Fictif Last Legacy: x reader oneshots

Felix catches a chill. You help him get some rest.

You wake in the early hours of the morning, light filtering into your bedroom from the castle windows, embers turned to soft dust beneath the mantelpiece. You've fallen asleep in one of the armchairs next to the fire, and from the looks of things Felix must've done the same, his head is still drooped loosely into the chair opposite you, his hand curled across a book in his lap.

Trying to rub some feeling back into your limbs, you recall how you both ended up talking the night away in the first place. It started when you had asked about lodgings at the local inn, Felix staring at you with the same incredulity as if you'd asked for lodgings between the fourth and fifth circles of hell.

I wouldn't want to impose on your father's hospitality, you explained, watching as Felix's eyebrows rose even further toward his hairline.

Escell didn't exactly seem to... um... welcome me with open arms, you tried again, an understatement which earned you a derisive snort from Felix in return.

You and me both, Felix laughed, but his smile slipped from his face quickly after, and it was only then that you realised he perhaps felt even lonelier in his childhood home than you.

And so, in an unspoken show of comradery, the night ended with you, Felix, and an armful of candles in your quarters, you both taking turns to read aloud from books Felix retrieved from the castle library. It turned out Porrima has quite the colourful collection of legends, most of which left the two of you in exhausted giggles and with the strong suspicion that the Archmage never read any of these himself.

You're still smiling at the memory as you tug the quilt free from your bed. Felix stirs at the sound, he blinks around the room and then winces as he stretches a hand to his lower back. He doesn't look like he's had a very comfortable rest- in fact he still looks half asleep as he mumbles and makes his way over to you. He looks blearily down at the quilt, eyes narrowing in confusion.

"Oh... I was going to bring..." you start, gesturing to where he'd fallen asleep in the armchair. It takes him a second before he realises the blanket was for him, and you can tell the exact moment he does when his cheeks light with warmth. You wonder if you're wearing a similarly affected expression as you stand staring at each other, the necromancer still squinting in the early morning light.

Felix looks like he might be about to say something, but then briefly shakes his head instead, his eyes watering terribly. You catch him looking unmistakably annoyed at himself before he ducks away from you, his face hidden behind his sleeve as he's suddenly overcome with a string of irrepressible sneezes, one on top of the other.

"Hells.... ah, pardon me-" he mutters, his breath catching as he steeples his hands to his face in alarm, sneezing desperately all over again.

Your eyes widen in concern, which you immediately regret when Felix's blush brightens all the way to his ears, he's still sniffling miserably into his palms as if he's not quite sure if he's done.

"Please excuse me... one moment," Felix says after a second, his voice muffled as he fumbles inside his overcoat, then looks distinctly embarrassed as he presses a handkerchief to his face. He eventually clears his throat, reclaiming a surprisingly dignified manner even while he shivers violently.

"Maybe we should warm-up," you blurt out, you're not quite sure how to make him feel better but you definitely want to try. While his expression still reads as I-care-not, his many nights of working without rest have clearly caught up to him. Felix scoffs, crossing his arms and looking decidedly nonplussed at such a practical suggestion. You decide to try a different tack.

"In fact... this is the perfect opportunity," you offer, climbing beneath the blankets and shuffling toward the stack of magical texts at the bedside.