make-believe creatures, but at least they were tolerated at work until the article got released.

Clumby ripped into them once she had to recall them. She had a lot less patience for their shenanigans once everything had passed.

After that point, it only made sense that Lizbert sent them the invitation to Snaktooth six months later. The events of Snaktooth helped with their social skills for one, and even gave them the opportunity to make friends there.

Filbo grew close to them, often giving him support while everything blew up in his face and spending more than a few nights chatting away at the campfire together, talking of their lives and what brought them here. This was where they learned about Filbo’s track record with holding a job, which they could sympathize with. Freelancing was like roulette after all, they never knew the next time they could land an article.

Gramble also became a good friend, bonding over Bugsnax in their own ways since neither of them ate them for their own reasons. Of course, they were still worried about the fact that he was starving, so one night while everyone else was asleep and he was sleepwalking, they fed him one of the Snax they caught while out on their travels. The next day, when he spoke to them about the fact that he ate one in his sleep, they felt guilty of it. They never told him what they had done until after Snaktooth, which no doubt made the blow hurt more. Things were rocky for a little bit after that, but they made up after Lawnsie helped him find a new pet.

Everyone else ranged from someone they got along with but never interacted with much to someone they understood but quite uncertain in their relationship, but they never outright hated anyone after Snaktooth.

After everything had gone down on the island and they were forced to flee, Lawnsie and Filbo moved in together, and became reliant on each other during the tough times recovering from Snaktooth. It was a struggle, with everyone dealing with the trauma at the same time, but they all managed to pull through, themself included. Because of said trauma, they could not go back to urban exploration for a while, as it reminded them too much of the wreckage than Snaxburg had become after the earthquake, and often made them think about how Lizbert and Eggabell were doing.

They felt guilty for the fact that they couldn’t help them, but understood they couldn’t really do much with everything falling apart around them. It still didn’t lessen the blow, though.

Once Filbo finally started running for mayor, they did everything in their power to paint him in a positive light, from writing articles to vouching for him during rallies, and it all paid off for him. He couldn’t thank them enough, promising to do the very best he could.

They took up freelance articles again, keeping their passion for cryptids alive despite the horrors they’d seen on that island, even managing to generate a small following from it. More than a few passionate letters came for them, thanking them for trying to find what was out there.

After everything that had happened in their life, they finally found a place to share with others. The Snaktooth expedition kept in close contact, often meeting together for various events. They never realised how alone they truly were until they met everyone, but they wouldn’t trade it for the world.

#Bugsnax #bugsnax oc #Lawnsie Lampshade #reference

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rachelkaser · 3 years

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Stay Golden Sunday: Vacation

Dorothy, Blanche, and Rose go on a Caribbean vacation and everything goes wrong. Back at home, Sophia flirts with the gardener.

Picture It...

Dorothy is gathering suitcases in the living room, fussing over Sophia. Dorothy, Rose, and Blanche are going to the Caribbean for vacation, meaning Sophia will be home alone. Sophia protests she’ll be fine. Rose fusses about traveling abroad, which drives Dorothy insane. Blanche has packed a ton of luggage. After leave for the airport, Sophia greets the Japanese gardener, Mr. Mitsumo, and tries to flirt with him. He doesn’t understand very much English, but he flirts back with her.

The Girls get to the hotel, and find their supposedly luxurious hotel room is a grungy shoebox. Not only are the telephone and the air conditioner not working, but their “ocean view” is a brick wall seen through a window the size of a porthole. They ask the very hostile porter to send the manager up. The Girls complain some more. The very slimy manager enters and claims their room does have an ocean view if you lean extremely far out of the window. When the Girls protest, it turns out Rose pre-paid for the room and they can’t get a refund, meaning they have no choice but to stay.

DOROTHY: You call that an ocean view? You have to be a contortionist to see! MANAGER: Hey, it doesn’t say “great ocean view.”

Back at home, Sophia is having dinner with Mr. Mitsumo, who asks that she call him Toshiro. He plays Japanese music and has made sushi for Sophia, also showing her how to eat with chopsticks. Sophia’s a little grossed out at eating raw fish, and puts most of it in her purse when Toshiro’s not looking. She still compliments his cooking and tells him she thinks he’s cute. He says she’s cuter, and I just can’t with these two.

Back in the hotel, the Girls get set up in the bathroom and Rose talks about how she’s planned out their day as mosquitos bite them up. When Rose tries to enter the bathroom again, the door is locked. They discover that there are three men in the bathroom, as it’s shared with another room. Dwayne, Rick, and Winston are all obnoxious 30-somethings who try to be rude to the Girls, but Blanche isn’t having it. She tells them off, saying to go into the jungle to relieve themselves.

ROSE: You... you... you rude person! DOROTHY: Go easy on him, Rose.

The Girls are sitting in the hotel lobby, having just eaten an awful dinner, when the boys rom the other room enter. They apologize for being rude earlier, and offer to buy the Girls drinks. When they ask how their vacation is going, the Girls admit they’re having a terrible time. Winston says he’s rented a sailboat and offers to bring the Girls along on an evening cruise, which they agree to enthusiastically. Dorothy goes to call Sophia before heading out.

Sophia and Toshiro are now eating Italian food, which he’s enjoying. She tells him that she’s attracted to him, which he understands, but there are still some communication issues. These two are honestly adorable. Sophia goes in for a kiss but is interrupted by the phone call from Dorothy. She’s not pleased, and gets the phone call over with as quickly as possible. This time, it’s Toshiro who initiates the kiss.

youtube

Sometime later, Blanche, Dorothy, and Rose are on a beach with the three young men. They sailed into a storm and are now shipwrecked. Naturally the Girls are not pleased with the boys and Blanche and Dorothy start a huge argument. It’s Rose, of all people, who stands up and takes charge, citing her survival knowledge as a Scout. She starts barking orders, telling the other Girls to make a campfire, and Dwayne, Rick, and Winston to follow a path that might lead to a waterfall. Everyone leaps into action, with Blanche and Dorothy being a little scared at how commanding Rose is being.

Hours later, the Girls are grouped around the campfire and the men haven’t returned. Rose, now considerably less confident, thinks they might die and confesses that her confidence earlier was mostly bravado, and she can’t actually help them survive. Under the pressure, the Girls start confessing secrets to each other, including Rose once read Blanche’s diary, Rose once had her nose done and she and Dorothy hid it from Blanche, and Blanche and Dorothy both slept with Rose’s cousin Nolan. Finally they all shout each other into silence.

BLANCHE: You don’t think anything happened to them? DOROTHY: No, I think they probably just stopped to rest. BLANCHE: Yeah, or maybe they’re looking for something to carry the water back in. ROSE: Maybe they were clawed to death by bloodthirsty animals.

After a few moments they start apologizing to each other and say that, if they’re going to die, at least they’re together. Rose bursts into song -- specifically “I'd Like to Teach the World to Sing” -- and suddenly the boys emerge from the trees with tropical drinks. They discovered that they never left the resort island and were in fact wrecked next to the actual resort. The Girls agree to keep their confessions to themselves, and they all go off to the Hyatt Regency together singing “I'd Like to Teach the World to Sing.”

“If I put cracked ice and an umbrella on your head, you’d be a Mai Tai.”

This is a really hard episode to judge, because it’s got very funny parts even if I find the scenario kind of silly. Several of the individual scenes make me laugh, but the episode doesn’t hang together terribly well, and it kind of sucks that the B-plot, as cute as it is, doesn’t last for very long. I would have enjoyed seeing the Girls come home after their ordeal and finding out exactly what Sophia had been up to while they were gone.

ROSE: *on her millionth question* Did you call a cab to take us to the airport? DOROTHY: No Rose, I called two cabs. One for Blanche and me, and one for you, cause you’re making me crazy with all your questions! ... ROSE: Now whose cab is this? Is this yours or mine? DOROTHY: Rose, there’s only one cab. ROSE: Well how am I gonna get to the airport? DOROTHY: Run behind it!

This is one of those “away” episodes where we spend the majority of the episode somewhere other than the Girls’ house. The Girls are off to what they think is a luxurious Caribbean resort, only to find everything not exactly as advertised. Oh the days before online reviews, when you just had to trust that everything was as it looked in the brochure. That’s not to say this couldn’t happen today, but it does make this episode feel like a product of its time.

So much of this episode is memorable, even if in a weird way: The argument over the girls’ “ocean view,” the porter stomping on the bed, Rose snapping and taking charge after the shipwreck. Even if the whole episode doesn’t make a lot of sense, those scenes stick in the mind. And the final scene plays out like one of those single-scene arthouse plays, and it’s always great to see Blanche, Rose, and Dorothy just sit down and talk, as it capitalizes on the actresses’ tremendous chemistry with each other.

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I guess if I have one problem with this episode, it’s that the writers felt like they were trying to cram too many different ideas into one episode, any of which would have made a perfectly satisfactory A-plot on their own: The Girls go on a vacation that turns out badly; they end up having to share a bathroom with three men; they get shipwrecked on an island. The young men are a good example of this. For starters, how did the Girls not notice another door leading out of their bathroom when they arrived? They’re in very little of the episode comparatively speaking, and are a plot convenience to get the Girls shipwrecked. Also, if the Girls can’t leave their crappy hotel because they already prepaid, how do they expect to afford a room at the Hyatt Regency?

It’s almost a pity Sophia couldn’t accompany them, because I can’t picture her putting up with even half of the hotel’s foolishness like the rest of the Girls do. This is yet another one of those episodes where Blanche, Rose, and Dorothy go away for some reason and leave Sophia out of things. They do invite her along, but she actually turns them down this time. Turns out there is one reason why Sophia won’t complain about being the “Tonto of the group:” She’s trying to get herself a date.

DOROTHY: Ma, I hate leaving you like this, I really do. Why don’t you come with us? BLANCHE: Yeah, come on, Sophia! It’ll be fun! ROSE: *taking out the brochure* Oh, and the resort is absolutely gorgeous. Look here, here’s our room. Isn’t that beautiful? You can have the king-sized bed. SOPHIA: There’s already two people in it.

I almost wish that B-plot took up a little bit more of the episode. One, because I hate it when Sophia is in less than half of the episode and disappears before the final third. Two, because this is the first time Sophia’s had a romance plot in the series, and it deserves more screentime. I always enjoy how this show makes it so clear that women can have love lives no matter what age they are, and while we’ve been aware that Sophia dates around from her saying as much, this is the first time we’ve seen it happen onscreen.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered that Toshiro Mitsumo, Sophia’s Japanese gardener love interest, was played by Keye Luke, the actor who played Lee Chan in the Charlie Chan films. Those films may not have aged well in terms of a white actor playing the role of a Chinese detective, but I always enjoyed Luke’s performances as Chan’s “Number One Son.” Here he doesn’t get much to do as Mr. Mitsumo, but he still manages to look very cute flirting with Sophia.

RICK: So, how have you ladies been enjoying your vacation? DOROTHY: As a child, during the Depression, I had to have my wisdom teeth extracted by a shoemaker. That was more fun than this.

I mean, part of me finds it ironic that the episode acts like sushi is exotic and disgusting, to the point where Sophia slips it into her purse rather than eat it. I know that, at the time, most people probably weren’t as familiar with sushi, so it probably didn’t sound appealing to the average Golden Girls viewer, but it’s hilarious considering you can now get sushi very easily in most major American cities (including Miami), and probably a lot of minor ones too.

In the end, while I do love parts of this episode and they gave me a few laughs, it’s a hard one to judge. Still, if nothing else, it gave us some very memorable scenes of our favorite Girls out of their element, and Sophia her first love interest of the series.

Episode rating: 🍰🍰🍰 (three cheesecake slices out of five)

Favorite part of the episode:

The Girls contend with their poor accommodations and Rose has another of her flights of fancy:

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#golden girls #stay golden #stay golden sunday #dorothy zbornak #s02e08 #sophia petrillo #blanche devereaux #rose nylund #picture it #vacation

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queenof-literature · 4 years

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I know that you just posted your Rito story and I loved. I can't wait for more! I noticed it mentioned Wild blushing when asked to sing one of Kass's song. I am pretty sure it's Kass's final song, and thought it would be cute if one of the other Links hears Wild singing under his breath (maybe while cooking) and the story and song get dragged out of him.

Hi! Thank you so much! I wasn't quite sure what you meant by song and story, but I used Kass' final song with the story of Wild's death and the story with Kass' teacher, so it got a little angsty. I hope that all is okay. If not, please let me know and I wil l write a different one! Thank you for the request!

It had been a rough day. The group had landed in Hyrule’s land, and had instantly been attacked by groups of monsters with insane amounts of bloodlust. Luckily, there weren’t any injuries that couldn’t be fixed with a potion or two. Some scrapes here, some sprained ankles there, physically they were fine. But they were absolutely exhausted.

Wild was making a hearty stew for his friends before they turned in early that night. Four was leaning against a tree, book in hand. Warriors and Legend were playing a weird card game that involved slapping each other’s hands as hard as possible while Wind and Hyrule watched and made fun of them both. Time and Twilight were chatting and laughing softly, while Sky was already dozing off on a tree near Four’s. Overall, it was a tired peace that made Wild’s heart swell.

He never really got this peace before he met the other heroes. It was always sleeping in trees away from monsters, or riding through the night to discover new shrines, or pushing forward to save Zelda and other villages infected by the Calamity. This was peaceful, something that Wild wasn’t used to, but didn’t really hate like he thought he would when he first met them.

“For fierce and deadly trials await. To regain his strength. Fulfill his fate.” Wild didn’t really notice when he began to sing softly as he was stirring his stew. He also didn’t notice the rest of camp slowly getting quiet, or Four elbowing Sky in the ribs. His eyes had grown distant as he continued to sing softly. “To become a hero once again. To wrest the princess from her den.” The rest of the Links looked at each other silently. Wild had a pretty voice from what they could hear. Pretty in a way that it was unique, and rough from lack of use, but also soft and comforting. He almost looks like he doesn’t notice what he’s doing. Should they tell him?

“The hero, the princess-hand in hand-Must bring the light back to this land.” Wild finished just as soft as he began, like he had sung the song millions of times before. But he realized he felt eyes on him. He looked up to see the entire camp staring at him, even Sky, all with confusion and a bit of awe. Oh dear Hylia. Wild yanked his hood up to find his bright red face as he realized what he had done. ‘I am so sorry.’ Wild signed ‘Sometimes I do that without noticing. I didn’t mean to interrupt you all I promise. I’ll stop. Just let me know when I do it in the future, sorry I just didn’t notice-’ Twilight and the rest of the boys had gathered around Wild, but still gave him space. Twilight gently put his hands over Wild’s. He didn’t like doing that if he didn’t have to, Wild sometimes expressed himself only through sign and he never wanted to get in the way of that. But if he let Wild continue too far, he would spiral into a dark place where it was harder to pull him from. All of the Heroes of Courage had that issue. Sometimes it was better to stop the train of loathing and questioning before it got too far off the track.

“Don’t apologize about what you do while you make us dinner, Cub” Twilight teased gently, taking his hands off of Wild’s. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, we all got our habits. Besides, ya got a pretty singin’ voice.” Twilight smiled, while Wild simply flushed further into his hood, at this point his face was the most red thing Twilight had ever seen.

“Yeah Wild! I knew you would have a pretty voice!” Wind exclaimed. The group couldn’t see Wild’s eyes at all, but they could see his lips twitch upwards slightly at the younger’s enthusiasm.

“Ummm… thank you.” Wild said softly, still not coming out of his hood.

“Can you sing us the whole song? If you’re comfortable of course.” Wind asked hesitantly. He wanted to hear the rest of Wild’s song, but he didn’t want Wild to feel forced into anything. The group looked at Wind in slight shock. They hadn’t expected anyone to ask the blatant question no one else wanted to ask, but Wind was good at that. The shy boy somehow managed to get even more flustered, his face so red he looked like he was about to explode.

“W-well.” Wild was slightly stuttering again, not that the group minded. It wasn’t just nerves, Wild couldn’t talk very well when the group first found him, so he mostly signed like he did to others in his Hyrule that needed help. Through sign, they discovered that he was actually very witty and fun, but it turns out not using your voice for more than a hundred years and having rough scars around your neck made it a little hard to talk.

“My voice isn’t very good, maybe Kass could sing it to you? It’s better with the accordion anyway.” Wild said nervously.

“Your voice is very good Wild!” Sky urged.

“If you’re okay with singing it we don’t need the music Wild.” Time stated. “But no one's forcing ya. We would love to hear it, but only if ya want to sing it.” Wild pondered these words. Ever since he started talking verbally again, he tried to push himself out of his silent shell with help from the other heroes. Maybe singing was the next step?

Once again, Wild felt weak. He could take down entire camps of monsters, defeat Calamity, and kill Guardians with a single ancient arrow to the eye, but he couldn’t talk to people properly. He had relayed those thoughts to Twilight before, how useless he felt sometimes that he could be strong except in the face of normal, everyday people. Twilight had told him that it was perfectly okay, and that everyone had their struggles and fears, but Wild still felt stupid sometimes.

“I guess… If you really wanna hear it…” Wild emerged from his hood slightly. Maybe it would prove he wasn't as weak as he thought? Wind cheered and put his head in his hands, waiting. The rest of the group smiled, and Twilight patted his arm for encouragement.

“An ancient hero. A calamity appears. Now resurrected after 10,000 years”

The other heroes are surprised when Wild starts singing. It’s still soft, and it’s still rough, but Wind is right. Wild’s voice has a nice comfort in it.

“Her appointed knight, gives his life. Shields her figure and pays the price.”

Wait, what? Wild’s death is part of the song? And the words, shielding her figure, did Wild take every Guardian laser for Zelda? How did he make it to the Shrine of Resurrection? Oh Wild…

“The princess’ love for her fallen knight, awakens her power and calamity cowers. But the knight survives in the Shrine of Resurrection. He sleeps. Until from his healing dream he leaps.”

Anger fills the group at this. It was known that Wild was in the Shrine? Why did no one check on him? Why did no one keep guard so he wouldn’t be alone and scared when he woke up? Sure it was 100 years, but did no one get suspicious? Especially with elders who saw the fall of Hyrule!

“For fierce and deadly trials await, to regain his strength, fulfill his fate. To become a hero once again. To wrest the princess from Evil's den.” Wild finishes his song while looking around the camp with nervous eyes. Some of the boys looked troubled. Was he really that bad? At Wild’s nervous look, most of the boys snapped out of their stupur and began applauding, Warriors whistling at an ear piercing volume while the others whooped and hollered. Wild, who had kept his hood on to feel a small amount of security at revealing his voice in such a vulnerable way, hid within it once again, except it was a different embarrassment this time, he was relieved he had done it and gotten through it. But the group could see a smile threatening to break out. It was a sweet sight.

‘Thank you’ Wild signed with fingers trembling from the adrenaline of singing in front of all eight heroes.

“No problem, Buddy.” Twilight clapped his back.

“Yeah Wild! Thanks for trusting us enough to sing that song!” Hyrule smiled across the campfire. A smile that Wild returned instantly. Hyrule and Wild related to each other in this way. They spent so much time away from civilization and traveling the woods, it was sometimes scary to go back. All of the boys were smiling at him, except for Time. He looked solemn and serious.

“You okay, Old Man?” Four questioned. Time turned to Wild, look serious. Wild hadn’t been this intimidated by Time since he had first met the man.

“Wild… how many times did those things’ lasers hit you?” Time said the word ‘things’ with such malice the entire group got chills.

“Time.” Twilight whispered urgently. Wild didn’t like to talk about his death one hundred years ago.

“It says you shielded the princess. How. Many. Times?” Time asked coolly. On the inside he was livid. He was trying so hard not to take it out on Twilight’s protege, because it wasn’t his fault. None of it was, no matter how much he blamed himself, Wild was sent into the situation to die. He took blast after blast with his own body, and he still didn’t make it to Ganon. His friends all died except Zelda who he shielded with his own body.

“U-um. I don’t remember. I-I guess. Maybe five? Six? I-I’m sorry Time. I-I don’t remember.” Twilight put a hand on Wild’s shoulder when the boy’s breath hitched slightly, jolting Time out of his external anger. The rest of the camp were looking at him in confusion, or in some cases, (Legend), anger.

“I’m sorry Wild I didn't mean to spring that upon you. I was just mad. Not at you.” Time rished the last part in when he saw Wild open his mouth to apologize again. “I was mad at your situation. Wild… you didn’t deserve that. No one would ever deserve that but Hylia, not you kid.” Wild tilted his head in confusion. It would have been slightly cute if the next words hadn’t come out of his mouth.

“But I failed.” Wild said like it was the most natural thing on the planet. There was an uncomfortable silence in the group, then a descent into chaos.

“Failed?”

"Wild, no!”

“How the fuck was Calamity’s shit actions your fault? He’s the fucking monster that fucked up Hyrule!”

“Dear Hylia, Wind. Language. He’s right though Wild, it was Ganon’s fault.”

“Wild it wasn’t your fault, it was Ganon’s.”

Wild appreciated the support, but all their voices began blurring together. Tears pricked at his eyes, Twilight’s hand on his shoulder burned hotter than a Guardians laser. It all became too much too fast.

“It was my fault!” Wild yelled. That halted the group in their tracks. Wild yelled sure. When he was in his environment he would yell while shield surfing, or talking about a crazy plan he had, but this was in anger and despair. Wild harshly brushed Twilight’s hand off, trying to ignore the slight hurt in his eyes.

“I doomed Hyrule! By the time Zelda unlocked her power I had collapsed. My body quit on me! I quit on all of Hyrule! The other champions died! Why am I the only one left? Kass told me the story of his teacher! He was Zelda’s age and he fell in love with her, but she loved me! I don’t even know if I loved her back! She doesn’t deserve what she was put through! No one does! I did that to them, that was all me! I failed! I got hit with laser after laser after laser but I had to keep going! But I couldn’t, I didn’t even make it the castle! Kass’ teacher was mad I wasn’t a noble or royalty, and he was right! Zelda deserved better! She and I are the only ones left! All the other champions died because of me! Why am I the only one? Why am I still here? Why am I-” Wild choked on his last words on a sob. His entire rant, tears began to cascade down his face as the group looked on in horror.

Wild couldn’t hold it in anymore. He cried and he grieved and he yelled. Wild didn’t feel the white and burning rage anymore, he just felt the despair and sorrow he had been keeping in for years, only releasing a couple of times in small doses. When Twilight reached out to gently touch his hand, it didn’t feel like lava from Death Mountain anymore, it felt warm and loving and Wild simply leaned into it, silently telling Twilight it was okay.

“Oh, Cub.” Twilight murmured before pulling Wild to his chest. Wild curled up in his mentor's arms and allowed himself to sob over all the losses he had felt. His sobs grew harder and he felt like a child, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t breath, his sobs overlapping and clogging his lungs. One of his hands was pulled away from where it was curled into Twilight’s tunic and he whined.

“Just me kiddo. You gotta breathe with me.” His hand was led to a different chest. Legend, Wild recognized in the back of his mind. Legend exaggerated his breaths for Wild to copy. The first time he tried, he simply choked more and shook his head. “That’s alright, you can do it. Another try.” Legend said gently. Wild would be laughing in a different situation. The word gentle and Legend wouldn’t be put together when he had first met the snarky hero. Wild tried again with a little more success. Legend kept helping him as another hand went through his hair. Four.

“I’m so sorry, Wild.” Wind said from across camp. The younger felt guilty that he had started this when asking if Wild could sing. Wild wanted to reassure that this wasn’t his fault at all, that this had just been building, but he couldn’t talk. Luckily, Warriors and Hyrule were there to cover for him, talking quietly to Wind on the other side of camp. Wind shook it off though, Wild needed them more.

Wild had calmed down slightly. Still crying, and still curled up in Twilight's arms and getting help from Four and Legend. But once he was sure he could hear him, Time spoke up.

“Wild, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to grill you that hard. That was my mistake.” Wild opened his mouth to tell him that it was okay, he knew Time had no malintent, but Time continued on. “Wild. I need you to understand something. What happened wasn’t your fault.” Wild opened his mouth to correct Time, but Time was having none of it. “No, it wasn’t your fault Wild. I’m not saying that to comfort you or baby you. What you were sent into was an execution Wild.” Twilight's wolf instincts got loud in his head and he almost snapped at Time for being so harsh but stopped himself. He remembered Time told him once after he took Wild under his wing, that mentoring wasn’t just about kind words and support. It was also about knowing when to state hard facts. Sometimes that’s all people understood.

“No one knew what Ganon had planned, and you had no time to prepare because of the mistakes of those before you. You had nothing to do with their ignorance, Wild.” Time’s face was set in stone, but his eyes showed a fiery passion for every word he was saying. “Wild. Look at me please, bud.” Wild peeked out from Twilight’s shoulder and looked into Time’s eyes, which softened as he met the younger hero’s sky blue eyes. “It wasn’t your fault, because you couldn’t control anything around you. You are not a God. You have the limitations of a Hylian that you already find ways to exceed. Wild, you were so brave. You took hit after hit to protect Zelda. And her powers awakened right before you collapsed. Do you blame her for not unlocking them sooner.” Instantly Wild’s eyes became hard, and he opened his mouth to bite into Time, who could see where this was leading just by the expression on Wild’s face. He held up a hand. “I’m not saying you should. I’m saying that she also had limitations that were out of her control, just like you. If you don’t blame Zelda, why do you blame yourself?” That one stumped Wild a bit. He wanted to say because Zelda was born into a family she never asked to be in, and worked hard everyday to fulfill their expectations… but he was in the same situation. Did Zelda feel the same way he did when he sorrowfully watched her blame herself? Time saw he struck a chord.

“I understand feeling like a failure. I lost battles too. But you did what you could do with what very little of the situation you could control. You said it yourself, you took laser after laser for her, and you only collapsed after you were sure she was safe. The safety of others is the only thing that kept you going, Wild. I’m not saying I approve of you taking lasers for others, but do you realize how much of a hero you are?” Tears flowed from Wild’s eyes once again, but for another reason entirely. Time really cared. He really thought Wild was a hero, even after he heard the song, the stories, the death. He heard it all, and the Hero of Time still thought Wild belonged with them. Wild whispered a quick thank you, and the rest of the group sighed in relief. Wild’s sobs had turned to hiccups as the rest of the group told him similar things to Time. It didn’t feel suffocating this time, it just felt like his eight brothers were trying to comfort him. Wild felt a weight lifted off his shoulders he had felt for so long. Time knew Wild would still struggle with his feelings of failure, one night wouldn’t change that, but he hoped he got through to Wild for the long run, at least a little.

Wild realized how absolutely exhausted he was before this whole ordeal even started, which only increased tenfold now that he had cried. He was embarrassed that he had lost his shit that much in front of all eight heroes, and realized with a jolt how exhausted they had been too.

“Um. I’m sorry, I know you all were really tired. I didn’t mean to have this happen-” He was cut off with a flick to his unscarred ear by Legend and a small yank on his ear by Four while Wild yelped.

“What did we just talk about you idiot?” Legend hissed, but it lacked the usual bite he had.

“Yeah Wild! Don’t be sorry. Everyone needs a good cry once in a while! It’s healthy! I’m a medical professional, you have to listen to me.” Hyrule added with a joking glare. Some snickers rang through the group at Hyrule’s proclamation. Time looked over and smiled in pride at Wild, which Wild returned with red dusting on his cheeks. Hearing all his brothers laughing and fighting, and feeling the comforting arms around him, Wild slowly dozed off into a deep sleep, feeling lighter than he had in years.

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