#so happy he is back on HOIMYCRAF | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

djpurple3 · 9 months ago

Text

Wordcount: 6.9k

Summary: Now that peace has finally, finally come to pass, Codfather Solidarity and Count fWhip have decided for forge an official alliance, treaty and all. Signing it during the Grimlandic Festival of Progress only makes sense.

And on the other hand, fWhip gets to show his partner around one of the Grimlands' biggest annual festivals, and they're practically vibrating with excitement. Everything from the community, to the food, to the races, to the fireworks - fWhip is anxious to share, and Jimmy is eager to discover.

It also makes for a pretty cute date.

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Written as part of the @mcyt-valentines exchange on tumblr, and written for @welcome-back-to-hoimycraf!! I really hope you enjoy the fic <3 and happy... yesterdalentines day

Full fic under the cut!

==== ==== ====

fWhip wipes their palms dry on their pants, trying to ignore how nervous he is right now as he strides down the main street of Eastvale.

The preparations are ready. Everything’s in order. The streets of the Grimlands are flooded with colour and light – multichromatic arrays of redstone lanterns, bunting and streamers and balloons and banners, candles of every colour, plentiful and bountiful flower arrangements graciously provided by Lady Katherine of House Blossom, musicians organised and already playing.

And, for when the moon rises, a bombastic fireworks display is ready.

fWhip planned the display himself. It should be bigger and better than last year. It should be the best damn fireworks display in the Twelve Empires, maybe the whole world. After all, the Grimlandic Festival of Progress starts today.

When fWhip was a kid, they used to take part in the annual gizmo-cart competitions, and he won more than a few. Now he’s the Count, he’s not allowed to compete anymore. fWhip also assumes it’s because someone wanted to break their winning streak of eight years. A shame, really.

But either way, it’s probably one of fWhip’s favourite parts of the entire festival. He loves to watch the races. He loves seeing what gizmos people make, especially the kids.

That’s not the only reason they’re nervous, though. fWhip’s been to so many of these festivals now that they look forward to it – they don’t even find organising a three-day-long festival to be that harrowing anymore. No, the big reason he’s nervous is for what else is happening today.

Codfather Solidarity is coming to attend the festival, and, more importantly, to come sign the official paperwork with him to declare the Cod Empire and the Grimlands as official allies.

And!Jimmy’s coming to see the Festival of Progress. For the first time ever. fWhip is almost giddy with excitement, though his stomach is also twisting with nerves.

All of the Grimlands’ allies are invited. Gem’s already here, though she’s been to plenty of these before, too. Pearl unfortunately has a major harvest to oversee. Sausage said he couldn’t come on the first day, but would try to make it later in the week. Katherine was also busy, but had still agreed to send flowers.

And… and he can finally, officially, add Jimmy to that list.

fWhip finds himself smiling, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly. Their hands are clammy, but they can’t help but be elated.

Jimmy said he’d be here for the festival. Teasingly agreed that the Festival of Progress was going to be the best time for them to sign anything. And then he had kissed fWhip and told them he was looking forward to it.

fWhip checks his wristwatch again. Jimmy said he’d be here by mid-morning, ready to sign the paperwork at noon.

He looks up, checking down the main road. Jimmy said he wouldn’t fly this time, but rather bring an entourage – seeing how historic an event this would be. And he had told fWhip that by bringing people with him, he’d be freer to stay longer. He’d also given fWhip a wink.

So, um, fWhip’s very much looking forward to this! For… multiple reasons.

“Count fWhip!” someone calls, and fWhip looks up, turns on his heels, searching for the voice, and heads over when he sees a small group of his people gathered around one of the strings of redstone lamps which has been taken down.

“What’s up?” fWhip asks, and he’s already pulling his trustiest screwdriver out of his toolbelt. They’re pleased they had the forethought to throw it on as they headed out the door.

“One of the lamps shorted out, and it made the entire string stop working,” a young woman tells them, as the older man standing beside her helplessly gestures with the lamp in question. “And none of us are sure how to fix it.”

“Alright,” fWhip says with a laugh, gently ushering people out of their way, and holding out their hands until the man gives him the lamp. “Get me something to perch on, and I’ll see what I can do.”

--- --- ---

fWhip misses Jimmy’s big entrance, absorbed as he is in fixing the wiring in the lamps. The fact they have one wing up, shielding the sun out of their eyes so fWhip can still see his work doesn’t help for his sightlines.

fWhip hears the clattering of hooves, though, the telltale sound of carriage wheels and horses on cobblestones – though he’s so engrossed in his work it takes a few moments for the sound to really filter in. As he blinks and raises his head, he hears a familiar laugh, and sees a familiar pair of feet step into his sightlines, below his wing-based sun umbrella.

And fWhip lowers his wing sheepishly to see Codfather Jimmy Solidarity standing there, resplendent in the Grimlandic summer sun, hands on his hips, and smiling fondly at fWhip.

“Even today?” Jimmy asks them playfully, nodding at the tools in his lap.

“I was asked to fix it!” fWhip says defensively, before he connects the last wire and closes the lantern back up, and grins as it finally lights up. “And fix it I have!”

The entire string of lights flickers back to life, and fWhip hands it off to someone else to hang back up, before he flushes and glances at Jimmy.

“Um,” he says, turning to face Jimmy properly, and he spreads his hands, gesturing wide. “Welcome. Welcome all of you to the Festival of Progress! It’s an honour to have you here for it. It, uh, starts soon.”

Jimmy smiles, big and broad and beautiful, though the Codfather Head hides how his eyes must sparkle. and finally lets his hands fall to his sides. “Thank you,” he says graciously, and Jimmy’s council-people nod and bow too, before Jimmy’s posture softens, and he steps in close, lowers his voice. “I missed you, fWhip.”

“I missed you too.” fWhip closes the distance, wrapping Jimmy up in a hug, and Jimmy hugs them back with a contented sigh. fWhip smiles as he feels Jimmy rest his chin on their head for a moment. “I’m really excited for you to be here, Jim. It should be a really good celebration this year.”

“Especially because of the history we’re making, huh?” Jimmy asks, and he takes fWhip’s hand, squeezes it softly, and it makes fWhip’s heart flutter.

“Yeah,” they say, smitten. Before they remember, and check their watch. “Oh gods, what’s the time!? Are we late?”

“Not yet,” Jimmy teases, but he glances at the sky, checking the position of the sun the old-fashioned way. “But we should probably start to head over now, so we can set up.”

--- --- ---

The walk back to fWhip’s manor feels… important. It feels ground-breaking. Historical, even. fWhip could almost vibrate out of his own skin as they mount the stairs, automatically keeping pace with each other.

It was decided the signing should take place outside, outside the Manor, where it can be observed by the Grimlandic people. fWhip casts his eyes upwards, briefly, as they take their place in preparation. They unfold and fold their wings, shooting a brief prayer to the gods that this will go all go well.

Jimmy stands across the table from him, his entourage behind him in a small semi-circle like fWhip’s is behind them, looking serene, hands folded behind his back. What can be seen of his expression behind that Head looks neutral, though fWhip knows Jimmy well enough to see how the Codfather is gently rocking on his heels, a little anxious himself.

Jimmy sees him looking, though, and offers a smile.

fWhip smiles back.

Between them is a big, heavy, dark-oak desk – a gift from a Mythlandic king to a Grimlandic Count of ages past, if fWhip remembers correctly. It usually lives in the royal study, and fWhip, and all his rulers before him, have signed many important documents on it. It just seems right that this one should be signed here too.

The treaty has been drafted several times, combed over with a fine-tooth comb by Grimlandic and Codlish scholars alike, until it was satisfactory, before painstakingly transcribed onto vellum and the ink left to dry for two days, just to be sure. It lays between them on the desk.

A bell toils in its tower nearby. fWhip has to restrain themself from wiping their hands on their trousers again as people start to gather. He has dressed up for the occasion – just a bit. He can’t tolerate it much, the fanciest stuff is all robes, and …it’s a little too close to a skirt for fWhip’s liking.

So instead, he’s in his nicest trousers, his cleanest boots, his crispest shirt, a pair of charcoal-grey silk gloves, and a lovely formal jacket embroidered with red, gold, and silver thread he inherited from a however-many-greats-grandfather. They’re even not wearing their goggles, replaced instead with a circlet of brass, set with rubies and amethysts that keeps their hair back instead – and amethyst earrings Gem gave him to match.

The most notable thing, perhaps, is the shawl they wear around their shoulders, knotted in the front and kept in place with a brass brooch. The shawl is of Codlish make – and even more importantly: embroidered. It’s Codlish tradition, to wear and document one’s life achievements and relationships in needlework. Jimmy made this one for them, once they got together.

fWhip loves it, but they’re afraid to wear it out too much. Certainly, he can’t wear it in his forge – he’d never forgive themself if they burnt or stained it. Today is the perfect opportunity, and he wears it with pride.

fWhip finds himself looking at Jimmy, drinking him in.

Jimmy is also dressed formally, and he looks simply gorgeous. His hair is braided, intricate and shining gold in the midday sun. He’s dressed in Codlish greens, browns and whites, long drapes and wrap- arounds that shimmer in the light, some of it iridescent netting, and a shawl of Jimmy’s own tied around his shoulders. fWhip notices a Mezalean clay-bead necklace around Jimmy’s neck, an Oceanic coral and pearl hairpiece in his hair, and Pixandrian blown glass earrings in his ears, and the sash around his waist is made of Overgrown silk. Jimmy once mentioned his shawl is woven from Mythlandic wool.

fWhip also notices, with a warm swell in his chest, a Grimlandic brass brooch of Jimmy’s own pinned over the knot of his shawl. It has an emerald carefully cut into the shape of a cod set in it. fWhip knows – they made it themself.

Jimmy wears his alliances proudly – all of them – but he wears fWhip’s over his heart. It makes fWhip’s eyes brighten with tears, just a little.

fWhip shakes their head, and hopes he isn’t flushing. He’s getting distracted. The smirk on Jimmy’s face tells them he’s not a subtle as they hoped.

The oldest member of fWhip’s council finally steps forward as the toiling of the bell dies away, and raises her hands. The murmuring falls silent. Across the entire courtyard, all that can be heard is the amethyst windchimes (gifted from the Crystal Cliffs) tinkling in the breeze.

“We are gathered here today,” she says, raising her voice, though fWhip gave her an amplifying charm before they started, and she can be heard easily across the crowd, “to celebrate not only the first day of the Festival of Progress, but a very special union of two peoples who we thought would never make peace.”

Jimmy and fWhip smile softly at each other. They can’t help it.

“But here we are!” the councilwoman continues. “Together, united, ready to take this great step forward during the most fitting of all our festivals. It is an honour to stand here with you all, under the leadership of Count fWhip and Codfather Solidarity, as they bring us together.”

And then she smiles. “In more ways than one,” she winks at the crowd, who hoot and cheer and clap even as fWhip goes red, and even Jimmy has to cover his mouth.

fWhip and Jimmy step in together, and fWhip hands Jimmy the quill first.

“After you,” they say softly.

“Why, thank you,” Jimmy replies, and he takes it carefully, and leans down, one arm around his middle to sweep back his layers to protect from stains as he dips the quill in the provided ink, and the Codfather signs the treaty.

As Jimmy hands fWhip the quill, his hand shakes – just a little. fWhip takes it, rolls it in his fingers gently as he takes his place at the desk too. He stares at the document before him. An age-old feud, coming to an end before his eyes. A new horizon. fWhip takes a steady breath, and signs it before he can hesitate any longer.

As fWhip sets the quill down and steps away, Jimmy takes a breath, and starts to sing. His voice is loud and clear, cutting through the air. He sings in Codlish, and the language flows, beautiful and open on his tongue. As he reaches the end of his verse, his council behind him join in.

fWhip knows enough Codlish to pick up on what they’re singing, though the words go by very fast and he misses half of them. It’s a style of song they sing at births and weddings, of the cycle of life and the joy of starting, of making something new.

fWhip stands there, entranced. Only when the song ends, and silence falls over the courtyard, do they realise that every other person present seems equally as enrapt as he is.

Then, someone gently clears their throat.

fWhip jolts, and realises that’s his cue, and he sharply turns on his heel to face the crowd, turning his own amplifier charm on with a tap, and throws out his arms.

“The deal is done!” he cries. “Let the Festival of Progress begin!”

The crowd erupts into cheers, before music starts up again, and the whole place comes alive.

--- --- ---

Jimmy takes fWhip’s hand as the crowd moves around them, and over the noise, fWhip hears the delighted peal of Jimmy’s laughter.

fWhip steps in close, puts a wing around Jimmy.

“Want to find somewhere quiet?” they ask, raising their voice.

“Okay!” Jimmy says. “Just for a moment!”

fWhip nods, and turns to the Manor’s front doors, leading Jimmy inside. He also invites Jimmy’s councillors in, telling them where they can put their bags, before they and Jimmy politely disappear into fWhip’s chambers.

Jimmy lifts the Codfather Head off carefully, and fWhip gets to watch with a dreamy smile as Jimmy’s face gets revealed. Logically, they know what Jimmy’s face looks like – but it’s wonderful to watch the reveal every time.

“Stop,” Jimmy looks away, red.

“Stop what?” fWhip asks.

“Looking at me like that!” Jimmy turns away to put the Head down carefully on fWhip’s dresser. Something in fWhip’s chest aches a little at that – at the show of trust. This all fell apart over that Head, and now Jimmy feels safe enough to leave it in fWhip’s bedroom, on his dresser. “Like I’m…”

“Like you’re what?” fWhip raises an eyebrow, his grin spreading. “Gorgeous? Breathtaking? Beautiful?”

Jimmy goes redder, and lets fWhip put their hands on his waist.

“Yeah,” he breathes, slinging his arms around fWhip’s shoulders. “All that.”

“You’re all that and more, ally,” fWhip says, meaning to sound more teasing, but the fondness breaks through, unstoppable.

“Ally,” Jimmy echoes, relief shining in his eyes. “Ally. I love you, fWhip.”

fWhip rises up on the balls of their feet, tilting his head as they lean in. “I love you too,” they whisper back.

Jimmy meets them halfway with a kiss.

It’s tender and soft, and fWhip yearns for more even as their lips part, and Jimmy hums into it. It’d be irresponsible to deepen the kiss now – but by the gods, does fWhip want to.

“Later,” Jimmy promises as they break apart for air, and fWhip kisses his throat for good measure. “Tonight.”

“Good,” fWhip says, wrapping their wings around him as they all but breathe Jimmy in. “God, I missed you.”

Jimmy peppers kisses over fWhip’s hair, in agreement, before his fingers trace the circlet nestled between fWhip’s horns.

“This is pretty,” he compliments.

“Thanks.” fWhip shudders a little. “It was an heirloom. Only rediscovered it a few months ago. It had to be resized so it’d fit me.”

fWhip tips his head back up as he speaks so he can look at Jimmy. Jimmy’s already looking at fWhip like they’re something precious, and it makes the words fWhip was going to say fade on his tongue, before the two of them drift back together. They kiss again. And once more, for good measure, before there’s a knock at the door.

“My lords,” one of fWhip’s staff calls. “Lunch is ready for you in the parlour.”

They break the kiss so fWhip can call back, “Thank you, we’ll be there shortly.”

Footsteps patter away.

Jimmy and fWhip glance at each other, before the two of them break into giggles.

“I like how they know not to open the door, now,” Jimmy teases, before he kisses fWhip’s forehead, as fWhip shivers and tries to convince himself to let Jimmy go. “Now, come on, before they decide they have to send a reminder.”

--- --- ---

The food was delightful, but fWhip can hardly focus on it. He watches until Jimmy signals he’s done, before they rise from their seat and offers a hand to their partner. Jimmy takes it with a gracious smile.

“Ready to see the festival?” fWhip asks.

“More than ready,” Jimmy replies, rising to his feet. “Where do we start?”

“It’s almost time for the gizmo races, so, there!”

fWhip practically drags Jimmy out the room, out the atrium, down the stairs and down the main road, to the plaza with the fountain in the centre, and fWhip and him get ushered over to a raised platform.

Jimmy stares at the miniature racetracks set up around the fountain itself.

“What is this?!” he asks, as fWhip pulls him up on the riser with him.

“Gizmo racing!” fWhip repeats. “It’s a time-honoured tradition. I’ve been Festival Champion eight years in a row, it’s one of my favourite events.”

“Who broke your streak?” Jimmy asks, peering over at the racecourse, drinking it all in. The individual lanes, as well as the starting-slash-end line are drawn in chalk straight onto the cobblestones. An extra string of colourful bunting is strung over the finish line.

“Not being allowed to compete anymore!” fWhip says cheerfully. “They said I was too good.”

Jimmy snorts, and steps in a little closer to fWhip, so they can wrap a wing around him.

“You still haven’t told me what a gizmo is.”

“It’s like a little cart,” fWhip gestures the rough size with his hands. “Regulation says they can’t be bigger than a half-slab. At least three wheels. They have to be remote controllable, self-powered, and self-propelled. People spend months making a gizmo for the Festival Races. There are separate classes for adults and for kids.”

Jimmy turns his head and sees the line of children, all with a little device of some sort in their hands, putting their… gizmos down at the starting line. Someone double-checks all the little carts are lined up fairly.

“Does it get intense?” Jimmy asks.

“Oh yeah,” fWhip says. “People take it very seriously. It’s great. First to five laps wins.”

Hubbub falls quiet, now. People look to fWhip, who is almost vibrating with excitement.

“Racers!” he calls. “Are ya ready?”

Jimmy hides a smile behind his hand at the very enthusiastic chorus of kids’ replies.

“Start your gizmos!”

Jimmy listens to a cacophony of whirring and humming start up.

“Ready!” he calls, almost bouncing in time with the rhythm of his words, and the spectators join in on the countdown too, the whole crowd bobbing with this energy, “Steady! GO!”

Jimmy laughs with delight as the race begins. The kids are all lazer-focussed, and it’s amazing how fast the gizmo carts can go, whizzing around the racetrack. They are all different shapes and sizes; some having big, thick, tall wheels and little chassis; some being long and flat with many smaller wheels. Jimmy’s favourite is one that looks like a pig.

People hoot and holler and cheer. Jimmy has to cling to fWhip’s arm as his partner bounces so much that the riser shakes under their feet.

Jimmy can barely keep track of which lap is which, despite flags being waved and whistles being blown. The crowd gasps and groans as one gizmo flips, spins out and takes three more with it. Some of the kids start yelling at each other.

“Final lap!” someone with a flag announces.

People start clapping their hands, stomping their feet, rhythmic but getting faster and faster as the little carts all rip around the track one last time. Jimmy cheers himself as the pig gizmo weaves through the pack and pulls ahead, just for a moment, before a mean looking one almost double its size comes up behind it.

“Go pig!” Jimmy calls.

fWhip laughs, thrilled Jimmy’s joining in, and echoes, “Go pig!”

The pig zooms ahead, swerving out of the way of the second place gizmo. They are almost neck and neck, but the pig pulls ahead one last time, under the swooping of the checkered flag, over the finish line.

One little kid jumps up and down with an excited scream, face split into a huge grin, and the crowd applauds them.

“Bonus points for style,” fWhip says admiringly.

“…How much more intense does the adult one get?” Jimmy asks, leaning in to ask more quietly into fWhip’s ear. “I think it’s a bit much for me.”

fWhip snorts. “A bit more,” they admit. “Hey, we can go-”

“No, no,” Jimmy shoves them lightly. “You stay. I… I can go find us a snack. Are there snacks here?”

“Oh yeah,” fWhip says, and points out a line of colourful vendors’ carts on the far end of the courtyard. “You have to try a potato on a stick. I’d like a chicken one.”

“…Okay,” Jimmy says. “I’ll be back?”

“I’ll wait for you here,” fWhip turns to Jimmy now, and tilts their head up questioningly. Jimmy dips down for a quick kiss, and feels fWhip smile into it. It really is surreal, that they can do this in public, that Jimmy can be here amidst fWhip’s people and be safe, be wanted here.

“Sounds good.” Jimmy trails his fingertips down the membrane of fWhip’s wing as they pull apart, which makes fWhip shudder and go a little red and stare at Jimmy with wide eyes – Jimmy’s favourite expression to get out of fWhip.

Then, Jimmy steps off the riser and starts to weave his way through the crowd to go find food.

--- --- ---

Jimmy joins the queue for one of the food carts, and he watches people walk away with their food with wide eyes. It’s a – roasted or fried? – probably fried potato, that has been cut into a spiral – though it’s still one continuous piece and speared on a wooden stick. The outsides seem to be coated in various kinds of flavoured salt, that must be what fWhip meant by a chicken potato.

People stare at him a little, but Jimmy is met with polite nods or bows or smiles, and he smiles and nods back. Jimmy wait patiently, as the crowd watching the races keeps cheering and roaring behind him, and eventually, he’s at the front of the line.

“Oh!” says the vendor. “Codfather! What can I get you?”

“Um, two potatoes, please?” Jimmy asks. “One chicken, and… what do you recommend?”

“Well, honestly,” says the vendor as she starts to prepare the first one, and Jimmy watches the machine she has with great interest as it cuts the cooked potato cleanly, “my favourite is also the chicken. But… you a fan of salt and vinegar?”

“I am, actually.”

“Then I’d say that. It’s also popular, and if you don’t like it, you can steal his,” she winks, handing Jimmy the first one and prepping the other, and Jimmy flushes a little, though it’s hidden behind his Head. “Enjoy!”

Jimmy fumbles with a pouch on his belt as she holds out the second stick, but the vendor loudly clicks her tongue.

“Don’t be silly, sir,” she says. “Take them. It’s the Festival! The council’s covered the food costs.”

“Oh, wonderful.” Jimmy lets the lady press the second stick into his hand. “Thank you, then.”

“Enjoy!” she calls, as Jimmy steps away. “Next! What can I getcha?”

Jimmy transfers both potatoes to one hand and goes searching for something to drink, too. The sun is high in the sky – it’s midsummer, it’s a beautiful day – and it’s making Jimmy thirsty. The air here is a lot more arid than he’s used to.

Eventually, he’s attempting to weave his way back through the crowd to fWhip’s riser with his potatoes-on-sticks and two bottles of cordial. Fortunately, when people see him trying to slip through, they move for him, and Jimmy hurries back to fWhip, who grabs his arm and helps him back up.

“Thanks,” Jimmy says breathlessly. “Here’s yours.”

“Thank you,” fWhip says sweetly, taking the bottle and the stick.

“How’s it going?” Jimmy peers over at the race, which seems to be setting up for one last thing.

“It’s last years champion against this year’s new first place, for ultimate winner this year,” fWhip says, words muffled as they also tear into the potato swirl with their teeth. “This doesn’t count for the medal, that guy’s already won it, but it’s like, for glory, y’know?”

“Uh huh,” Jimmy says. He shrugs and starts eating his own potato swirl too, and his eyes light up as he eats. “This is good.”

“I know, right?” fWhip grins. “They’re so good.”

Jimmy watches the race with less interest than before, he won’t lie, but he takes the opportunity to look around the plaza instead. The place looks vibrant and colourful in a way Jimmy didn’t even know the Grimlands could be. It really is stunning.

A loud wave of cheering makes Jimmy look back, and he sees that the races are finally over. He’s not much for these things, if he’s honest, but the part that makes it worth it is seeing fWhip come alive, grinning and bouncing on the balls of their feet in excitement.

“That was better than last year,” fWhip declares to Jimmy, as the crowd starts to dissipate, and Jimmy looks up once he hears music start playing again. “That was awesome. God, did you see the one constructed of copper and gold? It was beautiful.”

“I did,” Jimmy agrees, shifting on his feet. “And it was. …fWhip, love, can we find somewhere to sit down for a little?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah, of course.”

--- --- ---

Jimmy people watches for the next little while, as they finish their snack and drink their cordials, and fWhip Jimmy-watches as the afternoon sun makes its way across the sky.

“How are you?” fWhip eventually asks. “I haven’t bored you, have I?”

Jimmy, taking an unfortunately-timed swig of his drink, chokes a little on it as he turns to fWhip quickly. “No!” he cries. “No, love, not at all. There’s so many things to look at, is all. And I’ve never been much for racing, I won’t lie. Even Lizzie’s swimming races aren’t my cuppa tea.”

“Fair enough,” fWhip nods, swinging their feet. “What is your cup of tea, then? There’s games and stuff, we can go find some.”

“That sounds nice,” Jimmy agrees, fanning himself with his hand. “Yeesh, it’s hot.”

“Is it?” fWhip squints at the sky.

“You Southerners have hotter summers overall, I think,” Jimmy says. “Or at least, being further from the sea makes it worse. Gods, you’re still wearing a jacket.”

fWhip can’t help but laugh, and leans their head on Jimmy’s shoulder as their partner cools off.

--- --- ---

They wander the streets now, fWhip letting Jimmy gawk at all the displays. Jimmy holds their hand the whole time, and it makes fWhip’s heart beat so fast.

Jimmy stops to admire a jewellery stand, around them people of all ages are playing games, and some kids have just pulled out a long jump rope. fWhip tries to follow Jimmy’s eye to see what his partner is looking for here.

fWhip did make Jimmy’s brooch themself, but that by no means makes fWhip a jeweller. His hands are stained with redstone, gunpower, dyes, and a few burn scars. He makes weapons, first and foremost. Making Jimmy’s brooch was… meditative. But if Jimmy likes Grimlandic jewellery, maybe fWhip should learn more about it.

Jimmy lets fWhip stand there, losing his interest even as fWhip starts inspecting a few pieces to see how they were made. They even into a discussion with the stall-holder, but Jimmy notices something, and disappears from their side.

fWhip doesn’t notice right away.

It’s when the children jumping rope behind him giggle and whoop, before the children’s rhyme starts up again, louder and more gleeful, and the vendor glances over fWhip’s shoulder and does a double take.

fWhip turns, now, and blinks. A smile stretches over his face as he sees Jimmy, robes hitched up over his knees, jumping rope perfectly in time with the kid’s chant.

Jimmy even manages to jump and spin between beats of the rope on the ground, which earns a scream of excitement from the kids around him.

“Faster!” Jimmy calls.

The kids spinning the jump rope grin, and the rest of the kids clap in time with the increased speed. fWhip folds his arms as he watches Jimmy keep up.

Even adults gather around, now, as the Codfather keeps skipping rope, and the kids keep getting faster to see how much Jimmy can manage.

Jimmy eventually loses grip on his own robes and trips on them, and fortunately he doesn’t fall over, but he does get wacked with the jump rope, which makes all the kids laugh.

“Wow!” says one holding the rope. “That was awesome, Mr Codfather!”

Jimmy bends in half, leaning on his knees, gasping for air, but he offers the kid a grin and a thumbs up.

And then fWhip sees all the kids expectantly turn and look at him.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh, no.”

“C’mon, Count fWhip,” Jimmy teases breathlessly. “Not even once?”

fWhip’s wings press in close, and they get met with a chorus of pouting children.

“Please?” says the other one holding the rope. “We don’t even have to go as fast!”

fWhip rubs his temple, before he approaches, and Jimmy pulls him in.

“We could do doubles!” Jimmy says, his breathing back under control. “What do you say?”

“I say I’ll fall on you,” fWhip grumbles, but looks around at the expectant faces. “What the hell, why not? When’s the last time I jumped rope?”

Jimmy takes the time to hitch up his robes a bit more securely, before looking at fWhip expectantly.

fWhip shakes their head but smiles back, and nods.

The rope starts. They both clear the first jump. fWhip centres in on the rhythm, and ends up staring at where the rope hits the cobblestones, focussing intently.

One of the kids starts up a chant fWhip remembers from his own childhood.

“Teddy bear, teddy bear, turn around!”

fWhip bites his lip, and it takes him about three jumps to turn on the spot, but they manage it. Jimmy copies him, grinning.

“Teddy bear, teddy bear, touch the ground!”

The step involves leaning down and, well, doing as the instruction says without getting hit by the rope. fWhip does it, and Jimmy copies him.

“Teddy bear, teddy bear, climb up the stairs!”

fWhip raises his knees in a couple of high-step jumps. Jimmy laughs at the step and mirrors him.

“Teddy bear, teddy bear, say your prayers!”

fWhip bends over, pressing their hands together in a prayer gesture, and Jimmy mimics him.

“Teddy bear, teddy bear, turn out the light!”

fWhip mimes pulling on the cord of a redstone lamp to turn it off. Jimmy only just manages to avoid hitting the rope as it goes over their head.

“Teddy bear, teddy bear, say goodnight!”

It’s the last line of the chant, and fWhip… fWhip isn’t as young as he used to be. He can’t remember what the last action is, or if there is one, so they tilt their head to the side and put their hands under it like a pillow, miming lying down. Jimmy laughs delightedly, and copies the gesture.

The chant’s over, but the kids keep going, starting to chant their way through the alphabet in time with the rope thudding on the ground.

fWhip ends up mouthing along.

“A… B… C... D… E… F-!”

fWhip mistimes the jump, stumbles, and trips. Jimmy squawks as the rope tangles around both of them, pulled from the hands of the kids swinging it, and Jimmy tries to catch fWhip as the Count almost falls over.

They end up leaning against each other, laughing.

“Sorry!” fWhip says, looking up at Jimmy from where they’re pressed to his chest, tangled up in jump rope as they are. “Sorry, I never was any good at this.”

Jimmy just laughs fondly, and pulls them in close.

“It’s alright,” Jimmy says. “It was cute. So therefore it was worth it.”

The kids hurry to untie their leader, apologising, but fWhip also gets a hail of ‘that was so cool!’s and ‘you know that rhyme?! That’s awesome!’s

fWhip laughs as Jimmy casts his eye around.

“A drink would be nice,” he says.

“Let’s find something.”

As the skipping games pick up behind them, Jimmy leads fWhip over to a cart he spotted that’s handing out water.

--- --- ---

The day has been long and gorgeous and full of fun, but as the sun sets, fWhip’s nerves really take over.

Jimmy side-eyes them as they reach automatically for their scarf – to wring it in their hands – and realise they’re not wearing it, and stick their hands in their pockets instead. He unfolds and folds his wings instead.

“You good, love?”

“The fireworks,” fWhip says, glancing at the sky. “They’re happening a half-hour after sundown. I’m… It should be good.”

“Knowing you, it should be better than good,” Jimmy bumps their hip with his. “Worried?”

“Not for any good reason.”

“Bad ones are fun, too.”

That makes fWhip snort, and he turns to Jimmy properly.

“The Count has many roles and duties,” they say. “But… planning the fireworks is my favourite one, I think.”

Jimmy’s smile is soft, under the Codfather head.

“I know what you mean,” he says, looking around. “Sometimes, our jobs are… just, the best.”

“A high honour,” fWhip agrees. “And… Jimmy?”

Jimmy tilts his head at fWhip.

“I love you,” fWhip says.

Jimmy’s smile spreads. “I love you too,” he says, and he takes fWhip’s wrist and gently pulls until fWhip’s hand emerges from his pocket, and Jimmy takes the time to lace their fingers together. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for coming.”

fWhip glances around again, at the sky. The best places will already be crowded with people – some people reserve their spot for the fireworks a good hour or so in advance. He… he has a special, more private place in mind, though.

“Do you want to go find somewhere to sit?” Jimmy asks, and fWhip laughs, because Jimmy read their thoughts. “I could do with a sit-down, honestly.”

“Yeah, we can,” fWhip says, before they fidget a little.

Jimmy pauses for a second, before he snorts in amusement and stops walking, making fWhip stop too. fWhip looks up at Jimmy with wide eyes, the unshakeable feeling of being caught plotting settling on their shoulders.

“You have a plan,” Jimmy sing-songs.

fWhip can’t keep the giggle that bubbles out of him down, and he looks down, shoulders rising, wings enveloping them just a little, sheepish.

“Yeah,” fWhip says. “Just a little.”

Jimmy waits, expectantly, and when fWhip doesn’t look up right away, Jimmy steps in closer, and tilts their head up with his free hand. It knocks the breath out of fWhip, and they can only stare in wonder at Jimmy.

“Tell me,” Jimmy says.

“The roof,” fWhip blurts, before he goes red. “I was thinking I could fly us up to the roof, and we could get the best view from up there.”

Jimmy softens.

“That sounds wonderful,” he agrees.

“Only thing is, it’ll be loud,” fWhip warns, glancing up at the sky again.

And now, Jimmy laughs openly, head tipping back, before he shakes his head and shoots fWhip a look.

“fWhip,” he says dryly. “Love. We’ve both lost enough hearing from your explosions that it’s not going to matter.”

fWhip laughs back, though he goes a little redder.

“Alright, alright, fair point,” he says. “Sorry.”

Jimmy flicks his nose in vengeance, then holds his arms out expectantly towards them.

“Well?” he says. “Roof time.”

fWhip grins, and scoops Jimmy up, cradling him in their arms bridal style, and quickly double-checking they aren’t going to hit anything around them with their wings. The coast is clear, so fWhip spreads their wings and takes off.

Jimmy clings to him, arms around his neck, but leans his head against fWhip’s.

The flight is short. fWhip lets Jimmy down on the roof of fWhip’s Manor, and steadies Jimmy as the Codfather gets comfortable on the slates. fWhip settles beside him, and leans back, tucking their hands behind their head.

The stars seem even brighter up here.

When fWhip was first gifted his wings, his main form of practice was flying up and down from this roof. They liked being up here at night, admiring the constellations and pretending he knew any of them. Getting down in the dark was less fun.

In the past, he’d brought Gem up here with him, and even Sausage a couple times, and Gem had gladly told him the constellation names, and Sausage had told him the myths behind a few of them.

Jimmy doesn’t say anything. He just looks at fWhip looking at the stars, and the smile Jimmy gives them is tender.

fWhip checks their wristwatch again.

“Just a few minutes, now,” he says anxiously.

His anxiety, however, is melted away by Jimmy sitting up and carefully removing the Codfather Head. Jimmy puts it in his inventory before he turns to fWhip, and fWhip gets to have his breath stolen all over again for how Jimmy’s face is lit up in the moonlight.

“You’re beautiful.”

fWhip says it without thinking.

This time, when Jimmy smiles, fWhip can see how his eyes glitter, how the skin around them crinkles, the dimples on his cheeks, the way his too-sharp teeth glint.

“So are you.” Jimmy then takes a breath in, holds it, and lets it out, eyes closing. “Gods above, I… I can’t believe it, fWhip.”

“Can’t believe what?” fWhip asks, scooting in a little closer.

“Can’t believe we’re here,” Jimmy replies, opening his eyes again, and fWhip’s heart beats so fast in this moment, and so loud that they’d be surprised if Jimmy can’t hear it. “Can’t believe we’re at peace. Can’t believe we’re together.”

Then Jimmy’s eyes flick down to fWhip’s lips, and Jimmy’s expression sharpens into a grin.

“Can’t believe you’re going to kiss me right now,” he adds.

fWhip snorts, but gives in without complaint, shivering as Jimmy pulls fWhip in closer, and they kiss. It’s gentle and sweet, at least at first, until Jimmy makes a sound in the back of his throat that makes fWhip’s knees go weak, and he lets Jimmy pull them on top of him, and deepen the kiss.

fWhip’s eyes drift close, they cling to Jimmy’s clothes as they lose themself in it, long and slow, and when they pull apart for air, fWhip studies Jimmy’s face.

“What do you see?” Jimmy asks. His voice is so soft.

“Something worth remembering forever and ever,” fWhip replies, equally as low. He almost dips down for another kiss before-

BANG!

fWhip jumps as the firework show begins, and he scrambles off Jimmy so he can watch it too, which makes Jimmy laugh and scoot up beside them. fWhip puts a wing around Jimmy as he snuggles up close so they can block the wind.

Jimmy laces their fingers together again, squeezing once.

They watch the fireworks in the quiet, there, alone on the roof. The crowd below cheers for the bigger ones, but all of them are beautiful. Jimmy watches ones that fill the sky with glimmering jewels, ones that streak across the sky in a trail of stardust, ones that whistle and pop with the most tremendous of sparkles. Jimmy doesn’t have a favourite. The whole display is stunningly gorgeous.

Throughout it, though, Jimmy catches fWhip shooting him anxious side-eyes, trying to judge if Jimmy is enjoying himself. So, Jimmy squeezes their hand again, and lets the awe he’s feeling shine through in his voice.

“It’s beautiful, fWhip,” he says earnestly. “You’ve done a splendid job.”

fWhip absolutely lights up under Jimmy’s words, and they finally relax, curling up to Jimmy to watch their hard work come to fruition.

“Here’s to Progress,” he mumbles.

“Here’s to life,” Jimmy agrees, before he rests his head against fWhip’s again. He couldn’t have imagined a better day spent here, with fWhip, if he tried. “Here’s to us. To you. I love you, fWhip.”

fWhip looks away from the fireworks to look at a far prettier sight, and smiles up at Jimmy.

“I love you too, Jimmy,” they say.

And so they curl up here, content and together, and for once, fully at peace.

#djpurple3's writing yo #empires smp #empires s1 #fwhimmy #empires fic #food mention #codfather jimmy #count fwhip #esmp #empiresshipping

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deityoftherain · 4 months ago

Text

accidental sleepover - Fwhornoth Empires Fanfic

Rating: Teen

Relationship: Other

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Status: Completed Oneshot

Word Count: 3,512

Summary: Xornoth and Fwhip met frequently during the events of all is fair in love and war, working tirelessly to stop the {revelers} and bring a sense of peace back to their respective empires. As a byproduct of working tirelessly, their meetings often ran late, leaving them sleep deprived, exhausted, loose-lipped, and maybe a tad flirty.

Click here to read the whole au, but feel free to read standalone

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @welcome-back-to-hoimycraf !!!!

Full fanfic underneath the cut! Please reblog, leave kudos on the AO3 fic slash notes/likes here on Tumblr, comment either place, and etc if you enjoy the story :D

Note: They are speaking elvish when the words are in {brackets} and common when they are not. Xornoth is an elf and Fwhip is an elfling (half elf, half human)

“It’s getting late,” Xornoth murmured, rubbing at his tired eyes. In his defense, it was the middle of the night. If he were to glance out the window, he would be met with nothing but dark skies and distant stars.

Xornoth was sitting at a meeting table within Grimland’s castle, elbows on the smooth surface and long purple hair falling into his face. His wings were spread out, laying limply on the armrests beside him because Grimland didn’t have many backless chairs. The Magenta bloodline had too much human in it to make wings not a significant genetic probability, meaning the Grimland castle didn’t tend to cater towards those with wings.

Normally, he wouldn’t allow himself to be so informal during a meeting with another empire, but he and Fwhip had literally been there all day, and he wished he was exaggerating that fact. They were trying to figure out their mutual problem plaguing Rivendell and Grimland, and it was taking far much more effort than it should. Why couldn’t the citizens causing problems protest peacefully instead of taking such a violent and destructive route?

“When has it being late ever stopped us?” Fwhip remarked, leaning back in his chair with two chair legs in the air and his notebook resting on his freckled face. Xornoth wasn’t sure how he could keep his neck bent back like that without it hurting, much less be comfortable. Part of Xornoth hoped that Fwhip would prop himself and the chair back too far, causing him to fall backwards. It would be funny, at the very least. Hilarious, even. Xornoth could use a good laugh.

Fwhip’s ginger hair was messy and unkempt, moreso now than before because his goggles had been discarded on the table’s surface. They often acted like a headband when he wasn’t using them in the forge, but he removed them over an hour ago because they were starting to irritate his head. He had been wearing them since he got dressed the morning before, after all.

Xornoth had expected Fwhip to remove his signature red scarf as well, assuming that would be even more irritating, but it stayed wrapped around his neck. It wasn’t as tightly bound as it usually was, though. One would only have to tug at the end with little force and it would pull off of him. With the scarf as it was, Xornoth could count freckles usually hidden, and he did in hopes of keeping his mind awake.

“Unfortunately true,” Xornoth sighed, stretching out his arms and wings at the same time. A few joints in his shoulders popped and the muscles around his wing roots ached something fierce. Xornoth winced from the cracking, muttering elven curses underneath his breath. He needed to see a healer or something again to see if they could ease the pain. All of this excess flying back and forth that he’d been engaging in lately was causing far too many problems. “I should head back though. I can only look at your face so much before I start going insane.”

“Xornoth.” Fwhip sat up to stare at him, deadpan as the notebook fell to his lap and the chair dropped so all four legs were on the ground. They’ve ditched formal titles long ago, not bothering calling each other “King” or “Count”. “Are you really thinking of flying back to Rivendell in the middle of the night? I can guarantee that most people are asleep right now!” Xornoth simply sucked in his lips and scrunched his nose, nonverbally communicating to Fwhip that that was exactly what his plan was. Fwhip pinched the bridge of his nose with an exasperated groan. “Xornoth, I know how long it takes to fly to your castle— it’s a long ass time, I’ve done it myself too many times to count— and you don’t even have one of my speedy rocket fueled elytras to help speed it up! Plus, your back is clearly bothering you— you’re not subtle— and it’s way too dark to see.”

Xornoth flattened his mouth into a thin line, summoning some fire onto his fingertips for a moment before extinguishing the flames. “What do you suppose I do then? It’s far too late to bother your servants to prepare a room, if they really are asleep as you say everyone is...” “You’ll stay in my room, duh,” Fwhip rolled his eyes, talking as if it's the most obvious thing ever. “My bed is huge! I am Count, after all. And, if cuddling with the homies is too gay for you, I can go spend the night in Gem’s room. I’m sure she won’t mind; we’ve done it before.” Xornoth eyed the elfling suspiciously. “Why would you give up your room for me? Or be willing to sleep beside me?” “You elves are too skeptical,” Fwhip started to speak. “You’re half elf,” Xornoth interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Po-tay-toe, po-tot-toe,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Look, Xornoth, I know we’ve had some arguments and some little tiffs in the past, but I don't hate you. I never have and, frankly, you annoy me a lot less than some of the other emperors. I’d much rather share a bed with you than, say, Sausage. That guy has some problems, let me tell you, and he’s pretty handsy when he’s sleep deprived.” Ignoring the bit about the ruler of Mythland, that was high praise coming from Fwhip, especially from Fwhip to Xornoth. Rivendell and Grimland, in general, had never been too close to each other despite being next door neighbors in terms of empire location. That relationship only soured after an incident between their respective siblings, Scott and Gem, but that was over eight years ago.

“‘Sides, you are queerplatonic partners with Pearl,” Fwhip shrugged, continuing his sleep deprived ramble, “and she’s more or less like a— I wouldn’t say sister for we’re not that close— but she’s like a cousin to me. Eh, maybe not a cousin either, but you know what I mean. We’re close. If she likes you that much, there must be something there. Plus, I’ve spent far too much time looking at your face to not start to like what I see. If I didn’t, I may have gone fuckin’ insane. And, and we can just be in a mutual agreement that we don’t talk about this after tomorrow morning. Simple as that.”

Xornoth ran his tongue against the back of his teeth, keeping himself collected despite the fact Fwhip had basically said he found him attractive, that knowledge doing Aeor knows what to him. While he may be aromantic, that didn’t mean he didn’t experience other forms of attraction. He would be lying if he claimed he hadn’t felt something towards Fwhip as well, but he had simply pushed those thoughts away. Xornoth never thought it may be reciprocated, and he was with Pearl, though they both have discussed the topic of potential polyamory in the past…

Still, Xornoth didn’t acknowledge it, tucking that information away to not be addressed later. Instead, he let a teasing smirk grow on his face as he raised an eyebrow. “Are you claiming you aren’t already ‘fuckin’ insane’?” Fwhip snorted at his comment and flipped him off, causing Xornoth to snicker in response. Fwhip’s face contorted as he tried to muffle a yawn. “Ugh, I’m beat. You can sleep here or sleep with me, but I’m going to get ready for bed. Make your choice; I’m not going to waste my time trying to convince you anymore.” Xornoth had spent plenty of nights fast asleep, slumped forward onto his desk, and it wasn’t something he wanted to willingly repeat. His back hated whenever he did that, making sure to express its discontent with sharp pains and stiff muscles the next day.

That being said, he made his choice and followed Fwhip toward the royal wing. The aesthetics of the halls were similar to the rest of the castle, dimly lit, with lots of sculptures, and red and black theming. There were plenty of redstone elements scattered around as well, but Xornoth wasn’t sure if they had always been there or if they were something Fwhip had added sometime during his rule. He didn’t ask.

Moving only made Xornoth more aware of his sore limbs, exhaustion pulling at him with every step. Xornoth tried to pretend it wasn’t hurting him, but he must not have been doing a very good enough job at it. Maybe it was because of that, or maybe it was because he’d spent enough time around the other emperor that Fwhip was starting to pick up on his mannerisms. Either way, Xornoth recognized that Fwhip noticed he was struggling, but that knowledge stayed unspoken between them… at least for now.

“I don’t think I have any clothes that can fit you,” Fwhip commented as they entered the room. “I could maybe find some pants, but I don’t have anything that would accommodate your wings.”

“I’ll just take off a few layers and sleep in what I have.” Rivendell was in a much colder place than Grimland, so Rivendellians tended to wear a lot more layers no matter what time of year it was.

Fwhip nodded in acknowledgement before grabbing some garments to change into and going behind the privacy screen. Since Xornoth wasn’t fully stripping, he stayed where he was to “change”, putting all the extra clothing and jewelry in a neat pile. Luckily, his base trousers were made from fine wool, making them not the worst thing to sleep in, and his base shirt was a backless halter top, giving his wings plenty of space to move around

“Uh, Xornoth?” Fwhip had been part way into changing when he spoke up, clearly hesitant.

“Yes?” Xornoth paused what he was doing. He had sat down on one side of his bed, idly straightening out some of his feathers.

“You know I… bind, right?” Xornoth hated the way Fwhip’s voice went small. “To make my… pecs… flatter?”

“So does Pearl, occasionally.” Xornoth knew first hand that gender was a strange concept. Personally, he didn’t really understand having a strong association to a gender as a gender apathetic agender person, but he knew many other people had such a thing. While strange, it was also, at its core principles, a simple concept. Fwhip said he was a boy and introduced himself as a boy, so he was a boy. It was as easy as that! It didn’t matter whatever he chose to do to present how he wanted to. “I’m not going to judge, nor do I care what’s under your shirt, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not sure why you care about my opinion, though.”

Fwhip scoffed, though Xornoth didn’t detect any scorn with it. “Well, I’m not binding to bed, not wanting to fuck up my ribs and all that, so if I catch you staring, we’re going to have to have a chat.” “If I stare, it’ll be respectfully,” Xornoth decided to tease, feeling comfortable enough (and maybe a tad delirious) to jest with Fwhip. He seemed open to it based on his comment and tone, at the very least. Plus, teasing each other on and off was part of what their working relationship was built on.

Thankfully, Fwhip was receptive to it, proven by a loud, sputtering yet amused laugh. Xornoth grinned at that, pleased that he managed to put Fwhip’s concerns to rest. Shy and hesitant weren’t good looks on such a typically confident and unapologetically brash man. “Can I come out?” “Is you being queer not already common knowledge?” Xornoth asked rhetorically before he fully thought it through.

“Coming out” was a term used for when people became public with whatever terms they used, though it was more often used when it came to gender than sexuality. There was no “default sexuality”, but some areas subscribed heavily to gender roles, making the term needed in order to describe an experience many face. Xornoth understood it only partly because, being gender apathetic but agender, he tended to use masculine terms for himself simply because it was easier than “correcting” everyone.

“I’m flipping you off from behind the privacy divider,” Fwhip informed him with a cackle. “I just wanted to know if you were dressed, dumbass. I don’t know about you, but I would like to get to my bed.”

“Yeah, I only took off a few layers. You can come out,” Xornoth couldn’t resist continuing the bit. He knew his public image could be intimidating and put together, and he very much was like that at times, but, when in the company of those he was comfortable around, he liked being more… silly? Who knows, it was probably all those years he spent around Pearl rubbing off on him.

“You’re impossible.” Xornoth could almost hear Fwhip’s eye roll as he walked around the privacy wall and into view.

Neither of them spoke as they took in each other’s appearance, both in a state of dress (or, perhaps, undress?) they weren’t used to seeing the other in. Fwhip’s heterochromatic eyes wandered from Xornoth’s exposed collarbone all the way down his bare arms to his hands. Xornoth found himself enjoying the attention.

Fwhip, for better or for worse, was wearing an oversized baggy shirt, but he was wearing shorts. Xornoth didn’t think he’s ever seen Fwhip in shorts, even during the summer months. Was it just something he did to sleep? Either way, Xornoth was pleased to notice that he also had freckles sprinkled on his toned legs. Speaking of his legs, Xornoth had never realized just how much strength Fwhip carried in them. He knew that Fwhip’s arms got worked out a lot while he messed around in the royal forge, but his legs must have received similar treatment over the years.

Fwhip cleared his throat and they both tore their gazes away from one another, neither acknowledging that they had been checking the other emperor out. It’s not like they did anything wrong! Xornoth has admired plenty of people’s beauty before. It was only natural, especially since elves were known to be inhumanly beautiful.

At least they were according to some ancient human folklore from sometime long before the empires were as they were today. Based on experience, Xornoth would like to confirm, but he’s also spotted plenty of beautiful fae, humans, and oceanfolk in the past. There were also gnomes, but they were far too short for him so he barely glanced in their direction unless it was for something political or business related.

“Before we go to bed, I have some muscle soreness cream if you want me to rub that in,” Fwhip offered, as he opened a drawer and pulled out a small tin. “Gem concocted it for me to help when I overdo it in the forge. It works really well and it is fast acting, lasting for about twelve hours before the effects start to wear off.” “Uh,” Xornoth hesitated dumbly, not used to people other than Scott and Pearl touching his back, especially not so close to his wing roots. He fluffed out his wings subconsciously before biting down hard on his tongue as a wave of agony shot throughout his back and wings in all directions. It’ll be fine. It wasn’t like Fwhip was going to preen his wings! “If you want to, sure.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t willing, {wings,}” Fwhip tutted, sharply outlining a circle in the air as a direction. “Now turn around.” “{Wings?}” Xornoth repeated the nickname, highly amused. Still, he obeyed, turning his exposed back to Fwhip. From there, he slipped into using elven instead of common, like they had been using the entire time before. “{Did you really use ‘wings’ as a nickname?}”

“{Yeah, so?}” Fwhip, stubborn as always, stuck by the choice of name usage he made with his sleepy brain. He removed the top to the tin and scooped some of the ointment onto his fingers. “{What, would you prefer ‘back muscles'? Or ‘angel’?}”

“{‘Angel’? Ha, alright! I didn’t think you thought that high of me, rose boy.}” Xornoth took the opportunity to throw in his own nickname for Fwhip since the opportunity presented itself to him. They were terms they would likely only use in private to avoid the other emperors’ unnecessary comments and input, but Xornoth quite liked the idea of Fwhip calling him “{wings}” or “{angel}”, more than he probably should.

“{My view of you is actually on the floor, if you couldn’t tell by how I’m letting you share my bed tonight,}” Fwhip quipped back sarcastically as he lathered the ointment generously around the wing roots. Xornoth could feel with great sensitivity whenever Fwhip used broad movements and when he ran his fingers against the natural curves of his defined back muscles from a near lifetime of flying. “{‘Fallen Angel’ would probably be more accurate, but I can’t be bothered. It’s too long.}”

“{Mhm, okay, sure, rose boy. Whatever makes you sleep better at night,}” Xornoth dismissed with a “I know the truth” inflection to his voice. If Fwhip’s hands weren’t currently occupied, Xornoth would expect him to flip him off again.

They didn’t speak beyond that, falling into a peaceful silence as Fwhip rubbed the ointment into his back. Xornoth could feel it working its magic, literally, and it helped him relax, so much so that he struggled to stay upright. His eyes fluttered close, focusing on nothing but the pleasant sensations of Fwhip’s touch and the ointment’s effects. Eventually, Fwhip pulled his hands away, followed by the soft sound of the lid being snapped to its tin. Xornoth couldn’t help but be a little disappointed at that.

“We should sleep,” Fwhip murmured, his exhaustion seeping through his partly slurred words. “My headache is only gettin’ worse.”

“M’kay,” Xornoth murmured back, already half asleep. He staggered to his feet so he could actually get under the blankets instead of simply sitting on top of them. He climbed into bed, facing toward Fwhip so his wings could stretch out off the bed. Xornoth didn’t want to accidentally smack Fwhip with his wings in his sleep. “G’night, Fwhip.”

Fwhip didn’t answer at first, and Xornoth didn’t open his eyes to see if Fwhip was still awake. Instead, he let himself start drifting off, and that was when he heard an airy reply, so low that Xornoth wasn’t sure if Fwhip thought he would hear it, “{Goodnight, angel.}”

No more words were exchanged between them that night, both emperors falling fast asleep. Now, if they stayed on their own sides of the large bed or not is for anyone to speculate. If they happened to become tangled up with each other, unconsciously cuddling each other in their sleep, that was for them to know and to not acknowledge the next day…

#deity writes #tales of the empires au #empires xornoth #empires fwhip #fwhornoth #empiresblr #empires fanfic #empires smp fanfic #empireshipping #empires au #count fwhip #xornoth #fanfic #fanfiction #empiresfic #empiresshipping #empiresshipblr #gift fic #fwornoth

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