Degener-ate 💅

03' Casual writer, send me fic requests!

[squishypanderz]

Fandoms I Can Write For <3

Hey folks, I've been itching to get back into writing so I decided to try out Tumblr! I have a hard time doing fully fleshed out fics, so taking requests seemed like a good place to start. Here is some stuff I'm into; request from anything and I'll try to come up with something!

This isn't an exhaustive list, just stuff that I'd be pretty comfortable writing about without having to rewatch or look something up. If you don't see your fandom on the list, ask anyway! I might have seen it and forgot, or it's just something I'm not super into.

ANIME

Jujutsu Kaisen

Attack on Titan

Fairy Tail

HXH

Demon Slayer

BNHA

Haikyuu

Black Butler

MOVIES

The Hobbit

Lord of The Rings

Marvel

Star Wars

Sonic

Deadpool

Mickey 17

Rise of the Guardians

Trolls (SINGING KILLED MY GRANDMA)

SHOWS

The Walking Dead (+ Fear)

Game of Thrones

Arcane

The Mandalorian

Stranger Things

Reacher

The Boys

VIDEO GAMES

The Witcher

The Last of Us

Fallout 4

FNAF

Touchstarved

Detroit Become Human

Undertale

Phoenix Wright

BG3

[squishypanderz]

Bifur & Bofur Headcannons

"Got any more bifur or Bofur headcanons? I love them both"

AHHH tysm for ASKING anything for you I love you <3 (I ALSO love Bofur he is my fav <3) This was just a message so idk if you wanted to be anon (｡>﹏<) but regardless ENJOYY!! I only did a few but I can always write more, I love doing requests (╥ ω ╥)

Bifur ᥫ᭡.

Bifur is sort of left to his devices pretty often. Sure some of the dwarves engage him to make sure he doesn’t feel left out — especially Bofur and Bombur — but he just kinda chills on his own. If you watch, this dude is lowkey Pocahontas or Snow White because you’ll just be trudging along and you turn around to see him with a bird on his finger, a butterfly on his axe, a squirrel eating out of his hands. Literally whatever little creature is around is sniffing him. I guess because he’s pretty quiet they just kinda creep up to him and he doesn’t mind. He would only be okay with the pretty, slow insects landing on him, though. I think he’d swat at a spider, grasshopper, or any kind of frantic flying insect; gives him the heebie jeebies.

I think he would also do weird stuff when nobody is looking. You know when you’re near a river or beach or something and you see a really perfect rock that kind of looks delicious? Like, yeah that is a rock, but it looks so tasty. I can just envision him at the back of the line of dwarves ambling up the riverside and he stops suddenly, crouching down to pick up a super smooth rock. He’d flip it around in his fingers as he stands to continue walking before bringing it to his mouth to lightly bite on it, just to sate the urge. Maybe even do that thing where you pull your lips over your teeth and bite it before shoving it in his pocket for funsies. The whole time you’re watching him and he looks up and makes eye contact. You just mouth to him, “What was that?” and he just shrugs because can you really judge him? He’s living his life free and you can’t take that away from him. 

Bifur really likes music. While he enjoys a catchy chorus, he particularly enjoys instrumentals. In the same way that we can convey different things through music, Bifur expresses himself in a unique way which is why I think he would like music. Whenever he’s feeling sad, he would hum a somber tune to himself, or jovially grunt along to Bofur playing the flute while the rest of the Company sings. He’d also tap on things. Whenever he finishes dinner, he’s tapping his spoon on the bowl along to the song that’s been stuck in his head all day. I think he’d also use it to communicate more specific ideas in a quicker way with the rest of the dwarves. Some sort of discussion would be taking place and Bifur would nudge whoever’s next to him and hum an iconic melody, and the other dwarves would consider the lyrics to understand what he means. Maybe he’s pointing out an old hero from a story, or maybe he’s referring to a time when they sang the song together. He would use music in that way to express himself, and everyone taking time to understand how he intended it always makes him feel appreciated for his thoughts. Just imagine you keep hearing your favorite tune throughout the day, and you eventually start humming it to yourself. You wouldn’t even realize Bifur was doing it intentionally at first, but day after day whenever your mind started to drift, you’d hear that soft humming and be brought back.

Bofur ᥫ᭡.

Just to start, I have always been obsessed with Bofur’s relationship with Bilbo. At first, he teases him out of his mind, but they really grow to have a real understanding of each other. Even when the tension was thick in Erebor, he just cheekily sees Bilbo off with reassurance and his trust that whatever the hobbit was up to, it would be the right choice. In both that scene and the one in the goblin cave where Bilbo wants to go back to Rivendell, Bofur is always compassionate. “You’re homesick. I understand.” and “Dark days indeed. No one could blame a soul for wishing themselves elsewhere.” He doesn’t dismiss Bilbo’s feelings, but validates them and recognizes that things can get overwhelming. When the times get tough, Bofur is always there to call you back to let you know he cares and that he will be there for you.

Imagine you’re traveling with the Company to take back Erebor and on some rocky incline somewhere, Bofur stumbles and his pack tumbles open, spilling countless whittled and woodcarved figures. It almost seems like that’s the only thing occupying his pack. Everyone stares at him for a while with confused expressions while you gush over every little object like they’re the cutest most precious things in the world. Slowly the other dwarves realize why he has a pack full of carvings detailing all your favorite things and chuckle amongst themselves while Bofur scratches the back of his neck with warm cheeks. Dwalin asks, “What’re you lugging all this about for? Food and gear’s a better use of space.” Bofur would grumble a bit as he stuffs them back into the bag, “Better than having them carry ‘em around.” Initially he was just passing time carving little chunks of wood to leave lying along their trail, but at some point he started keeping them to give to you once Erebor was reclaimed. Dwalin might’ve been right, but seeing your elated expression made the back pain and grumbling stomach worth it.

Oh man, Bofur would be slow to fall in love. Almost oblivious to his own feelings, he’d rationalize that he just enjoys your company and likes you as much as the rest of the Company. It would just accumulate slowly with all the little details he’d store in his mind. The glint in your eye when you’re excited, the expression on your face when you focus, your little bedtime routine you do before crawling into your bedroll. He’d be so silent in his admiration that even he couldn’t see it until he had some sort of realization. Maybe he’d be helping with dinner and Bombur tries to fill your plate with a bit of everything they’d cooked up, only for Bofur to block the plate with his hand. “They don’t like those, just leave it off for one of the lads.” Bombur doesn’t make a big deal of it, but Bofur pauses. ‘Why do I know that?’ Then he’d start thinking about all the little things he knows about you and just pull his hat over his face. Mahal, he must be some sort of idiot! He’d feel embarrassed about it to himself initially, but get over it pretty quickly to get on with the courtship before someone decides to snatch you up before him.

[squishypanderz]

Simmering Fingers

Summary: Headcanons for how the Dwarves + Bilbo feel about physical touch (Platonic + w/ gender neutral reader)

A/N: Y'all I'm not even a Bifur fangirl but his is SO CUTE?? omg I was kicking my feet writing that

Bilbo is just flustered in general, so if you consistently find a way to touch him, he will get unbelievably jumpy. He is expecting it, but also in disbelief that someone would want to touch him so much that it surprises him every time. The man blushes from ear to ear, especially if you're a taller individual. He would eventually come to terms with it after therapy sessions with himself and clumsily seek it out himself in the form of sweaty hand holding and awkwardly resting his hand on your shoulder when you're crouched at your bedroll or stoking the fire.

Thorin is very much a pat on the shoulder type of guy, but he isn't too touchy. He's totally fine with the bumping and shoving that comes with the rambunctious roughhousing of the Company's dwarves, but he doesn't really participate. He mostly gets bumped into when the others get careless, otherwise they try to avoid him. What he finds most strange is the gentleness of your touch. He's used to the firm and rough disposition of dwarves, but the way your fingers press so softly against his skin, as if he would shatter under any more pressure, brings him an odd sense of clarity. His mind heavy with responsibility and anxiety clouding his vision, your warm palm pressing to his neck as your fingers lay across the back of his neck pulls him from the fog and it's like he's breathing for the first time. He becomes a big fan of kissing your knuckles; it's the kingly thing to do.

Balin has become less touchy in his old age. When he was younger, he was a bit like Bofur in his jovial nature. Shouting drinking songs with his arm slung around a friend's shoulder or putting someone in a playful headlock; he definitely isn't a stranger to expressing himself through touch. However, he's old now and that man's back hurts. He said leave me the hell alone, I got arthritis and chest pains and a herniated disc, LEAVE ME BE ୧(๑•̀ᗝ•́)૭ Bro creaks when he stands up. That's why you like to give him little massages whenever you've stopped to rest. He was surprised when you first offered your help, said you noticed him wincing on the journey and might be able to fix it. The man felt brand new; you've got magic fingers, friend. It's like he's that young dwarf again, bouncing around during meals with Bofur and rubbing circles into the back of your hand in the small hours of the night as the Company winds down to sleep.

Dwalin is lowkey very touchy. He's very touchy in the usual manly sense; clapping a friend on the back, holding you in place to check for injuries, stuff like that. He likes hugging people, but that's a little too showy for his tastes. Plus, people don't often move to hug him, so he just doesn't offer. He isn't against cuddling you in bed, though. He'll never admit it out loud, but he sleeps the best whenever you're embracing.

Kili is the type to always be leaning on someone. Always nudging or poking when telling jokes, and he loves hugs. I imagine his mom cuddled him and his brother a lot, so he's used to just hugging everyone. He'd also walk around with his arm slung over somebody's shoulders all the time. His favorite thing would have to be your hand in his, though. Feeling the curve of your knuckles, the raised flesh of an old scar, the smoothness of your nails. Most of all, how soft they feel in comparison to his, calloused by years of drawing a bow.

Fili is touchy, but in a subtle way. Leaning in close while the group is talking until his shoulder bumps yours, a reassuring hand on the back when he sees that worried look on your face, or grabbing your upper arm to stop you from tripping. He's always looking out for others, and he's so engrossed in connection that he finds himself constantly touching someone. It pisses Kili off sometimes, but Fili loves to ruffle his hair when they're joking around. His favorite way to touch you is forehead kisses. Gently pushing your hair away from your forehead(I like to think that touching foreheads is an old dwarvish custom type thing used as a hello or goodbye, sort of like when Dwalin and Balin headbutt as a greeting.) He thinks it's very intimate and it makes him feel close to you.

Dori is mother. He constantly fusses over Ori, straightening his clothes, fixing his beard and tidying his buttons. Especially if they are being hosted by someone, Dori will float around and pick at everyone, making sure they are at least somewhat presentable. He's a very tidy and proper dwarf, so that is mainly where physical touch comes into play. That being said, he doesn't really participate in big shows of affection like hugs. He secretly gets really flustered; not as easily flustered as Bilbo, but he will shoo you off if you're overwhelming him (what a tsundere lmao). Most of the time it would be you initiating any type of touch but he always gets that little spark in his eye when you need your hair put up. Just by looking at him, you can tell he is something of a stylist. He absolutely loves braiding intricate designs into your hair. Sometimes you'll whine; you're feeling a little hot, a simple bun or braid will be fine. He will hear none of it. Threading his fingers through your hair, he separates the strands into sections and each time you ask, a few hours later your head is a masterpiece of delicately pinned and plaited swirls and patterns.

Nori is a sneaky little flirt. Being something of a trickster, he loves pushing the other dwarves around to annoy them. The ole tap their opposite shoulder and act like it wasn't you is the go-to in his repertoire. His touch has a similar charm when it comes to you; he'll sneak up behind you and blow on your ear just to see you jump, or squeeze at that sensitive spot on your side to get a squeak out of you. He's constantly poking at you just to tease. You'll get so worked up and flustered throughout the day. You're beyond embarrassed and frustrated by the time you lay out your bedroll, but he acts as if he didn't do anything as he grins at you.

Ori is shy, but unknowingly clingy. The Company settles for the night and gather around the fire for dinner and he is glued to someone's side. Personal space isn't a thing, but has it ever been? He's always been like this. He will sit right next to anyone, thighs and knees bumping. The same applies to when he gets frightened; he'll grab your sleeve with shaky hands like a little kid. However, when it comes to you, he is very aware of personal space. You hand brushes his and his face is beet red. You sit anywhere near as close as he would, he's just lost his place in his book. His brain just short circuits and he has to recalibrate his brain to even comprehend that you're speaking to him. Whenever he gets more comfortable though, he would love resting his head on your shoulder (or vice versa).

Oin is the consent KING! Since he's a practiced healer, he's very aware of how some people do not appreciate being touched. He tends to keep his hands to himself unless he's doing some medical work. Even then, he is very steady and methodical to maintain an air of professionalism and avoid making anyone uncomfortable. Since he's hard of hearing, he tends to lean into people when they're talking which sometimes results in some shoulder bumping, small things like that. That being said, he would have to warm up to more intimate touching. Of course, he wouldn't mind you touching him at all. He appreciates a squeeze of the shoulder in passing, but he is not about that PDA action. However, he is really gentle in private. Soft caresses, cradling your head as he strokes your hair.

Glóin is gruff, but not nearly as nonchalant as Dwalin. You try to hug him, the guy is grumbling and begrudgingly pats your back as if his pride will be crushed by a simple embrace. Literal drama queen. It's like the big awkward man energy; he's keeping up this façade of a strong, stoic type but he constantly breaks character. He'll be cracking up at a joke, clapping one of the boys on the back, or awkwardly pat their shoulder after they kill more orcs than him in a fight. Peak dad energy, actually. He's amazing with kids, obviously. They'll climb all over him, tugging at his beard but he tolerates it and doesn't get frustrated. He absolutely gets flustered when you touch him, but he tries to play it off like he isn't embarrassed. He doesn't have a problem touching you, though. His hand is on the small of your back whenever he can get it there, and he loves to cradle your cheek in one hand just to look at you. (Also this mf is absolutely little spoon and you cannot tell me otherwise) OMG he would also carry around a little braid of your hair in a pendant or something and Gimli always thought it was a powerful symbol of connection because of dwarvish customs related to hair yatta yatta and that's why he asked Galadriel for her hair, since it was a prominent symbol to him growing up or something eurrghh ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡

Bifur touches everyone a lot since he can't verbalize everything effectively. It's a lot of little nudges to get someone's attention, gently moving someone to get past, or a pat and nod to say hello. He adapted to using body language to convey his thoughts, so he's comfortable touching others but is also conscious of how they feel about being touched. He's almost like a pillar of the Company; he's looming close by to offer a comforting presence, or a quiet shoulder to lean on. He tries to have constant contact with you, whether that be holding hands or just sitting with your shoulders smushed together. His touch feels quiet yet overwhelming. It's rough but gentle, warm but sends a chill up your spine. He's very romantic in how he traces lovely words onto your skin, whispering secrets to you without ever saying a word.

Bofur is so affectionate. He loves his fellow dwarves without shame and will show it in any number of ways no matter how many people stare. This dude ABSOLUTELY boops noses. Just imagine Dwalin being super serious about something just for Bofur to go *boop* and promptly sprint away Jack Sparrow style as Dwalin Michael Myers walks after him while the rest of the Company cackles. Somebody is cold, Bofur's got two arms for ya. Somebody is tired, Bofur's got a shoulder ripe for the sleepin on. And he will absolutely put his head on top of theirs. If he isn't hugging on someone else, he's on you. He's always happy to wrap his arms around you and do anything aforementioned, but he does get a little nervous sometimes in more intimate settings. He's all charm when he's tucking your hair behind your ear with a wink or pressing his hand to the back of your neck to bring your head closer for a forehead kiss, but he melts whenever you lay your head on his chest and play with his hands. He gets a tickly feeling and finds himself rubbing his neck as a sheepish chuckle falls from his lips.

and last but not least

Bombur is the hug master. You are absolutely encapsulated in a Bombur hug, I don't care how big you are. He's not particularly touchy but hugs? He's there. He gives little pats of appreciation on the back or the knee, not much besides that. With you, however, THE CUDDLE MONSTER. You will never sleep alone again. Not that you would complain, he just strokes your back and in minutes you are dead asleep. It's impossible to stay awake when he's so warm and soft. He is unbelievably warm, so you wouldn't even know it was winter in his arms. He doesn't get flustered when others touch him, but a kiss on the cheek will have him red as rubies on Mars.

[squishypanderz]

Please may I have Fairy tail Platonic headcanons of being the younger brother age 13 of Gray Fullbuster who is exactly like Carl Grimes from the Walking Dead..he was a magic gun User like the other two well-known gun users. A member of Fairy tail and Team Natsu..he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty but he also wasn't expecting for Wendy to fall for him Platonically of course as they are kids. He had Carl's pain and flaws..he wasn't perfect but he was a good kid..despite the incidents of being shot in the stomach and eye.

Relationships:

Gray Fullbuster's relationship with his younger brother

Team Natsu's relationship with him

Juvia's relationship with her future brother-in-law

Holy crap, thanks for being my first ask!! I appreciate the detailed request (TωT) Sorry if it isn’t the best, I’ve never written headcanons before so I’m kind of just ramble-typing ideas (,,¬﹏¬,,)

To start, let’s flesh out the magic, shall we? I think Gray’s brother would have a similar technique to Alzack rather than Bisca and you could see him around with his signature Beretta pistol. He wouldn’t have a lot of abilities considering that Gray uses ice magic, but Alzack and Bisca would take to him so quickly and always give him pointers and help with his training. I just imagine his abilities always being headshots since we’re basing him off of Carl from TWD and having cool ability names like Guns Magic: Triggerfinger. I think the abilities would mostly affect mental functions, so think of stuns/sleeps, confusion, hypnotism and things like that. He would have the Beretta when he’s younger, but eventually as he gets older and more skilled, Alzack would gift him a magic rifle and he would learn even more techniques with it. 

He was literally like, an infant when Ur found him and Gray in the ruins of their village, so he was too young to learn ice magic alongside Gray and Lyon. I guess that makes him roughly five years younger than Gray? However, as he got a bit older, he would wander off to nearby markets to snoop around the magic shops and would develop a fascination with the magic guns he saw for sale. He would beg and beg relentlessly for one, but Ur and Gray would always tell him they couldn’t afford it and he would sulk for the whole day. They would always offer to teach him ice magic, but he’d refuse because he wanted a gun so bad.

After the whole Ur and Deliora situation, Gray would feel immense guilt not only about his master, but also his brother. He would blame himself for continuously putting his younger brother in danger, ashamed at how weak he felt. When they make their way west and find Fairy Tail, Gray would present himself arrogantly so as to ward off people from messing with his brother. He was always so eager to start taking jobs so he could take care of his brother. Once he was old enough to start working, Gray would go out on jobs and have Makarov watch his brother. He was actually working to save up jewels to buy him the magic gun he has always wanted, and man was the reaction worth it. He had never hugged Gray so tightly before and it really made all the work worth it. Alzack and Bisca joined a lot later than Gray and his brother, but they just fawned over him when they each joined since magic gun users are few and far between, especially such a young one. 

Erza watched him grow up. She’s always had a soft spot for the wizards younger than her, so even though she was a bit abrasive in her early years in Fairy Tail, he always thought she was really nice because she would train with him in hand to hand combat instead of treating him like a baby.

Natsu has a similar relationship with him as he does with Gray. I mean, they’re related so they’re basically the same person. That’s his logic, anyway. At least the little one doesn’t take his shirt off every two seconds. If Natsu is ever being too annoying, he would just shoot him with a paralyzing bullet and end the fight immediately. Gray would yell at him like, “Hey! I had it under control!” And later, Natsu would regain control of his body and spew flames everywhere, yelling about how it isn’t a fair fight if they aren’t even fighting each other, but then they would be interrupted by their stomachs and bond over food. Natsu swallows anything and everything while he just scoops away at a bucket of pudding. That’s another reason why Erza likes him, he also has a sweet tooth (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)

When Happy was in the egg, he was still pretty young so he would knock on the egg and talk to it, so he and Happy get along pretty well. He is known to slip the cat a fish or two every once in a while - that definitely helps.

Lucy was surprised that Gray had a brother. She hadn’t seen him around when she joined for probably around two weeks. He was out on back to back jobs; nothing too difficult or dangerous since he is pretty young, but he would also accompany Alzack and Bisca on simple jobs for some field training. He’d return and Lucy’s brain would just buffer like ???? Where did this child come from?? She couldn’t see the resemblance because this kid looked so sweet and innocent, but Gray is kinda… you know. Gray. As he got older, he would ask to come on missions with the team but Lucy would always be hesitant. “Should we really be bringing a kid? This feels irresponsible…” Girl, she’s only saying that because she feels unprepared for these missions half the time. They don’t have to worry though.

Since he is really diligent in his training, he’d be able to handle himself pretty well, especially since he has practice from jobs with Alzack and Bisca. Whenever they do run into trouble, Gray is always the first to help his brother. What do you expect? The man overcame his trauma about Ur, but he still wants to live up to the expectations his brother has for him. That means always coming to save him whenever he needs it. Although, Gray is kind of bad at expressing his feelings so he would always try to brush it off by saying, “You can’t get knocked out this early, you’ve still got some catching up to do.” Just to tease him and make it lighthearted when they get put in scary situations. That’s Gray’s way of reassuring him that everything is okay and he’ll be there whenever he slips up.

However, one day he might go a little overboard trying to prove himself to Gray. He can get a little emotional sometimes, so he might storm off after being told he can’t join a super dangerous mission and take one himself, alone. Gray finds out and immediately goes after him, Team Natsu in hot pursuit. They would show up and find him really banged up, fighting off some dark guild members (maybe from Naked Mummy?). He wasn’t expecting that they would use regular guns since they are super uncommon given that magic kind of overpowers mundane weaponry like that. Still, it is effective and he was distracted by the magic assault of the other dark wizards. Team Natsu would arrive, hearing the gunshots and he would hear one of them call his name or begin an ability and freeze for just a second, then bam. They had already tagged him in the stomach and he was bleeding pretty significantly, but he didn’t have a way out. When he froze, the real gun user landed a shot right in his eye. He goes stiff, his head knocks back a little and he stumbles back as his arm goes heavy with the weight of his pistol. It slips from his hand and he turns, his other hand moving to his face as it is warmed with the blood pouring from his eye socket. He looks at Gray and the fear in his eye makes Gray feel colder than he’s ever been before. Gray just sprints over to him and catches him before he can fall to his knees and cradles him as Team Natsu immediately sees red. They absolutely decimate these fools and everyone is panicking about what to do.

He’s in the infirmary for weeks and Gray is just sick with worry, slumped over the bed and barely eating. That guilt just comes back to gnaw and tear through him as he looks at his brother’s pale face. Gray cries whenever they’re alone, but he heals up fine. Now that he has an eyepatch, Erza’s gut twists a little sometimes since he reminds her of Simon. She smiles sadly when she thinks about it though. She loves both of them and their steadfast spirits. 

At first, Juvia would be SUPER jealous. Who is this? Why are they always around Gray? I’m gonna cave this twerp’s skull in, why is he so close to MY BELOVED? Why does Gray let him close, but not me? Does Gray hate me? ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡ But obviously, after some research (stalking) she learns that he is Gray’s younger brother and mostly forgives him for hogging Gray. “He seems to make Gray happy…He’d be happier with me, but he just needs time.” He’s a little less oblivious in comparison to Gray, so he’d absolutely notice this creepy woman giving him the death stare from whatever dark corner every time he was around his older brother. He’d bring it up with Gray, but just get brushed off. He’d ask why she’s so obsessed, what does she want? And Gray would sometimes get crazy flustered, face all red and just tell him to drop it. "I wonder what that’s all about…" He’d eventually approach her and she would be kind of aggressive, but not too aggressive since he’s close with Gray. That is, until he starts telling her sweet stories about her beloved from years past and she would just sit there with rapt attention and hearts in her eyes. The heartfelt, the intense, and even the embarrassing had her heart thrumming and she finds herself enjoying this guy’s company. Finally, someone to talk about Gray with! He’d find it a little weird to listen to her gush about his brother, but he’d come to think of it as sweet and would regularly spend time with Juvia. She’d be sitting at the guild’s bar with a cup of water and as he walks over, her eyes light up and her pale skin flushes pink, immediately excited to talk about what Gray did that day or listen to another story from his childhood. They become good friends and he even tries to wingman for Juvia sometimes because GOOD GOD Gray is kind of an idiot, can she make it anymore obvious? This dude has been hit in the head one too many times.

When Wendy arrives at Fairy Tail, she’s pretty shy and reserved, especially since there aren’t a lot of people her age around. People sort of dote on her, but he just treats her like a regular person. He’s never been one to fawn over a super special type of magic; he appreciates technique. He would criticize her lack of hand to hand combat knowledge and Wendy would get embarrassed, all puffy cheeked, and pout at him because she never had the chance to work on it. He would sort of feel like Gray and try to be nonchalant, offering to help train her, but like in a super cool way because yeah he’s super cool and can fight, sure I guess I’ll help you ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ Wendy would slowly see more of his personality and how he cares for everyone in the guild, all the subtleties of how he gets along with everyone and kind of develop a crush stemming from her deep admiration of him. She has heard stories from other guild members about his childhood and all the happy, funny times, but she also hears about the trauma and hardship he endured. Still, he walks around with his head held high and she finds herself aspiring to be like him. To grow stronger and be able to overcome her own weaknesses for the people around her.

________________________________

Alright, I hope that was okay!! I didn’t really proofread this at all, so sorry for any misspellings and stuff like that ( •̯́ ₃ •̯̀) I really liked imagining the magic guns aspect of this, let me know what you think @the-letter-horror-lover <3

[squishypanderz]

Breakfast

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

Summary: Waking up on a slow day to make Satoru breakfast

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 1263

It had been a few weeks since you moved in with Satoru. Initially, he was all over you. Following you around like a lost puppy, it was easy to know whether he was home or not. Either his hands were gliding over some part of your skin, or he was sitting down feet away yapping your ear off. What curses he had sealed, how the higher ups were getting on his nerves, what the younglings were up to. Apparently there was a new student who reminded him of his old classmate. The sentiment makes you smile.

It’s another slow day off and even though things have been hectic at the school, you will yourself to relax as you stretch, crawling out of bed as the morning light filters through the curtains. You yawn, scratching at your head as you pad your way out the door, following the familiar path to the kitchen as you blink slowly. Pulling the fridge open, your eyes scan over the contents of the shelves and sigh, deciding to mix up some pancake batter to assuage Gojo’s sweet tooth for the morning. Taking out the necessary ingredients and materials, you start measuring and mixing in the soft morning silence. As you’re deciding how many to cook, you feel strong arms snake around your waist and warm breath wash over the back of your neck. An unconscious smile graces your lips as you stir the bowl, leaning into him slightly.

“Good morning, Sunshine.” His voice is slightly rough from sleep and his chest rumbles against your back from the bass. He takes in a deep breath through his nose, inhaling your scent as he ghosts his lips over your neck, humming against your skin. 

“Stop distracting me. Sit.” You elbow him softly and he chuckles softly, reluctantly releasing his hold on you with a squeeze. You hear him walk over to the counter, sliding into one of the stools. The kitchen is relatively silent as you start pouring circles of batter into the pan, flipping them with the spatula periodically and sliding them onto a plate. 

“You hum when you cook. Did you know that?” You glance back at him, his head resting on his arms that are folded on top of the countertop. His piercing blue eyes capture yours, the soft smile on his lips making your heart flutter. 

“I guess not.” You feel a bit self conscious and keep quiet as you finish up the pancakes, diligently putting away the ingredients you took out. You bring out some toppings like fresh fruit and syrup, placing them in front of Gojo as you slide his stacked plate of pancakes in front of him. With a hum, his eyes never leaving you, he slathers his breakfast in syrup and strawberries. You do the same, neatly placing toppings on your pancakes as you slice them into bite-sized pieces. As you begin eating, you sigh softly and look up at Gojo, his eyes already on you. His expression is full of love and sweet warmth.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna kiss you.” He quirks a brow, his cheek puffed out from being stuffed with food as his back immediately straightens. He leans forward, his fork clanging down onto his plate as his eyes become slightly seductive, narrow slightly with a dangerous allure and smirk on his lips. You roll your eyes, poking your fork into your pancake as you continue eating.

“Well? Is this not right?” He widens and narrows his eyes, his eyebrows rising and falling as he changes his expression. You laugh softly, shaking your head at him as you continue eating.

“Not right now, Satoru.” He pouts at you, pushing himself up and out of his chair as he walks to you on the opposite side of the island counter.

“Why not? Don’t tell me I’m too sweet for you.” He plants his hand on the counter and the other on the backrest of your chair, caging you in with his body as he leans over you. Your eyes dart over his face, noting the glistening of syrup on his lips. He grins, leaning his face closer to yours. “Don’t get embarrassed now, sweet thing. It may be breakfast, but I still need my dessert.” Feeling the heat in your cheeks, you reach up and run a hand down his chest, the soft fabric of his sleep shirt rippling as your fingers slide down. He bristles excitedly, his tongue dragging over his teeth as he peers down at you, his eyes never leaving your face. Your eyes narrow slightly, a seductive smile on your lips as your hand rises back to his chest before pushing him away slightly.

“Finish your food, before it gets cold.” His nose crinkles slightly in playful aggravation, his hand gripping the back of your chair with mischief in his eyes as his back straightens. You roll your eyes as he makes no move to sit back down and you huff, grabbing his shirt to pull him down to you again. His eyes become softer, almost blissful as his mouth opens slightly, his eyes moving from yours to your lips and back again. You inch closer, breath fanning over his face with a warm, syrupy scent, teasingly slow before you capture his lips in a kiss. He hums in satisfaction, his hands immediately moving to your body; one resting on the small of your back and the other cupping the side of your face, his long fingers pressing on the base of your skull. His lips are sweet with syrup and fruit juice and you let out a soft moan, feeling him grin against your lips. His tongue slides out, prodding for entrance until it slips past, gliding over your teeth until his tongue meets yours. His mouth opens wider, letting out a puff of air that sounds like a moan as he pushes himself against you, his body parting your legs as he presses closer while maintaining the kiss. He breaks it briefly, breathing heavily as he tugs at his bottom lip with his teeth, those sky blue eyes darting over your flustered expression before grabbing your waist. He tugs you to the edge of your seat, your hips pressing against his upper thigh as he leans down again, kissing you more fervently. Deep groans thrum in his throat occasionally, the silence being filled with your heavy breathing and the wet caress of tongues against each other as your hand grips his shoulder, the other resting on his neck with your thumb pressed to his pulse point. His heart is beating rapidly, the blood flow pushing against your finger. You pull away, panting slightly as your lips glisten with saliva. You glance over to his abandoned plate. “Your food is cold, Satoru.” He scoffs, trying to lean in again before you stop him.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate your cooking, I just found something a little tastier. You get it, right?” He bargains, but you suck your teeth at him and turn in your seat, returning to your nearly empty plate. 

“Are you going to waste food, Satoru?” You take the last few bits of food from your plate, sliding them into your mouth as you peer up at him. He pouts softly.

“I’ll buy you more.”

“I’m telling Megumi.” He exasperatedly flops his body onto the counter, skulking his way back to his seat as he begrudgingly picks up the fork to stab the fork into the pancakes as if they’d betrayed him. “That’s what I thought.”

[squishypanderz]

Always.

Pairing: Dwalin x gn!reader

Other Characters: The Company (Thorin, Oin, Gandalf, Kili, Fili, Balin, Bofur, Bilbo, Bard)

Summary: You join up with The Company to reclaim Erebor and shared hardship blossoms into something more

Genre: fluff, mutual pining, a little jealousy

Content warnings: killing goblins (they're gross)

Word Count: 5604

A/N: Idk why I chose to write about Dwalin as my first post. He's not my favorite, but it kinda just came to me so ʅ ( ․ ⤙ ․) ʃ

I went a little overboard and wrote much more than I planned to, but welcome to me as a writer.

I'll show you what I'm capable of ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻) ✧

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It was by chance you had run into Gandalf, an old friend of yours, as he was meeting a dwarvish man of seemingly high esteem at the Prancing Pony. You were there to rest after traveling, having finished some freelance healing and potion-making in the lands to the South. You’d never heard of Thorin, being a young human and all, but you had no reason to believe Gandalf a liar so you stuck around to learn of what was to come. Listening in, Gandalf and Thorin spoke of fantastical things like legions of orcs and precious jewels. Of course, you were no stranger to bloody battles, but the mention of reclaiming a homeland piqued your interest. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to finally put your skills to good use! No longer would you have to skulk around the villages of men peddling petty potions to cure common ails and trench foot. Helping the common folk has its merit, but contributing to something this important felt like a task demanding your attention. Who were you to resist? Gandalf, knowing of your skill in herbal remedies, insisted you come along. Thorin was hesitant, but eventually relented and you were swiftly inducted into the company. You left the Prancing Pony with a thrumming heart, eager to pack up and begin the journey ahead. 

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You sidle up to the cute, round door cradled comfortably beneath a blanket of grass and gently rap your knuckles on the green wood before taking a small step back, glancing around anxiously. The door pulls open and you are met with a small fellow, standing well over a foot shorter than you. His eyes dart up to your face, widening slightly in surprise as he stumbles over his words.

“Mister Baggins?” You ask softly, your brows pulling upwards as you unconsciously slouch lower.

“Y-yes, can I help you?” He stutters slightly, brushing invisible dirt from his clothes as he glances over his right shoulder, his eyes swiftly returning to your form.

“My name is (Y/N), it is my pleasure to be your guest for dinner.” You offer a small bow and warm smile as his brows knit together in confusion.

“Guest? Well, I’m sorry but I wasn’t expecting guests this evening.” He wrings his hands together nervously.

“No? Did I miss it?” You pull out a small notebook and flip through your notes, tracing your finger to the reminder you wrote for the meeting. Sucking your teeth softly, you shake your head as you tap the notebook, sliding it back into your pack. “No, sir, the dinner is tonight. You must be mistaken.” He looks up, dumbfounded with his mouth gaping like a fish out of water. You offer a patient smile, eyes darting over his shoulder. “Well? May I come in?” 

“Wh- I, yes. Yes, I suppose so.” His face mirrors the hesitance of his words as you slide past him, ducking your head down to avoid bumping the door frame. Muttering a small thank you, you lean your pack against the wall, piling your belongings near the door before turning back to the Hobbit.

“Which way is the dining room?” You ask softly. He points to an archway through a corridor and you offer a nod before making your way to the room. Your heart jumps in surprise as you are met with stern eyes and a burly form sitting at the table. Clearing your throat softly, you nod to the stranger. “Evening.” He narrows his eyes, his teeth ripping through the flesh of the fried fish on his plate as chunks spill into his beard. “I suppose you are with the Company?” He pauses, giving a curt nod before continuing to chew through the bones and meat on his plate. You stare at him briefly, only half expecting him to say something before sighing softly. The floorboards creak as you move through the archway, pulling out another chair to sit at the table and save your back some suffering. “(Y/N).”

“What?” He grumbles, his mouth full of food.

“My name. And yours?” You lean back in the chair, crossing your arms over your chest. Blue eyes scan over you before matching your gaze.

“Dwalin.” He replies gruffly before ripping the head off the fish with a bite. You smirk, chest jumping slightly as you huff a laugh. He quirks a brow at you, but you shake your head softly, waving a dismissive hand as you avert your gaze to examine the humble room. Though there is a distinct lack of words being exchanged, the communication between you two is instantly fluid. The silence is comfortable, the only sound permeating the room being Dwalin’s chewing. You sneak a glance back at him only to meet his gaze. 

“Rather tall for a dwarf, aren’t you?” You grin at him and he glares at you, sliding out of his seat. He scours the room until he finds a jar of what look to be pastries or cookies. You regard him curiously as he tries to fit his hand inside, finding the opening to be too small. You hold back a laugh as he angles his body away from you slightly. You hear a bright clink once, then twice, then repeating itself like a melody. You press your lips together to fight a smile. ‘Is he trying to dump the cookies out?’ Before you can sneak a glance, you hear voice and turn to see another dwarf. You learn he is Dwalin’s brother Balin and quietly watch their reunion with interest before Balin turns to you.

“And you are? You haven’t been hiding this one from me, have you, brother?” The gray haired dwarf peers over at his taller counterpart and receives a dry chuff. You smile and shake your head, standing to bow.

“If only I were so lucky. (Y/N), at your service.” You sit back down in your chair. Balin has a surprised yet smug look on his face as he regards you before glancing back to his brother who is only staring at you. His tense brow is a subtle clue to his confusion, and Balin laughs.

“You’ll be trouble, lassie.”

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You sigh after a long day of walking, your aching feet pulsing inside your steadily worn out boots as you plop down onto your neatly laid out bedroll. Pulling the leather from your feet, you massage the flesh to ease the pains of the journey as your eyes scan the dim cave. The others have laid out their bedrolls, most already asleep. Your eyes land on Dwalin who is laying across from you, nearly feet to feet. Basically sitting, his back is pressed to the wall of the cave with his hands folded across his stomach and one leg bent to plant a foot flat on the ground. A soft smile rests on your lips as you mindlessly rub the ball of your foot. 

Over the past few weeks, you have taken notice of Dwalin. Whether that is because he is one of the first you met in the Company, you did not know. All you knew was that he is kind of a funny guy. You saw his cute side when he struggled to free Bilbo’s cookies from the jar, but the journey to Erebor thus far has shown you more of his personality. His survival skills, his stoicism, and his unflinching determination. The way he fought against trolls five times his size. The way he pulled Thorin up from the side of a cliff. He had such a tenacious soul that you found admirable and… attractive? You didn’t let yourself sit with that thought long as you slid your boots back on - it was much too cold to sleep without them - and crawled into your bedroll. Falling into a shallow sleep, you hear Thorin yelling and feel yourself falling. A gasp leaves your lips as you plummet into a dark chasm, sliding against the rock and bumping into the others before emerging into light. You land roughly, wheezing as the air is pushed from your lungs. You put your hands down to push yourself up, but find yourself on top of someone. You open your eyes to see Dwalin staring back at you. Your face flares up with heat but before you can register any embarrassment, Dwalin is pushing both of you off the ground and he quickly regains his footing as he pulls you up to stand. He puts a hand out in front of you as the rest of the Company stands back to back. Glancing around, you see countless goblins flooding the wooden platforms, barreling towards you as they swiftly surround the group. 

If the sight of the goblins was disgusting, the smell was beyond atrocious. A scent near to a decaying corpse bobbing in a fungus-ridden bog infiltrates your nostrils and it takes all of your will to not bring your hands to your face to block out the repugnant odor. With watering eyes, you steel yourself and fumble for the small dagger you keep in your waistband as the goblins draw near. The Company is frantically corralled and herded down the rickety pathway, ushered forward by around 30 or 40 goblins. Rotted and yellowed teeth gnash and snap at you as you stumble forward, your elbow catching a chin or two as you thrash back in an attempt to ward off their advances. Your foot catches an uneven board and you trip, but Dwalin’s ever reliable hand is there, pressing against your midsection to keep you upright. You can barely spare him a glance as the goblins continue pushing you ahead, eventually pooling into a larger platform where a massive, grotesque creature with straining pustules and bulging eyes coughs out as he stamps his staff that is topped with a skull of some sort. In the distance, various clanky horns bleat and stringed instruments hiss, echoing throughout the sprawling cave as the large goblin stomps about, hooting out a song that the goblins wheeze along to. At least, as close to a song that they can manage. The wooden platform shakes slightly as the supposed Goblin King ambles about, making your gut twist with anxiety. You find yourself shuffling closer to Dwalin, who manages to position you on the inside of the circle created by the Company, using his body as a wall to block you off from the goblins. Immediately, the Goblin King grills the group for information on where you are headed, but you decide to keep quiet and let Thorin handle the talking. 

“What do we have here? A sweet little human? My my, we should slice you up before we torture the rest. Dinner and a show!” The goblins laugh and jeer, cheering at the idea of your flesh roasting on an open fire. Shooting a fiery glare, you open your mouth to speak, but Dwalin is quicker.

“I’ll rip your arms from the sockets before you lay a finger on them.” His voice thunders out, low and menacing as he steps in front of you slightly. The Goblin King only chuckles, seeming unimpressed with the admonishment. He returns his attention to Thorin, revealing that Azog the Defiler was alive and hunting you before breaking into song again. Just as you are overwhelmed with goblins at the sight of the Goblin Cleaver, a bright light shines white in the cave, revealing Gandalf as he blasts the goblins piling on top of you away. Quickly, the Company gathers whatever they can grab and begin to fight off the goblins. 

You hastily reach for a jagged goblin blade - not the best quality, but it will do in a pinch. You immediately take stance, dispatching goblin after goblin. With fluid movements, you maneuver the pitted surface and dodge around your companions with practiced grace as you slice through countless goblins. Their blood is almost as revolting as their smell as it bubbles from severed heads and wriggling limbs. The goblin blade is knocked from your hand, but you don’t stumble. Dodging away from thrusting blades, you keep pace with the group until you see your own blade, previously confiscated, fly through the air, almost magnetized to your hand as you deftly catch it and seamlessly fly back into battle. Dwalin fights alongside you, his peripherals capturing your mastery from the corners of his eyes as he fights just as fervently as you. Each time his body lurches to pull a goblin off one of the other dwarves, you have beaten him to it and swiftly push back their advances. He clenches his jaw, urging himself to focus on the task at hand as you pervade his mind.

After successfully killing the Goblin King, you escape from the goblins in the unconventional manner of falling down a chasm atop a wooden bridge. The structure crumples down, splintering in on itself as it falls to pieces. Once again, you find yourself on top of Dwalin, but you are pinned in place from the weight of the planks piled on top of you. You groan, coughing slightly from the dust and dirt that was wafted into the air. Struggling to move, your eyes dart over Dwalin’s face and he avoids your gaze. 

“Well that coulda been worse.” Bofur calls out. You laugh slightly, but it turns to a yelp as the Goblin King’s corpse falls on top of the Company, causing everyone to cry out. You feel a sharp pain in your back, given that you landed on your stomach, and reach back to push at the wood holding you down. 

“You’ve got to be joking!” Dwalin strains through gritted teeth, his hand ghosting over your hip as he reaches around to help you push the wood off. Jumping slightly at the contact, Dwalin finally looks at you, his eyes conveying his quiet concern. Your teeth are bared in a wince and he decides to pull you forward, laying you against his chest as he loosens you both from the wreckage. He carefully maneuvers until you are able to wiggle free and you stand, grimacing at the pain in your back before moving to help dig him out. Reaching out, you grip his forearm and he grabs yours in turn, hoisting himself up with your help. Involuntarily, you start brushing off his furs and pick splinters from his beard. His eyes are wide, staring at you in disbelief as you fuss over him. Normally his instinct would be to slap your hands away, but he is frozen in place as you pick at him. Immediately after, you are thoroughly checking him for injuries. His flesh is warm, firm but pliable as you press the muscles and bend the joints to check his range of motion. His hands flop limply as you move him; he does not even think to move until he comes out of his stupor and grabs your wrist. Staring into your eyes, his blue ones seem slightly dazed. You squint, imagining some sort of head injury as you reach towards his skull. Your other hand is quickly intercepted, your arms now immobilized by his strong grip. 

The moment is interrupted by the sound of more goblins racing down the rocky slopes that lead down to the chasm, rapidly approaching as the Company regroups and rushes for the safety of daylight.

________________________________

You stumble as the eagle places you atop the rocky plateau, your eyes immediately landing on Dwalin as your brain stalls briefly. Shaking away the fog, you rush to Thorin, mentally noting his various injuries before you feel a hand on your shoulder. Seeing the reassuring expression from Gandalf, you move aside as he wakes Thorin. He immediately searches for Bilbo as you retreat back, wanting to avoid the scuffle. As the interaction dies down, the Company is in surprisingly high spirits for the current situation. You allow yourself to rest as you pull out your trusty notebook to list the various ingredients you would need to heal Thorin’s lesser injuries. 

A decent amount of time passes. You are sitting near the group, but notably separate as you mutter to yourself while writing, but you notice a shadow casting over you. Looking up, you see Dwalin with a hesitant air about him. His hands are obscured behind his body and you raise a brow, your hand stilling as you give him your attention. 

“Your dagger.” His hands emerge from behind him. One moves to rest on his belt, the other gently cradling the blade as he holds it out to you. Your eyes light up - the dagger was a gift from your late father. You remember dropping it as you tried to pull it out when the goblins first surrounded the Company. Eyes darting up to his, you reach out to take the dagger from him. Your soft hand stretches out, fingers lightly brushing the tough skin of his palm as you retrieve the priceless item from his grasp.

“Thank you. Really, I don’t know what to say.” You flip the blade in your hand, examining it closely for damage. Your brow furrows; it seems to be in better condition than when you lost it. The edge gleams with a dangerous light. You would slide your thumb over it, but you are sure it would filet your finger with even the slightest pressure. “Did you sharpen it?” Dwalin takes a deep breath, both hands gripping his belt as his eyes wander to the horizon. A low grunt acts as confirmation.

“Can’t take back the mountain with dull blades.” A soft smile spreads across your lips as your eyes flit up to him, the blade turning in your deft fingers. 

“This was my father’s dagger.” He hums softly in acknowledgement, his gaze slowly washing over you. Your expression is soft and pensive. 

“He would be… impressed. With you.” The statement is hesitant, his voice dying in his throat as he talks. You raise your head, smiling at him. Clearing his throat, his eyes dart away from you before he bows slightly, briskly walking away from you. Your eyes follow his retreating form, a stutter in your heart and a warmth in your chest as you slide the dagger back into the sheath tucked in your waistband.

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Your barrel bobs down the river, water spilling over the edges and blurring your vision as it splashes in your eyes. Orcs are everywhere, their arrows whizzing past or lodging themselves in barrels. You wrench one from the wood and hold onto it as a desperate attempt at a weapon as they scale the walls of the woodland realm. The dwarves adapt surprisingly well and use the environment as well as the orc’s own weapons against them as you float down the river.

After a narrow escape from elves and orcs in Mirkwood, you climb out of your arrow-riddled barrel and flop onto the rocky riverside, wiping the water from your eyes. You look back as you ring your shirt slightly, counting each dwarf (and hobbit) to ensure nobody got left behind. When you see everyone is accounted for, you heave a sigh and sit, peeling off your sopping wet boots to relieve them of some water. The same goes for your socks, overshirt and pants leaving you in a tunic and your loose braies. You lay out your clothing to get them as dry as possible while the Company regroups. As you squeeze at the fabric still on your body, your eyes land on Kili and you immediately rush to him as he collapses onto the rock. He winces, gripping his thigh with gritted teeth as he rips a piece of cloth from his tunic to press on the wound.

“I’m fine. It’s nothing.” You glare at him knowingly.

“Shut up.” You roughly grab the cloth from him, pushing his chest slightly as you unfurl the fabric, examining the blood. You cringe inwardly - poison. You offer Kili a worried look.

“On your feet.” Thorin calls out, gathering the attention of the Company.

“Kili’s wounded. His leg needs binding.” You hear Fili respond from behind you. You glance back; he was watching over your shoulder, keeping an eye on his brother.

“There’s an orc pack on our tail, we keep moving.” You sigh, shaking your head at Thorin’s statement before returning your attention to Kili’s wound as the rest of the Company discusses how to move forward. Given that your pack was confiscated by the Wood Elves, you did not have any remedies, or even ingredients for remedies, on hand that would ease his pain. “Bind his leg quickly. You have two minutes.” You give Kili an apologetic look and get to work. Dwalin, while he was engaged in the conversation of how to move forward, found his gaze continually returning to your form as your hands flit over Kili. He feels a burning in his chest, aggravation building before he notices a figure holding a bow approach. Dwalin immediately grabs a branch from the riverside, moving to block you from the stranger’s view before an arrow implants itself in his makeshift weapon. Unflinching, he stands in front of you as the Company organizes passage with the man. 

To pass unseen, you all pile into the same barrels from the woodland realm. You gently help Kili into a barrel, being careful of his leg as you offer him soft words of encouragement and concern. Dwalin feels that same burning in his chest and scoffs to himself as he helps Ori into a barrel before sliding into one himself. You pace around, looking for an unoccupied barrel without much success. Any empty ones had too much damage to effectively obscure you from view. You offer the idea of entering with Bard since you are human, but there would be trouble getting in regardless since you aren’t from Laketown. Hesitantly, you walk over to Kili’s barrel and tell him of your predicament.

“Should I join up with you? I can keep an eye on you if we’re in the same barrel.” Just as Kili is about to respond, Dwalin’s head comically pops out of his barrel.

“Quit bothering him, lass.” He cringes inwardly at his harsh tone. “He’ll do better with more space.” He gestures you over, some of the other dwarves peeking out curiously. You swallow, climbing over the rim of the barrel and you both slide down, your limbs tangling together in an attempt to get somewhat comfortable. Your heart hammers in your chest, face feeling hot as your breath mingles with his in the small space. Avoiding his gaze, your eyes dart around to find something to distract you from the feeling of his body pressing against yours. The ride is quiet for the most part, aside from some inter-barrel banter from the others, but you can’t bring yourself to chat when every shift has your heart racing. You chance a look at Dwalin to find him already looking at you, so you jokingly wink at him to ease the suffocating tension. 

“You come here often?” He huffs a laugh, looking away from you. You laugh softly as well as you feel the barge come to a stop. Next thing you know, the tension filled air of the barrel is replaced with fish. At least you don’t have to avoid eye contact anymore.

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In the coming days, the Company is revealed to the town and equipped for the last stretch to the mountain. Anxiety gnaws at your insides as you and Oin scramble about, working on remedies to ease Kili’s suffering. Although you’ve dealt with orcs before, you’d never treated those ailed with their poison. You’d given him common remedies for other poisons you’re familiar with, but nothing seemed to be working and the Company was posturing to leave soon. 

Thorin was adamant about heading out, while Fili tried to convince him to wait and bring Kili. Thorin couldn’t be persuaded, even with your added pleas about the dwarf’s dire condition. Dwalin found himself conflicted; surely he was hesitant to leave because of the young dwarf’s sickness. Yet even when Kili lies pale with sweat on his brow, his eyes fall to you. Determined to fight through this entire journey, you’d choose now to stay back and watch over Kili? Part of him was relieved, given the very real threat of the dragon, but they would need every able bodied person to reclaim the mountain. 

“Go on, lass. I can watch over him.” Oin places a reassuring hand on the back of your bicep as Fili storms away from the boat. Your eyes widen, brow furrowing. 

“How could I leave him now?” Dwalin’s gut twists at the desperate tone in your voice, but wills himself to stay silent. Oin shakes his head.

“There isn’t anything you can do that you haven’t already.” You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling tears well in your eyes. You look over the dwarves piled in the boat, your gaze landing on Dwalin as it always seems to do. He’s looking at you with that same old scowl, but there is a softness. An almost pleading edge in his stare, his eyes dart to Oin as he turns his body to face you. You swallow, your eyes falling to dart around the ground as you decide with a small nod of your head. 

“Don’t let anything happen to him, please.” You bend and hug Oin shakily. He returns the embrace, patting your back softly.

“You won’t have to worry, lass. I’ve been taking care of these boys for years.” With a curt nod and a stern but sad look, you leave Oin on the dock and step into the boat as the Company sets off for the mountain.

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It has been days. Days sitting in this desolate mountain while the people of Laketown huddle for warmth in the ruins of a city destroyed decades ago. It brings a smile to your face as Dwalin rushes to hug Bofur as soon as the dwarves who had stayed behind enter the room you’ve set up as your main base of operations. You embrace Kili and Oin as the others occupy Fili and Bofur. You are relieved to see Kili looks to be in much better health, and Oin gushes to you about the elven maiden who performed such wonderful healing before Smaug torched the lake. The happiness and hope brought by the reunion of the Company was short lived as the air of dread and doom befell Erebor and its few inhabitants. Hours turn to days as the gate to Erebor is blocked with stone; elven forces flood the fields and Thorin more fervently urges the recovery of the Arkenstone among the vast heaps of gold littering the halls of Erebor. It’s obvious to everyone that Thorin is not in his right mind, but opposing him would be a betrayal of their king who was becoming more dangerous by the day. It is a helpless, sinking feeling that settles over you as you do what you can to comfort the dwarves who have seen the king they’ve followed for so long stoop so low. 

Tensions are high as the men of Laketown try their best to negotiate, but Thorin refuses to hear of anything that doesn’t concern the Arkenstone. His stubbornness persists and as the sun rises, it is obvious that you are out of options. Thorin is livid as the elves and humans present the Arkenstone and legions of dwarves crest the hill in heavy armor atop boars and rams. As swiftly as they arrive, the fighting begins and you can only watch from the rampart as elven arrows gleam in the sky, soaring to find their dwarven marks only to be thwarted from the air by massive spinning spears. A loud rumble shakes the earth as gargantuan worms spring out from the ground, leaving massive tunnels as a whining war horn bleats out and orcs flood the field. The elves and dwarves immediately turn, banding together to ward off the orcish advance. Your heart in your throat, you turn away and retreat down the halls of Erebor, not able to watch on as a war unfolds on your doorstep.

Time passes and you bring yourself to stand, walking with purpose towards the throne only to hear talking. You stop and tuck yourself behind the doorway. Thorin is muttering about moving the gold and fortifying the mountain. All you want to do is burst forth and yell at him about the injustices of leaving his war to be fought by other people over metal and stone. Hearing Dwalin snap at Thorin, his voice is desperate as he pleads for the lives of his kin just to be shut down as Thorin threatens his life, even going so far as to unsheathe his sword. Dwalin’s voice is heartbreaking, letting out a shuddering breath as he walks away. He steps through the doorway, taking a hard left and you follow quietly until you arrive at a room.

“Dwalin.” You call out softly and he whips around. Your mouth falls open slightly seeing the tears brimming his eyes. You shake your head softly and take a hesitant step toward him, arms reaching for him. You place a hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly as you look down at him and he takes a deep, shaky breath. Tears well in your own eyes as he runs a hand over his face, brushing over his beard before you pull him close in a warm embrace. Hands flying to your waist, Dwalin buries his face in your shoulder. “It’s not his fault.”

“It isn’t right.” Voice muffled by your shoulder, he grits his teeth and tries not to cry. Now isn’t the time to go soft. 

“I know.” You caress his unruly hair, sharing in his sorrow. You press your cheek to the side of his head. “We can get through it.” He pulls away slightly, his hands still firm on your waist. Soft pressure warms you as he fidgets with your form, his eyebrows knit together. 

“I don’t know what will convince him.” Your hand comes to the side of his face, pushing him to look at you.

“We’ll figure it out.” His large hand comes to cup yours, his thumbs rubbing circles on the back of your hand.

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After Kili’s outburst, it looks like Thorin had a change of heart and the dwarves start prepping for the battle. As you slide a blade into its sheath, clasping it to your belt, you are roughly grabbed. Dwalin’s eyes are desperate, scrutinizing your face for every detail. 

“Will you fight?” You caress his bicep, a bit of the tension leaving his shoulders.

“Of course.” His jaw clenches and he turns his head away from you, releasing his hold as he runs a hand over his beard. “Is that a problem?” You quirk a brow, finding his reaction peculiar.

“This is suicide.” 

“I’ll not sit here doing nothing. We’ve waited long enough.”

“This isn’t your fight, lassie.” 

“I didn’t come here to give up at the last minute. Do you think so little of me?” 

“No! You’re just, this wasn’t supposed to happen!” 

“We couldn’t have predicted this Dwalin, I’m fighting with or without you.” 

He heaves a frustrated sigh, his hands on his hips with a clenched jaw. 

“What are you so worried about? We came here to fight a dragon, conflict was inevitable.” You ask incredulously, your frustration evident.

“You.” Your breath catches slightly.

“Excuse me?” His steely eyes lock onto yours.

“I’m worried about you.” Your gaze softens. Stepping forward, you brush at the hair on the side of his face, hands moving to rest on his shoulders. “I…I have lost people in war before. The thought of searching mounds of bodies again, finding your face among the dead…” He casts his eyes downward, his fists clenching.

“You’ll find me alive and well.” You squeeze his shoulders. “You’ll fight alongside your kin, and I will be there beside you.” He still refuses to meet your gaze. “At worst, I can always rely on you to save me.” He shakes his head, laughing softly.

“You’ll be the death of me, lassie.” He looks up at you, a warm feeling in his still concerned eyes.

“Better me than some orc scum.” You smile at him, your heart clenching in your chest as you hear Thorin call everyone to the gate. With one last squeeze, you grab his wrist and pull him along to the gate. The Company is gathered there, buzzing as you approach. You are suddenly stopped. Looking back, Dwalin is standing still and holding you in place as his eyes dart from the Company back to you. A confused expression paints your face and he pulls you close.

“You will return to me?” It sounded more like a statement than a question.

“Always.” You barely have time to breathe before his hand presses to the back of your neck, urging you downward as his lips capture yours in a searing, passionate kiss. Beard hairs tickling your face, your heart leaps as your hand reaches to cradle his face, the other resting on his bicep. You hold the embrace, savoring his scent of warm ash and cold steel. Pulling away, you meet his eyes once more, taking in his face. His thumb brushes over the skin of your neck and you squeeze his arm before backing away, your hand sliding to grip his wrist. A soft expression on your face, you tug him forward to rejoin the Company as you prepare to enter the battlefield.