Fictif Last Legacy: x reader oneshots

Felix's guilty passion for romance novels

"Are we being chased? Should we activate some protective amulets? Throw some urns of oil behind us?" you call to him, a bright, silly grin all over your face. "I assume that's how romance-hero Chadrick Thundermelt would escape his fiendish pursuers!"

Felix puffs out his cheeks, trying hard not to splutter a laugh while he hides his amusement behind his armful of books. Despite the severe lack of pirates, demons or even the creatures Felix described as werebats on your tail, you can't help be swept up in the adventure of racing by his side. You both leap over the canal, barely avoiding a cart of assorted instruments and losing your grip on each other in the process. When you reach for Felix's arm again, you feel the tips of his fingers catch yours. Felix stretches back for you, a last glance through his unschooled hair as he nimbly threads his fingers over your knuckles. And then he turns, and in an instant you've been tugged into what must be the narrowest alleyway in the whole city, a tumble of light spilling over the smooth cobblestones at your feet.

"Well actually," Felix takes a gulp of air, his chest lifting and falling with the effort of your dash through the streets. He's leaning forward, clearly winded. And yet his eyes crease as he gives you a huff of a smile, and you think that if you only pulled him forward, he'd keep running until you both collapsed under the stars. "Actually, this..."

Felix summons the last of his energy to step back against the wall, a calmer, more meditative expression drawing over his face as he outlines the shape of a rune in the sky.

"This is more akin to the manner in which he'd escape his pursuers," Felix concludes, and the spell washes over the alleyway in a crackle of heat, revealing a magically-hidden nook where before there was nothing. Within the alcove is a collection of comfy armchairs, a makeshift shelf and a stack of books similar to the ones he just purchased, though these look well-worn.

It's barely an effort for him, but the fact that you're still astonished by spellcasting in general catches Felix off-guard, and he ducks his gaze as if to immediately ward off any compliments.

"It's, ah, just a tidy little retreat for, ah-"

He gives a small, self-conscious cough, looking like he'd rather spirit himself into Fathom Swamp than acknowledge your reaction means anything to him.

It isn't even the magic, you realise, your heart stinging in your chest as he glances away. Without saying a word, his books and his mad-hatter steeplechase have helped you shake off the ghosts of your earlier encounter, pulled you back to solid ground before you'd even had to ask.

"Felix..." you start, raising a wry eyebrow. "Is there... any area, within the woods, this city, Mournfall or anywhere in between... that you don't have some sort of library or study desk?"

And just like that, you can tell you've saved him too. Felix looks up, a grin that's halfway between incredulous and smug slowly lighting his features. He perches at the edge of one of the armchairs, patting the empty space beside him as he manoeuvres the stack of books onto his lap.

"You said you'd be inclined to borrow the novella after I'd finished," he explains.

"And you said it would be better to start with the first one rather than the last," you return, making your way over to the chair and sitting cross-legged beside him.

The corners of Felix's mouth twitch as you speak, the stack of books wobbling in his lap. His fingers are gently plucking out a particularly fancy looking paperback from between the spines of the others.

"Luckily the first is still in my possession, in that case," Felix says coyly, and he holds up the familiar embossed cover, a wilting rose and the enticing series title: 'Sea Bound'.

"I do hope book one covers the origin of Chadrick's tight leather pants," you grin, wriggling amongst the cushions as Felix plucks his reading glasses from his overcoat. He crumples the bridge of his nose.

"By the Gods, of course it does," Felix says curtly, clearly affronted. "These aren't just idle page-turners, I'll have you know. Be prepared to commit your very soul to those leather pants."

You swallow a laugh just in case he's not joking. With a last unassailable glare, Felix draws a deep breath, then begins to softly read the first book to you, his blush still a deep shade of 'I'd best do this before I think better of it'. Your favourite parts soon become all those when he can't help darting a glance toward you, trying to discern whether you're enjoying all the suspenseful bits of the story. Eventually he turns to face you in the armchair, tucking his knees to his chest as you do the same, your legs pressed up against his as he tentatively buries his socked feet beneath yours.

And while the stories are laden with flowery language, enough angst to sink a ship and the most miraculous twist where a demon falls in love with Chadrick after all, you find yourself unashamedly enraptured in every word. You've probably been holding your breath for a solid minute by the time Felix makes it through the closing chapter, his voice cracking dreadfully and his eyes on the brink of spilling over. You have your own hands pressed over your mouth, and Felix shuffles forward to hug you tight, reassuring you that several characters are, indeed, resurrected in the second, third, fifth and seventh sequels. It's a sweet, fierce, and terribly fussy hug, and you suspect from the way Felix keeps trying not to sniffle into your shirt that he needs it just as much as you.

"If you cosplay Chadrick, I'll cosplay that demon in a heartbeat," you whisper, no other words seem apt enough to describe the emotions you've been left with. Felix gives a wet, croaky sort of laugh, then gives up on trying to pull himself together, offering you a soft, inscrutable glance instead.

"Heh. Alright," Felix says quietly. "Perhaps we'll rewrite the ending after all."

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