sun-flower-children - Tumblr blog

sun-flower-children · 28 days ago

Text

Academic Rivals! Viktor x Reader

Academy Student!Viktor x gn!Reader

Here's my take on this idea that has been rumbling around my brain especially with all the new viktor fics ( yall are doing the lords work)

not proof read + a lot longer than I thought it would be, sorry lmao

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were the Academy's top student known to be the top of the class with the highest scores always exceeding expectations.

Your creative thinking and problem solving is what normally got you the spotlight of attention within academia.

Naturally after spending your first two years of the Academy eating up the attention and receiving offers from multiple elite members of society, industry and government certainly made your resume/reputation an intimidating one.

Your peers knew you to be competitive and ambitious wanting to be the one to set the curve; extensive research projects, etc.

This did however make you a poor teammate with your passionate ideas that one of them could dream of keeping up with you. Plus you would steal the leadership role from them to implement the changes you'd want.

You had gotten used to pattern created for you with a bright future ahead.

Even if you were getting kind of bored of knowing that your worst idea would still allow you to keep your rank.

Then all the sudden a new student joins the Academy

It didn't bother you much until you started seeing a drop in your scores and ranking thus creating a rivalry with this mysterious student.

It was not until you and Viktor shared a class that you realized who your academic opponent was

Thus starting a new chapter of your academic career with renewed passion upon knowing there was finally someone that could equal you in skill.

Fighting for everything within the academic realm that was available

Now neither of you had ever officially been introduced or carried a proper conversation instead replacing regular communication with pointed looks of smugness or confidence.

You would have angry fits in private realizing the margin that you had lost to Viktor

Long days and nights spent gaining a potential advantage over your rival.

Your friends would point out how you would almost pop a vein just describing the way that he would "usurp the first place on an exam all because of a technicality"

Honestly when you would get really into it you were sure that you hated this guy: coming out of nowhere with no prior history and just takes over everything you have worked hard to establish.

Who does he think he is????

Now all your professors, namely Himerdinger paid close attention to this rivalry. It's entertaining watching your top 2 students hash it out and creating things they would not have without this push.

Himerdinger seeing how honed in your other skills were decided to create a project for the class specifically targeting you both.

A partnered project

One that could not change neither the topic, the partner or the day that it was to be presented; everything set in stone.

" Learning the skills needed in a lab is one thing but the most important and impactful discoveries have always been those created through teamwork." Himerdinger would share one fateful day as he put up the paper listing the groups.

It did not even cross your mind that you would have been paired with Viktor and after looking at the poster turned around a looked at him.

Viktor was still sitting in his front row seat in the lecture room patiently waiting for the crowd to dissipate before getting up to look at the paper.

He continued to wrap up whatever notes he had taken as you step up to him.

"We are assigned partners for this project." you say very matter a factly.

Viktor looks up to you with a small smile," Well then, we should set up times to work on the project together. What times work best for you?"

You were taken aback by his nonchalance.

Did he really not care that he was partnered with you? Did he not see you as significant enough to mention the obvious tension? Did he not even see you as a rival but a regular student below him???

After a short pause you share what time you are normally at the library.

As you share the details he finished packing up his stuff.

Looking back up to with another slightly bigger smile (what is his game???) " I'll see you then. Tomorrow at table four."

With that he leans on his cane and leaves you in the quiet empty classroom to deliberate your next moves.

That night you started working on the project creating multiple schemes, ideas, and conceptual ideas that could be used for the project put forth.

You went to bed hoping to finally force him to recognize you as the rival that you were as he seemed so dismissive before.

You showed up to the library at the arranged time to see Viktor sitting peacefully at a study table thumbing through multiple volumes seemingly looking for a specific piece of information.

"Good Morning." you started as you walked up to him.

Without even looking up he returns the same early day greeting and places yet another volume aside and opening a new one.

Raising an eyebrow that the attitude you place your things on the other side of the table.

"I was thinking last night about this project and had written down some ideas that I believe that we should pick from as our approach." you open the discussion with no changed behavior from your supposed teammate.

You continue, " I have already taken the liberty to research them, for your convenience, and have supplied preliminary data for each one. Honestly any of these would resolve the problem raised by our projects prompt with their main difference being how creative you wanted to get with it."

Viktor has created yet another pile of abandoned books that didn't meet his mysterious criteria all the while not regarding you properly.

Your felt your self becoming more warmer as you felt the irritation pool into the oil pit of anger you have created surrounding him.

"It's considered polite to respond or at the very least acknowledge when someone is talking to you. Or are you so focused on your book hunt you aren't ever looking at the person you are supposed to be completing this project with."

Viktor sighs putting the book currently in his possession down and looks up to you.

"It was not my intention to be rude I am just looking for a specific volume that has a unique perspective on the concept we learned a week ago but the title is slipping my mind."

Sighing you sit down and observe the collection of books created on the table.

"I'm going to go on a limb here and assume that you only really remember that the color of the book was dark blue?"

Viktor chuckled," Observant and yes I am."

"Well you aren't going to find it in the library considering there is only one copy of it. That author's take was considered almost heretic."

"Ah, so you are familiar with the book I am referencing?"

"It would be strange if I didn't considering that I brought it with me to our meeting. I checked it out a week ago because it piqued my interest and also happened to align with this assignment."

You hold it out over the table as Viktor sighs again running a hand through his hair.

The meeting ended up going on for longer than expected.

You were surprised to find that he has a similar perspective to yours and understood your vision from the multiple proposals that you had created.

Further analysis showed some minor flaws that would otherwise be overlooked by other people; but neither of you too were not going to settle for anything less than perfection.

The more that the two of you poured over ideas, equations, concepts, and plans until you came up with a path that pleased you both with only one variable that needing some testing.

Viktor offered to go his smaller private study that he had already set up a similar experiment (he was also trying ideas out the night before)

Walking side by side down the hallways was a strange feeling.

Not because you were walking slower that your default rushed walking pace but because this person that you had, honestly, really hated and rationalized that was cheating somehow....wasn't.

You hated to admit it as you continued to listen to his rambling on of the missing component that they needed to figure out.

(Shit...he is actually just naturally brilliant)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

part 1 | part 2 >

#arcane viktor #viktor arcane #arcane x reader #viktor x reader #viktor x gn!reader #viktor fluff #arcane imagines #arcane league of legends #viktor lol #viktor drabble

262 notes · View notes

sun-flower-children · 29 days ago

Text

pleasepleaseplease rewatch s1 if you haven’t already and pleeeeaaasseeeee don’t write viktor as shy or socially awkward or submissive/lacking confidence is social interactions…….. especially during their academy days. pLEASE i beg you he’s everything but that, the way he handled jayce in the beginning was the exact opposite, he was incredibly confident in himself, witty, fluent in irony, cunning too with the ability to make up situational jokes on the go (this isn’t my bedroom???), also effortlessly taking the lead whenever he approached jayce, while being so incredibly emotive too…

ive read so many recently posted jayvik fanworks on various websites where people insist on shoving them into these shallow “shy awkward twink/confident extravertic himbo” boxes and from the bottom of my heart, i beg y’all, please don’t go that way………… they’re both much much more developed than that, and are actually so much more fun to write if you explore their more complex traits

2K notes · View notes

sun-flower-children · 1 month ago

Text

Kirishima, Bakugo + Sero with a really rich S/O

A/N: Thanks for sending in a prompt! I added Sero bc im a simp because he would be fun to write in this context as well!! I hope you ( the reader ) are also doing well!

Sero Hanta

- He makes it pretty clear early on that he doesn’t like you for your money and doesn’t want you to spend more money than needed on him.

- You will give him little gifts randomly which he loves no matter how much he protests that he doesn’t want you buying stuff for him.

- Sero treasures those little trinkets that you give him; probably has a self dedicated to your guys pictures and the lil gifts.

- !! matching fits !!

- This dude has style, he has taste, Sero is by no means a style disaster

- His style is more street style; might flirt a bit with the tech wear style.

- Matching t-shirts, maybe overall aesthetics

- One thing you do for him is help him with his phone.

- I headcanon that this dude probably drops his phone

Kirishima Eijiro

- He thinks its super manly you want to buy and gift him things as a physical piece of proof of you feelings for him.

- He really likes your gifts and will give you kisses and hugs as a thank you, every single time.

- Probably prefers things that have a sentimental value to him or are part of some kind of inside joke y’all have

- !! promise rings !!

- He would wear his when he isn’t training but at some point he would attach it to a thin gold chain to match the simple gold promise ring you bought for him

- 100% has y’alls name written on the inside of the ring.

- when he misses you a lot he will hold the ring, rub the ring, maybe kiss it :’(

Bakugo Katsuki

- this lil bitch dresses really plainly despite having designer parents.

- He has taste and has a phenomenal style but doesn’t really dress up because he has other things to focus on.

- He will totally be all like “ don’t buy shit for me dumb ass I don’t need to clutter my room with your bullshit.”

- Absolutely will send you posts of pricey fashion pieces that he likes; he will only say that he likes them and you will buy them is up to you or not.

- Sometimes he will remind you that he likes you because you are the best

153 notes · View notes

sun-flower-children · 7 months ago

Note

Can I have a headcanon with Kirishima and bakugo with a rich rich rich rich reader?

💵stay well!

i'd be more than happy too :))

now ofc (y/n) would definitely have the old money kinda money

iykyk kind of money

all their stuff looks nice but no one really knows exactly how nice

except bakugo

mf can spot anything of high quality miles away and know their brand

he chooses to dress the way he dresses doesn't mean he doesn't know his couture

hes not a barbarian duh

now kirishima will know due his bestie relations with bakugo

bakugo would so point out the kiri what (y/n) is wearing and what kind of bags all their luggage is in.

you best believe this guy stalks the internet for any information of your family because ofc any one from that kind of money is going to have some important quirk

now kiri becomes quick friends with (y/n) no problem

once yall have been friends for long enough (y/n) is buying all sorts of things for their friends:

food / snacks

movies

tickets to concerts

merch of both heroes and music artsists

the best quality drum set there is for bakugo

the highest and newest gym set for kiri

groceries for baku

eventually a whole skincare routine for the both of them

kiri gets really ashy and bakugo is oily af

they absolutely clown you for being a trust fund baby but will defend you from anyone that says that you are only here bc of your family.

bakugo will jump anyone who tries anything afterwards

kiri forgives, but he never forgets

A/N: im probably going to come back to this one but for now :)

#bnha imagines #bnha one shots #bnha x reader #bakugo #bakugo katsuki #kirishima #kirishima x reader #bukugo x reader #kirishim eijiro x reader #bnha fluff

68 notes · View notes

sun-flower-children · 7 months ago

Note

hey! first off, i love your blog aesthetic, so cute! 🥺💜 i’m in a big mood for some iida content so is it okay if i can have some headcanons of iida with a fem! s/o who tends to puff out her cheeks (idk how to describe whay that would look like lol) when she’s extremely concentrated on something. one day, they’re having a study session and iida looks up after a few moments to see his s/o’s cheeks puffed up as she’s studying and that’s all he could look at. and he’s just like ‘so cute. why must you be so cute?! 🥺’

hiya! sorry this took so long, life got away from me, but i'd be happy to write out a lil something something for you :) plus this idea is just so sweet i gotta :P I did end up making it pre-relationship bc I love a little pining Iida <3

IIDA x Fem!Reader Study Session

fluff w use of she/her pronouns :))))))))))

It would be the middle of the week after everyone has settled back into a more regular school routine. The monotony was easily invited back by everyone after the busy summer filled with internships drained people in a way they didn't think they could be drained. Everyone had been missing the comradery that Class 1A had even if nobody other than Kirishima had the gall to say it out loud.

The math lessons had begun progressing at an impossible rate and Iida found himself more often than not in the common area of the dorms helping people will various subjects. This became so common in fact that people will bring peace offerings or promises of future favors to gain any sort of aid in their course work. Luckily a few others in the class also pitched in with the tutoring even if it was only for a handful of specific topics or types of assignments.

Iida found himself enjoying the shared space and time with his fellow classmates but still missed what the study sessions used to be. It used to be secret and valuable time with his crush, (Y/N). With this newer update in the class gatherings he found her more and more distant. There would be many a night he would wistfully long for the nights only a semester and summer break ago that would be spent on the floor of his dorm room.

He missed the way she would spend forever setting up the study space; the lighting, the background music, the excessive collection of stationary with the cute mascots that he came quickly to recognize. The little stamps that she would use for both her to do list and stamp his hand whenever he did anything that was particularly pleasing to her ( he wouldn't wash his hands for a possible as he could afterwards)

So imagine his delight when one afternoon (Y/N) walks up to him and mentions in passing how much she missing their one on one study nights. Iida startled himself with how quickly he interrupted her sentence with a neat invitation to study together once more.

" I'd really like that" she smiled " I'll bring snacks"

Iida's heart hummed for the rest of the day. Through the rest of the lessons. Through the rest of the exercises. Through his evening workout. Through dinner. Even Todoroki mentions how much more invigorated he seemed today ( he couldn't help it after all he has finally had a chance to hangout with you.... )

That evening Iida walks back to his room thinking about how he's going to set up his room for your arrival when he hears the sound of speeding foot steps. Before he had a chance to turn around he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you ready to tutor the worst math student you've ever seen?"

Iida never though someone giggling could be so cute. He loved the way that she smiled and looked at him. So normal but also caring and with intention. He leads them to his room and helps (Y/N) with their armful of study materials.

They agree to being on reviewing the latest homework assignment to get an idea of where she was. Iida never minded helping out his peers and never liked how self deprecating they were but especially hearing the way that (Y/N) would talk to herself. Just because you aren't naturally talented at one subject doesn't mean that you are automatically garbage at everything. It means that you have to apply yourself and Iida has seen how hard (Y/N) works in other subjects.

After some formal instruction they had split into more individual work of the homework assignment. While (Y/N) is working on their math Iida had pulled out his laptop to work on the floor in tandem with her. Not to mention that he could keep a sneaky eye on her over the top of his screen.

He admired the way her face twisted with confusion when reading a question for the first time before resigning to re-read it out loud. Their intense focus of their proof work had them making some interesting faces. IIda couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle when he saw how much (Y/N) puffed out her cheeks.

She looked up, unconsciously bringing her face back to regular confused expression, and awaited an explanation for the noise.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have laughed"

"Laughed at what?"

"The face you make when you're concentrated. It's so cute"

(Y/N) paused. Looking away from Iida and looking all over the wall behind him for answers they didn't have.

" I don't make any faces when I'm focused, what do you mean?"

"Nothing, really, it's nothing" Iida insisted.

Going back to their work it was not even ten minutes that passed when (Y/N) was making the same endearing face again. Again, Iida couldn't let the momment pass without another comment. Somethign about the casual nature of the situation, the way that (Y/N) put him at ease, or maybe it's the eucalyptus humidifier in the corner that got him in another state of relaxation.

"So cute"

Without moving her head she sends Iida a puzzled look with her eyes. Iida gently shakes his head and goes back to typing his essay. He knew he was in the deep end for (Y/N). There is no recovery from this without heavy emotional help. He would have to talk to his friends about the best way to approach this subject and how to (finally) confess to (Y/N).

He wanted to spend forever staring at that face after all.

#bnha #iida x fem!reader #iida tenya #iida tenya one shot #bnha x fem!reader #iida tenya fluff #iida tenya x reader

39 notes · View notes

sun-flower-children · 2 years ago

Text

Substitute Lovers - Sage Lesath (pt. 2)

Okay so I couldn't get Last Legacy off my mind and ended up writing more Sage/Reader (+ FWB!Felix) so here's that. It's also a slow burn now I guess.

Part 1 here!

Word count: 6,635

Warnings: Mentions of blood, slight NSFW (nothing graphic imo), minors DNI

Felix returned, black-clad and brooding, two days later than he initially stated he would.

Before this, Anisa was the only one who worried about his delay, insisting to go on a search for him by sunset on the first day. Sage offered his assistance if she was offering a bounty, mumbling something about “bringing the brat back before midnight”, but you managed to hold their reins until his arrival.

On the morning of Felix’s return, Sage found you reading on the balcony, lightly stroking Stella’s sleeping form on your lap.

“Some balls you’ve got - don’t they teach kids to stay away from monsters where you’re from?” He chuckled, sliding down the wall to sit down next to you.

“Oh Sage, it’s just a book. It’s not going to hurt you.” You don’t look up from the page you’re on. Since arriving in Astrea, your magic largely showed itself in bursts of instinct. You’d managed to familiarize yourself with small spells, party tricks and mildly-impressive-but-hardly-lethal cantrips mostly, but more complex incantations alluded you. It felt like trying to learn a new language while simultaneously running a triathlon, frustrating and exhausting, but you devoted time to bettering your skills nonetheless.

A simple truth belied your determination: You’re the weakest link of the New Starsworn. And if you knew it, the Lord of Shadows and all his creepy-crawlies knew it too.

“I don’t know, you smacked me pretty good with one the last time. What was it again - Transfiguration for Tactile Learners?”

Sage watched your brow furrow deeply. As if on cue, Stella stands up on your lap, stretching impressively, before scampering off into the castle. Your gaze follows her and lingers long after she’s gone.

Do you stare at Felix like that, when he leaves your room? After the blush has finally faded from your cheeks and you’re brushing your hair back into place; after your now-hoarse voice has bid him goodnight. How long do you spend looking at the door after he’s gone? How easily do you drift off to sleep after picturing his face in the ceiling above your bed?

But you turn to face him when he calls your name, more often than not, and Sage has never been the type of man to discount small victories.

This time, though, he does have to call your name twice before you return his attention, face only a few millimeters shy of a scowl. “Lighten up, you’ll get wrinkles if you walk around with a face like that.”

“The only thing here that’ll give me wrinkles is you,” you sigh, reluctantly closing your book.

“Only in your bedsheets, if you’re lucky,” he says. “But now that I’ve got your attention, I could use some help.”

“Oh? I’m so honored,” you roll your head from side-to-side, trying your best to coax out a stubborn crick that keeps itself hidden.

His smile could have melted you then and there, if the wall wasn’t holding you up. The tips of his fangs now exposed, in sharp white contrast to his sun-kissed skin, the way his mouth tilted towards one side as he moved his lips to form his request. You would have agreed to anything he asked, coming from a mouth like that.

“Last night, Anisa got me thinking- I really could use a little extra coin. I’m gonna bag a couple bounties, just enough to pay off my tabs and put some away. I mean, I’m glad to be here and all, but righting wrongs and delivering justice doesn’t really pay the bills.”

“Sage, what bills do-”

He cuts you off. “Tabs add up, but that’s not the point. I’m rusty, literally- I spent half the morning scraping the shit off lefty here.” He thrusts his gauntlet into your face, the image of an overexcited child delivering a handmade macaroni necklace to their teacher, before continuing. “I want to get a few rounds of training in real quick before I go. Just for the afternoon. Unless you’re busy, of course.”

A steady hand over his, and you lower his gauntlet from out of your face. How hasn't he lost an eye yet, walking around with these things all the time?

"I'm yours."

* * *

Your chest is heaving. Sage barely has to put in any effort and before you know it you're flat on your back, the air knocked from your lungs. How brutal must the gym classes in Astrea be, for this to come to him so easily?

It's easy to forget Sage was - is - (does it really matter?) a soldier. That the same hands, wide palms outstretched to you now, have taken lives before. How can he call himself rusty when any fight you're in with him is over in a matter of minutes?

He pulls you up with ease. However, your oxygen-deprived knees aren't quite prepared to resume their duties and support you just yet. You crash into the expanse of Sage's exposed chest, eye-level with a particularly angry-looking raised scar. How powerful could something have been, to have left such a mark on him? You're not sure if you want to know.

"Breathe," he reminds you, strong hands supporting you more than you'd care to admit from underneath your elbows. As if to demonstrate, he inhales deeply through his nose before puckering his lips and exaggeratedly exhaling onto your face, blowing back a few strands of your hair that weren't affixed to your sweat-soaked forehead.

Unable to retort, you follow his instruction, choosing to ignore the insult he added to your pride’s injury. You also choose to ignore his all-too-satisfied laugh as he extricates you from his arms and walks towards the edge of the pool on the outside of your improvised sparring arena. You’re even able to half-ignore the aching in your calves as they protest from overuse.

But try as you might, you’re unable to ignore the way the muscles of his back move as he crouches down to meet the pool, splashing water from his cupped hand onto his face before running that same hand over his scalp. It didn’t help that his usual braid was now perfectly askew, stray strands of pearlescent hair framing his shoulders from behind. No wonder he’s kicking your ass when he’s able to take your breath like this without even touching you. Sage’s fingers idly skim the water in front of him, creating small ripples that playfully catch the sunlight.

“Alright, playtime’s over,” he stands, wiping his hands on the front of his thighs and turning towards you once more. “Not that you haven’t been a lovely punching bag, but I’d better get going while I’ve still got a little daylight ahead of me.”

You want to say something clever, something witty or biting, something about knocking that smug grin off his face, but your words are lost somewhere between the ache in your chest and the thin trails of water running down his. Instead, you nod.

Ever-cavelier, he walks you back to your room at Fathom. His praises of your improved technique (“Who’re you stabbing down when I’m not around?”) are as earnest as his gesture of holding open the door of your room for you when you arrive. He stands in your doorway, perked-up ears grazing the doorframe, and for the first time in your rather long trek back to your chambers, Sage is silent.

He should thank you, he thinks. Should offer to help you stretch, offer to buy you a meal upon his return. Should stop staring at you. Should definitely ignore the gentle working of your fingers through your hair, tying it out of your face. Sage wagers with himself that if he were a smart man, he’d turn around right now and leave - but his eyes remain transfixed on the stubborn tresses of hair clinging to the back of your neck and the ghosting of skin peeking out from the collar of your shirt.

“What’s the holdup? Scared or something?” you hum, kicking your shoes off and into a corner.

His heartbeat quickens. Scared? Absolutely. He didn’t used to think about these things. He’s lived the past five years as an enigma, a shadow, a blood-stained mask held up to the world without anyone to question what was underneath. And you read him so easily.

“No,” of course I am. “Do I look like the type of man that scares easy?” He leans against your doorframe for emphasis. And he’s mostly telling the truth. Sage has never scared easily - about anything in the world outside of this godsdamned room at least.

“Be careful, Sage.” you remind him. He didn’t notice you getting closer until your hand was on the doorknob, form half-hidden behind the heavy door’s wooden frame.

“Oh, you know me. I always use protection.”

“You’re a dog,” you chide, closing the door softly. Sage lets out a mock howl that’s dramatic, even for him, that echoes down the stone hallway as he walks away.

Felix frowns, wondering how a dog could’ve possibly managed to find its way into Fathom, dusting himself off lightly from the portal he just stepped through.

* * *

You dine in your room that night, and the night after that. Your housemates (Castlemates? Comrades? Brothers in arms?) had once again made themselves scarce; only now conveniently showing themselves as you sat down in the kitchen while brewing yourself a cup of tea. Anisa’s visit was short-lived as she sheepishly asked for your help to tighten the straps on the back of her uniform. There must be one hell of a visitor for her to bring out the official colors of the Sunstone Order so early in the morning, but this didn’t surprise you.

What did surprise you, however, was Felix’s voice from across the room asking you to make a cup for him as well soon after Anisa rushed out the door. He looks rough, even for it to be so early in the morning, and his footsteps appear heavy as he slinks towards the counter. Felix nods, not exactly at you, but in your general direction at least, as you sit the heavy-bottomed mug in front of him. You count the seconds between his sips of tea and heavy sighs like thunder following lightning. You focus on your own beverage in a tense silence, waiting for the skies to open up and Felix to reveal the details of his visit home.

“I’ll never understand how Escell managed to ascend to the rank of archmage without the slightest clue of how to brew a decent cup of tea.” His customary slouch appears exaggerated, somehow, giving him the appearance of speaking directly into his cup.

“Beats me. Even in my world, reading tea leaves is pretty common magical practice,” you mutter offhandedly, idly wiping crumbs off the counter. “Maybe he just lied on the application.”

Felix chuckles tersely at this. “Is it, now? Well, I suppose he’s got no excuse then.” He turns the bottom of his mug towards the ceiling, and looks into the cup with curiosity.

“So you’re able to divine what, exactly from the symbology?” Felix is rotating the cup slightly now, his tone pensive. Combined with the far-off look in his eyes, you’re unsure if he actually wants a response or if he’s simply processing this new bit of information out loud. You suppose you can’t blame him, he never seemed to quite grasp the concept of a barista and the duties of the job.

“The future, I think,” your nose scrunches as you dig through the recesses of your memory. “We don’t have fancy magic schools where I’m from, but I don’t know, I think it’s mostly up to interpretation. What feelings you get from what you see more than the symbols themselves.”

“It just feels empty,” Felix’s eyes seem a shade darker as one corner of his mouth raises to form a sardonic smirk. “How fitting.”

He rights his posture to an acceptable level of slouch, clears his throat, and the omen passes. You rise to pour yourself another cup and he’s asking about your studies, Stella’s antics in his absence, your thoughts on the less-than-academic romance novel he lent you a week before his departure - but his eyes linger on the cup for the majority of your conversation. His words expertly sidestep your attempts to inquire about his time away, and eventually you abandon the topic in favor of showing him your novice attempts at a portal spell you’ve been working on.

For the rest of the time you spend together that day, neither of you mention the half-moon indentations etched into his palms.

* * *

Though your drunken conversation with Sage over a week ago still smolders in your memory, you don’t manage to end things with Felix. You would be ashamed of yourself, if you weren’t already so preoccupied with your newest shame: even in a world as fantastical as Astrea, you still manage to find yourself bored more often than you’d care to admit.

You mentioned this idly to Felix one evening, following a particularly enthralling afternoon of arcane research and, lounging on one of the chairs in his study that seemed to be filled with as much dust as cushioning, if not more.

“Doesn’t your family have, I don’t know, a magical amusement park day pass or something? You ask, reluctant to follow suit as Felix flips his way through an impressively heavy tome.

“I haven’t the faintest clue what you just asked me, but if amusement is involved I assure you my family has no part of it.” His chin rests heavily on the heel of his palm, giving his voice a strained tonality. “What sorts of amusements kept you occupied back in your world?”

You avoid his question, reluctant to admit that escaping to the virtual world of Astrea was one of the few pastimes you managed to engage in with any regularity. Instead, you cross the room, ruffling his hair as you pass by him on your way to the door. If he notices your gesture, he doesn’t show it, not looking up from his book even as the heavy door to his study slams shut.

In a valiant effort to fend off the growing sense of sameness (you didn’t realize how much of a difference Sage and his flavor-of-the-day moods and antics made until he’d been gone for a few days), you decided to pay Tulsi a visit.

The sidequest of your evening proved more challenging than you’d care to admit.

And so, you find yourself walking through the dimly-lit streets of Porrima, your mind wandering to a time when Astrea was just a setting in your favorite video game. What did you spend all those hours doing, when the missions were completed? The glow of the moon begins to rise over the western half of the ocean in stark contrast to clouds in the east, casting an iridescent pathway over the water so strongly you could have mistaken it for a bridge, if you didn’t know better.

Not that you knew much better concerning Porrima, all things considered. Your feet felt clumsy walking over the cobblestone streets, as though your bones themselves knew they didn’t belong; that they weren’t ever really meant to walk the paths you’re on. Thankfully, the streets were much less crowded now than they had been during your last excursion with Sage, so you could put on a well enough show of being a native to avoid suspicious eyes. The few stalls still open, manned by sleepy-eyed vendors, appeared even to have lost some of their color under the streetlamp’s lights. Damp, chilled air blowing in from the water leads the lamp’s flames in a precarious dance, casting flickering shadows this way and that. The splendor of the afternoon had been replaced by a still and alluring melancholy. You wonder not if it will rain, but when.

It was on your third wrong turn - taking you past a spectacularly vulgar establishment you approximated to a mystical dive bar before leading to a dead end- that you decided to stop for a break. You sit on the edge of a water fountain and pick at the skin of your thumbs as though the precise memory of Tulsi’s shop was buried somewhere beneath the distressed flesh. Asking for directions tied your stomach into angry knots on your best of days, and you hated to make your status of lone outsider known almost as much as you hated to return to Fathom and gather dust like all of Felix’s old books. Your stomach argues that you should stop into the bar to get a meal (or something close to it), but you know your appetite won’t allow you to put down much. Anisa always scolded you for wasting food. Maybe, if you turned back now, you could find her stash of treats before she returned from her duties.

The steady stream flowing from the fountain behind you washes over your thoughts. You’re unable to make out precise details of the statue’s face, backlit by the moon in a cool white light, but a vase of flowers sits balanced between a large, ornamental pair of horns. Was it a spell or some innate quality of the plants themselves that kept them from withering in the cool air?

The crash of a door opening, a screech of laughter trailing to the nearby alley. It sounds too bright for it to be ringing through a seedy alleyway. Almost eerie, like a bird chirping at midnight.

But you don’t turn your head at the songbird’s calls. Instead, a too-loud and too-familiar voice calls your attention. Of course, where else would fate have him be?

It’s hard for you to focus on their conversation over the pounding in your ears, but they’re making no secret of their intentions with each other. You put a hand on your chest and are almost surprised when you’re not able to feel your emotions ripping their way out from your rib cage underneath your palm. How long had he been back? Was he even planning on returning to Fathom? Had he even spared you a thought?

The alley takes on the dark and guilt-ridden quality of a confessional booth as you give into the masochistic urges to observe. Sage’s partner is nearly as tall as him. They’re shushing him with a finger pressed to his lips, their other hand clasped firmly around the belt on his chest - admiring the same jagged scar you did the last time you saw him. Sage’s eyes, never leaving their face, reflect the dim light as he takes their finger into his mouth. The songbird giggles again, pulling him by his belt in for a kiss. Sage’s hand - where’d he leave his gauntlet? - raises to envelop theirs as his knee slides in between their thighs. His boots are dirty; they’re going to leave marks on the pale fabric of his partner’s skirts.

It’s hard for you to tell whether it was the cold that caused you to lose feeling in your fingers or something else entirely. You abandon the original purpose of your trip, along with the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and spend nearly all of the change in your pocket on what bags of street cakes were left at a vendor’s booth. They’re stale, half-crumbling in your hand before you’re able to lift them to your mouth. You attempt to dodge holes in the pavement on your way back to Fathom. The moon’s attempt to illuminate your path from behind a wall of clouds is futile, and you trip over uneven stone.

* * *

You track mud into Felix’s study. He’s in essentially the same position you left him in, only with a different book and his legs criss-crossed in his chair.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to do anything,” you indiscriminately pull a book from his stack and throw yourself onto a cushion on the floor. “I’m just not about to be alone in this creepy mansion when the storm starts.”

Felix at you for a long moment before shaking his head and returning his attention to his book.

You make an earnest effort to make sense of the words in front of you, but descriptions of alchemical techniques throughout the ages begin to blur together after a while. At some point during your absence Felix had opened the heavy curtains, and although you see the sway of trees in the distance it has still yet to rain.

Why does it always seem like you’re just waiting for the bottom to drop out?

Unable to sit still, you begin to straighten up around the room. Papers and what look surprisingly like small animal bones once littering the floor are gathered into a small pile.

Is Sage still in the alley?

You re-shelve what seems like a library’s worth of novels, brushing dust off of them as you go.

Did he go home with them, or will they spend the night at a motel? Sage was looking to pay his tabs, after all.

You find a small bottle of nail polish underneath a pile of blankets.

Had he spent the afternoon with them? Longer?

Felix had been looking for that particular bottle. He must have at least a dozen missing items in this room.

He’s going to give them the wrong impression, spending time with them like that. Sage doesn’t do relationships, you recall from one of your first conversations with him.

You look for somewhere to place it, somewhere Felix won’t lose it again, but the room still seems half-drowned with clutter.

There was no reason for him to have been that tender, to have taken their hand in his like that while he roughly pushed their legs apart with his knee-

You slam the nail polish onto the desk in front of Felix with more force than you’d meant to. Hair falls from his face as he looks up at you again, his expression unreadable.

It’s none of your business. He’s none of your business.

“Well, are you just going to sit there all night?” you huff.

“I was under the impression you didn’t want to have sex,” He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he closes his book. “Not that I wouldn’t be happy to oblige.”

“Oh, Felix,” you lean down, running your fingers through his dark hair before settling at the nape of his neck. He doesn’t respond, but you don’t question whether or not you’re commanding his attention. You watch his throat rise and fall as he swallows thickly. “If either of us had what we wanted, would we even be here right now?”

* * *

When the first drops of rain begin to drum against the roof, you realize your mistake. Although your bath could have waited until morning, you dreaded the thought of spending the night with sweaty hair stuck to the back of your neck. After a brief debate on whether to try and wait the storm out or not, the tiredness in your bones triumphs over any sense of reason and you brace yourself for the trek back towards the castle.

The warm water of the bath house stood in sharp contrast in your memory to the torrents of cold rain coming down now. By the time you reach the entrance your clothes are soaked. You empty the water from your shoes and abandon them by the entrance, making an effort to wring as much moisture as you can from your saturated attire. The chilled stone against the soles of your feet nearly causes you to leap.

So much of your energy is focused on not falling or freezing that you don’t hear the sound of an additional pair of heavy footsteps over your own muttered curses until they’re too close for comfort. Adrenaline dances with already-intense feelings of aggravation as you ball your hands into fists at your sides. If anyone was going to pick a fight with you, they picked a hell of a night to do so. You turn towards the sound, and almost immediately wish you hadn’t.

“You look awful. Who pushed you in the moat?” Sage laughs, evidently pleased with himself for scaring you. You avoid his face. It’s difficult to see him in the dim light, but you’re able to make out that he’s put his gauntlet on again.

“It’s the middle of the godsdamned night, everyone looks awful.” You turn away from him, shame creating a not-unpleasant burning in your cheeks.

“The storm makes it feel later than it is,” he jogs forward to fall in step with you. “But I’ve got a decent internal clock - it’s still a few hours until sunrise.”

He spent most of the night with them, then. The chill makes its way to your chest.

“I had a hell of a time out there - got enough to settle my debts and then some,” he continues. “But don’t worry, I didn’t forget about owing you from that card game the other night. I was gonna wait until morning, but if you’re up there’s no time like the present.”

“Keep it.” A pebble digs into your heel, but you don’t stop to shake it off.

“Limited time offer, I’d take it if I were you.” he purrs. “I might just find something to spend it on by morning. Or someone, you never know.”

The air around you falls too-still for a moment, louder than the thunder roaring above you. You’re not sure when your hands started shaking, rage like ants pouring from a flooded pile barely concealed by the sleeves of your shirt. You mutter something about where he can shove his money, if he even has it at all. Even with his long strides, you’re walking faster than him now.

“What’s your problem?” Sage reaches out, catching you by the hand. “Gods - you’re freezing!”

Instinct kicks in. A sharp jerk and you snatch your hand from his, the immediate absence of his warmth feeling criminal. You bury your hand in your pocket, turning from him once more. His eyes dig into your back for a few steps, and then the feeling is replaced by heavy fabric draping over your shoulders.

You stop mid-stride, the bottom of the red fabric of Sage’s coat pooling around your bare feet. The breath you take in smells overwhelmingly of him. Even with your still-wet clothes stuck to your body, it’s the warmest you’ve felt all day. It’s soothing. It’s infuriating.

“Coins are in the pocket,” he snaps, impossibly still from behind you. “You’re welcome.” Lightning flashes outside, and your shadows briefly merge, stretching further into the hallway. How fitting for even his shadow to have consumed all of you so quickly.

A dozen half-formed responses float to the surface of your brain, but your energy is focused elsewhere. You will your arms to shake off the coat, but your limbs don’t respond. You will your legs to push your shivering form forward, but you remain affixed to the spot. You take in slow, deep breaths, hoping to calm the rabid creature hammering against the inside of your ribcage. He’ll be the death of you.

“I don’t want your coat, Sage.” You pour as much venom into your voice as you can, but its echo down the corridor sounds feeble. And you didn’t, truly. Since arriving in Astrea you’d yet to see him wash it, and a dozen small tears and imperfections make themselves known as you glance down at the sleeves. Either dried blood or smeared jam marred the outer forearm (Did he throw down with a baker?), infinitely less offensive than the heat of him which clung to the fabric.

He snorts. “You look like a half-drowned rat, I wanted you to have it.” The juxtaposition he creates with the harshness of his tone and the compassionate gesture leave you at a loss for words.

He didn’t do this to hurt you. There was no way for him to know how much damage his needle-sharp warmth caused as it seeped into your skin from the fabric. He didn’t recognize his kindness for the ambush it was. To him, it’s just his coat. You’re being mean. You’re being unfair to him. It’s just his coat, and that’s all it should be for the both of you. His footsteps ring heavy in your ears, and for a moment it’s hard for you to differentiate between them and your own heartbeat. He stops in front of you, cupping his hands over your shoulders.

“Respectfully, Sage, I didn’t ask-” you begin, tone as cold as you can muster. All lessons on telepathy thus far had proved fruitless and frustrating, but his intentions are exact. You meet his eyes, severe and caustic as molten gold, and cringe slightly.

“You didn’t have to. Don’t have to.” he cuts you off. You don’t have to thank me either, but it’d be nice.

“Look, I get it. Shit happens. If you gotta be mad, then fine. Be mad with me. I can take it-” Sage stops himself when you scoff, taking the inside of his cheek between his teeth for a moment. His mind oscillates between a call to escalate the situation - he’d barely said a word to you and you were already working on ripping him a new one - and something else entirely. The tremble of your shoulders underneath his hands breaks his resolve.

“Whatever, be mad then. I’ll be sorry if that’s what you want, alright?” Sage sighs. “But just keep the damn coat. I’ll be sorry, you be warm. Then we both go off and have a shitty rest of our night in peace.”

Sage hasn’t been proud of himself, truly and sincerely proud - not the self-satisfied garbage he spits out onto everyone around him - many times in his life, but these words he works out over his waning patience are enough for him to add another tally to his count. Especially over the past few years, he’s been so used to surrendering to whatever anger comes up and allowing it to consume him. You’ve talked with him about it, and he’s repeated your words to himself in the mirror more days than he hasn’t. It’s so easy to give into the scent of blood in the water; to bite and kick and spit out cruel words, to win. He’s not happy about it, but if he’s got to lose to anyone, he’s glad it’s you.

Too incensed to thank him, too proud to look away before he does. His tone has a finality to it, commanding the conversation’s conclusion without saying so, but his hands have yet to leave your shoulders. Heat from his palms has worked its way into your tense muscles. What an inconvenience it will be when he removes them and finds that you’ve utterly melted into him. What a waste of an act of kindness. What a shame.

Part of you that wants to dive past the point of no return, to tell him how you smolder under his touch, to ask his forgiveness in all languages you speak and that you don’t, to pour every inch of yourself out onto his shoes and beg him to fill you back up. Part of you that wants to hang him by the rafters with his tail and never look back. You do neither, and can hear the laugh of whatever god is out there that’s given you these feelings as the sadistic punchline to their cosmic joke. Their angels say: You’re being mean. You’re being unfair to them. The god replies in the deep breath you draw to steady yourself.

“That was pretty cold of me, wasn’t it?” you say. He doesn’t answer. “Pretty frigid even, I guess you could say.”

He accepts your unspoken armistice as a withering light returns to his eyes. No hard feelings.

“I’m not mad at you, Sage.” you know he picks up on your lie as soon as you say it, but he doesn’t call you on it. His gaze is steady, and for a moment you have to remind yourself that he demonstratively doesn’t have the ability to read your mind. “Not that I couldn’t find something to change that, if I wanted to.”

“You’re sure about that?” The way Sage phrases it is not a question.

“Absolutely,” you reply, rolling your shoulders back and straightening your slouch. An embarrassing CRACK erupts from your protesting joints. “For starters, who buys a coat with no way to close the front?”

Sage half-chuckles, half-hums. “There’s buttons on the inside, I just don’t see the point in using ‘em is all.”

All-too-eager hands immediately seize the opportunity to fasten closed the front of your borrowed garments, but frustration soon blooms in you once more as you struggle. Sage attempts to direct you - something about a flap near the seam on the left side - but your labors yield no fruits.

“Need some help?” He doesn’t know how, if, he wants you to answer. You shrug, still fiddling with the edges of his coat, and Sage holds his breath before leaping into the deep end.

He drops to one knee in front of you, smoothing your - his - (it looks better on you, anyway) lapel between his index and thumb as he goes. You freeze, eyes wide, your hands balling into loose fists at your chest - now almost level with his ears. The air feels thick as you inhale.

“May I?” He asks, his voice half-drowned out by a clap of thunder, half by your racing pulse in your ears. You nod almost imperceptibly, eyes searching in vain for something, anything, to focus on instead of the way he’s fixated on the fabric sitting just to the right of your navel.

For a moment, Sage considers making a joke - asking if you’re planning on knocking his eyes out, a quip about what a shame it’d be to hit a man while he’s down - but the words die in his throat. Your chest rises and falls softly, and his ears twitch slightly as the breath of your exhale tickles his hair there.

He pulls the fabric tighter around you, fingers easily finding the buttons hidden behind tattered seams. Sage has fought for more of his life than he hasn’t. He’s broken fingers, almost lost some, even, more times than he could count. Used his hands and swords and whatever else he could find as a weapon. He remembers sanguine days when it felt more natural to lift a blade than it felt to lift a drink to his lips with his friends, than it felt to lift Tulsi from the floor and carry her to bed. His hands remember more than he cares to admit; scars cannot be so easily erased with a trip to the bar.

There’s a distance between those hands and the hands he uses now to fasten the first button just above your hip bone, he thinks. He works steadily; reverently. In the darkness he has to pause every now and then, running his finger along the seam for a few inches until he finds the next set of buttons.

You know it’s rude to stare, but this view of the top of his head has your sense of reason in a chokehold. Sage is being careful not to touch you, not exactly - muttering apologies when one of his knuckles skims across the fabric of your clothes; throwing gasoline on the fire burning in your stomach with each gesture. How he’d managed to go most of the day with no shirt on underneath is beyond you, but his long hair curling around his biceps as he carefully works his way up your torso looks so warm, maybe the cold really didn’t bother him that much. You hope his grip on your waist now will be enough to keep your spirit from leaving your body; that’d be an embarrassing conversation with Felix. As he gets closer, and the flashes of lightning come more frequently, you’re able to make out dark flecks on his lower lip and right cheek. Mud? It wasn’t raining when he got to Fathom, and you didn’t see him outside. Blood? Whose? Worries like moths flutter above your head.

A particularly bright flash illuminates the corridor as Sage secures a button a few inches below your collarbone, and curiosity gets the best of you. You open your mouth to call his name, but your vocal cords work against you. When nothing comes out you take his chin in your hand, maneuvering his face to better look at him. He makes a noise of discontent, but is pliant in your hand. You run your thumb across his bottom lip, carrying thin red streamers of blood against the corner of his mouth.

“Sage, what did you do?” You ask.

His brows meet in the middle like a car crash. “It’s bounty hunting, not nice bounty conversations over dinner. Like I said, shit happens.”

Your finger traces the outline of scratches running below his cheekbone from his hairline. They should be healing, should have been healed before you noticed.

“This jackass had some kind of enchanted ring or something,” Sage answers the question you didn’t ask. “Got me pretty good across the face, but it’s getting better all the time.”

“Let me help you,” magic is already buzzing underneath your fingertips.

“It’s not that bad.” Sage raises his own hand in an attempt to push yours away, but the look in your eyes stops him in his tracks. “Really - you should’ve seen me earlier, used the last of my socks trying to soak-”

“Don’t be like that.” You feel his eyes on your face as you push loose strands of hair back from the wounds.

Sage mutters a reluctant affirmative, and your fingertips warm as the skin of his face stitches itself back together. You rub away dried blood, scrutinizing the pink lines of skin left underneath your touch. How long would it be until you could control your magic enough to leave no traces of injury, until you could keep others from getting injured in the first place?

Sage feels a stone in the pit of his stomach as your thumb pulls at the skin of his lip again, clinical and calculating. There’s something wrong, deeply wrong, Sage realizes at his own disappointment. He’d set this moment on a precipice and that damn look on your face sent it tumbling off the edge. Your brows are knit together in contemplation; the fevered skin of your palm comforting against the line of his jaw.

There was something about this moment Sage would never come back from. His head feels dizzy, like he’d gone a moment too long underwater, as your tongue moistens the skin of your lips.

Let me help you.

Sage opens his mouth, and is stopped in his tracks by the growl your stomach makes. You apologize, cheeks darkening in the dim light, and the two steps you take backwards from him feel like miles.

“I, um, I’m going to go change. I left some street cakes in the kitchen, if you want some.”

Sage stares at the hall you walked down for long after you��re gone.

* * *

Sage is sitting on the kitchen counter when you arrive, picking through a paper bag of your street cakes. He doesn’t look up at you, but tosses a bag perfectly in your direction nonetheless. It looks different than it did when you bought it.

“What happened to all the snakes?” You ask, picking through its remnants.

“I thought you didn’t like ‘em,” Sage replies, mouth full and still chewing. In the dim candlelight, his fingers still hold half of an intricately decorated cake that looks suspiciously like a rattlesnake.

He was right, you didn’t like the snakes. Neither did he.

The two of you eat in silence.

52 notes · View notes

sun-flower-children · 3 years ago

Text

— felix nsft alphabet

minors and ageless blogs dni

note from nia: this took so long i'm so sorry to the anon who asked..guh...i think Any of my other felix hc posts can probably add more 😟☝️ i need to take a nap and find inner peace i think

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

first priority is asking how you're both doing and if you're alright

someone gets up to grab water and towels to clean up

he makes sure you use the washroom and takes a shower if needed

ohh kissing any sore spots or bruises ohh massages

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he thinks he has nice hands and thighs (because he does🤨)

he loves..all of you? that sounds so cheesy but i mean it in the most sincere way possible. he likes kissing your neck and the inside of your thighs if that idea makes you Giggle

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

big part of why he likes giving oral so much is because he likes tasting you . he's licking and swallowing all of it because he wants to, though the feeling in his chest is a nice bonus when you make him open his mouth and check if he took all of it and praise him

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

honestly he probably doesn't keep a lot of secrets ,, he ends up talking about things eventually

one that he'd be super embarrassed to talk about is getting wet dreams about you ,, especially if it happened before you were together . couldn't make eye contact but also couldn't stop Thinking About it and ended up jacking off later that night

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

stares...this guy was With Rime . come on.

he might be nervous and not trust himself at first but he has enough experience to figure out how to make you feel good without asking too much

he's also probably tried different kinks already so if you're inexperienced yourself he's able to take the lead

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

any position where he has easy access to looking at you and/or kissing you whether that's missionary or laying down facing each other or one of you on the other's lap . your choice

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

usually pretty serious and Into it but he's no enemy of sessions where you get to giggle and joke and be soft

more prone to making jokes and stumbling over himself if you're about to try something new that day

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

probably trims just so he can feel ? cleaner? neat ? and also wants to make it easier for you when you're giving him head hello :100:

the carpet is matching yes yes

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

he loves being intimate !! he loves it so much it's very important !!

even when it's a rougher session if you manage to kiss him on the nose and say i love you at some point he gets all [blubbering mess, stuttering noises] before getting whiplash when you go faster again

he always makes sure you're okay and stops if you hurt yourself or cramp or anything

if you were feeling insecure/upset it's body worship time baby ! he loves you a lot and wants you to remember that

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

he did it when he needed to destress a lot but once you're together he likes coming to you instead. why would he imagine you wrapped around him when you're like 2 doors down

and i'm not Not saying that he didn't think of you while he read his smut. that he didn't try out saying your name awkwardly at first before he got used to it and then whimpered your name when he came harder than he ever had before

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

canonically you have the choking and exhibitionism (I'm Pretty Sure.) and i guess handcuffs

he's open to almost anything but i'll say it again,, overstim, creampies, humiliation/praise, being tied up, etc. etc.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

he likes the bedroom away from prying eyes

might prefer the bed because of Comfort reasons and it's easy to switch positions and such but really he'll use any surface around

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

you could give him a look. One sort of horny look. run your fingers down the nape of his neck or over his shoulders. he's ready

if you're wearing an outfit and looking Particularly Good his head starts spiralling into thinking of what it'd be like to take it off

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

i said it before but i don't see him heavily injuring or degrading his s/o (humiliation is fine though smh). makes him uncomfortable and it feels awkward coming from him

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

cue rime saying "and what a skilled tongue it is." yeah ok. felix is really good And enthusiastic i get it. he can get pretty messy if you don't switch to doing something else. he'll just stay down there if you want him to

likes being in either position but leans a little towards giving

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Yes :thumbs_up: depends on the day, he's willing to do either but it's usually pretty fast? from 1 to 10 it averages at like uhhh 7-ish if you let him decide

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.

not really against them, they just aren't what he'd want to do . if there's a way or place to take his time he might wait

if he's really needy he'll take you away to some corner and won't say no if you do the same

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

he's willing to try out most things at least once with enough prep and conversation about it . he trusts you and also wants to make sure you're happy as long as you do the same and respect any boundaries he finds

if you mean like,, risk being caught . you can touch him under the table and see how long he can last but he's moving as fast as possible when it's time to leave

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

doesn't last super long especially if you're teasing him but he can go multiple rounds (averages at 3/4-ish) which is a great combo for overstimming

if he's taken the dom role he might be able to last a little longer because you're the priority

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

yes, yes, and a third yes

felix fucking himself on his favourite toy while he presses his cock into you . felix pulling out two toys for each of you to use while the other watches . okay alright

also is it a hot take if i say felix would be down with monster fucking. even past like,, vampires,, i don't know What they have in astraea but am i being problematic if i said he'd have dildos for this given the chance..guh...moving on

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

switch felix my beloved. oh he loves it so much he loves seeing you try to make him move and pinning you down

goes on until he gets needy himself and just wants to fuck you </3 or if you whine enough and he decides to have mercy because who's he to make you wait any longer

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

he's so vocal all the time he can't help it . he doesn't start off loud,, he moans and whimpers a lot but if you hit him in the right spot his moans gets louder and then he's crying and begging for you

also likes telling you how good you feel and praising you :100:

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

really likes thigh-highs and garters . either you or him

i also need to say that this guy has thought Multiple times of fucking you at night on the kitchen counter while he's down there

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

. . .pretty? help . he isn't that thick but he's a little longer than average and still manages to hit you where you want to be hit so who's really complaining here

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

it's already high. obviously. i think about what he said in chapter 12 on a semi-regular basis. it somehow gets higher when you get together,, he's down if you're down and is willing to do it multiple times throughout the day.

if it's just you two around . watch out 🤨!

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he might lay there for a while trying to rest/catch his breath but he always stays up long enough to make sure you both clean up. if he was the sub and is super tired he'll take longer though and you'll have to take over

once you're ready for bed he's basically out like a light after he gets comfortable

211 notes · View notes

sun-flower-children · 4 years ago

Text

Felix with MC that has wings

A/N: Yes @demon-paradise I totally can write that :) awww thank you so much :’))) I might have changed some details on accident so I’m sorry in advance but yeah not too much based on canon.

When you first entered the world you were how you were at the convention. Wearing your handmade, but still well crafted, Sunstone Order Knight uniform and in a very much basic human form. When you were surprised by the feeling of a sobbing crying form you still had a normal human silhouette. When you met Anisa and Sage in the fire-lit office you still looked the same. You continued to look the same while you lived in their “secret” headwaters and learned about the world around you as well as how to defend yourself.

Felix mentioned how he could sense the magic flowing through you and that it also felt relatively knew. You told him all you could about the convention with the glowing from inside a glass box. You don’t remember quite touching it but you felt leaving the place you were at to be in the place you are now. You were trying to just not randomly let out bits of magic and not turn anyone so Felix taught you breathing excessive and other techniques to help you with control and letting gout the amount that you intend.

After touching Rime’s magical book that Felix unearthed from the depths of the study’s couch you had felt a strange stirring and a wave of tingles, kind of similar to those one would get when listening to asmr but all over the body, then immediately feeling a sharp pain in your back. The initial shock left you in almost a coma state and you woke up on your bed. You were laying on your stomach and felt an unnatural amount of weight on your back pushing down into the mattress. Experimentally stretching your arms out and feeling grossed out by the slime like liquid that was covering the bed on both sides of you. You felt a little bubble of panic popping inside of your stomach and starting breathing in slowly to calm yourself down. You focused of the soft feathery feeling that’s tickling the back of your knees. ‘That doesn’t feel so bad’ you think to yourself.

Keep reading

138 notes · View notes

sun-flower-children · 4 years ago

Text

Felix with MC that has wings

A/N: Yes @demon-paradise I totally can write that :) awww thank you so much :’))) I might have changed some details on accident so I’m sorry in advance but yeah not too much based on canon.

Felix mentioned how he could sense the magic flowing through you and that it also felt relatively knew. You told him all you could about the convention with the glowing from inside a glass box. You don't remember quite touching it but you felt leaving the place you were at to be in the place you are now. You were trying to just not randomly let out bits of magic and not turn anyone so Felix taught you breathing excessive and other techniques to help you with control and letting gout the amount that you intend.

Bringing your arms in at a 90 degree angle, preparing to push yourself up, and surprisingly feel that you couldn’t. There was too much weight for you to push yourself so easily. You open your eyes a look toward the window and see that the sun had just started pushing against the horizon. Your eyes wander towards the floor-length mirror on the opposite side of the room and see that your shape on the bed wasn’t what you expected it to be. you could make out the bump for your head but then there was a giant and lengthy curve before seeing the subtle shapes of your feet.

Now abandoning the calm breathing technique you start to panic. Without thinking you flung yourself off the bed and onto the floor. The weight crushing you and pushing you to the floor. You slide yourself, shaking and struggling, reaching for the nearest chair to push yourself upwards. Arms shaking from being bed ridden for a while and creaking under all the pressure. ‘How long was I on the bed’ you think once again to yourself. Finally bringing yourself high enough to bringing your knee off the floor and immediately crumbled again, your head hitting the edge of the chair. Your groan was loud and cut through the silence that you didn’t quite realized was so deafening until now.

Enough time had passed where you were struggling to get on your knees that now the sunlight was peaking over the bottom of the window sill. Your knees gradually warmed up and were ready to bring you into the vertical position you have been working towards. when looking at your feet you was long feathers sweeping the floor and tickling your toes once in a while. Breathing hard, sweating and shaking with pain and also from being used so quickly after not moving for so long. Your back ached and you could truly stand already trying to stay in decent posture only to fall backwards and feeling the flames of pain searing up your back. Tears flowing of the sides of your face and you angrily cried in frustration. You could stand as long as you hunched over so that the weight on your back wasn’t dragging you down as much.

Looking into the mirror you saw the wings that were now behind you. The weight that you could feel pulling tender skin down and stretching it in every which a way as you moved. You were too tired to feel the shock you would have otherwise, delirious with the pain. Giving up on standing you flung yourself to the wall space by the mirror and leaned against the nearby bookshelf. The sounds of footsteps could be heard. But lighter smaller ones, not those of soldiers or even a large cat man. Too weak to properly defend yourself from whatever it maybe your curled up into a ball, arms over your head. Your new wings instinctively moving to circled around you like a shield.

The door opened and someone walked in. “(Y/N)?” a soft voice called out.

‘Felix’ you thought, recognizing the voice but not moving. Instead you made a noise that was meant to be “here” but instead came out as more of a painful groan.

He moved towards you and could hear him in the space in-front of you.

“Barista, are you...” he pauses,”...let’s get you back into the bed.” still in the same tone of voice he used before. You made a weak noise in defiance, not wanting to go through the hassle of moving again. After the faint noise of Felix muttering something under his breath that wasn’t in the speaking language, you felt some of the weight lifted and almost thought that the wings had come off. you look up seeing a rather disheveled Felix; his glasses skewed and off center. He held both your arms and led you slowly back to the bed. You were wearing someone bed gown but the back was either cut or ripped open because you could feel the cold breeze much more easily on your back.

In the new mornings light you noticed that you wings were the same color as you hair but a but darker and much more silky and shiny looking. “Like one of those L’oreeel commercials.” stumbles out off your mouth. Felix stops and looks at you, probably confused but you aren’t looking at him, before bringing you to sit down on the bed. You leaned down slowly to lay back down again, this time on your side. The wings moving out to make a more comfortable position. Felix sat down and began to explain.

Most of the information was lost on you as you kept fading in and out of focus. But you understood that the magic book reacted to you being not of this world and having magic in a way that wasn’t at all anticipated.The wings somehow had to do with some history thingy that may or may not have happened before and maybe something else happened but you didn’t catch it. Some more things happened. Something else about Sage panicking in the corner when it happened and Anisa freaking out and yelling at Felix and something else. Guards maybe have came. Did he just say that they made you pretend you were a doll in the Earth stuff room when the guards came in looking for a leaf gremlin? That’s not right.

“And that about sums up what happened during the week you were, uh, developing a new, uh...” Felix looks at your new wings and the open flesh on your back,” wings.” He sighs a deep sigh. “(Y/N) are you hungry?” That would make sense since you haven't been able to eat in a while but you didn’t feel hungry. You wanted to move and change clothes. Maybe take a shower because the slime has gotten into weird places.

The next few weeks was basically you trying to relearn how to move. You learned that you have to lift your wings with your back muscles to make it easier to walk around normally. The giant baths now became very useful with all the extra space being very accommodating of your wings. The best you had ever felt during this entire period was when the four of you went outside, not long after you showered, and you opened your wings to the fullest. Really stretching them and fluffing them out. Hearing the awes of the people around you admiring your wings.

Later that day Felix and you had a little dinner date, if you will, on one of the higher balconies. He explained that your back had started to grow two lumps and slower grew. The way he described all the slime coating your wings reminded you of that one scene from the Matrix. You accidentally said that thought out loud which then resulted in you explained what the 2009 world was like, explaining technology, then getting into the movie itself. The entire time you were explaining to him about Earth he was looking at you, nodding and asking more specific questions every once in a while.

Once the group had gotten more used to your wings and making sure that they were healthy, everything began to lighten up. Sage would make cat vs bird jokes, Anisa would try to come up with ways to make life more comfortable, which then ended with you moving to another room with a bigger door ( it was closer to Felix’s so you didn’t complain).

The first time you tried to fly, he was so worried and had his spells ready to catch you ( which did help the first few times). Eventually you got it; not being able to go for long amounts of time but could glide. Everyday working out with Sage to get those wing muscles going so that you could launch yourself vertically from the ground.

Felix thinks its so cute when your wings also react with you, though he will never tell you. The way the puffed up, to make you look bigger, when he was around his father. Or when he would kiss you your wings would relax and touch the floor. When you are really excited they would do a ton of tiny flaps. Felix would love to clean your wings for you. They are massive and it does take a lot of time but this is something that he wants to do for you because he feels like it’s partially his fault.

Felix loved you wings. Hey thought they were so beautiful and made you a literal angel in his eyes. The way they shined in the sun was almost like how you would brighten his day with your laugh. If the two of you were sitting close he would either pet your wing(s) or even closer so you wings circle the two of you. The little privacy bubble was always welcome but also made him feel like it was more intimate. At some point you would hug him and the wings would then engulf the two of you; makes him feel so safe, wanted and loved. You quickly caught on to this and made sure to do it more often. Felix will sometime get overwhelmed in public and you would use your wings as dividers and creating a safer space away from whatever stimulated him. On warmer days you would create a cool breeze by gently flapping your wings. When people try to catch you for your wings he goes full ape shit on them because how dare they try to touch and harm his dear barista, his dear angel (Y/N)

“Your wings are beautiful (Y/N) “ he would say randomly one day.

“ Aww thank you Felix. I’m so happy you like them” you said while smiling at him.

Felix looked away, trying to hide his blush, and brought his book up closer to his face. He was tempted to look at you when he heard you softly giggle but restrained himself from doing so. The rest of the afternoon would be spent stealing secret looks from each other and smiling yourselves when one sees the other doing something cute.

A/N: I might make another lil’ story, a kind of part 2, depends how well this one does :)

MASTERLIST < for more :D

#felix #felix escellun #felix headcanons #felix x reader #felix x male reader #felix x gn!reader #last elgacy #last legacy x reader #last legacy x male reader #felix fluff #felix escellun x reader #felix escellun x male reader #felix escellun headcanons #x male reader #x reader

138 notes · View notes