Pretty Words Prompt fill: Sirimiri - Writing a scene in the rain.
Best birthday wishes to the amazing captain of the Andylind ship: @shadowofnight! Here's some Andylind fluff (I think it's considered fluff anyway?) I hope you'll enjoy! Thank you for the prompt ask, and happy Andylind April!
Summary: Hiding in a small town after fleeing from Alfea, Andreas and Rosalind try to stay hidden and as low profile as possible. By any means necessary.
This accidentally beacme longer than intended, but I'm not mad about it. Mildly worried this might be OOC, because it's not beta read, but I enjoyed writing it nonetheless.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Almost half a year later I'm finally replying to your ask @veritaserum07! I'm so sorry it took me so long!
I hope you'll enjoy this little ficlet of our idiots in love.
Read on Ao3 or down below.
TW: Mentioning of scars and cutting (accidentally).
Care
Kiss prompt: 20. On a scar.
“I like this one, it’s my favorite.” A dim ray of sunlight shone through the window on Farah’s left hand as Saul held it up. She was lying on her back in her four-poster bed, the naked body of her specialist curled into the side of hers, the morning still early enough for the school to be mostly quiet.
“The smallest, most meaningless scar is your favorite?” Farah asked drowsily, sleep not yet ready to fully let her return to the waking world and start the day, her raven-haired specialist taking full advantage of this by counting and trailing his finger over her scars, most of which she had collected back in their Light Battalion-years.
She knew how his touch felt by now, his hands caressing her body, the feeling of their tongues meeting. But the sensation of a soft and thoughtful kiss planted on her fingertip right where she’d once cut it, and the brush of light stubble against her skin, were new. More sensual to her than anything she had felt before, it captivated her, unable to take her eyes off the man holding her hand.
“S’not meaningless to me,” mumbled Saul, his grayish-blue eyes looking up at her as he kept her finger pressed to his lips, rendering her speechless for a moment. “Don’t you remember how you got it?”
Of course, she remembered. The evening after Saul had been brought in by the girls, wounds in his side oozing, his eyes already blackening, Farah had felt entirely helpless. All she had been able to do was ease his pain by taking some of it, and hold him as Ben tried to delay what they feared to be inevitable. Her help hadn’t been good enough, the tracking team hadn’t been fast enough, and stubbornly refusing to feel this utterly useless she had tried to do anything, something to at least make him more comfortable.
Saul had walked into the tiny kitchen attached to his suite, right at the moment she’d been cutting some parsley to throw in the soup she was making him (she could hear her late mother cackle in her mind, “Farah? In the kitchen?”). Focused as she was, he had startled her, causing her to cut deeply into the tip of her left index finger.
“I got it while I was stupidly trying to make you food, with which I probably would’ve poisoned you anyway,” Farah said, shaking her head at her past self.
“You were trying to take care of me,” Saul corrected her, lowering her hand and intertwining his fingers with hers. “And your soup was excellent.”
Farah huffed. “I still can’t see how that’s your favorite,” she said, frowning a little.
“I love all of your scars, Farah,” Saul said as he let go of her hand, raising himself up on his left arm to look into her eyes. “But that one is undeniable proof of how much you always try to take care of me, in any way possible.” Cupping her cheek, he bent over to kiss her tenderly, rendering her unable to deny his praise.
“We take care of each other,” Farah mumbled when they finally parted. She rolled them over until she was on top, Saul smiling at her and pulling her down for another languid kiss. Breakfast could wait a little longer.
Sorry it took so long anon <3 but I got carried away and some of the dialogue was fighting me. Hope you like it!
“Of course they got newer sexier uniforms,” Beatrix grumbles, flicking ash off the edge of the joint held between her fingers. The light grey flecks falling softly down the side of the building towards the greenery. Dancing to their inevitable doom.
Stella frowns down at the field where the specialists are training, nothing more than little black dots on the greenery. Too distant to fully make out- though Bea is definitely trying. Her eyes locked on a figure she undoubtedly thinks is Riven.
“I wouldn’t say sexier,” Stella says simply, reaching out for the joint. Which Beatrix passes easily, red lips turning up into a devilish smile, taking joy in the small corruptions she was afforded.
Not that Stella was perfect. But smoking weed on school grounds while skipping class wasn’t something she had ever been caught doing. Though this long into outings with her friend had her more and more open to the idea, after all they never got caught. And Bea always used her powers to keep smoke from blowing unwittingly into Stella’s face, keeping it off their clothes for when they slipped down from the roof.
“Bulkier definitely,” Stella says with a smirk. Then she lifts the joint to her lips, not thinking about the inevitable traces of lipstick left to it as she takes a drag. It burns down her throat, expanding in her lungs, until she chokes. Doubling over as the smoke leaves her lungs in a few sputtering coughs.
Beatrix laughs, something fond sparkling in her eyes. “Slowly princess. Hold it in, then release. It’s about control.”
Stella narrows her eyes at her as she finally gets a lungful of good air. Clean and crisp.
“Easier said than done,” she grumbles, voice hoarse.
Bea arches an eyebrow playfully, “being dramatic, princess.” She draws out the nickname, something dark and mischievous glinting in her eyes.
Stella frowns, “no.” As if to make a point she takes another drag of the joint, making sure to go slowly and not flinch as her throat burns, holding it in her lungs for a second before releasing it out on another wheeze. Softer this time and not quite making her chest ache.
Bea’s smile softens, then she reaches to take the joint from Stella, their fingers brushing gently as she takes it. The brief touch makes something warm bubble up in Stella’s stomach, followed by her cheeks turning bright pink as Bea winks and takes a long drag from the joint.
Stella ducks her head to hide her blush, focusing on the way their legs are intertwined so they fit in the little alcove overlooking the edge of the roof. Beatrix’s knee pressed gently against Stella’s inner thigh, just enough pressure to remind her how close they are. Close but distant. No matter how much space Stella closed between their bodies then unspoken lingered in the air, creating an unfathomable distance.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Bea asks, a humorous lilt to her voice. Like she knows.
Stella glances up quickly, heart skipping in her chest. “Nothing.” She lies through her teeth.
Bea’s red lips quirk up into another wicked grin. “Doesn’t sound like nothing.” She nudges Stella with her knee, the action simple and comfortable, but making Stella’s breath catch. Beatrix leans forward, closing the space so there’s only a few inches between them as her eyes flicker down Stella’s face. “Friends don’t keep secrets,” she teases lightheartedly.
Stella releases a breath, eyes flickering back down to Bea’s lips. The bright red makes something burn in her chest, and she realizes however belatedly she probably spends too much time staring at her mouth.
“Nothing,” Stella breathes out, reaching forward to cup Bea’s face and leaning in the last few inches till their lips brush. It’s soft and gentle, just a brush of their mouths, the other girls lips softer then Stella had imagined.
Bea’s body stills, frozen in shock. Which snaps Stella out of it and makes her start to pull back before the other girl kisses back, hand coming up to cup the back of Stella’s neck.
She breaks the kiss with a laugh, their foreheads pressed together. “Never thought you’d actually do anything about it princess.”
Stella flushes at the nickname, body heating up uncomfortably as her heart squeezes tight in her chest. “Shut up,” she mutters. Before surging forward to capture Bea’s mouth again.
She can’t stop kissing her now that she’s started, blood thrumming through her veins and electricity dancing across her skin. Stella opens her mouth, licking at the seam of Beatrix’s lips drawing a soft groan from her. But she opens up allowing Stella access to lick into her mouth, the flavor of her bursting across Stella’s tongue and settling in a warm syrupy feeling low in her belly.
Beatrix’s fingers tighten at Stella’s neck, her breathing becoming heavier as she kisses back with equal fervor.
Stella strokes her thumb across Bea’s cheekbone as she angles her face for better access, electric sparks seeming to dance down her spine as Bea’s teeth dig gently into her bottom lip. And then she’s releasing a sharp whine that makes Beatrix kiss her deeper, this time her tongue and teeth working together in an intoxicating pattern until Stella can’t breathe.
She breaks the kiss, pressing their foreheads together as she catches her breath. “Fuck.”
“Damn, Princess,” Beatrix says the playful lilt back already. “You kiss like a filthy criminal.”
So @skloomdumpster mentioned something about Sky with a concussion and I meant to do something like nice and sickfic-y but instead I wrote this (x) sorry about short and shallow. But hurt!
So yeah, hurt Sky! Also if you're sad and want whump there's a bunch of other whumpy bits!
Summary: An innocent camping trip takes a deadly turn.
Warnings: Mentions of blood
Word Count: 2.6k
Authors Note: This is for the lovely @septemberrie, for the @winxsource‘s ftws holiday exchange. I’m very thankful to be a part of this wonderful fandom and for the friends I’ve made along the way. Happy Holidays! Also a huge thanks to @lilshitwayne for the help with this fic.
Sky grasped at Saul’s shirt with one hand, Silva’s arm slung over his shoulder. Taking a tighter grip, he struggled to keep him upright, his other hand holding onto his sword tightly, his knuckles turning white. The forest was deadly quiet, no sign of life anywhere. Settling the dark haired man against the huge trunk of a tree, Sky dropped to his knees in front of him.
He let go of his weapon, a foolish thing to do, but he had to use both hands for this. He moved carefully, lifting Saul’s shirt and immediately wished he hadn’t. The wound was bigger than he expected, the crimson blood flowing from the open gash. Reaching for his backpack, Sky quickly found a spare shirt and pressed it against Saul’s side, earning a pained groan from the man in front of him.
“Silva, come on, we gotta get back to the camp. Can you keep pressure on it?” The only response he got was another groan but Silva lifted his hand to his side, pressing the cloth closer. Putting on his backpack again, Sky carefully helped Saul to his feet, movements slow as to not jostle him too much. Keeping most of Silva's weight against his side, he started to move in the direction of where they had set camp earlier that day.
Summer was almost over and the promise of a new term was just around the corner. To celebrate Sky starting his first year, Saul had suggested going camping over the weekend. Eager to spend some time away before the school started, Sky had agreed and during a sunny Friday morning the two of them had left Alfea.
Starting the first year was exciting, finally getting to walk the same halls as his father once did, finally being able to train as a specialist. The thought of living up to the legend of Andreas was a bit daunting and Sky knew that most people expected him to be just as good, but knowing Silva would be there made it easier. Still, he had looked forward to a weekend in the forest, within the protective area of the barrier, which extended for miles around the castle, hidden deep into the trees of the Alfean forest. Silva would never let him go beyond it.
Arriving at their makeshift camp, Sky let Silva down onto his sleeping bag. His eyes were closed and his mouth pinched in a painful frown, the blood staining his shirt a dark red. Rustling through his bag, Sky found the first aid kit and ripped the antiseptic open. Moving so he could settle at Saul’s side, he once again lifted his shirt. The blood flow had mostly stopped but in order to see how bad it really was, he had to remove the shirt and clean the wound. Tossing the shirt aside, he gently dabbed around the wound, Saul’s body tensing. Coming too close, he let out a painful gasp, jerking away from Sky’s touch.
“I know it hurts but I need to clean it…please” Sky’s voice seemed to settle Silva and he clenched his jaw, nodding. After Sky finished cleaning the gash, he wrapped it up as best as he could and forced Saul to take a painkiller. Looking over the contents of the first aid kit, he counted only two more pills, a couple of antiseptics and a small bottle of green liquid, courtesy of Ben. Recognising the painkillers brand, he remembered that giving Saul one would probably make him drowsy. Either that or the pain seemed to win out, because Saul fell into a restless slumber soon after.
Covering him with a blanket, Sky got a fire started then, settling on his own sleeping bag, swords at his side. Two painkillers would last Silva through the night but not for longer. Keeping an eye on the man sleeping across from him, Sky thought back on earlier that day.
They had set up camp and then left to hunt their dinner. He had used a crossbow once or twice before, so when they came upon a herd of deer, Saul had let him take the shot. A rustling had distracted him and thinking it was a bigger prey, Sky had shot blindly into the bushes, ignoring Saul’s protests. The boar rushing out, screeching in pain, had moved too quickly for Sky to react and Silva had stepped into the animal’s path, pushing Sky aside. It had all happened so fast, Sky managing to drive the boar away with another shot, dropping to Saul’s side, ignoring all the blood, trying to see what the man's injuries were.
The silence is what Sky notices first, interrupting his thoughts. Saul’s laboured breathing isn’t as loud as before and when he looks over, the man lies completely still. Abandoning his spot, Sky crawls around the fire and reaches out to touch Silva’s forehead. It’s clammy and he feels cold. Noticing the sweat beaded on his face, Sky checks his pulse, heart hammering in his chest when he notices that it’s rather weak. Removing the wrap he did earlier, he checks the wound, hands shaking as he sees that the blood hasn’t coagulated properly, instead it is still flowing freely. Calling the man's name, shaking him slightly, Sky gets no response.
Turning around, Sky reaches for his backpack and the first aid kit. Ignoring the painkillers, he reaches for the bottle of green liquid. He unscrews the cork, gently lifts Saul’s head up and tips the bottle to his lips. Making sure he downs all of the liquid, Sky’s mind races. Silva’s condition hasn’t improved, in fact he’s worse off than he was when they arrived back at camp. Sky knows that they made camp about 5 kilometres from the castle and their walk took them the better part of an hour. He could make it back in less if he hurried but Saul wouldn’t. Even though the liquid seemed to help and his pulse was a little stronger, he wasn’t strong enough to travel any kind of distance. Carrying him wasn’t an option, it would just slow him down and further Saul’s injuries. But leaving him behind wasn’t an option either. Silva would never leave a wounded man behind but Sky knew that in the end he didn’t have a choice. If he wants Saul to make it through the night they need help and it wouldn’t magically appear.
“Sky…” Saul’s voice startles Sky. Looking down, Silva still has his eyes closed but is mumbling quietly. Checking the wound once again, he leans in close because right now the fire is the only thing providing him with light. The forest is pitch black around them, indicating that Sky had been lost in thought for much longer than he first thought. Relief floods him at the sight of the blood finally coagulating better but it quickly disappears when Sky notices the first stages of infection setting in. Rustling around inside the medical kit, he finds the two remaining painkillers but he knows they won’t help stop the infection taking root. With a frustrated yell, he shoves the kit to the side and buries his head in his arms.
Had he not been so lost in his thoughts maybe he could have prevented this. He should have paid more attention, cleaned it better and wrapped it up better. Had he been more meticulous, maybe he could have stopped the infection from even starting. Silva feels warmer and Sky worries about a fever coming along, caused by the infection.
“I’m sorry…” Saul is turning his head, eyes still closed. He seems to be caught up in some dream, no doubt caused by the fever. It’s the mention of Andreas’s name that halts Sky’s movements:
“Andreas, no, stop! Don't do this” Silva’s face is pinched in a painful frown but his eyes are now open, glassy and even though he’s staring straight at him, Sky gets the feeling that he’s not actually seeing him. Saul looks like he’s seen a ghost and when Sky reaches for him, he jerks back as much as he can in his injured state. Like he's afraid of Sky.
“Silva, it’s me, it’s Sky!” grabbing Saul by the shoulders, he forces him to lay back down. Saul’s eyes are still unseeing. Reaching for the medical kit he shoved aside a few minutes earlier, he finds a painkiller and hopes that it will knock him out. Sky keeps talking softly, hoping to settle Silva. As the minutes pass by, the man starts to calm down, no longer struggling against him but still mumbling incoherent words. Sky catches his own name, Andreas name once again and a string of quiet apologies. After maybe fifteen minutes of calmly talking to Silva, he turns his eyes on Sky’s face, some recognition behind the fog clouding them.
“Sky?” he lifts one of his hands, as if to grab onto Sky’s arm but is too weak. Eventually his eyes close, body going limp as unconsciousness claims him. Sitting back on his heels, Sky helplessly stares at the man laying in front of him.
Silva’s isn’t getting any better, his fever is rising and the infection will kill him if Sky doesn’t get help soon but how can he leave him here? It’s been hours since they first left camp, Silva had said it was easier to spot prey when the sun still was up, so they had left some time before sunset. Now the sky is glowing a soft orange tinted black, dawn approaching at a rapid pace, the same pace at which Silva’s fever is escalating at. He’s barely conscious, never mind coherent enough to defend himself. The barrier will protect him from the dangers outside but it won’t help him against whatever’s inside it. The boar had proved as much.
Feeling his cheeks grow wet, Sky straightens up and wipes at his face, forcing the tears back. He knows Saul won’t get better and he’s already out of options. Leaving him here to get help seems to be his only choice but parts of him scream to stay put. What if he takes an ever worse turn while Sky is gone? For once in his life, Sky wishes for the healing powers that most fairies can use, the way they use the elements around them to heal and nurture. All he can do is to sit here and do nothing. Sky realises that mulling over this will only delay him getting the help Silva desperately needs.
Determined he stands and he carefully moves Silva closer to the fire and then moves to shift the camp around him, making him as protected as he can with what little he has. Placing the man's sword within reach, Sky puts on his own harness, sheeting the dagger. Wiping a hand over Saul’s forehead, he whispers “Please hold on”. Then he stands up and makes his way away from the camp.
Moving quickly, Sky starts the trek back to the castle. The forest is darker here, more trees covering the rising sun and in the distance Sky can hear an owl hooting softly. Keeping a steady grip on his sword, he moves through the dark, Saul on his mind. The thought of losing Saul weighs heavily and he forces down the panic clawing its way up his throat.
“No, he’ll make it, there is no other option.” Sky thinks. Losing another father wouldn’t be something happening to him. He tries to keep his breathing even, trying to not lose himself to the panic he feels building up. “You won’t be any help if you lose it now, keep it together. Saul needs you”.
The terrain is difficult and it slows him down more than he would like. Sky swears and shoves some bushes out of his way. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he left camp, left Silva, but he knows he needs to hurry. Getting more anxious by the minute, he hurries his steps, small branches cutting into his face. Making his way over a fallen tree, he continues onward, his heart pounding in his chest. A sound to his left has him spinning around, sword raised to defend himself.
“Sky, is that you?” moving forward, Sky comes face to face with Ben Harvey. Relief crashes into him and he can’t help the sob that escapes him as the man emerges from the trees. Swallowing back another sobs, Sky tells him about the boar, Saul’s injuries and how he tried his best to help, all while leading him back towards the camp. Finally the fire Sky lit earlier can be visible and Ben is quick to kneel beside the wounded man on the ground, while Sky hovers, unsure of what to do. Ben’s hands are glowing a soft green as they move over Saul’s body and Sky realises that he’s using magic to help heal his injuries.
“I gave him a painkiller at first and it seemed to help but then the wound wouldn’t close properly and the blood wasn’t coagulating so I gave him the bottle with stimtonic but there was nothing I could do to stop the infection” his words are hurried and Ben places a calming hand on his arm.
“Calm down, you’ve done a good job'' Ben reassures him. The man produces a portal ring from his pockets, no doubt borrowed from Ms. Dowling. He signals for Sky to help and together they gently lift up Saul, heading through the portal and towards the greenhouses. Sky stands back as Ben continues his work. The blood is now flowing from the wound once again, the recent movement a probable cause. Harvey is looking more worried by the minute, his work growing more frantic as his powers don’t seem like they’re enough. Sky’s vision swims and he stumbles, looking for the bench behind him. The guilt is consuming him and he helplessly looks on as Ben tries to save Silva’s life. His breath catches in his throat and feeling his head spin, everything turns dark.
Sky wakes up with a start. Looking around, he’s still in the greenhouses and he’s lying on a soft bed, still in his dirty clothes. He panics for a moment when it all comes back to him, the boar, the blood, Silva but it stops when he catches the sight of the man in the bed next to him, sleeping. Saul has regained colour to his face and his breathing is even, soft. Swinging his legs over the edge of his own bed, Sky takes the chair next to Silva’s bed, carefully lifting the blanket covering him to look at the wound. Harvey seems to have patched him up and the wound looks clean and free from infection. Tension bleeds from Sky’s shoulders as he leans back, releasing a deep breath. Silva’s fine, he’s going to be fine. Sky won’t be alone. Silva won’t be alone. Grasping Saul’s hand, Sky finds his pulse strong and steady.
“Disappointed that the trip was cut short?” Saul’s voice is thick with sleep but he still manages a smile. Sky draws a shaky breath and shakes his head, unable to form any words. Saul grimaces but sits up, drawing him into a hug. Leaning in, Sky wraps his arms around him, burying his face in Silva’s shoulder. The first sob is a relief, Sky clutching his shirt all while Saul murmurs soft reassurances to him.
“It’s alright kid, I’m going to be fine. I’m proud of you, do you hear me?” Sky nods but doesn’t let go of him. Silva is alive, he’s going to be fine, no lasting damage. He’s breathing, his pulse is strong and he’s right here. Leaning back, he looks into his dad's eyes, smiling.
“Maybe I should leave the boar alone the next trip, eh?” Saul’s laughter is comforting and wraps around him like a blanket, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He joins in and wraps his arm around the man once again.
