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meow-bebe · 4 years

Text

stellatus

Pairing: Lee Felix x artist!reader

Genre: fluffffff

Warnings: literally nothing. this is so sweet asghk we’re channeling the cute here. like honestly not even my usual cussing

Word count: 3614 (!!!)

A/n: remember that idea I posted a while ago? well heres the fic! Im suuuper proud of this one because its the longest thing ive written for this blog (3k! more than 3k! that makes me so happy ahhhh!) and also I just really love it! usually I don't particularly like my own writing but this one I feel like is my best work. also about half way through writing this I found this amazing drawing by @panini-byanyothername which gave me the encouragement to finish this and also deserves all of the love because its an amazing piece of art! it was drawn based on another fanfic but its super pretty and is very close to what my story is about so I thought it would be appropriate to include a link

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stēllātus; first/second-declension adjective starry, stellate, starred

“I have an idea,” you announced, bouncing with excitement as you ran into the room where Felix was currently sat at your desk on his computer. Latching your arms around Felix’s neck from behind, you rested your chin gently on his shoulder.

“And what would that be?”he asked, spinning the office chair he sat in and successfully rotating within your arms.

“I want to paint on you!” you said brightly as Felix’s hands came to rest on your waist as you snuggled closer, plopping down into his lap.

“What?” Felix asked, slightly startled by your bold proposition.

“I want to paint on you,” you repeated, “like, kind of use you as a human canvas?” It came out more as a question than a statement, and you grinned awkwardly, the incredulous tone of his voice making you shy.

“I’m not opposed,” Felix mused, and you immediately brightened back up again. “Why though?”

“Well,” you said, fingers playing with the strings of his hoodie, “first of all you’re the only person I have on hand at the moment.” You giggled, and Felix raised a hand to his chest in mock offense. “But I’ve always loved painting on skin. There’s some strange appeal that comes with turning another human being into art. Unfortunately, I’ve only ever done it on myself before, but I had this really amazing idea a while ago and have held onto it forever and you are absolutely perfect for it.” You finished by pressing a sweet kiss to his nose. “So?” you asked eagerly, “what do you say? Let me paint on you?”

Felix chuckled lightly, and you could feel the deep vibrations where your hands were set on his chest. “Aren’t you going to tell me what your amazing idea is?”

“Nope!” you said cheerfully, popping the ‘p’ as you smiled happily, “You’ll just have to say yes and see what I do. It will be beautiful, I promise.”

Felix playfully narrowed his eyes at you. “You won’t do something stupid or make me look weird?”

“I would never,” you said, sticking out your littlest finger, “pinky swear. And anyway, nothing could ever make you look weird, pretty boy.” Felix’s eyes widened at your compliment, a light shade of red creeping across his cheeks as he wrapped his pinky around yours. No matter how often you complimented him he always had the sweetest flustered reactions.

“What are we waiting for then?” you practically vaulted out of his lap, tangling your fingers together and tugging on his hand to try and get him to follow you.

“What, now?” he asked, a bewildered look on his face.

“Yes, now,” you said, pulling on his hand again, “I can’t wait any longer, I’m dying to finally do this.”

“Alright,” Felix said, laughing as he stood up from the desk, whatever he was working on earlier abandoned as you enthusiastically pulled him along to the spare bedroom turned art studio.

“Here,” you said, tossing one of the already paint-stained cushions you often put to use out of the closet, “sit down while I find what I need.”

Felix grabbed the cushion and set it on the large, clear plastic mat you always kept set out over the hardwood floors. There were several places you had set up for painting, laying on the floor and the easel by the window being two of your favorites, and you rotated between them depending on how you were feeling that day. It seemed like today was a sprawled across the floor day, although that made sense, Felix reasoned, if you were going to be painting on him. He sat down and watched as you zipped back and forth across the room, picking through your jars of brushes and bins of paints to find the supplies you would be using.

Thrusting one of the mason jar mugs you used to wash out your brushes at Felix, you asked, “Could you go fill this up with water for me?” He nodded compliantly, pulling himself up off the floor and traipsing across the hall to the bathroom to fill the glass mug with water. When he came back into the room, you had set up a jar of brushes to pick through, tossed a few tubes of paint to the floor next to the two cushions, and were currently spread across a decent portion of the floor with one of the large folders you had labeled as “inspiration and references.” These were collections of anything you could possibly want to give you ideas or utilize in your art, ranging from newspaper clippings, old photographs, passages from books and poems scrawled on torn notebook paper (or on the more rare occasion, printed out), and absolutely filled to the brim with doodles and practice drawings. You were a firm believer in the idea that anything could be reused or help inspire you in the future, which ultimately lead to your large collection. Usually you tried to date the bits of paper you tucked away, but it didn’t help with your chronic lack of organization.

“What are you searching for?” Felix questioned, assuming that you wouldn’t answer but asking anyway.

“Can’t tell,” you said, eyes twinkling with a spark of mischief, “it’s supposed to be a surprise, remember?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop asking. What do you want me to do then?” he asked, looking around the room and wondering what you had planned for him.

“Just sit, I’ll find it in a moment.” Felix settled himself back down on the floor as you continued to rifle through the folder barely containing the papers inside it. He watched as you carefully separated a few glossy photos that had stuck together and shuffled through a stack of what appeared to be old school work. “Aha!” you shouted victoriously, startling Felix and holding a few taped together pieces of paper in the air.

“What’s that?” he asked, his curiosity over both the project itself and the haphazardly folded but carefully assembled papers in your grasp too much to handle.

To his surprise, you gave in this time. “Star chart!” you chirped, obviously too pleased with yourself to continue hiding your intentions. “I’ve always loved space, specifically stars, and I took an astronomy class in high school but never got rid of the papers that weren’t just worksheets. I always hoped that someday I would be able to use them for painting. And here we are!” Felix smiled at the happy grin lighting up your whole face, your excitement too endearing to not acknowledge.

“Cute.” Felix grinned happily as you shuffled over to where you had set up all of your supplies. All of a sudden his smile turned bashful, stammering slightly as he asked, “Should I like, take my shirt off or something then?”

You giggled, setting down the star chart and plucking a thin marker from amongst the plethora of materials. “Not this time. I want to do your face!”

“What?” Felix gasped, eyes widened in surprise.

“I want to paint on your face!” you repeated, excitement fading as you rolled the marker between your hands, suddenly nervous. “Your freckles, specifically. Only if you’ll let me though.” You fidgeted slightly, focused on the marker before looking up at Felix who still wore a slightly startled expression.

“My - my freckles?” he asked, and you nodded.

“Yeah. Finding patterns that match my constellations-” you patted the papers sitting beside you - “and then turning your face into a little galaxy.”

“Y/n,” he said softly, and you braced yourself to be turned down, “I think that’s the most amazing thing you’ve ever come up with. Why would I ever say no?”

Your eyes shot up to find Felix’s, and you could see all of the adoration that he held for you in their depths. “Really?” you asked, pulling yourself into his lap and tucking your arms around his waist.

“Really,” he confirmed, sealing a gentle kiss against your mouth. “Now, how do you want to go about this?”

You clamored off of Felix, grabbing the marker from where you had dropped it at his side and snatching the star chart into your hands before thrusting it at Felix. “Pick a few that you like, and I’ll see if what I can do to weave them out of your freckles,” you said, placing the folded chart into his hands and backing off to begin rifling through the paint tubes you had chosen. “Try not to do anything too difficult, I think the simpler ones would look better for this.”

Leaving him to pour over the constellations, you realized that you had overlooked finding a palette earlier in your scramble to find paints, so you pulled yourself up off the floor to move to the closet once again. Shoving a few bins of paints and stacks of assorted canvases to the side, you finally found the collection of palettes stored near the back of the shelf. Just barely managing to get your finger under the one on the bottom (the shelf was slightly too high, not enough to really bother you, but it could be a minor inconvenience sometimes), you dragged the precariously balanced stack towards yourself.

“What about Lyra?” Felix called from behind you.

“That would work,” you mused, shuffling through the pile in search of one not too caked in dried paint.

“Or Aquila?”

“Also fine,” you responded, selecting a mostly clean palette. “I really want to try Draco, so we’ll do that one first and then fit the others on after that. Sound good?”

"Anything you want to do is good with me," he replied, and you turned to see the pretty blush staining his cheeks.

"But you're the one making this project come to life," you said, crossing the room in a few steps and settling down in front of him. "You should have some input."

"I'm merely the final product in this situation. You, y/n, are the one bringing it to life." Now it was your turn to grow flustered by his compliments.

"Oh hush," you said, searching on the floor for the marker you had set down.

Finding your marker, you uncapped it and scooted closer to Felix. "Ready?" you asked.

He looked at the marker warily. "I thought you were painting."

"I am painting, but I have to sketch it out first," you laughed. "I always do."

"Oh," he said, looking down shyly. He always loved to watch you paint, however paying attention to the process was something else entirely. "Well go on then."

Studying his face carefully, you placed a small dot on top of a freckle close to the top of his cheek. Glancing back at the star chart, you drew another right under it, and awkwardly angled your pen to try and reach better. Pulling the papers mapping out your reference closer, you shuffled to the side and drew another dot.

"This isn't working very well," you said, taking Felix's chin in your hand and tilting his head to the side to try and reach better. "I might move you again, so try not to move and tell me if it's too uncomfortable."

Felix nodded in response just as you set the tip of the marker against his cheek, leaving a small inky streak down his face. You sighed. "Next time just say you heard me. I'm going to get the rubbing alcohol.” You stood up and headed to the bathroom, opening the cabinet and rummaging around to find the necessary bottle. Finding what you needed, you stood up and crossed the hallway once again to rejoin Felix.

"Here." Felix held out a cotton ball that he had no doubt found in the depths of one of your many bins of random art supplies.

"Thanks," you said quietly, already flipping the top of the rubbing alcohol open and soaking the cotton in liquid before scrubbing it gently across Felix's cheek. He held still for the moment, letting you remove the ink from his face and watching your movements carefully.

"Done?" he asked as you tossed the now somewhat grey cotton ball to the floor.

"Yep." you picked up your marker again. "Good to go?" He nodded again, this time making sure that the marker was nowhere near his skin.

You set back to work, switching between analyzing the star chart and making small dots where you could connect the freckles strewn across Felix's face to resemble the constellation you had picked.

After readjusting Felix's face for the nth time, you sighed. “This isn’t working,” you complained, capping your marker and letting your hand fall into your lap.

“I can tell,” Felix mused. “Any ideas?”

You tilted your head, scanning over his face, and Felix could see the imaginary lightbulb pop up above your head as a grin spread across your face. “Maybe,” you said cheekily, crawling into his lap and once again uncapping your marker. Placing the non inky end into your mouth, you cupped your hands around Felix’s cheeks, gently moving his head around until you think you’ve found the perfect angle. “Don’t move.”

Finding that your new vantage point gave you perfect access to the soft skin of your boyfriend’s cheeks, you steadily set back to work, sketching light lines between the makeshift “stars” that quickly began to fill the freckles dotted across Felix’s face.

“Alright! I’m all done.” You leaned back a bit to admire your work, already extremely happy with the way that everything was turning out. “And now -” you clambered off Felix’s lap to let him stretch while you gathered the scattered supplies necessary for the next step of your project - “we paint!”

Felix giggled at the enthusiasm spreading a happy brightness across your face, bringing you closer for a chaste kiss as soon as you had settled yourself back across him. Clasping the brush you had picked up between your teeth as you seemed prone to do, you grabbed two of the few tubes of paint selected from a small box of metallics Felix wasn’t aware you had and unscrewed the one containing silver paint. Squeezing a small amount onto the palette in your other hand, you replaced the cap and set it to the side.

You pulled the paintbrush from your mouth, and said, “This is it. No going back after I start painting,” you warned, absolutely failing to hide the playful tone in your voice.

“I have sharpie all over my face,” Felix laughed, “I’m pretty sure we reached that point a while ago.”

“Right,” you said, ducking your face a little, trying to hide your embarrassed expression. “Well then, let the painting begin!” Placing a sweet kiss to the tip of Felix’s nose, you swirled your brush through the silver paint and hesitantly hovered over the inked lines connecting his freckles.

“You’re not going to mess this up,” Felix reassured, almost as if he could immediately pick up on your thoughts, “anything you paint is always beautiful and I have complete confidence in you.”

The compliments flustered you even more, and muttering a soft, “Oh, be quiet,” you set your brush down, dragging the bristles across the lines you had laid down earlier.

Felix shuddered under the cool touch of paint stroked across his face, and you backed off for a moment, letting him adjust to the foreign feeling. “Try not to move,” you said, setting down your palette and cupping his jaw sweetly.

You painted thin, careful lines over all of the drawn out constellations, painstakingly smoothing the edges and adding a second layer to those where the black ink was still visible. While you kept all of your focus on the paintbrush in your hand, Felix lost himself in the way that you concentrated on the task you had set yourself to. He loved to watch you paint, and the experience was ten times better when you were right up close. Felix watched your expressions as you immersed yourself in your work, noticing every little forehead scrunch, loving the cute way that you would chew on your lip or poke your tongue out when you got to a particularly tricky spot. There wasn’t enough focus left to be self conscious when you truly absorbed yourself in your art, and it was times like these that Felix thought you were most true to yourself, which lead to it also being when he found you most beautiful. Not that you weren’t other times, certainly, but there was something enchanting about your little expressions and the way your hair would stick up from running your fingers through it. You would always have paint all over your hands, no matter how careful you had been, and when it was still wet the pigment often transferred to your face or hair. Of course you never noticed, and so Felix would let you know you should probably look in a mirror, but only after silently appreciating the way that the smudged paint on your forehead somehow only enhanced the glow of beauty that truly being in your element brought out.

“There we go!” you suddenly exclaimed, startling Felix out of his reverie. “I’m finished with the lines,” you told him, dropping your paintbrush into the cup of water and swishing it around a little. “Now I just have to do the stars.”

You leaned to the side and reached around Felix to grab the other tube of paint you had taken out and added some of the gold to the palette before screwing the cap back on and tossing it next to you. Balancing the palette on your knee, you grabbed the cup containing your brush and dragged it toward you. Quickly and thoroughly rinsing the paint from the bristles, you wiped off the excess water and took Felix’s face into your hand once again, gently maneuvering him back into a position where you could easily paint.

Now used to the feeling, Felix didn’t startle when you began painting again, the cool touch of the paint to his cheek calming. You worked steadily, crossing tiny strokes to form the stars connecting the constellations created by his freckles. Every now and then you would shift in his lap, or make sure that the angle his head was at wasn’t making his neck ache, but for the most part you worked silent and still.

You smoothed tiny lines into shapes, keeping them tidy and occasionally layering more paint on where it had smudged or the first coat had been too thin. After finishing one of the stars higher on his cheek, you leaned back to admire your work.

“I think I’m done,” you said softly, wiping a bit of golden paint off Felix’s forehead.

“Can I see?” he asked, plucking the paint brush out of your fingers and placing it in the paint water.

You nodded, climbing out of his lap and gesturing towards the messy desk in the corner of the room. “There should be a mirror up there. I’m going to go get my Polaroid camera.” You loved that camera, it had been a gift from a friend years ago, and you only pulled it out for special occasions. Felix knew how much it meant to you, and the fact that you wanted to capture this moment with it warmed his heart.

When you returned to the room, Felix was sitting back on the cushions you had pulled out, the small hand mirror next to him on the floor. “It’s beautiful, y/n,” he said, and you smiled at the compliment, whispering a quiet “Thanks.”

“Where do you want me?” Felix asked, nodding towards the camera in your hands.

“By the window, probably,” you said, “I think backlighting would look good for this.” It was reaching late afternoon now, and the sun was beginning to sink to the horizon quickly. The golden light would shine through his hair beautifully, and Felix always glowed in the sunlight.

The two of you moved to the other side of the room, and Felix quickly set himself up in front of the window.

“Should I pose or something?” Felix asked, and you shook your head in response.

“Just do what feels natural,” you said, squinting at him through the viewfinder on your Polaroid before lowering it to watch him adjust for the photo. He seemed to relax under your gaze, and turned his head to the side so he was looking straight into the lens as the light washed over the paint trailed across his face, illuminating the shine of the metallics you used. He stilled after a moment, and after you were sure he wasn’t going to move, you pressed the shutter. The camera began printing your photo, and after a moment you plucked it from the slot, pressing it between your lips and bringing the camera back up to your eye.

“I want to take one more,” you mumbled around the developing photo in your mouth, “close your eyes for me?” Felix complied, letting his lashes flutter against the top of his cheeks as a small smile settled across his face. You snapped your second photo, bringing the camera down and tucking the earlier in between your fingers as you waited for the second to print. Felix came to stand next to you, taking the second photo and looking over your shoulder to see how the first one turned out.

As you watched the color seep onto the glossy paper you knew that the stars across his cheeks, no matter how pretty they were, could never compare to the stars that shone in his eyes. He was truly beautiful, and standing there with your camera in hand, his hair brushing against your cheek, you were never more aware.

#lee felix #felix #felix stray kids #stray kids #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #stray kids x reader #felix fluff #lee felix fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #felix imagines #stray kids fanfiction #felix fanfiction #maybe ill have to start a masterlist soon this is exciting

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thatwitchrevan · 6 years

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Mical tried to ignore the muttered swearing - he wanted to finish this reading before his free time was up and he was required to return to his dormitory. But the quiet, frustrated chatter didn’t cease, and just as he was beginning to feel frustrated himself another, calmer voice joined in with the first.

“Revan, you have got to calm down. The library staff is not going to be happy if you keep disturbing the peace.”

“Fuck the peace, Vrook is gonna have my head if I don’t finish this on time. I promised him.”

Mical sat up slightly, looking in the direction of the voices. Their source was obscured by the library shelves in between him and the main area of tables, but he was tempted to abandon his reading after all and seek them out. He knew of only one ‘Revan’ at the Enclave, and his curiosity would not allow him to ignore a chance to see her. She was so often on missions these days, and never came to observe the younglings. She apparently had no intention of taking an apprentice, which had greatly disappointed some of Mical’s peers.

“If you explained to him that you overextended yourself, I’m sure he’d give you more time.”

“Yeah, right. Master Vrook is always looking for a way to take me down. And then Arianna will tell me I should’ve used my time better, and Master Kae will just smirk at me like a smug old bat. I’d rather crash and burn than admit defeat at this point.”

Mical sat up further, listening with interest. One of the more curious things about Revanna Lin was the number of master who were invested in her training. She’d officially been apprenticed with Master Arianna Lien until knighthood (“A good enough master,” according Master Vandar), but it was Vrook Lamar who had brought her to the academy and watched over her, Zhar Lestin who had guided her on the path of a Jedi Guardian, and Master Arren Kae who fed her mind with philosophy and, according to some, discontent. All of this Mical knew simply from listening. The masters seemed always to be talking about Revan.

The conversation turned back to irritated muttering, so Mical stood and headed towards the speakers. He poked his head around the shelves he’d been sitting between, saw the two young knights a few tables down. One had dark skin and coily brown hair, and wore a frustrated expression. The other was Revan - pale, with black hair pinned behind her head, a serious and determined scowl aimed at the datapads in front of her.

Mical approached timidly, conscious of how small, how young he was. Still just a youngling, and this legend to be didn’t want a padawan; fair enough, and she wasn’t the master he wanted, either, but it meant she had no use for him, might have no reason to entertain his interest. He approached anyway.

Mical had no idea what to say, but before he could come up with something Revan had gotten frustrated again and slammed her hand lightly on the table. “Dammit!” she said, not even quietly this time. Her companion looked angry, but this late at night there was no one here but them, Mical, and the staff, none of whom were near enough to comment.

Revan sighed and then looked up at the intruder, her striking, light eyes piercing him. “Yes?”

Mical faltered, then bowed hurriedly. “Sorry, ma’am. Knight Lin. I just-”

“Revan is fine,” the knight interrupted.

Mical frowned, but of confusion rather than irritation. “Pardon?”

“No ‘miss’ or ‘ma’am’ or anything. You can call me Revan. And that’s Selena.” Revan gestured to her friend across the table, who reconstructed her irritated look into a warm smile for Mical. “And you are?”

Mical’s small hands shook. He so rarely spoke to the knights. And while only one was of particular interest to him, he was in admiration and fear of them all. “I - um, Mical. I’m Mical.”

Revan nodded. Her expression was bored, but not unkind. She relaxed in her chair with her arm resting on the pile of holobooks and regarded him. “So. Do you need something, Mical?”

“Uh..not exactly, Mi- Revan. I just. Wanted to speak to you. Uh, see if you need any help, maybe.”

He hadn’t intended to offer any assistance, and probably couldn’t, but he could think of no other excuse for speaking to her. And she did not seem the type to indulge the curiosity of young hopefuls.

She arched an eyebrow at him. “I’m doing a research project for Master Vrook. It’s to do with highly theoretical concepts on the Force. I’m not sure a youngling can help.”

Mical tried not to fidget his hands. Why had he done this? Talking to people was hard, especially adults. “I could try. I spend a lot of time in the library.”

Revan laughed, the sound soft and musical. “Clearly. Come here then, Mical.”

Mical hesitated a moment before walking toward her. There was something about her...she was just as strange as she was charming. He looked uncertainty at her companion, who shrugged as if to say she didn’t understand either.

Revan was looking down at him now, with how close he stood to her chair. In a few years, he’d be nearly as tall as her, but for now he was so small. “You’re Meetra’s hopeful, aren’t you? She’s told me about you.”

Warmth spread from the center of Mical’s chest. He’d wanted to be Surik’s apprentice for a time now, but he’d never imagined she might want him, too. And to talk about him to her friends, when his training would still be a couple years away! He found himself smiling. “What did she say?” he heard himself ask, and this time both Jedi laughed.

“She said if she decides to be a teacher, she wants you,” Selena told him, smiling. “She said if any of us take you from her, she’ll never speak to us again.”

“She doesn’t have to tell me,” Revan sighed. “No matter how much Vrook and Arianna nag, I’m not getting an apprentice anytime soon.”

“Oh but Revan, you’d make such a good teacher.”

“Please, I’m just glad I could help Alek get knighted. A kid is too much for me.” Revan picked up one of the datapads and showed it to Mical. “Alright kid, so here’s the thing. I’m supposed to be researching all these topics, and I’ve got most of them already. I uh, also spend a lot of time here. But it’s this last one I’m having trouble with. The only sources I can find on it aren’t in-depth enough.”

Bless Ashla, Mical recognized the term. “I have an idea,” he squeaked, and then rushed off to one of the shelves nearby. He returned with a heavy, older datapad and set it on the desk. “I think I read something about it in here. Check the contents table.”

Revan powered on the datapad and did as he said, and after a moment she made a soft noise of affirmation. “Yes, there’s a whole chapter here.” She opened the chapter and scanned it. “This is perfect, Mical. Thank you.”

She looked sideways at him and smiled. “You really study hard, don’t you.”

Mical nodded, perhaps a bit quickly. He flushed a little from embarrassment, but Revan didn’t seem annoyed. “Yes, ma- Revan. I love to read.”

“Good. That’s how I got where I am. Keep it up, and soon you’ll be a wise and well-read padawan.”

Mical beamed, a wave of hope washing over him, but there was still a tinge of cold anxiety underneath it. After all, no one had expressed any explicit interest in him to him, or to any of his teachers.

Revan frowned as if she could sense it. Maybe she could. “Don’t worry, Mical. You’re going to be a great Jedi. I promise.”

Revan closed the door to Meetra’s dorm a little more harshly than was necessary and turned a light frown on her friend.

Meetra was apparently just out of the shower, her short hair damp, and was sitting on her bed in her nightclothes. She looked up from cleaning the hilt as her lightsaber as Revan approached, brow raised as she waited for Revan to speak.

“You need to have a talk with your padawan.” There was an edge of frustration in her voice, a chill to her blue eyes.

Meetra’s expression became confused. “I have no padawan.”

Revan shook her head - she had no patience for Meetra today, it seemed. “You know who I mean. That little boy that practically worships you? The one we’ve all sworn off for you, once you decide to pay attention to him? I spoke to him today, and he had no idea you were intending to claim him.”

Meetra looked down at her lightsaber and sighed deeply. “I haven’t spoken to him because I did not wish to raise his hopes. I haven’t decided if and when I intend to train an apprentice.”

“Meetra, this is one of the brightest kids of his generation, and he’s being completely overlooked. I felt how anxious he was for you to choose him. And if you don’t, and he gets stuck with someone like Vrook? They’ll crush him, Meetra. All that creativity, all that spirit, all that hope could be ruined if the wrong person trains him.”

Meetra met her eyes with something that was almost a glare. “Why don’t you train him, then?”

Revan was not impressed. She stepped closer, her eyes genuinely angry now. “Do you think I have anything near the temperament to train some ten year old? I’d fuck him up! Which is exactly my point, Meetra; he doesn’t need just anyone. He needs you.”

Meetra looked at her weapon again, and consequently her hands. She finished polishing the lightsaber with the rag and set both aside on the bed next to her. “And what about the war? What if I leave before he’s ready to start training? Before I’m ready?”

Revan shook her head. “I don’t know Meetra. But you can’t just leave him hanging. He’s...he’s meant to be with you, Meetra. Can’t you tell?”

Meetra shrugged. “I don’t know what’s so special about me.”

Revan sighed and sat down next to her, on the opposite side of where her saber rested. “Then you’re not paying enough attention. Look, just go talk to him. Tell him you’re interested in training him, give the poor kid some hope. And don’t be afraid to get attached to him. It’s going to work out. I know it is.”

She looked at her friend. “Every time I think about how much time was wasted on Alek...I don’t want to see another kid go through that. He needs you. Maybe you need him and you just don’t know it yet. And the Council isn’t sending us to war anytime soon, so. You might as well start planning for the future.”

Meetra met her eye. “What about you?”

Revan shook her head. “Only future I’m worried about is getting this project back to Vrook so he doesn’t lecture my head off.” She patted Meetra’s leg and stood. “See you, Surik. Go talk to your padawan.”

Meetra almost backed out five times, but she managed to make herself wait outside Master Vandar’s class until the students started filing out. She caught sight of Mical and barely a second later he caught sight of her. The smile that split his face did the same to her heart - she’d forgotten how small he was, how much he adored her.

She waited until he came to stand in front of her. “Mical. Do you have a minute? I’d like to speak with you.”

Mical nodded eagerly, so she led him to the courtyard. She sat on one of the benches and he sat beside her, and then she realised she had no idea how to do this.

When she was eleven, she certainly thought twenty one was a mature age. Now, she wasn’t so sure. She didn’t feel like much of an adult, even compared to him. “Mical,” she started. She looked over and realized he was watching her, hanging on her every word. Force. “I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you sooner.”

His eyes shined at her, hope and worry fighting each other in his mind. Force.

“Ever since I met you, Mical, I’ve thought you were special. I believe my friends told you I had some interest in training you. And that’s true.” Hope was getting a leg up, but fear was smart enough to sense a ‘but’. “I’m still young, though, Mical, and you’re two years from being of age to train as an apprentice.”

Mical nodded, probably fighting to keep his expression neutral. Younglings always struggled with controlling their emotions - Meetra certainly had. “I understand.”

Meetra smiled, trying to be reassuring. “This isn’t a ‘no’, Mical. It’s merely that I don’t want to make any promises to you that I can’t keep. You’re special, and I would love to train you. But I can’t see the future even one step ahead of me.”

She fought down the lump forming in her throat. Chaos, yet harmony. The war may be raging terribly, but she had a place here. Maybe this was where she was meant to be, regardless of what happened. It’s where she wanted to be.

It was dangerous, to allow herself to imagine it. Training Mical, spending years with him and watching him grow, working with her friends and their padawans, going on relief missions and then coming home to calm, beautiful Dantooine. But the suffering outside their little, serene world was getting worse, and whatever the Council said she knew someone needed to intervene. What if she had to be that someone?

But Mical’s hope was wavering, and it killed her. Meetra sighed and touched his soft, bright hair. “Mical. My friend, please don’t be sad. I may not be able to see the future, but I believe in you. Even if I’m not here when your time comes, you’ll find your way. And as much as I can, I’ll be there for you.” Maybe if she couldn’t train him, she could come home after the war, while he was still an apprentice, and help him the way Zhar and Kae had helped Revan. If not a master, maybe she could be his mentor.

If she came home.

Mical nodded, and his storm of emotions moved her so much that she pulled the boy into a loose hug. He stilled from surprise, then wrapped his arms around her as she rested her hand on his back. “Remember, Mical, that your strength doesn’t come from other people. It comes from you. I may not be here to teach you, but you already have everything it takes to be a great Jedi. Just follow your heart, and trust in the Force. And trust in your own strength. It will not fail you.”

“I know you,” she said again, and this time she wasn’t planning to back down. Maybe he could tell.

He sighed, smiling patiently on the end of it, like he’d known he’d eventually have to explain himself. “My name is Mical. Perhaps that helps?”

Meetra frowned, her expression changing as she went through several different levels of confusion. She could see him holding back a laugh at the sight. “Mical? My Mical? From the Enclave?”

He nodded. “It’s been, well. A long time.”

She blinked. Her expression and thoughts were foggy, her brain still catching up. “You can say that again. Force, Mical.” She looked him over, as if only just now seeing him. He’d been frozen in her memory as a scrawny youngling with too-wide eyes. “You’re...grown up.”

He did laugh now, just a small chuckle escaping his resolve to be serious. “That does tend to happen, as time passes.”

Meetra grinned, slowly, the expression growing from her bewildered frown. “I suppose so. I’m not as young as I used to be, either.” She hesitated, then leaned forward, hugging him with enough hesitance that he could step back if he wanted. He didn’t. He held her to his chest with a fierceness she never would’ve expected from him.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” she told him. “I meant to be. I would have much rather trained you than do anything that I did. I wanted to train you, Mical, I just-”

“Shh.” His hand gently rubbed her back. “It’s nothing to apologize for. You were needed elsewhere. And I found my way, just like you promised.” He released her as she pulled back to disengage, smiling softly at her. “I’m very happy you survived, and I’m happy to follow you now, wherever you’ll go.”

Meetra shook her head, slightly. She still didn’t feel worthy of that responsibility, that trust. Didn’t feel equal to it, after everything that had happened.

But Force, if the galaxy was giving her a second chance with Mical, she was damn well going to take it.

#alright here's the whole thing cause i have no self control #i'm not tagging it bc i literally just wrote it #also the first part with padawan!mical is probably going to be in warrior's birth #and the second part with grown!mical is probably going to be in my k2 playthrough fic #griffin writes

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borderlandsimagine · 7 years

Text

Rhys x Reader [1]

Setting: Between Episode 4 and Episode 5 from ‘Tales from the Borderlands'  

Word Count: 5,401  

Notes: Welp, this one just took me like three months to finish XD I swear, this is the longest oneshot I’ve ever written, but I hope you’ll enjoy anyway!

☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎

The sun was hitting hard on your back today, drowning the surrounding desert in an arid temperature that could easy dry off every drop of water around. There wasn’t a sign of life since you started walking this morning: even the skags couldn’t live long in this place. Rifle in your hands and worn out backpack on your shoulders, you wondered if this heat would ever end, even if things were rarely in your favor in the Pandora wastelands.

It was a statement that was not only true when talking about your current status, but also about your life. Orphan since as long as you could remember, you realized fairly young that if you wanted to stay alive on this shit hole of a planet, you’d have to fight for it. Living the somewhat usual life of a criminal, with the single goal to try not to die. What a life.

Today was pretty much like any other, which meant wandering endlessly in the wastelands, hoping to find someone to rob, a vehicle to steal or something valuable enough to buy your next meal. Luck didn’t seem to struck by these days, as the recent heatwaves hadn’t help at all the food production. Even eating was a luxury nowadays. Still, you managed with what you had, like you always did.

No family, no home and multiple bounties on your head as people usually didn’t like you much, here was the definition of your life in a sentence. And as it contented you fairly (content, not happiness, the difference was major), drifting where the flow of life sent you didn’t seem like much of a problem. But on Pandora, who would you complain too when half the population lived through the same hell?

Still, that day began like any other, but unknowingly to you it was far from ending as one.

It was around noon when you entered what seemed like an abandoned city. Up over the entrance a cupboard was nailed down with the words “Old Haven” poorly written on it. By the look of the buildings and the roads, it all looked empty, even if you pertinently knew that appearances could be misleading. But as you food and water stocks approached the near-empty state, there was not really a choice to make: you had to go in.

In that kind of place, you didn’t expect to find anything extraordinary. I mean, a deserted site like this had probably been raided a thousand times over by bandits and scavs. But with some luck and a little more intelligence than them, you’d hopefully find some supplies in this place.

Although, after exploring few of the damaged buildings from in and out, you realized that luck wasn’t enough for today: everything was gone.

You exhaled sharply, clicking your tongue in annoyance, as you tried to figure out the next step of your plan. These houses could provide you shelter for a few days, but the lack of supplies was slowly getting crucially low. Plus, bandits would probably take over the place when nighttime would come, so it wasn’t much of an idea. It was better to just walk away, to forget this place like it never existed.

With a sigh of discouragement, you turned around to get a grip on your backpack when your eyes caught a sight of what you’d never took time to really look at. An immense blue and grey structure projected over the village through its five towers of different height and size. Odd numbers and letters were visible at the edge of each towers, along a weird red logo on the middle one. And where there seemed to have been the door left its place for a dark, gloomy hole that probably lead inside.

In the back of your brain, your inner-self tried to warn you about this ominous area. That it was dangerous, suicidal even, to investigate a mysterious abandoned facility without knowing anything about what was inside of it. But honestly, who wouldn’t be curious? What kind of technology and weapons were hidden in the depths of this place? What secrets did it held?

The mere mention of these eventualities were enough to convince yourself to go in.

Pulling up your backpack on your fatigued shoulders, you slowly marched towards the tunnel, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you held tighter to your gun. Entering the building in a dim-lighted metallic corridor, a small inscription forged in the silvery wall suddenly drawn your attention. When you brought your eyes closer to it, you realized it read:

“Atlas Corporation”

You lifted a brow in surprise: the discovery of an Atlas building wasn’t something you could do every day. It was pretty special to be able to step foot in there as Atlas products, especially their guns, were worth a fortune on Pandora. And if you could get your hand on some of those, you’d get enough money to live off it for the rest of your life. You’d be incredibly rich, something you’ve never even thought about.

This could be a game changer if luck was on your side today.

A wide smirk drew itself on your lips as you proceeded forward in the passage, less carefully than before as excitement flooded your brain. After a few steps, you entered in the next room, an enormous place kept in the dark as there was neither windows nor lights around. All you could see was the walls, so high that the roof wasn’t even visible in the pitch black surroundings. If there was any kind of furniture, you couldn’t see any of it. Your broken old flashlight seemed great now, if only you hadn’t thrown it in a lake a few days back.

Taking a little more precautions this time, you stepped in the room carefully, a hand in front of you to make sure not to bump into anything.

Gradually putting one foot after another, you calculated that you crossed something around 10 meters (and crashed into a table in the process) when you heard movement near you. It was brief and quick, but it instantly froze the blood in your veins, putting you your guards.

"Who’s there?“ you shouted, rifle lifted up and ready to shoot.

Footsteps resounded faintly around, although you still couldn’t see anything

“Identify yourselves, or I’ll shoot!” you proclaimed, even if you internally wondered how you’d shoot without any visual response.

As new noises echoed once again on the walls around, you got ready to fire up when you suddenly felt a blow in the back of your neck, and everything turned to black.

☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎

The first thing you sensed when regaining consciousness was the tissue fragments around your wrists. A swift movement of your hands instantly made you understand that they were tied together. Your whole arms felt numb, and an atrocious headache prevented you from thinking straight. At least, you were alive. That’s a bonus.

When you opened your eyes, you weren’t stuck in pitch black, but rather in a dim-lighted room with, once again, metallic walls. There was a few desks and chairs, along some work material left haphazardly to indicate that the leave of the place had probably been rushed and hurried. What happened here remained a mystery, though, which you couldn’t wait to solve.

Wandering your gaze around the room, you noticed the presence of someone else, a few meters away. Sitting on a chair, his head was leaning on his only arm (as the other one seemed missing), and judging by the snoring you heard, he was sleeping. His rather unusual clothing looked like nothing you’ve ever seen on a pandoran citizen, and his badge confirmed his provenance: Hyperion.

People from there usually preferred avoiding Pandora, so what was he doing here? Maybe he had business related to this Atlas facility, but still, Hyperion people weren’t generally doing the dirty work themselves and deemed best to relay on someone else. Although that since Helios’s fall, that hierarchy probably crashed, like everything else. You’d never talked to an Hyperion worker before to confirm these facts, though.

Judging by the small handgun resting on the floor next to him, he was likely to be the one that had you tied up. Still, you had questions, and as he did not look much threatening, you decided to try something.

“Hey sleeping beauty!” you exclaimed, which startled him awake. “Mind to tell me what the hell’s happening?”

Upon hearing the sound of your voice, he almost lost his balance and probably would’ve hit the ground if his hand hadn’t latched on to the edge of the chair. Slightly looking at you with an expression that aimed to look mad, he grumbled something incoherent before getting up and sitting back where he was, holding the handle of the gun in his palm this time.

“I could ask you the same thing.” he stated with an impassive face. “Well, you’re not the one who’s tied up.” you retorted, slightly smirking. “Right, but I’m the one with the gun, so you should start talking.”

‘Okay, maybe this wasn’t a good idea…’ you muttered to yourself, struggling to come up with something to answer, in hope you wouldn’t end up shot upon it.

“My… my name’s (Y/n).” you managed to answer, as pain jolted once again into your head, worsening your headache. “You don’t have to worry about me, I was just passing by.” “How am I supposed to know you’re telling the truth?” he asked, lifting his brow in skepticism. “Well, as there is a possibility I might die, I don’t see the point.” “What are you doing here?” “I was just scavenging for supplies, I don’t even know the place.”

The man didn’t answer this time, but you noticed a faint doubt in his eyes, like he wasn’t sure if he made a mistake taking you for a threat. Now was the occasion to prove yourself.

“Look, I know you have no reason to trust me, but I’m innocent.” you reached out, trying to look as sincere as possible.“ If you have business in here or whatever, I’ll leave if that’s what you want. But I mean no harm.”

Honestly, you were still considering the possibility of knocking him out as soon as he’d free you from these strains, but it didn’t seem like a great plan since you didn’t know if reinforcements were waiting near. Because of that, you did not want to try anything compromising.

“Fine.” he sighed, lowering his gun to lay it on his knees. “I don’t know why, but you seem trustworthy. Although, you’re never sure on this planet.” “You were from up there, right?” you demanded. “I used to be on Helios, yeah.” he nodded, exhaling sharply. “But there’s nothing gratifying about it. Everyone there were assholes.” “Wow, seems you didn’t like ‘em much.” “It’s a long story. You wouldn’t want to hear it.”

With another sigh, he stood up and approached you, slightly pushing your back with his elbow to reach the cordage that held your wrists tied up.

“I’m curious, how’d you managed to tie those with only one hand?” you inquired, faintly tilting your head to face him. “Like you said, I managed.” he chuckled.

He plunged his hand into his pocket, from which he drew out a small knife blade, making you jump from fear he’d use it on you.

“Relax, I won’t hurt you.” he claimed, cutting the ropes on a single fling.

Relieved to be able to feel your hands again, you extended them in front of you to stretch them. You mumbled a small thank you, and tried to stand up despise an intense feeling of dizziness.

“My name’s Rhys, by the way.” he revealed, giving you his hand to help you get up, which you gladly accepted.

As soon as your feet touched the ground, you gave yourself a small push to be able to stand. After a few seconds, you were up, even if your head still ached like hell.

“You’re alone in here?” you asked him, rotating your body to face him. “If you don’t count in the calculation, then yes.” he replied a smile in the corner of his lips.

If you wanted to knock him out, now would be the chance, as you knew there was no reinforcements around. But oddly enough, you weren’t feeling it. Violence could solve anything, but you had the funny feeling that this time was different. Never have you ever deemed someone of your trust, but this guy was unusual, even if you couldn’t really point out why. It was an intuition, a hunch, and even if you usually preferred rational decisions, you decided to believe that intuition.

“You know the Atlas Company, right?” Rhys suddenly asked, brutally drawing you out of your thoughts. “Of course I do!” you exclaimed on an offended tone. “Who doesn’t? Most people here would kill for even one of their products.” “Right. And what would you say if I told you I was planning to reconstruct the company?”

At first, you just gazed at him with a 'you’re kidding me right’ kind of look. But as his facial expression didn’t change, you realized he was probably serious.

“And how are you planning to do that?” you scoffed, barely smirking. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.” he declared. “I do have the legal papers. Sort of.”

He pointed away, on the table a few meters away, some framed piece of paper that laid there, that looked pretty official even if you highly doubted its legitimacy.

“Why are you telling me this?” you inquired, a brow lifted in curiosity. “You barely know me.” “Do you by any chance have any place to stay, miss (Y/n) ?” he questioned, ignoring your previous question. “Nope, why?” “Well, I’ll need people working here if I want to make a fresh start of this place.”

You had no idea what to answer to this. A job? Sure, it legally didn’t exist yet, but was he really offering you an opportunity to do something else with your life? You were reluctant to believe him.

“Look, it’s really kind of you, but I doubt you’d ever get somewhere with me.” you politely denied. “I’ve never really been the working type.” “We all started somewhere.” he shrugged with smile.

If he wasn’t bluffing nor lying, this could actually work. Doing something else than wandering endlessly in the wastelands of Pandora seemed like a life changer experience, a proposition that you wouldn’t have twice. If he really was going to put Atlas back on track (and success at it), not only that you’d be filthy rich, but you’d finally obtain something that, as a Pandoran nobody, you always wished for: respect.

You were sold. Now you just hoped this wasn’t a mistake.

“Well I gladly accept… huh am I supposed to call you 'boss’ now?” “Please don’t, it makes me uncomfortable.”

☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎

[A few months later]

“I can’t believe he’s late again.“

Angrily stomping in the corridor, you almost knocked a few of your co-workers as you made your way to Rhys’ room. It was nine in the morning, but knowing that dumbass, he was probably still sleeping.

"I told him about that meeting yesterday, but of course, he never listens!” you muttered to yourself, not without attracting a few perplexed looks from the people around.

Yes, Atlas was now back on track, and working really well. It was on his way to become once again a big player on the weapon market. And Rhys was the boss, even if sometimes he didn’t really act like one.

Finally reaching his bedroom, you punched in the code (that you, apart from Rhys himself, were the only one to know) and entered, like you did so many times before. And of course, he was still sleeping.

Waking him up was the fun part though. Sadly enough, you did not bring the ice bucket this time, but you grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it right at his face, which startled him awake instantly.

“What the hell!” he shouted, until he saw you standing in the door frame. “Oh. I’m late again am I?” “You’re incorrigible, I swear.” you sighed, rolling your eyes. “You’ve got a meeting in an hour, and I doubt they’ll be happy if you arrive late.”

He sighed heavily, passing a hand on his forehead before lifting his gaze on the clock, trying to get a hold of the hour it was.

“Who is it that I’m meeting again?” he inquired, lazily throwing back his body on the bed. “Do I look like your goddamn secretary?” you exclaimed. “I don’t know!” “You’d be a good secretary.” “Yeah, not so much.”

He chuckled lightly, while you only gave him a small smile.

“Now get out, unless you want to see me change.” he told you with a smirk. “Alright then, I’m leaving.”

But as you were about to step out, you abruptly received a blow to the back of your head. When you turned around to inquire what the hell just happened, you noticed the pillow laying right next to your feet, and grinned widely.

“Oh, you really want to start this?” you asserted, grabbing the pillow and relentlessly throwing it at Rhys, who received it right in the face.

Before he even had the chance to replicate to the hit, you rushed to the wardrobe to take cover, and saw the pillow going right past you just as you were hidden behind the furniture.

“Damn it!” you heard Rhys shout from anger, to which you giggled, before continuing what just started as a pillow war.

“(Y/n), we look like freaking kids.” Rhys chuckled. “Thought you already figured that out.” you replied, throwing the pillow in the corner of the room so it wouldn’t end up in your face once again. “You’re such a smart ass.” “You realize that’s like a compliment right?” “Of course it is.” “Now you better get ready or I’m kicking your ass.”

With a smirk accompanied by a small laugh, you exited the room before he had the time to retort and heard the door close behind you, leaving you alone in the now fully silent corridor. After a few seconds, you chose to go back to your own room, lookig forward to take a small break to think before heading off to work for yourself.

As you proceeded to walk there, you felt a tightening pression in your chest. Again. It wasn’t the first time, as this feeling was recurrent along some other weird stuff recently that kept happening more and more often. Like being incredibly happy for no reason, or just be lost in thoughts for hours.

You knew something about it was off about it, especially since it only happened when you were with Rhys, or at least thinking about him.

This had been happening for a while now, increasing everyday, and you still couldn’t put your finger on what was happening to you. Were you sick? Having never been close to anyone before in your life, it was really difficult to analyze social interactions, but this never happened with anyone. Honestly, it worried you to the point where you sometimes just thought about the possibilities for hours, pondering the idea in your brain as you didn’t understand any of it.

You sometimes thought of telling Rhys, but each time you preferred to revoke the idea. What if he couldn’t understand? What if he just laughed it off like it was nothing? Or even worse, what if he was responsible for this?

Here we go. Paranoia striking again, you thought, when you reached your bedroom’s door, letting out an heavy sigh. Rhys was the closest thing you’ve ever had to a best friend; he had no intention of hurting you and you knew it. But sometimes, when braving something unknown, it’s just normal to have weird hypothesis about it.

Entering your room, you threw yourself on your bed lazily, hoping you could just stay there and never get up. Right now, you just didn’t want to see anyone. But you’ll have to eventually.

Deep in thoughts again, you kept thinking about all that situation, your eyes glued on the ceiling like there was nothing as fascinating than the dull white paint. It was probably why you didn’t hear the faint knocking on your door at first. But when you heard a voice you knew very well calling your name, you jumped in surprise instantly.

“(Y/n)?” you heard your best friend calling from the hallway. “If you’re still there, I wanted to wish you a great day before I head out to the meeting.”

For a second, you considered not answering. Make it look like you weren’t there. But in a way, as much as talking to him sometimes afflicted you, he was still your best friend.

“Come on in, I’m not gone yet.” you shouted, resulting in the door swiftly opening to reveal a fully dressed Rhys, wearing one of his new suits.

It didnt take long for him to look at you, carelessly lying down on your bed with literally no emotion on your face, with a mocking smirk.

“Well, look at that…” he scoffed. “Who’s the lazy one now?” “Shut it.” you mumbled, not even shifting your gaze to face him. “Well someone’s in a bad mood. What happened to the girl who was throwing pillows at me earlier?”

Your only answer to his question was a detached grumble of something incoherent, accompanied by a sigh.

“Hey what’s up with you?” Rhys inquired, his gleeful behavior turning into a worried one. “You’ve been weird the last couple of days.” “I’m fine Rhys, it’s all good.” you responded, motionning your body to get back on your feet. “I’m tired, y'know, the usual.” “What do you mean the usual? I’ve never seen you being tired, like, ever.” “Well, there’s always exceptions right?” “Okay, you lost me there.” “Doesn’t matter: I’m fine. You should go to your meeting now, so I didn’t go through all the trouble of waking you up for nothing.”

You attempted to go past him and leave the room, insisting on how fine you were, but he abruptly stopped you from going anywhere by placing his arm right in front of you to block your path.

“(Y/n), don’t give me this bullshit.” he scolded you, keeping on his sincere face to prove he was serious. “You know it’s not true.” “Rhys, I’m okay.” you affirmed once more. “I’m sure it’s temporary anyway.” “What’s temporary?” “Fatigue, I’m guessing. Can I go now?”

He didn’t answer your question, keeping his stare on you like he was trying to figure it out his head. Unsuccessfully, it seemed by his disappointed look.

“No.” he replied. “What do you mean no? I’ve got work. You’re probably the best placed person in this building to understand that.” “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell is going on with you.” “You’re not actually serious right? "Do I look like I’m joking?”

You pouted, not even adding a word to replicate: despise everything that had happened recently, you had known Rhys for a truly long time, and pertinently knew that he was stubborn. If he has an idea in mind, everyone shall get out of the way because he wasn’t going to give up.

You exhaled sharply, doing your best at avoiding his gaze, while rummaging through your brain for an answer to give.

“Alright, you swear you won’t laugh then?” you hesitated, still not so eager in telling him. “No judging, promised.” he swore, withdrawing his arm from your way. “Fine.” a sigh exits your mouth in defeat. “It’s just that recently, I’ve been feeling so odd around you for no freaking reason. I have no idea why, but…”

You stopped for a few seconds, catching your breath to allow yourself to finish that sentence.

“Everything feels lighter and pleasant with you, but I’m scared that something may be happening to me and it scares me to death.

For a while, both of you remained dead silent. Not even a word was pronounced for what seemed like long minutes. In your case, you were too ashamed to even look at Rhys in the eyes, keeping your gaze low, so you had no way of knowing his reaction.

But suddenly, you heard a laugh. *A laugh*. And it wasn’t yours.

You stared at your best friend, feeling slightly betrayed by his reaction. You were certain he would at least try to be comprehensive, but apparently you were wrong about it all.

To be honest with yourself, it made you mad more than anything else. 'And I thought I could trust him.’ you mumbled mentally.

"Go on, tell me I’m ridiculous and that I need to see a therapist.” you muttered harshly. “What are you talking about?” Rhys replied, shifting his laugh to a light chuckle. “Well, you think it’s absurd, don’t you?” “No, not at all. I just never realized you were so clueless about this sort of things.” “What things?”

Okay, now you were lost. What was he talking about? Sure, you had never been a pro in social interactions, and maybe it was funny to him, but to go as far as to say you were clueless about something…

Rhys, that now had a genuine smile on his lips, threw himself on the edge of your bed, sitting like he was about to tell you a story or something close enough. 'If he recites me that Gortys Project story again, I’m kicking his ass.’ you thought.

“I’ve got to ask (Y/n), but have you ever been in love with someone?” he inquired. “Love?” you exclaimed, unsettled by the question. “No, of course not. Have you met me?” “Hey, just askin’” “Yeah, sure. Now, where are you getting with this?”

You sat down next to him on the mattress, frankly unimpressed by his awful attempt to make conversation.

“Alright, well I think I know what’s up with you.” he announced, his cheeks faintly tinted with a mild shade of pink. “But you’re gonna have to trust me.” “Sure, go ahead.” you nodded, almost indifferent.

Silence gradually filled the air, with none of you daring to say a word. It was getting kind of awkward, especially when you noticed that Rhys had gone quiet, which was unusual. His gaze was locked with yours, taking deep breaths, and although it did make you very uncomfortable, you were unable to look at away.

Then, to the biggest of your surprise, his lips suddenly landed on yours. It took you a while to understand, but it was all real: *Rhys was kissing you*.

This was like nothing you’ve ever felt before. It was incredible, almost electric, and your whole body felt oddly delightful. His mouth was so warm; the caress his incredibly soft lips made everything around you appear brighter, exaltant, surrounded by a beautiful aura of blissfulness Those weird feelings you kept getting, the same that led to *this*, were now ten thousand time stronger, and it felt good more than anything else.

Despise what it seemed, the kiss only lasted a few short seconds. Honestly, you wished it would’ve been longer, but no words could exit your mouth to express so. Your heart was beating wildly, and you felt a little dizzy. But weirdly enough, those were all good feelings.

Then again, the room became outright silent. You couldn’t bring yourself to say a single word, but your cheeks, along probably the rest of your face, heated up until it felt like the temperature had climbed to 40 degrees and over in the room. But most of all, you were still not over what just happened. You had seen people kissing before, but were far from imagining what the real thing actually felt like. It was amazing, wonderful, almost surreal. You never would’ve guessed.

“(Y/n), are you alright?” Rhys suddenly asked, drifting you out of your thoughts. “Look, I’m sorry if I offended you with this, it wasn’t my intention.”

He looked sorry. Genuinely sorry, but most of all, ashamed, like he was scared he upset you. It was a look you’ve never seen on his face before, and while in any other given situation you would’ve mocked him, now you could completely understand his reaction. But how could you possibly tell him that he was completely wrong, that it was one of the best thing you ever did without knowing which words to use?

“No, you didn’t offend me…” you mumbled, feeling overly nervous. “It was really incredible, I just don’t know what to say.” Rhys’ face instantly brightened, displaying a relieved expression. “Oh thank God.” he declared, sighing. “At least I know I didn’t look like a complete idiot.” “Can you do it again?”

You didn’t even know why you asked. It was such a ridiculous question to blurt out so randomly like this, but you did it anyway. You instantly regretted it of course, but it’s not like you knew what to do in this sort of situation. 'How the hell can I know?’ you exclaimed to yourself, trying to keep a straight face to refrain from looking foolish..

If at first his eyes widened in shock, an expression of confusion readable in his gaze, he soon dropped the bewilderment for an alluring smile, before answering:

“No problem.”

And once again, his lips brushed against yours, as smoothly and softly as the last time. But the difference was, the surprise and awkwardness was (at least partially) gone now. You were getting more and more comfortable with this, until you felt two strong arms circling around your waist gently. If your heart could beat faster and your cheeks get redder, it probably did. His grip tightened around your body, pulling your even closer to him, and you reacted by surrounding your arms around his neck affectionately. Seconds passed seeming like eternity, and your never wanted this beautiful moment to end.

You had to lean back for some fresh air eventually, putting a short end on that marvellous instant. But looking into Rhys’s lovely amber eyes, even though you wanted to tell him you loved him, that he meant and will always mean the world to you, not a word could cross the firm barrier of your lips. Just a cheerful smile, vaguely drawing itself on your face that implied a thousand word without saying any.

“One hell of a start for a day right?” Rhys broke the silence, chuckling nervously. “Good luck going to your meeting now.” you replied mockingly. “Speaking of the meeting…”

'Oh shit’ you muttered to yourself. The meeting. With all this going on, you both completely forgot about its mere existence. Good luck not to arrive late now…

“You forgot too, didn’t you?” “Yeah.”

You both stayed silent for a few seconds, before bursting in laughter.

“Now come on, let’s get going before you end up even latter than you already is.” you giggled, pushing yourself to get back on your feet. “Can’t they wait?” he complained, exhaling sharply. “I’m already late, might as well not go at all.” “I’m sorry, are you trying to start another pillow war now?” “I would only wish.”

You laughed again, as Rhys stood up from the bed.

“Alright, I’m going, before you kill me with a pillow again.” he commented. “I wouldn’t kill you.” you added. “Maybe just put you in a coma.” “So reassuring.”

You both slowly headed for the door, obviously taking most of the time to do so not to have to face the day of work that waited outside. Working wasn’t so bad itself, but when compared with what just happened, you probably would’ve preferred to stay here with Rhys all day.

Pressing the button that opens the entry, you were about to wave goodbye to Rhys before leaving reluctantly, but he stopped before you could do anything.

“Just before we leave and all…” he started, lifting his hand to caress your cheek with his thumb. “I just wanted to say that I love you.”

A smile immediately carved itself in your face, and you answered by standing up on your tiptoes and laying your lips on his for a rapid but sweet kiss, before leaning back.

“And so do I.”

#borderlands oneshot #borderlands imagines #borderlands #tales from the borderlands #rhys #rhys the company man #imagines #oneshot

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