Cabin
(the timeline is a lil weird in this so just go for the vibes, Pre-K verse. Fem!reader)
Based off this AWESOME ASK! so here's my lil take on it <3
“Think ‘m dyin.”
“You’re fine.”
”UGH- oi, th’ light- oi, Beth? That you? callin me, LT, they callin me.”
Simon doesn’t bother to look up from the tablet to his wounded comrade, who would be alright with some TLC and a long night’s sleep. Currently, he was trying to find somewhere they could all rest, somewhere safe, which seemed to be an easy task- as he knew this forest like the back of his hand. (After living in a town not even ten miles away for close to seven years) Not to mention, he happened to know where there was a cabin, which should be empty.
Technically it wasn’t his cabin, it had been your brother however when your brother moved he left it to you. And since it was the middle of the summer and the cabin didn’t have AC, Simon assumed you were most likely happily sitting at home with the kids, on an air-conditioned covered porch.
With that in mind, he made his decision to lead his team towards the cabin. It would be a bit of a trek, but it was the best option they had, it wasn’t far from where they had to leave the truck- the mission had been odd, just to accompany some international weapons dealer, and since they were the closest they had been assigned. Long- story short, it went to hell and they somehow made it back in one piece. They had to wait for pickup, to be treated, and then for the debrief, so he couldn’t quite just go home, though he wanted to.
“Since when do ya own real estate?” Kyle remarked as they approached the cabin, lit up by their flashlights and the moon that hung, he had gotten out with a broken rib and a graze on the arm- luckily he didn’t fall from any high places this time. It was a quaint thing, made of wood with a cute chimney, and a nice porch. A big red garage not too far away from it and a dirt path leading to the neat porch.
“Not mine.” Simon replied bluntly back, handing his backpack to Kyle, and then told them he would grab some emergency packs and the first aid kit from the garage. With one flashlight tucked under his arm, he went around the back of the garage while the rest went into the cabin, as he also told them the spare key was under the chair leg. He remembered building the garage, yet somehow he still would grumble about how loud the door was.
Normally the garage was barren, give or take the Christmas decorations you would have him store in there, a rack with his tools and weapons. As well a year’s worth of rations, and camping gear, both mundane and survival- to put it simply it had everything he would need if he simply needed to vanish for a while. Though he hadn’t needed to in a long moment, not since he met you and Ollie- and perhaps that could be summed up to he didn’t quite want to anymore, either way- he flipped on the flickering light expecting a vacant garage.
No. Instead, he found your car sitting in the darkness. He knew it was yours because only your car would have that dent he caused in the front fender. Within a millionth of a second everything began to make sense- you had said you had a project you were going to surprise him with, ‘take it off his shoulders’ as you gleefully had put it before he left. The air conditioning, you had taken on the task of installing the air conditioning while he was gone. Which meant you were in the cabin with Ollie and he just sent a team of men in there, armed.
All the same, he had taught you to fend for yourself, enough to where when he ran through the front door to the sight of a knife to Johnny’s neck and a panic-riddled fear within your eye. He wasn’t shocked by it. He quickly told Kyle to drop the gun, harshly at that, to which Johnny replied-
“WHA? Bonie’s go’ a knife-” “Simon?”
His eyes flash over to yours and almost out of habit, his hand went to take off the mask, to assure you, “S jus me, let Johnny go, baby. Jus me.”
“Oh my god,” You very quickly drop the weapon of opportunity and without much else warning you turn around on your heel to go down the hall, opening up the coat closet to pick up the three-year-old- who was still baffled on what was going on and why you told him to go hide.
All the while you were doing that Johnny very slowly looked back at Simon, a look of exasperation across his expression- because- well two things actually; he had technically seen the man’s face before, but never in good lighting and it wasn’t because Simon was trying to show his face it was more of a random moment post-OP. Secondly; “What do ya ‘ean ‘Baby?”
“ISTER RILEY!” The three-year-old shrieks with glee before any questions are asked and before any can be answered, the child in his blue dinosaur-themed PJs and his mob of hair messy from bed, yet he seemed as awake as one could be. Ollie tried to wiggle out of your grasp, failing so he frowned and looked to you, “Momma wan go ‘Ister Riley.”
You stand at the end of the hallway, beside the old couch and you look over the three men, one you happened to be in a relationship with, and the other two you had no earthly idea of their existence till two minutes before, where they rudely woke you up with clanking boots. You only glance the two over before returning your gaze to Simon, who is very slowly approaching his movements calculated, as if he knew a sudden movement would scare you. “Who…who are these people?”
“On my team, I didn’t know you would be ‘ere,” His voice was hushed, as if he didn’t want them to hear his words, as he got closer Ollie began to lean out of your grasp to move to him- and normally you would allow the transfer, yet not then. Which Simon was very aware of, “Needed somewhere to crash for the night, I didn’t know you ‘ere here. I wouldn’t have-”
Before he could finish his apologies, your voice was whispered through the silence, “You’re all bleeding, what? Do they not have medics? I thought- you told me you had people to take care of you.” Sure, you were very angry and more importantly scared, feeling unsafe in your own home and if not a bit betrayed, yet…for the moment you were willing to overlook that.
“Back at base, luv,” Simon was quick to reply, “Waiting for someone to ‘ick us up ‘n take us.”
You take a moment to process his words and you nod, “Johnny and Kyle?” Your husband very slowly nods, so you look back to the two beaten-up men, who were standing as if they were watching their best friend get yelled at by their parents. After a moment of breathing and slowing your heart rate you give a meek smile, “Hi, I’m sorry, that was a…well an awful introduction, I swear I’m nice.”
They were both quick to deny you being the guilty party, Kyle taking off the cap within a millisecond as he spoke, “No! We must’ve scared ya to death, completely rational reaction, Missus.”
Johnny nods and motions to Kyle as he adds on. Watching as Simon very carefully moves to stand behind you. He knew his best friend, and he somehow didn’t know of his secret wife- suspicions yes, yet he was tickled pink that he was correct. “Wha’ Gaz is sayin, you did not’in wrong, bonnie, fact o’ it is-”Ollie’s face crinkles as Johnny speaks and he moves his head to look back at Simon, seeing him from an upside-down view, “Ister Riley why does he talk weird?” As if on cue you move Ollie to sit happily in Simon’s arms and give a weak laugh to distract them both from your son’s rude question.
“Tea?”
—
“And Missus?” Kyle said after about ten minutes of silence, the night was peaceful, Ollie going from Simon to Johnny the entire night and asking about every question imaginable (”You fight bad people?””I do laddie.””Da’s so cool.”….”Wha’s your name?””Johnny.””Nuh-huh.””Nuh-huh?””Yea, ‘Ister Riley called ya someden different earlier.””Ah, Soap, tha’ my speical nickname.””SOAP??”) and you fussing about how crappy their medic was, they didn’t have one, and getting the first aid kits and clean clothes out, the night was oddly…pleasant.
Simon, who currently had a sleeping three-year-old against his chest, looks up from his tea and then clears his throat. “Wha’ bout her?”
Johnny had spent the last forty minutes thinking about it all, and he had figured out the timeline, or he thought so, so he looked to Simon- a look of pure shock and a little bit of mock upon his face, “Whatcha ‘ean ‘wha’ bout her? LT got a wife n kid ‘n we ‘ere nun wiser!”
“Tha was what I was hopin for,” Simon said dully in return, moving to stand up, an arm under the boy, and then giving you a soft smile as you came back from the garage, blankets in hand. “Gonna put Olls t’ bed.”
As your husband tells you what he was doing you give him a little nod and then set the blankets down on the couch, looking back to the very intimidating men, who were somewhat pleasant as you got to know them. “Unfortunately one of you will have to sleep on the floor. Si’s got a little cot thingy but I hate that thing so I will subject you to it. Trust me, the floor is better.”
Johnny laughs, “Nah we’ll jus cuddle on and we’ll be fine, Missus.”
“No, we will not.” Kyle deadpanned back, glaring at Johnny before looking back to you, “Thank you for opening your home.”
You smile at him, finding it easier to do so after a few hours, “Well after having to endure Ollie for hours it’s the least I could do.” It was a joke that they both caught onto, laughing lightly at it, though the air wasn’t stiff it was most definitely a bit awkward.
“Speakin of Ollie, is he-”
“Oh, he’s not Simons.” You quickly finish the thought, fully knowing that was going to be the question out of the Scotts mouth, then you clear your throat, walking to the kitchen as you spoke, “I mean- sorry, I met Simon when Ollie was about a year and a half old, my ex divorced me after Ollie was born and since he had been on deployment I didn- anyway sorry,” You wave your hand and grab your mug, “and Simon was volunteering at the school I worked at- for um, well John, you both know John of course- anyway, I needed a babysitter for Ollie and he offered and then…well the rest is history.”
“Ghost volunteering at a school?” Kyle echoed to clarify, “an the kids weren’t scared of him?”
“Terrified,” You reply, a laugh in your voice, “It was cute, he was cute, he’s good with kids, he won’t say he is but he is and oh lord, I…” A slight faltering and you shake your head, “Anyway, I’ll let you both sleep. You know where the bathroom is.”
With a few goodnights, you walk down the hall, leaning on the doorframe to the smaller room, which had a pull-down bed that had Ollie’s favorite racecar-themed blanket atop of it and a few select toys you had let him bring on the two-night trip. As you listened to the very faint conversation you stayed quiet, not wanting to ruin the moment between the father-figure and the boy.
“I like Misser Soap and Misser Kyle.”
“Mm, thos’ are my brother’s laddie, so ‘m sure they’re happy you like em.”
“If…if dey brother then- then they like Uncle Mark?”
“…Yeah, sorta like your Uncle Mark, alright, you get to sleep, yeah? Fore mum has both our hides.”
You move to stay in the hallway as Simon kisses the boy’s forehead and tells him goodnight for the billionth time, and you turn your head upward to look at him as he closes the door behind him. He looked tired if anything, so maybe you would wait for your scolding. Silence, as you had learned very quickly on within your relationship, was the cornerstone of who he was. Whatever you may want to be said he was already aware of, anything you wanted to be expressed he was already expressing in his own way. With that in mind you move to where he could easily wrap his arms around you, tucking you into what he felt was like a safe embrace.
“Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Not scared of you, scared of what would happen without you.”
(annd yeah, that's all. Feedback, comments and all that mean so much to me <3)
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A post in which I talk about how I, a Wild-centric fanfic author, like to characterize Wild /pos
So I've read a TON of Wild fics. Not all of them, but a whole bunch, and let me tell you, I love every version of Wild, every characterization. Brooding and angsty? Cool! Goofy and silly? Heck yeah! Competent experienced knight? Awesome! Feral gremlin? One of my favorites! I like kid!Wild, fox!Wild, wolf!Wild, winged!Wild, and every other variation I've come across.
So when I wanted to start writing Wild fics, I had to decide what way I wanted to portray him as: what felt right to me, what agreed with LU canon, what agreed with the game(s)... It was quite the head scratcher because all of those ways I mentioned earlier are valid and logical conclusions. I thought about it alot and this is what I came up with:
In BotW, Wild’s personality is primarily defined by two factors: his previous training or “programming” as a royal knight which although isn’t remembered, it is still there, serving as the framework guiding his thoughts and actions, and by his lack of memory (and baggage) and childlike lack of knowledge and experience of the world (remember when you started the game and he didn't know what an apple or a stick was?).
I had a breakthrough though when I was watching a BotW Let’s Play: I realized that Wild is basically every BotW Let’s Player ever (actually, every player) because everyone starts Breath of the Wild with their own life experiences guiding their thought processes and actions but they come to the game with no knowledge of how anything works in the game or what the story is.
So, all I had to do is write Wild like how I play him, or how my favorite Let’s Players play him: lighthearted and cheerful, pretty clueless about social interaction, wanting to help others but not knowing how to beyond providing practical help, logical and strategic problem solver but without memories, he ends up doing things in unorthodox ways. He's a talented fighter and can use any weapon, but big picture battle strategy is not his strong suit. He's a sticky-fingered goblin in the towns but he's always very helpful to anyone he meets.
While I do tend to write him as more the silly, goofy, gremlin style, I do recognize and include that he does have a troubled past, and he can be dramatically angsty and he does go wordless sometimes, but I figure there's a threshold for it. He's normally very resilient and bounces back easily from "Oh man, what an intense memory that was" to "ooh shiny carrot! Mine now!"
But there's a point when things get tough and he drops below the "bounce back" level, he can revert to his old knightly ways of silence, emotional suppression, anxiety, self-sacrificial tendencies, plus the troubles of having only 1-2 years-worth of memory/experience (and ADHD) like issues with emotional regulation, conflict resolution, excessive guilt, confusion, flashbacks, etc. I figure it takes a lot to knock him down to that level, but when it does happen, it takes a lot of time and support for him to revert back to his usual happy-go-lucky self.
In summary, to me, Wild is a cheerful goofy teenager, a scrappy and competent fighter, a knight with a troubled past, and a good kid.
******
What's you favorite way to portray Wild? I'd love to hear it. (But please keep your thoughts to yourself if you're going to be critical, a Wild hater, or if your input starts with "I dislike/hate it when..." I'd like to keep this post as positive as possible.)
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