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mochiwrites · 2 months

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late night visitor.

in which grian gets a visit from the city’s popular hero, hotguy.

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There’s a tapping sound at Grian’s window. He straightens up from where he’s hunched over at his desk, papers from the library waiting to be sorted and marked. The pen he has in his hand is set down as he turns around in his chair, angling himself toward the window. Soft brown eyes flick toward the glass, and his lips curl in a slight cringe.

Standing behind Grian’s window, right on his balcony, is none other than the city’s top hero, Hotguy. Irritation and confusion sparks within him as he sees the orange and teal clad man, arrowhead insignia proudly displayed on his chest. His sleeves are short, leaving the muscles of his biceps exposed. Fingerless gloves sit on his hands, bow and quiver on his back. An orange and teal mask covers his face, letting Grian see no more than his green eyes. His brown hair is dark in the cover of night, a small ponytail at the base of his head. A pleased smirk sits on his face, a signature look.

Grian feels his eyebrow twitch.

He pushes himself up from his chair, taking a few measured steps over to the hero. Hotguy’s smirk widens as Grian moves closer, until he’s right in front of the window. The glass slides up, and Grian lifts a brow, “Don’t you have more important things to do than haggling civilians, Hotguy?”

“Gaggling? I’d never do such a thing!” Hotguy retorts, a playful lilt to his words as he smiles down at Grian. “I’ve only come by to see my favorite civilian!”

“Pretty sure you still have better things to do. Like patrolling?” Grian offers, stepping back. His words don’t seem to bother Hotguy as he climbs into Grian’s apartment through the window.

The breeze from the wind follows him in, adding a slight chill to the room. Hotguy straightens as both feet land on the floor, taking a look around the place as if he hasn’t seen it before. “Not to worry, Grian. I’ve already finished patrolling for the night!” he says proudly, moving to set his bow down on the table nearby. “Besides, whatever I don’t catch, I’m sure Cuteguy will.”

It’s a statement Grian would put faith in, if he wasn’t the aforementioned hero. Maybe he can find a bit of appreciation in how much Hotguy seems to trust him, even now. There’s a small smile that seems to pull at his lips as he shakes his head.

He’s honestly not sure how he’s ended in this position, with his hero partner dropping by his apartment on occasion. Hotguy only found out where he lived because of a villain attack once. It had been way too risky to try anything that may give his Cuteguy identity away, so he had let Hotguy rescue him and get him safely home (the guy may irritate Grian sometimes, but he still owes him a lot).

From there Hotguy would come by once in a while, performing ‘check ups’ as he liked to call them. Grian thinks they’re just excuses to slack off. Hotguy vehemently denies it of course.

It’s something he’s gotten used to after a few months of this happening, even if it makes him nervous. He doesn’t want Hotguy finding out his identity, nor does he want to know Hotguy’s.

Because he’s a liability. Who knows what could happen if he ever found out and it was used against him. Or…

He still owes Hotguy so much.

So far it’s seemed okay. It isn’t like there’s much connecting Grian to Cuteguy in his apartment. Hotguy certainly hasn’t put anything together, which he can breathe a sigh of relief at.

“Ooooo, what’s all this?” Hotguy’s voice breaks him from his thoughts, causing Grian to angle his head toward him from where he had been staring off. The hero has migrated over to his desk, peering down at the papers. He picks one up, “Up late organizing papers again, huh?”

Grian shrugs in response, “Sacrifices have to be made now and then.” He then frowns as he watches the hero turn a page toward him, reading it. “Hey, put that down will you?”

“Ooooo, town history! How fun,” Hotguy hums as he sets the paper back down on the desk. He turns back to look at Grian with a charming smile. “Though there’s definitely better ways to spend your evening, G.”

“Good thing you’re not me then,” Grian snorts, shaking his head. “I happen to quite enjoy staying indoors and organizing papers. I much prefer it over dealing with pesky heroes,” he deadpans. He doesn’t, but Hotguy doesn’t need to know that.

“Oh, Grian, you wound me!” Hotguy cries playfully, setting a hand on his chest. “I bet I could make your evening ten times more amayzin’!”

The image that conjures is one that causes Grian to shudder. He can totally see Hotguy sitting with him in his apartment, talking his ear off about how cool of a hero he is He grimaces, “Somehow I doubt you’d make improve my evening. Actually, I think you—”

Grian takes a step toward him, only for the bow sitting on his table to catch his eye. He stills, words turning to dust on his tongue as he stares at the weapon. He’s seen it plenty of times in battle before, watched Hotguy shoot three glowing arrows at once with terrifying precision without even flinching. But he’s never seen it up close.

Walking over to the table, Grian sets a hand over it, humming quietly as the previous conversation is forgotten. “Weird to see you without this thing,” he idly comments. He traces over the edge of the bow with a finger, feeling the hard material under his touch.

“Ah, Grian, you really shouldn’t—” Hotguy tries to say, but Grian is already grabbing it. He turns and points the end right at the hero with a mischievous smile.

“What, afraid I’m gonna poke my own eye out or something?” he teases, shaking his head. Like he’d be careless enough to do something like that.

Hotguy walks over to him, frowning slightly. “Careful where you point that thing! That’s a weapon you’re holding.”

“I know what a bow is, Hotguy,” Grian huffs lightly in return. “I’m just looking at it. I’ve never seen it up close before.” His gaze returns to the bow, a curious hum reverberating in his chest.

“Well of course you haven’t,” Hotguy chuckles quietly. The frown lifts from his face, lips going lax as he stands in front of Grian. “I usually don’t let anyone other than my technician handle it. But I guess I can make an exception for my favorite civilian. As long as you’re not shootin’ any real arrows.”

“How kind of you.” Grian’s eyes trace the details of the bow, a bit of awe in his expression. It’s not light by any means, Grian has to hold it with both hands. How the hell does Hotguy shoot with it? He knew the guy was strong, but this is something else. The bowstring is black and hard to pull back, Grian finds, as he experimentally tugs on it. The bow itself matches Hotguy’s aesthetic well, with the top half being teal and the bottom orange. On its own it’s nothing special, just some heavy bow. But its user makes all the difference.

He glances over at Hotguy with a hint of curiosity, “How do you handle this thing, anyway?” It might be helpful to know for the future, should anything happen and Cuteguy needs to make a quick shot. He’s no Hotguy when it comes to precision, but he can certainly try.

Hotguy doesn’t answer immediately, instead gazing at Grian through his mask. His eyes are soft, contemplative as he thinks over his response. Grian waits, gaze drawn to the bow in his hands instead of the hero in front of him.

“Well,” Hotguy begins after a moment, moving in, “firstly, your position is all off.” He slides up behind Grian, causing the shorter to stiffen. A hand falls over his, the one holding the bow, and it’s raised. “Angle your feet ninety degrees, and keep them shoulder length apart.” He gently nudges Grian’s right foot with his boot, encouraging him to fix his position. “Good, just like that.”

Hearing Hotguy so close to his ear sends chills down Grian’s spine, little pinpricks that tingle right down to his lower back. He can feel the hero’s breath against his neck, and Grian finds his face feeling warm. Why is he suddenly so embarrassed?

With gentle fingers, Hotguy lifts Grian’s arm, pointing the bow at nothing. “You’ll want to keep your arm straight. I’d normally load an arrow at this point, but I think it’s in our best interest to keep those away from you,” he chuckles, and the sound is smooth like velvet, low and deep. Grian shudders. Hotguy speaks quietly, like being any louder would send Grian scampering away as if he were a startled rabbit.

Hotguy keeps his grip on Grian’s raised arm with one hand, the other sliding around to his front. Gentle but sturdy fingers settle over Grian’s stomach, setting a light pressure against his abdomen. His hands are warm against Grian, he can feel his heart stuttering in his chest. It’s hard for him to concentrate with the hero so close.

“Don’t trust me with an arrow?” Grian can’t help but ask, his voice surprisingly just as quiet as Hotguy’s.

He feels the way Hotguy’s chest rumbles from his laughter with how Grian’s practically pressing against him.

His cheeks feel really warm.

Movement from the corner of his eye has him shifting his gaze to lock eyes with the hero. He sees a soft gleam in them, something that seems to go past the kind of look a hero may direct at a civilian. It’s softness is reflected in the depth of Hotguy’s eyes, all forest-like green and bright with color. The green seems lighter like this, smoother.

Grian wonders what his face would like if the mask wasn’t there. Would the softness sit on his expression? Would it still be so open, like Hotguy’s heart on his sleeve, if there were no make to shield it? Would he let Grian see it? If Grian asked would—

He quickly shakes himself out of those thoughts, horrified. Where did they come from?!

“I want to be careful with you,” Hotguy finally murmurs to him, and god that is not helping with Grian’s embarrassing thoughts! “Giving you high tech hero equipment you don’t know how to use kind of goes against that, Gri.”

Gri.

Gri?!

What the hell is happening right now?!

Some sort of noise punches its way out of Grian as he stares at Hotguy, struggling for some sort of response. Normally he’d reply with snark, some kind of sarcastic remark. But right now he’s coming up empty, unable to move away from the fact that Hotguy is holding him and he doesn’t want him to let go. God what’s wrong with him all of the sudden?

Hotguy’s eyes seem to widen at the noise Grian makes, and just like that the warmth is gone. “Oh gosh! I was totally just all up in your grill there!” he exclaims, stepping back. He seamlessly takes the bow from Grian’s hands as he moves away, leaving Grian’s back rather chilly. His face is red, if not more red than Grian’s is. The two of them are trapped in some sort of staring contest with each other, individual thoughts racing.

Neither speak.

“W-Well uh, that’s how you use the Hotguy bow! P-Pretty neat huh?” Hotguy says after a moment, chuckling nervously. Something on his wrist beeps, and he glances down at it.

Grian breaks out of his stupor then, watching Hotguy move. “Something wrong?” he asks, finally finding his words.

“Nothing to worry about. Just duty calling.” Hotguy looks back up at him, cheeks still warm with a nervous smile. “I’ll have to cut this one short! We’ll save the archery lesson for another time!” He gives Grian a salute before heading back out the way he came.

Alone in his apartment, Grian stands. His heart is still pounding, staring at where the city’s hero stood not even a few seconds ago. Wordlessly, he falls back in a chair, still staring off.

Maybe he should’ve been called Whirlwind instead.

#mochi writes #feathered redemption au #scarian #hermitshipping #hotguy hermitcraft #this is soooo rough #and the ending is super rushed #but this scene has been plaguing me all day I had to throw it down #this is somehow 2k????#wrote this all today whoops #I’m still trying to take it easy with the burnout #but here’s Something

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skyward-floored · 7 months

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Whumptober Day 31: Emptiness, (“I thought that I was getting better”)

Last one finally! ...a day late, but hey, at least I’m close, right..? This may be a bit rambly and headcanony, but it’s something. It’s done. I finished it.

Thank you everyone for supporting me this year! I appreciate you all more then words can say <3

Read on ao3

Warnings: pretty light, discussion of death and grief, mild mention of blood.

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Rusl was familiar to Wind.

Well, okay not exactly, he wasn’t one of those people that popped up no matter what era they were in or anything (like Beedle, seriously what was up with that?), but he was familiar in a different way.

One that made Wind’s chest feel weird whenever he looked at him.

The sailor swallowed, and looked down at his full plate of food, the others chattering loudly around him.

They’d finally ended up at Twilight’s home village, and the rancher was ecstatic, showing the Links all around Ordon, and introducing them to his family. It was late in the day when they’d arrived, and after showing them all around, Rusl and Uli had invited them all for dinner, insisting despite the large number of them.

They’d all piled in their house, the space a bit tight with eight extra people, but they managed, and set out a big meal for everyone.

It was chaos, everyone talking, passing food, holding Twilight’s baby sister, but despite everything going on, Wind found his gaze drawn continually towards Rusl, and Twilight and Colin as well. They were all sitting next to each other, and kept smiling, and laughing, and despite the delicious-smelling food in front of him, Wind had lost his appetite.

Twilight said something Wind didn’t catch over the din, but Rusl laughed at whatever it was he’d said, squeezing Twilight’s shoulder with a fond look on his face.

Wind felt the weird pit in his stomach suddenly grow, and he quietly slid off his seat, slipping out the door without barely a sound. Nobody seemed to notice him leave, and he stepped out into the night, closing the door and blocking most of the noise from inside. Cool air met him, and he breathed in deeply, shaking himself as he lingered on the doorstep.

The image of Rusl and Twilight together flashed suddenly in his mind, and Wind crossed his arms, kicking at a pebble on the ground.

Why was he feeling so weird about this? Twilight was finally home and able to visit his family, Wind should be feeling happy for him, right? He got to be with his whole village, and his little brother, and baby sister, and his parents...

Something stung in his chest again, and Wind swallowed.

Was that really what it was?

This... that was stupid, he wasn’t jealous of Twilight’s family! He had Grandma and Aryll! That was more than most of the other heroes had at all, some of them didn’t have any family, so why—

Why did seeing Rusl ruffle Twilight and Colin’s hair make a pit open in his stomach?

Happy laughter came from inside, and Wind felt the pit get deeper, something cold rising in his chest.

He suddenly couldn’t stand the idea of going back inside. Wind turned from the house and stalked away through the village, the moon shining too calmly for his mood. He circled the village a few times, then eventually found a secluded spot behind a house by the stream, throwing off his shoes and dunking his feet in.

The water was a little cold, chilly from the coming autumn, but Wind didn’t care, swishing his feet around.

A distant trill of music floated on the wind, and Wind hunched over himself as the tune changed to a different one in his head. He remembered his parents dancing to songs like that, and eavesdropping from his bed at night so he could hear them sing.

There was less music after Aryll was born, but it could still be found, and Wind still remembered his father quietly singing up at the lookout tower, Aryll asleep in his arms as Wind tried to fill in the missing harmony.

And even after that, Wind and Aryll still sang, to the seagulls outside, and with their grandmother when they helped her make soup. Sometimes Wind still sang Aryll to sleep when he was home, and they’d curl up together and he’d hum lullabies he’d learned on his travels.

“...Wind?”

Wind startled, and turned to see that Sky had walked up behind him without him noticing.

“We were wondering where you’d slipped off to, Uli was about to serve dessert,” he said warmly. Then his smile dimmed a little as he looked at Wind’s face, and he hesitated. “...is everything okay?”

Wind swallowed, then turned back to the water, not sure what to say.

Was everything fine? He’d thought it was, but the empty hole in his stomach spoke otherwise. He should probably tell Sky to just go back and eat dessert with everyone else, but for some reason those words didn’t come out.

“...Do you remember your parents?” Wind asked shakily, and Sky let out a quiet oh, moving to sit down next to him.

He looked out at the water for a moment, then took off his boots as well, dipping his toes in next to Wind’s.

“I do somewhat,” Sky replied, his voice soft. “My father and mother were both knights, though my father took it much more seriously. He was always patrolling, and practiced with the sword whenever he could, he helped train people to use it actually. My mother was more laidback like me, and mostly preferred just flying with her loftwing though. Apparently she was the best rider Skyloft had seen in a long time, she saved a lot of people.”

His smile dipped, and he breathed out.

“They both died when I was about seven.”

“I’m sorry,” Wind said quietly, and Sky gave him a small smile.

“It’s okay, it was a long time ago. I still miss them of course, but... in more of a good way, if that makes any sense.”

Wind crinkled his eyebrows, but he didn’t really have time to think that through, since Sky then gave him a searching look. Wind squirmed a little under the scrutiny, and looked back out at the water.

“Do you remember yours?” Sky asked softly, and Wind swallowed.

“Kind of,” he whispered, his mind falling back to one of his earliest memories. “My... mom died when Aryll was born. I don’t remember a lot about her, but I remember that night. There... there was a lot of blood.”

He paused and glanced at Sky, seeing that the Skyloftian was watching him with a gently sympathetic look on his face.

“My dad didn’t die until Aryll was three,” Wind continued, clearing his throat. “I remember more about him, he... he loved the ocean. Loved the waves and wind, and sailing. He went out on his boat a lot, but he’d never be gone too long, and he’d always throw me up in the air and catch me when he got back,” he finished with a smile, old laughs ringing in his ears.

Then they faded, and he felt his smile slip away.

“Sailing is hazardous, though. A storm blew up after he left to trade at Windfall once, and... nobody’s seen him since.”

Sky set his hand on his shoulder, and Wind swallowed again.

“I’m sorry Wind,” Sky said gently, and Wind gave him a small shrug.

“At least I have some memories of them. Aryll doesn’t remember Mom at all, and she barely remembers Dad. A-and at least I know who they were, I mean Wild doesn’t know anything about his family, and Four barely remembers his mother, and I don’t even know if Legend ever had parents and—”

“Sailor,” Sky interrupted carefully, and Wind looked at him, his throat tight. “...Where’s all of this coming from?”

“I...”

Wind clenched his fists, feeling that huge empty feeling in his stomach again.

“How come Twilight has a whole family?!” he burst out, feeling his lip tremble. “He’s got two whole siblings and parents that love him and are still alive and he gets to be around them and love them and I’m happy for him, I am but how come he’s the only one of us? Why doesn’t Time get to have parents? Or Warriors? Why did b-both of our parents have to die, it’s not fair Sky!”

Sky pulled an arm around Wind’s shoulder, and to his horror he realized he was crying, tears dripping into the water they were still dipping their feet in.

“I-it’s not fair,” he choked out, and Sky didn’t reply, gently rubbing his shoulder.

Wind let out a thick sniffle, mopping his sleeve over his face, and Sky held him a little tighter, a sigh escaping his lips.

“...I wish I had a good answer for you Wind,” he said finally, voice quiet. “Other then me just agreeing with you that you’re right, life isn’t fair. I... I don’t know why most of us lost our families. Maybe it’s due to us being heroes, maybe it’s just a big coincidence, I truly don’t know.”

Something deeply grieved flickered over Sky’s face, but it was gone as soon as it appeared.

“...I know it hurts, Sailor. It’ll probably hurt the rest of our lives,” Sky said as he closed his eyes, the moonlight somehow softening his features. “And we can’t bring our parents back, no matter how badly we’d like to. But... for me at least... I’ve had so many people in my life who’ve filled that role in their absence.”

Wind looked at him again, and Sky gave him a small, grieved smile.

“Zelda’s father, all the teachers at the knight academy... everyone on Skyloft, really. They’ve cared for me like my parents did, and while they’ll never replace them, they’re also my family. It’s a lot like that for Twilight too.”

“What do you mean?” Wind asked, and Sky looked at the water again.

“I guess you hadn’t joined us yet when we had that conversation... Rusl and Uli adopted Twilight, they’re not his birth parents,” Sky explained, and Wind’s eyes widened. “All of Ordon helped raise him, like Skyloft did for me, but he says he just ended up here one day. He has no idea what happened to his birth parents.”

“...Really?” Wind asked, and Sky nodded.

“Really.”

The weird hole in Wind’s stomach shifted again, and he felt even more miserable, staring down at his feet. For some reason the information only made him feel worse, and he felt Sky’s arm give him a little squeeze.

“Wind... you lost your parents a lot more recently then I did,” Sky said after a moment’s silence, and ran a gentle hand through Wind’s hair. “It’s okay to miss them.”

Wind swallowed back the sudden lump in his throat.

“I... I guess I thought I’d gotten over it,” Wind said thickly, voice shaking. “And then I saw R-Rusl and I just...”

A loud hiccup escaped him, and Sky gave him a squeeze.

“Even with Grandma, and Aryll, and L-Linebeck and Tetra and everyone I just... I miss them,” he finished in an embarrassing squeak. “And Rusl j-just... he looks like my dad.”

Sky didn’t say anything, just let him cry into his shoulder, and Wind shut his eyes and leaned against him a little more.

He didn’t know how long Sky sat with him, holding him while he cried, but it was long enough that his feet had started to feel numb in the water they were dipped in.

Wind shivered a little as his tears had finally slowed, the pit in his stomach feeling a little less empty as he wiped his face again. Then he looked up at Sky, the Skyloftian’s eyes looking a little red themselves.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and Sky let out a wet chuckle, wiping his own eyes.

“Yeah. I’m alright. You ready to head back?” he asked gently, and Wind hesitated a moment, then nodded, pulling his feet out of the water.

“Yeah, I... I think I’m... okay,” he said, and was a little surprised to find that he meant it. “Thanks Sky. Sorry for all the...”

Sky gave his shoulder a squeeze before he could continue.

“No problem, Sailor,” he smiled. “A good cry never hurt anyone. Now... let’s go see if somehow the others didn’t devour all the pie.”

Wind grinned. “Well if they did, I bet we can guilt Wild into making us more. I could sniffle and everything.”

Sky laughed, and Wind joined him as the two headed back across the village, the moon gently lighting their path.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu wind #lu sky #linked universe fanfic #whumptober #whumptober 2023 #day 31 #emptiness #I thought that I was getting better #writing from the floor #WHEW #we're finally done lads!!!#oof this year was rough #though it turns out i wrote over 80k soooo that might be why #nanowrimo has nothing on me #...but yeah I'm definitely burnt out now heh #time for a writing break

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