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one of the most infuriating things about becoming an adult is when you realize that it actually is 10x easier to solve problems by making a phone call vs literally any other communication method

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I love seeing a meme and being like oh, tumblrs going to love this one

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alone but not lonely 💙

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Return

973 words | No Warrior (sequel to Passing winter)

Content | Referenced past trauma

Notes | Big decisions are made!

This is the end of the story, however, unlike with The monster of Lindborough, there are still a bunch of gaps I want to fill sometime :)

For now, this is it, though. I hope you like it! Friendly reminder I have a ko-fi, otherwise I'm also always happy to read you comments even if I'm bad at responding dfjkdkgjh <3

Taglist | @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​ @whump-me-all-night-long @whumpadump1939​​ @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight

@whumpzone @angel-stars​​ @kixngiggles @whumpsy-daisies @yet-another-heathen

@rosesareviolentlyread @cupcakes-and-pain @hollowtreesinhollowwoods @pleasancies @much-ado-about-whumping

@nine-tailed-whump​​ @whump-em @itsleighlove @newbornwhumperfly @tears-and-lilies

@deluxewhump @whump-cravings @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning @neverthelass

@whumpsday @silent-orchid-lady @everynameistakencarrots @scoundrelwithboba

»I want to go with you.«

This time, it was different. Everything was different, so much so Yves found it jarring he used the same words.

Runar had been right not to let him come last year, of course, he understood that with perfect clarity now; in truth, he had probably understood it then. But when last year, he had been fueled by fear — fear of what would become of him without Runar’s protection and care — as much as what little spark remained of his desire to fight for his people, now?

Now, everything was different.

Runar looked at him for a long moment. They were up at the cliffs, watching the sun set over the seas Runar would sail across soon.

He didn’t need Runar’s permission, really. He almost didn’t feel he did — he simply had to prove his valour like all who joined the warriors. But it seemed courteous to tell his lover first. They had been together — a couple — for months now.

»You’ll have to prove yourself,« Runar finally said, and Yves’ heart hopped at the way he didn’t argue.

»I know.« He smiled up at Runar, squeezed his hand.

»You’re sure, aren’t you?«

Yves nodded, his smile fading. This was a serious decision, and he couldn’t fault Runar for double-checking.

But to his surprise, after a moment, Runar started to grin. »It’s not fair to say I told you so, is it?«

»Heart of a warrior?« He had told him so. And Yves couldn’t believe it, not then. But perhaps it had been true all along.

He grinned back.

* All young folk who wanted to join the warriors had to pass a test of skill — they had to face one of the proper warriors in a fight, one on one. They didn’t have to win, strictly speaking. But all, and their opponent foremost, would judge if they could hold their own. It was a show the whole village came to watch.

It was agreed upon that there was no way Runar would be the one testing Yves. Yves agreed.

And yet Runar couldn’t help but wish it was him when he watched Signy approach him with that mad grin of hers. Some might argue she, too, was too biased in favour of the little thing, but from the way she pranced across the trodden-down grass within the marked circle, Runar had no doubt she wouldn’t be holding back.

Yet Runar knew these very thoughts were what made him so unsuitable. He could only watch, and hope Yves could handle himself as well as his sword.

It lightened his heart a little to hear the cheers from the crowd, as enthusiastic for Yves as for any of the younger kids born and raised here. Truly, this place had become Yves’ home, and even if he was found unfit to be a warrior — yet — he had a whole life ahead of him here.

Runar breathlessly watched the dull practice swords flash and clang, watched the swift steps of the pair on grass. He had watched Yves during his training a few times, and he knew how nimble he had become; he dodged and twisted, let Signy’s sword run off his like water, boldly shot forward like a little wasp.

Yet, Signy caught him on the thigh. It was a sharp hit, and Runar knew it must have hurt. He barely noticed himself jumping to his feet.

Yves scrambled out of the way; Runar couldn’t see his face, and he was desperate to know if he was overcome with the old fear, overwhelmed with memories-

Then Yves dashed forward, diving under Signy’s sword, and nearly got her back before she slid aside, experience and strength on her side. Runar shouted along with the cheers rising from the crowd.

It wasn’t much longer before Signy ended the fight, throwing an arm around Yves shoulder. »Yves!« she shouted, and the crowd picked up the shout, and Runar thought his heart would burst with pride, and with the wild happiness on Yves’ face.

* Yves felt his heart tremble — not with fear, not only — as the ship set sail, carrying him back.

He would go back.

With the sword waiting for him in the deckhouse.

For the moment, once the coast had disappeared from view and the last waves goodbye had been exchanged, there was nothing much to do. They were sailing before a favourable wind, and the new trainees weren’t on the first shift, so they could have a moment to smell the air and get a grip on the excitement fluttering in their hearts. Yves wasn’t much different… and yet, wholly.

He went to stand by the bow. The place brought back memories. Here he had cowered, a year and a half ago, desperate for a mercy he didn’t believe in.

Now, though, he got to look out across the waves the ship cut through under the expert guidance of the sailors, and smile when Runar took his hand.

»Are you alright?«

»Yes.« He watched the water, squeezing Runar’s hand. »It’s… I don’t know how… what it will be like. Over there.«

Runar hummed his compassion. »Whatever happens,« he said quietly, »I’ve got you. We’ve got you.«

»I know.« He leant against Runar. It was true.

The weeks at sea passed uneventfully; once the ship was becalmed for a few days, but not so long as to threaten their provisions; Brandr had taken to ignoring Yves wholly.

But eventually, a faint coastline appeared on the horizon.

The warriors not immediately occupied in guiding the ship towards a quiet beach where they could resupply, and start scouting, grabbed their gear.

Yves stood by the bow, between Signy and Runar, watching the land he had left behind become clearer.

His hand closed around the hilt of the sword Björn had made for him.

He was ready.

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Smith

684 words | No Warrior (sequel to Birth)

Content | Social anxiety, mention of collaring

Notes | Remember Björn? Yves does.

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One day, the iron handle of the cooking pot broke, spilling soup right into the fire it had hung over.

Yves found, to his surprise, he was more annoyed than frightened.

He had a cold dinner and set the pot by the door to take it to the smith in the morning. It seemed simple.

But when he woke up and picked up the pot and went on his way to the village, he found his grasp tightening with every step. He had never really had much interaction with the smith, not since… he arrived, he’d just seen him around. He seemed a calm and kind person, nothing at all to be worried about.

Yet when he stood before the workshop, its open door spilling heat onto the path, he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering back to their last encounter.

Truly, he owed the smith his thanks. He had been nothing but helpful to him, and Yves had never even talked to him again. That was silly, too, and it would seem sillier to catch up with it now.

For a little while, he just stood there, listening to the clanging of the heavy hammer from within, distracting himself with the flight of the handful of birds circling above without really seeing them.

Then, he took a deep breath, and knocked on the doorframe.

The smith didn’t look up from the iron he was hammering, but he shouted, »One moment!« and finished up his work, thrusting the as yet shapeless metal back into the forge. He was smaller than Yves remembered, but not by much.

»Yves!« When he finally looked to the door, surprise was plainly written across his face. »Good to see you about! How can I help you?«

Yves hesitated. He had thought about what he wanted to say, but a little voice in the back of his head still insisted he was being ridiculous. It mingled with the lingering fear of asking for help, of bothering anyone.

»I wanted to thank you,« he finally managed. »I never quite did. For — you know.« He briefly touched a hand to his neck. Even that was enough to summon a memory of the horrid collar.

It was gone now.

»’course.« Björn smiled — he had such a kind smile, much like Runar’s. »We do what we can to help one another out. I know you were scared. Are you well now?«

That also seemed a silly question, so many months later; but after all, it was Yves’ fault they hadn’t had this conversation sooner. And yet… he found it easy to return the smile.

»I am. Thanks.« He awkwardly lifted the pot. »I was also hoping you could have a look at this.«

»Of course! Give it here.« The pot seemed small in the smith’s hands, but maybe that was because Yves hadn’t seen it in Runar’s for so long. Björn took one quick look at the break, tutted, and put the pot on a shelf. »That shouldn’t be much trouble. Do you need it for lunch? Otherwise I’d rather finish those up, and you can have it back by evening.«

»That’s fine.« Yves wouldn’t dream of rushing him. »Do you… need anything? The chives are coming along nicely.« A lot of the town operated on the assumption that everyone contributed their share to the community’s well-being, and Yves’ part was, mostly, to weave — though he had started to spin, as well, and like everyone helped out in the fields when needed — but it was always polite to offer, wasn’t it?

Björn smiled. »Sure, wouldn’t mind some.«

Weeks passed, and Yves found himself stopping by the smith’s workshop more and more often when he came by. He brought him herbs from the garden, and they chatted — from a few words to whole coversations about Yves’ garden (no, Runar’s garden) or Björn’s craft.

Yves hadn’t, once he shed the worst of his fear, found it hard to get along with most of the village. Runar’s family had taken him in warmly. But as time went by, he started to feel like he had a friend.

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No warrior

693 words | No Warrior (sequel to Bad day)

Content | Angst, low self-worth, referenced past torture

Notes | I wasn't sure about the direction this would go but it worked out alright eventually. Runar is trying his best.

Yes I love giving series titles to episodes it's like a get out of titling free card.

Taglist | @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​​ @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​ @whump-me-all-night-long​​​​ @whumpadump1939​​ @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight​​ @whumpzone​​ @angel-stars​​ @kixngiggles​​ @whumpsy-daisies​​ @briars7​​ @yet-another-heathen​​ @rosesareviolentlyread​​ @cupcakes-and-pain​​ @hollowtreesinhollowwoods​​ @pleasancies​​ @much-ado-about-whumping​​ @nine-tailed-whump​​ @whump-em​​​ @itsleighlove​​ @newbornwhumperfly​​​ @tears-and-lilies @deluxewhump @whump-cravings @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning @neverthelass @whumpsday

As always, Runar picked Yves up from work in the evening. The little thing had insisted on going, even being so obviously tired, even after his breakdown during their midday walk that Runar couldn’t stop thinking about. Poor Yves, believing himself to be so unworthy of good things. Runar wished Yves could see himself through his eyes for just a moment.

As always, they sat down for dinner together. Watching Yves hang his head over the table, looking at nothing and especially not at Runar, hurt his heart.

»I’m sorry,« Yves muttered.

»There’s nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart,« Runar replied gently, the ache cutting deeper. He was glad Yves was talking at all, but if only he could understand-

Yves shook his head without looking up. »I shouted at you.«

»You were upset.«

»That doesn’t make it okay.« Runar could hear the crack in Yves’ voice. Was he still scared he would be punished?

»Maybe not, but… I understand.« He carefully reached out to place a hand over Yves’, cold as always. Yves didn’t flinch, which Runar took as a good sign. »I’ve said it before, your soul is injured.«

»Why won’t it heal, then?« Yves swallowed, then he finally looked up, only to reveal his eyes full of tears.

»It will,« Runar promised and regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. You don’t know that. »It will get better, at least.«

»I feel like it’s getting worse,« Yves said, hanging his head again.

Runar didn’t know what to say, just like he hadn’t known how to help, not really, all this time. He didn’t know it would get better. But all injuries healed eventually, didn’t they?

Some healed wrong, an aching reminder of what had happened forever haunting the injured.

Some got infected and took too long, took entire limbs and lives.

He didn’t know, was the simple truth.

All he knew was that Yves deserved better.

It took too long to find something to say; Yves got there first. »Why did you say that?«

»Say what?«

»That I… I have the heart of a warrior.« Yves’ voice dripped with self-loathing sarcasm. »When it’s so fucking obvious I don’t.«

Runar didn’t think he ever heard Yves swear before, but even not knowing the language, the meaning couldn’t have been clearer. He was torn between being glad for Yves acting bolder, or worried about the - well, everything around it.

»If that were true, why am I so…« Yves shook his head and didn’t finish the sentence.

»Alive?« Runar proposed gently. »Yves, I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it, it takes a brave soul to survive what you did.«

»You don’t know what…«

Runar paused. Again, that sudden - or perhaps not so sudden? had he missed something? - readiness to answer back to him that filled him with a burst of pride, even among all the suffering Yves was still going through, with his inability to see the progress Runar saw. And he was right. Runar knew so little about the circumstances of Yves’ imprisonment. Eventually, he cautiously asked, »Do you want to tell me?«

»No.« Yves’ voice was barely a whisper.

Runar just nodded, hoping Yves saw his acknowledgement. »I have seen your injuries, though,« he pointed out. »I’ve seen how hard it was for you to feel - start feeling safe here.« He was going out on a limb, but he hoped that was what had happened; that the little sweetheart accepting, even requesting hugs meant he was no longer afraid of him, that wanting to work within the community meant he wanted to make himself at home.

Yves gave a tiny nod, as if his whisper had taken physical form. He swallowed, then added, in a slightly more substantial voice, »I still could never be a warrior though.«

»Why?«

»Stop it.« Yves didn’t sound as upset as he had in the afternoon - just resigned. He turned away and got up from the table, leaving his half-eaten bread, retrieving his hand from under Runar's like it was nothing. »Please.«

Runar’s heart stung, but he let it be, not sure he understood well enough to argue.

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🛏 for Yves - newbornwhumperfly

Totally still doing these

This one's just a tiny snip, follow-up to this.

Yves blinked his eyes open. He felt warm and cozy and rested.

“Hey, good morning, sweetheart.”

He rolled over to see Runar sitting by the bed, smiling down on him. He was fully dressed, and by all appearances had been up for a while.

Yves sat up, rubbing his face. Soft morning light was falling through the windows, and it took him a moment to realize what that meant at this time of year, here. “Oh-“

“I didn’t want to wake you, I know you didn’t sleep so well.” Runar reached out a hand, and Yves took it without thinking. Not too long ago, it would have terrified him, but now, Runar’s warm fingers closing gently around his was a comfort he may not deserve for all the trouble he put Runar through, yet made him feel safer.

[randomlifeunit]

Post nightmare cuddles and a hand carding gently through their hair for Yves? (Sorry some of the emojis didn't show up on my phone.)

Thank you! Three whole people wanted Yves to have post-nightmare cuddles, here you go :D

This is sometime after Warmth

No warrior taglist | @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​​ @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​ @whump-me-all-night-long​​ @alliecat5594​​ @whumpadump1939​​ @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight​​ @whumpzone​​ @angel-stars​​ @kixngiggles​​ @whumpsy-daisies​​ @briars7​​ @yet-another-heathen​​ @rosesareviolentlyread​​ @cupcakes-and-pain​​ @hollowtreesinhollowwoods​​ @pleasancies​​ @much-ado-about-whumping​​ @nine-tailed-whump​​ @starnight-whump​​ @whump-em​​​ @itsleighlove​​ @newbornwhumperfly​​​ @whots-a-tag-precious @tears-and-lilies @deluxewhump @maddam-redder @queenofthedark

Yves jerked awake, like he had so many times now, trembling and holding his breath against the sobs and whimpers in his throat because what if they heard-

- until, moments later, he realized where he was.

At least that dreadful interval between waking and finding himself had been getting shorter.

That didn’t mean his heart wasn’t racing inside his chest, and tears weren’t running down his face over the injustice of it all. Couldn’t he sleep? Couldn’t he be safe for once?

He tried to keep quiet as he sat up and cried. He was no longer afraid of Runar, but that only made him more determined not to bother him. He owed him so much.

He couldn’t help the little gasps masking sobs, it was the best he could do, and this night, it wasn’t enough.

“Yves?” Runar sleepily shifted beside him.

“I’m okay,” Yves said, and regretted it immediately - his voice, high-pitched and trembling, was sure to give him away.

“Hey. Yeah. You are, you’re safe.”

“Yes, I know,” Yves whispered, and he knew, of course he knew, Runar had done everything in his power to make it clear from the start.

His heart was still racing and his hands were still trembling and everything was awful.

“Can I hold you?” Runar asked, quietly.

For a moment, Yves couldn’t answer. Just go back to sleep, I never meant to bother you, please - but he just breathed, “Yes.”

He laid down, and before he knew it, he was wrapped in Runar’s strong arms, his face buried in his chest. For some reason, he was crying harder, while Runar gently ran his hand down his back, murmuring, “It’s alright, I’ve got you, you’re safe…”

His hand travelled back up, gently tracing fingers up the back of his neck and running through his hair. Down again, up again. Yves could feel his breath growing calmer, Runar’s warm fingers stroking over his scalp, cupping his head as if to protect him.

He was safe.

[randomlifeunit]

Warmth

702 words | Original work: No Warrior

Content | Implied touch starvation, fluffffff

Notes | Okay good news and bad news. The good news is, new No Warrior episode! The bad news is, I couldn’t find it in me to write any of the manifold things that must’ve happened between Calm and now, so we’re skipping a few months of juicy juicy recovery. Another time lol

It’s winter, and Yves is mostly recovered from his escape attempt, and has completed his Duolingo course, and in his quest to be useful, has learned, after asking Runar what people who can’t be warriors do around here esp. in winter, to weave, which is how he spends most of his days with the other weavers of the village.

Not entirely happy with it but eh.

Taglist | @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​​​​​ @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​​​​ @whump-me-all-night-long​​​​​ @alliecat5594​​​​​ @whumpadump1939​​​​​ @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight​​​​​ @whumpzone​​​​​ @angel-stars​​​​​ @kixngiggles​​​​​ @whumpsy-daisies​​​​​ @briars7​​​​​ @yet-another-heathen​​​​​ @rosesareviolentlyread​​​​​ @cupcakes-and-pain​​​​​ @hollowtreesinhollowwoods​​​​​ @pleasancies​​​​​ @much-ado-about-whumping​​​​​ @nine-tailed-whump​​​​​ @starnight-whump​​​​​ @whump-em​​​​​​ @itsleighlove​​​​​ @newbornwhumperfly​​​​​​ @whots-a-tag-precious​​​ @tears-and-lilies​​​ @maddam-redder

Darkness had long since fallen; it got dark early these days - the light outside lasted barely a few hours, far shorter than the shortest winter days Yves had known. But none but one of the weavers had to leave the safety of the village to get home, and he was picked up, without fail, by a strong and brave warrior when the day’s work was done.

Tonight, too, there was a soft knock on the door amidst the rustle of the weavers setting their work aside and pulling on coats, even for the few steps home - the cold outside, Yves knew, was biting.

While he put on his own coat and scarf and gloves, things he had in no way earned, the door opened, and Runar peered inside.

They walked home close beside each other, on the narrow path carved from snow now deeper than Yves was tall.

Keep reading

[randomlifeunit]

Weaving

780 words | No Warrior (right before Warmth)

Content | Low self-esteem, reference to past beating

Notes | This was already mostly finished, part of it was written even before Warmth lol, so I finsihed it up before getting on with where we left off.

Yves tries to get a job.

Taglist | @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​ @whump-me-all-night-long​​ @alliecat5594​​ @whumpadump1939​​ @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight​​ @whumpzone​​ @angel-stars​​ @kixngiggles​​ @whumpsy-daisies​​ @briars7​​ @yet-another-heathen​​ @rosesareviolentlyread​​ @cupcakes-and-pain​​ @hollowtreesinhollowwoods​​ @pleasancies​​ @much-ado-about-whumping​​ @nine-tailed-whump​​ @starnight-whump​​ @whump-em​​​ @itsleighlove​​ @newbornwhumperfly​​​ @whots-a-tag-precious @tears-and-lilies @deluxewhump @whump-cravings @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning @maddam-redder @queenofthedark @neverthelass

Yves was glad he was allowed to follow Runar around, even help with little tasks around the house, but the longer it lasted, the more he started feeling like he had when he had been recovering from his injuries: useless, and scared of it.

He no longer thought Runar was going to punish him for being so useless. No. That wasn’t it.

This morning, over breakfast, he plucked up his courage. »Runar?«

Runar smiled at him, warmly, like he always did. »Hm?«

»What can I do? What do… people who are not warriors do?«

Runar looked at him silently for a moment, and for as long, Yves felt an unknown fear clench his heart. He wasn’t afraid of what Runar might do, this time. It was what he would - or wouldn’t - allow Yves to do that worried him.

If he wasn’t allowed to even try to support himself, was he really not a captive?

»You know you don’t… you don’t have to worry about that, right?« Runar finally said, searching his face.

Yves hesitated, then nodded, his heart still in his throat. He knew that. Right now, he was only too aware of it. He wanted to say something, he felt like he ought to explain himself, but he didn’t know how.

Runar leant back, his eyes still on Yves’ face, but more thoughtful now. »I mean, a lot of us are farmers, but it’s winter now. Housekeeping. Looking after the kids. Tailoring. Lots of spinning and weaving, for the sails and all…«

»I can learn that,« Yves managed. It felt strange, asserting he could do a thing, when for so long, everything around him had been so determined to show him he couldn’t do anything - he found it hard to believe his own words. But he could. He knew he could. It didn’t take strength, or any of the qualities he would never possess, a knowledge now beaten into his bones.

He watched for Runar’s reaction to his bold claim, and was flooded with relief to find a small, but warm smile.

»I… suppose you could, yes. If you really want to.« The smile made way for an earnest look into his eyes.

Yves nodded timidly.

* To say Yves felt at home amongst the weavers would have been a gross exaggeration.

But he did feel quite comfortable, and that was more than he would have dared to ask for. The constant chatter - at least one of them was always talking in this big room full of looms and spinning wheels - was oddly calming. Maybe it was because no one felt they needed to raise their voices to be heard; there was one elderly woman with a voice so naturally shrill it startled him every time, but that was, of course, no fault of hers.

Maybe it was just simply the fact that no one here was a warrior.

If he were going to make himself at home here, he could not have chosen a better place to come to. The weavers gossiped, mostly good-naturedly, about so-and-so’s child or so-and-so’s new boyfriend; within the week of starting to come here, he was caught up on all goings-on in the village.

Yves himself rarely spoke. What stories would he tell them? Of a land far away that was nothing to them but prey to their sons and sisters? Of worse?

No, he kept quiet, just let the words and tales wash over him.

It was a good place.

If he were going to make himself at home here.

Runar’s offer of bringing him back still haunted his mind.

Only, back to what? The knights, he had gathered, were dead - and anyway, Runar would not have brought them back to them, that much he knew now. And the farm, before, he only distantly remembered - it seemed like a lifetime ago - would they even remember him? Would they recognize the person he was now from their memories?

Runar had told him he’d rather have Yves stay. Yves did not want to argue. Certainly not for the slim chance of returning a life he had long been taken from.

Perhaps it was for the best he should stay here. Perhaps the fear that had been eating away at him was truly unfounded. Perhaps the village could become home.

He tried to picture it, picture himself as one of them. But even sitting here, passing the shuttle back and forth, careful not to twist his left hand in the way that still shot a sting of pain through his arm after the knights shattered it, listening to the tales and gossip flowing around him, he couldn’t imagine it. Being safe, just like that.

Being home.

[randomlifeunit]

Fireside

652 words | No Warrior (sequel to Snow)

Content | Comfort, implied: past environmental whump, freezing

Notes | This is going so painfully slowly. Just go for that hug already, Yves.

Taglist | @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​​​ @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​​ @whump-me-all-night-long​​​ @alliecat5594​​​ @whumpadump1939​​​ @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight​​​ @whumpzone​​​ @angel-stars​​​ @kixngiggles​​​ @whumpsy-daisies​​​ @briars7​​​ @yet-another-heathen​​​ @rosesareviolentlyread​​​ @cupcakes-and-pain​​​ @hollowtreesinhollowwoods​​​ @pleasancies​​​ @much-ado-about-whumping​​​ @nine-tailed-whump​​​ @starnight-whump​​​ @whump-em​​​​ @itsleighlove​​​ @newbornwhumperfly​​​​ @whots-a-tag-precious​ @tears-and-lilies​ @maddam-redder

It was a good morning. The snowfall, which had been expected for a while now, was light, but it was enough to make Runar’s job, of convincing the ill and injured who needed it to rest, easier. Runar himself liked the calmness the soft blanket of snow immediately bestowed upon the world.

His only worry was Yves’ reaction. He had pulled himself together quickly, sure, but during their entire round he seemed even more withdrawn than usual, hugging himself and staying back by the door while Runar attended to his patients. Several of the latters’ family members had thrown him worried glances, and more than one had attempted to offer him a seat or navigate him closer to the fireplace, only to be met with startled glances and a quick shake of the head.

Even when they returned to the warmth of Runar’s hut, Yves seemed hesitant to slip out of his coat, enough for Runar to take notice and watch him as he hung it up eventually. Whether it was the fact they had been moving, or he was distracted by what he was doing, he hadn’t realized Yves was trembling.

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Hot Spring Bath

1,280 words | Original work: No Warrior (sequel to Blacksmith)

Content | Nudity, comfort, old bruises/injuries, mention of: collar

Notes | I wanted to write a bit from Runar’s POV again and then I realized! I just could! lol

Taglist | @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @whump-me-all-night-long @alliecat5594 @whumpadump1939 @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpzone @angel-stars @kixngiggles @whumpsy-daisies @briars7 @yet-another-heathen @rosesareviolentlyread @cupcakes-and-pain @hollowtreesinhollowwoods @pleasancies​ (I couldn’t seem to tag you in the last one but apparently now I can?? Tumblr is a functioning website) @maddamredders-yaoi

Like every time, it felt wonderful to be home again, to see his family and the familiar rocky hills again. Runar loved travelling, and the thrill of the battle, but he loved coming home most.

But he could tell that Yves, by contrast, was terrified. What he had observed in the past weeks weren’t the first tender buds of trust; it was habit, nothing more, and now that the situation was changing, his tiny patient was back to the start.

Well, not quite back to the start. His body was healing, not fast, but that wasn’t surprising given his general state, and his constant tension. And he was starting to learn his language, to Runar’s relief. He’d never had a chance to learn Yves’ - the little sweetheart barely spoke, unless to beg - and being able to communicate would make things much easier; at least, so he hoped.

And now they had gotten that horrible collar off.

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📚 for Yves please 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

📚 - a bedtime story

It only took... I don't even know how long lol. This is set still on the ship, probably the night after Little comforts.

492 words

Taglist: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​​ @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​ @whump-me-all-night-long​​ @alliecat5594​​ @whumpadump1939​​ @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight​​ @whumpzone​​ @angel-stars​​ @kixngiggles​​ @whumpsy-daisies​​ @briars7​​ @yet-another-heathen​​ @rosesareviolentlyread​​ @cupcakes-and-pain​​ @hollowtreesinhollowwoods​​ @pleasancies​​ @much-ado-about-whumping​​ @nine-tailed-whump​​ @starnight-whump​​ @whump-em​​​ @itsleighlove​​ @newbornwhumperfly​​​ @tears-and-lilies @deluxewhump @whump-cravings @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning @maddam-redder @queenofthedark  @whots-a-tag-precious

The nights were still getting colder, even in the deckhouse.

That evening, Runar held a piece of fabric out to him, so big and lumpy that it took Yves a moment to identify it as a tunic much like the ones Runar and the others were wearing. »x̷́͢͝͏̡҉̸x̵̢̨̧̧̛͝͞x͘҉̶̴̵̷̕͟x̵̵̧̡̢̀͝͝.̷̸̶̷̶̨̢̀ ̶̡̢̛̕͘͝͡x̸̸̴̨̨́͜͜x̷̵̷̛́͘͠͠x̶̵̨̛͘̕̕͜ ̸̸̢͠͠͏̧͝x̷̛̀̕͝͡͝͠x͘͠҉̵̢͟͝͝x̧́͢҉̢͜͢͟x̸҉̸̴̀͝҉̶ ̛͏̴̧̨̛̀̀x̶̡̧҉̛̛͝͞x̵̸̸̢̢̢̛͟.̷̷̴̸̡̕͢͞«

Yves, as usual, wasn’t sure what he wanted of him. Slowly, he reached out, and when no reprimand came, he carefully grasped the thing.

»x̷̶̶̛̛̕͠͝x̶̸̧̛̀̕͘͢x̡̀͜҉̕͢͜͡ ̸̀̕҉̸̶̢̢x̸̵̢̧́͟͝͡x̧͘͘͠҉̴͘҉ ̨̛̛́͘͜͢͠x̷̵̡́͟͜͠͞x̴̶̷̧̀͢͟͡.̶҉̕͞҉̷̧͜« Runar spoke slowly, as if that would help, and Yves could only repeat, »I don’t understand, I’m sorry…«

Runar gestured along his body. Did he mean for Yves to put the tunic on? But why?

Somewhere deep inside him, a little voice knew a reason why, but he wouldn’t be tempted to believe it.

Nonetheless, he slipped the tunic on, hesitantly, while he kept glancing at Runar for a warning he was doing wrong. Nothing happened, though.

»x̡́̀̀͜͢͢͞x͡͏̴̧͜҉͢͢x̷̛̛̕̕͟͞͞x̵̢͟҉̷̢͡͏x͏͘͝͞͡͏҉͘ ҉҉̷̨̀̀́͢x͏̸̷̷̢͘͟͞x̵̵̶́͘͘͘͢x̷̨͜͜͝͝͝͡ ̸̶̨̀͟͠͞͡x̸̢̡̡̀́͘͜x̴̸̶̕̕͢͡͝.« Runar smiled, seemingly content, for the moment, with what his pet was doing.

Except the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Yves had learned too well to watch out for the little things, and he could only wait, heart in his throat, for Runar to break the illusion.

»x̡x̶̀͟͝x̵̢͞͏͠ ̛́͜͟͞͡x̴̡́͢͡͡x̴̢̕͞͡͞͡x̶̨̢̡́̀͢x̸̵̶̧̡͜͡҉ ̨͠҉̶̶̛̕͘x͏̢̨̧̛͢͝͡x͡͏̷̨̧́͜҉x̶̸̨́̕͟҉͟x̡̨͞͠͏͡͏҉x̶̵̧̀̀͜͡͝,̷̶̢̕͢͟͠͏ ҉̵͝͡͏̸̡̢x̵̴͘͜҉̀҉̴x̶̛̛̕͜͢͠͠x̴̨́͜͜͞͠͡x̨͏̢̀́̀̀͠x̧͢͡͞͠͡͞͏x̴̀̀̕͜͠҉x̧̡͜͠͏̕͞x͜͏̢̕͢͟x̷̷̛͜͜͠x̶̶̡͡҉.̷̷« Runar’s voice was soft, but that didn’t change the fact Yves still had no idea what he was saying, and there was another mark on the list of mistakes he had made.

Runar pulled his blanket back and gestured for him to lay down.

Yves obeyed quickly, and Runar draped the blanket over him. Yves’ heart was racing; this couldn’t mean anything good-

Runar sighed quietly, like he did so often when dealing with his wearisome toy, leant back and started to talk again. His tone was different, now, neither direction nor question or response.

He just talked, quietly and warmly, his voice flowing steadily across Yves, who couldn’t make any sense of it.

Scared and confused and desperate, it was many breaths before he recognized the tone, although he had heard it many times before. For whatever reason, Runar was telling him a story.

He must know Yves didn’t understand a word. He couldn’t expect Yves to remember or learn something from this… could he? But Yves knew the answer. Since when did anyone care what he could or couldn’t do, if it got in the way of what they decided he had to do?

He barely kept himself from crying. He just lay still and forced himself to listen. The longer it went on, though, the more he found himself getting used to it. The constant noise even had something calming about it, once the fear had worn itself out.

He wasn’t exactly warm, even with the tunic, but he was no longer shivering like he had been the last night, and before he knew it, exhaustion and the strangely warm current of Runar’s words had taken him into blissful unconsciousness.

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a colorwork cuff for a sock :-)