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qvill-s · 5 years

Note

Hiiii! May I request for M!grima robin?? Angst ask no. 11 and 17 combined please I need something to fuel my angst needs :") thanks in advance

NOTES: angst for my dragon boy ??? absolutely !!!

WARNINGS: injuries; kidnapping

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

m! grima + “nobody’s seen you in days” &&. “if you don’t hug me right now I think I might fall apart” under the cut !!!

Grima can’t help but feel a little proud of himself as he returns triumphant from the solo mission you sent him on. It was long and hard, and at times a little trying, but he managed. After all, you were the one who told him that you couldn’t entrust this task to anyone other than him. Thus, armed with the memory of your words and your hands on his shoulders and the determination and trust in your gaze, how could he possibly fail?

Where he expects your smile and your warmth and your praise, he finds only the Order of Heroes in a state of panic and the loss of your presence in the halls.

Immediately noting that something was off, he confronts Commander Anna, a soft hiss of your name punctuating his unasked question. Where is the Summoner?

She shakes her head, looking more haggard than he’s ever seen her, replying with, “Nobody’s seen the Summoner in days.”

It’s strange to see the Fell Dragon so agitated over another’s life, much less the life of the insolent worm who summoned him here and disrupted the chaos he was creating in another world. Though Grima tried as hard as he could to continue to hate you, to loathe you for bringing him here, he very quickly failed in the face of your kindness and genuine concern and how easily you accepted who he was despite of all he’s done and destroyed.

(“If Breidablik says you’re a Hero, then that’s good enough for me,” you announced when he was summoned, your tone holding a certain sense of finality that said that that was the end of the conversation.)

Naturally, of course, he draped himself all over you. You were his prey, after all; his and his alone. There was never a moment since he was summoned that he wasn’t by your side. He was with you when you oversaw the training for the Heroes and went over the Order’s inventory. He accompanied you when you summoned new Heroes to join Askr’s cause, scowling at the new additions all the while (his scowl was particularly nasty when you summoned a wielder of the Falchion). He sat in tactic meetings even though they bored him to no end, but secretly, the small part of Robin still left in him delighted in these meetings, and Grima would often end up offering a particularly clever maneuver that had you sending a bright smile his way.

The one time you needed him, however, the one time he could’ve protected you, he wasn’t there.

Suddenly, an overwhelming anger fills his body. There’s an ache that builds up in his chest, strangling his lungs and his words, right where his shriveled heart should be. He swallows the growing lump in his throat, ignoring the pain and ignoring the ache, as he snarls, “You better find the Summoner, Commander, before I end that worthless life of yours.”

Anna looks unfazed as she nods tiredly. That was not the first threat she’s received since you’ve gone missing, and frankly, it wasn’t the worst.

With a harsh exhale of breath, Grima turns on his heel and seeks solitude in the place where your scent is the strongest—your room.

He lets himself in with the key that you gave him not so long ago—“Just in case you get lonely,” you told him playfully—and the pain in his chest increases as he’s hit with you and how you’re no longer beside him. He staggers over to your bed, sinking down into the plush covers and clutching a hand over his chest.

As he looks around, he sees phantoms of you hovering around your room. There’s you sitting at the desk by your window, turning to see if he was still listening to you talk about your stupid problems and concerns (as if he could be troubled with hearing them). There’s you huddled under the blanket beside him, having taken a nap after he forced you to. There’s you looking out of the window and into the world, watching the sunset, highlighted by the orange glow of the sun, or watching the stars, the constellations imprinting themselves into the color of your eyes. He sees you sitting beside him in the light of the moon, watching the moonlight caress your features as if it, too, were fascinated by you and the curve of your cheek or the quirk of your lips.

The ache in his chest multiplies tenfold at the sight of your ghosts flitting about your room, the forms of you he can’t touch and can’t talk to, and he can’t help but feel the slightest bit annoyed with his annoyingly human body. He’s the Fell Dragon, the destroyer of Ylisse and the cruel master of destiny. He is able to strike fear into the hearts of men and erase futures in a single blow.

But here he is, unable to cope with the loss of the presence of one measly, mortal life. He even feels a pressure behind his eyes, and he paws angrily at his closed lids. He should be happy that you’re gone, should be happy that you’re no longer there to command him, to tell him what to do, to control him with your stupid divine weapon, and yet…

Why does he feel so alone?

He sags even further into himself. Curse this weak, human vessel. Curse the emotions it makes him feel, the wrenches and tugs and pulls at his heart, the single tear that manages to slip through his iron will and streak down his cheek.

Suddenly, he feels a ghost of a touch across his shoulders and a whisper of a voice—your voice—

Come and find me, you tell him, cupping his face between your palms, come bring me home.

He wipes savagely at the tracks his (wretched, weak) tears left, and nods to himself.

I will.

❛ ━━━━━━━━━･❪ ❀ ❫ ･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

It takes Grima less than a day to find you again, following the dredges of you that linger in the air and all around him. Your perfume here, strands of your hair there, and once, a splatter of your blood against the trunk of a tree.

(The latter made him livid—the thought of another harming his human, enough to make them bleed—and he’ll make sure to return the favor.)

He finds you in an abandoned watch tower a long ways away from the castle. Quite honestly, he almost missed it, with how well it was hidden into the forest and blended in with the trees, had it not been for the waves of your scent emanating from it.

He doesn’t bother with stealth, with quiet, with finding cover, because he plans on taking them all.

He busts down the hidden door to the place, startling the petty criminals that litter the area and interrupting their plans of what to do with you. Once every eye has turned to watch him, his mouth curls into a smirk, flashing the barest hint of his teeth. “Did you worms really think that this would work out?”

He gives them a moment to think it over.

Then, the real fun begins.

❛ ━━━━━━━━━･❪ ❀ ❫ ･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

Your unconscious form lies in a room just up the steps. Some of your hair is matted with blood, sticking to the wound on your forehead that disappears into your hairline. Your wrists and ankles are raw and angry from the ropes that dug into your skin. He growls, ready to turn back to the corpses that decorate the other room, livid and ready to tear them apart piece by piece when—

“… grima…?”

Your lashes flutter against your cheek as you force your tired eyes to open and see him, framed by the wooden doorway and darkened by the early dredges of sunlight shining behind him. He stands, frozen in place, fists clenched, and covered in blood.

You cough, trying to free your voice from the confines of your scratchy throat. “G-grima, is that… is that you?”

Your voice is barely a whisper, but he can hear you loud and clear over the pounding blood racing in his ears. He crosses the room in a heartbeat, kneeling in front of you, tearing through the ropes and setting you free. You look at him like you can’t believe he’s here, that he’s come to save you, that he took the time to find you, and he feels the words stab through his heart.

You repeat his name again, feeble and wobbly, stretching your now free hands to cup his face. Once the tips of your fingers brush his skin, once your hands follow the curve of his jaw, you burst into silent tears.

Grima doesn’t ask if you’re alright, if you’re okay, because even a complete idiot could tell that you weren’t. Instead, he lets you cry, watching as the tears stream down your face and wanting to wipe them away. He doesn’t know how to be gentle, and the Robin side of him—is there even a difference between the two anymore?—is terrified of hurting you any further.

You’re the first to break the silence, to fill the quiet with your voice.

“Can… can I have a hug…?” You ask him wetly, speaking through the tears that line your face and the inside of your throat.

He startles. The “What?” that leaves his lips sounds harsher than he intended, and you flinch, drawing your touch away from him. He misses it immediately. He wants to capture your fleeting fingers and place them back to where they were before, please don’t go—

“I-if you don’t hug me right now, I t-think I’ll fall apart…” Your voice sounds even smaller than before as you draw your knees to your chest and wrap your arms around them. He hears the silent plea in your confession, the I need someone to keep me together that comes from your words.

Carefully, slowly, he wraps his arms around your shaking form, one hand against your back and the other under your knees, lifting you up into his arms. He holds you a bit tighter than necessary, but you don’t seem to mind, because your tears fall with renewed vigor and you throw your arms around his neck, tucking your face into the crook of his shoulder.

He doesn’t know how to be gentle, he admits, but he thinks he can learn for you.

#fire emblem #fire emblem heroes #fe #fire emblem imagines #fe imagines #fire emblem grima #fe grima #reader insert #(do i tag this as grima or robin ?? or both ???)#i like to make him feel dumb human emotions tee hee #@grima i love you you dumb bitch #hoo boy this is long sorry #no editing we die like men

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qvill-s · 5 years

Note

May I request fluff prompts 5 and 7 for M!Grima?

NOTES: some grima loving coming right up !!!

WARNINGS: hints to sex (friends with benefits, specifically), grima feels feelings oof, swearing

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

m! grima + “OH you’re jealous” &&. “please just kiss me already” under the cut !!!

“So if I moved the cavalry here—”

“You could avoid the trees, and Ares could counter the axe user that’s stationed over there.”

“Oh, wow, that makes things a whole lot easier.” With a final glance at the makeshift figurines on the map in front of you, you send a grateful smile in Robin’s direction. “You’re really smart, you know?”

He laughs, bashfully, and rubs the back of his head. “I’m just doing what I can, Summoner.”

“I’m glad you are. We got through the drills in record time, thanks to you letting me bother you all week for help.”

“Of course, it’s no problem.” He’s quick to assure you with a gentle pat to your shoulder.

You sigh, and push back from the table to stretch out your cramped limbs. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it. Oh, and tell Morgan I said yes, will you?”

“She’ll be happy to know you’re bringing her into town next week.” He nods and smiles pleasantly. Then, with a cheery wave of his hand and a final goodbye, he’s out the door and back to doing whatever it was before you asked for his help.

Not long after Robin leaves your office, your door rattles under the force of a harsh series of knocks, startling you out of your seat. As you catch yourself from falling, your first thought flies to Robin. Perhaps he forgot something?

The knocks come again, harder this time, and you push the possibility of it being Robin aside—they were too violent to be his. Before you can ruminate on any further possibilities, your door is thrown open with a bang and in strides Grima, the murderous look on his face more prominent than usual.

Well, at least that answers your question.

He stalks closer to your seat, crossing the distance in a blink of an eye, as he demands, “Why was he here?”

You gape.

With a sigh that hisses out from between his teeth, his hands come to rest on your table, heedless of the map and the parchment and the figurines that litter its surface, and he repeats his earlier question, “Why was he here?”

You quickly gather your wits about you and manage to formulate a response. “If by he, you mean Robin, then he was helping me study up on battle plans.” You eye the stack of notes you took from earlier carefully, murmuring your next words more to yourself than him, “I still have a long way to go.”

He scoffs. His usual smirk forms on his face, but there’s something different this time—it looks more put on, more forced—as he says,“You didn’t have to ask him. You have me. You have the Fell Dragon in your arsenal. You don’t need battle plans if you have me to eliminate all who stand in your—no, our way.”

His smirk grows bigger as he pushes himself off of the table and walks around it. He leans close to you from behind your chair, his whisper brushing against the shell of your ear, “You don’t need anyone else, either. You only need me.” A pause, then a sigh that tickles your ear. There’s a ghost of his touch over your hair, hovering for a few seconds before it changes its mind and settles back unto your chair. “Why do you…”

He makes a small, frustrated sort of sound, then his voice falters, and dies out completely. The smallest of frowns twists your lips. His silence is always worrying, and it is especially so after everything he’s said.

“Grima?” You call gently, tilting your chin up to try and meet his gaze above you. You catch a fleeting glimpse of the thoughtful look on his face before he draws away from you. When you crane your head over your shoulder to see him, he’s facing the window, his back to you.

As if he could feel your attention on him once more, he speaks, his voice low, “Summoner, if I… if I were human, would you—do you think—” He cuts himself off with a frustrated noise, and turns that emotion to you. “You— what have you done to me? Is it that blasted divine weapon of yours?”

“What? What are you talking about?” You scramble out of your seat and make your way towards him, as if being near him will be enough to better understand what he means. Unfortunately, it does the opposite, and he draws away from you as if your very presence stings him.

A beat of silence as you bring your hands back to your person, then—

“You’ve done something to me, Summoner. A spell of some sort. You’re constantly on my mind, and I wonder what you’re doing, where you are, who you’re with.”

Oh, he’s… jealous…?

He exhales sharply through his nose in a poor imitation of a scoff,“When you first proposed the idea of—what did you call it?”

“F-friends with benefits.”

“Yes.” His face splits into an almost mocking smile as his tongue curls around his next words. “Friends with benefits. When you approached me, I didn’t expect to end up so attached to you. In fact, I expected the opposite. I expected you to be the one following me around, the one to bear your heart to me, the one to feel an ache in their chest when I’m not around.” In a rare moment of vulnerability, his smile melts into something more fond as he regards you. “How the tables have turned.”

He clears his throat, and as quickly his fondness appeared, it’s gone. “So? How did you do it?”

“How did I do… what?” You ask, furrowing your brow. While you’ve figured one piece of the puzzle out (but even then, just barely, for how could someone like him ever be jealous over someone like you?), the others remain a mystery.

“Don’t play coy with me, Summoner,” he hisses, taking a step towards you. Instinctively, you take one back, and it follows just like that—he steps forwards and you step back—until your back hits the wall and he has you caged against it. “You’ve done something to make me feel like this. Why else would you always be on my mind? Why else would I always want you by my side?”

Horrified that he could think you capable of such a thing and a little hurt that he thinks you nothing more than a trifle, you rush to explain, “I haven’t done anything! I-I could never, not to you.”

The last part of your sentence gives him pause, and the same thoughtful expression from earlier crosses his face. Secretly, your heart beats loudly in your chest as your thoughts race, because his words give you a hope that he might return your feelings. The more rational side of you, however, squashes that hope with little preamble, and though your spirits lower, you know its for the best. He couldn’t.

(Could he?)

He opens his mouth, but you’re faster as you demand, “Just kiss me already.”

“It’s still light out.” He points out an annoying stipulation in your agreement.

You make an impatient noise in the back of your throat—you don’t want any more chances to think about whether or not he loves you as much as you do him—and tell him, “Fuck the rules.”

With your vulgar admission, he complies with little complaint, and his lips meets yours in a bruising kiss. He wastes no time pinching your side to force his tongue into your mouth, and you wonder if he can hear your heart thrumming wildly against your ribcage, screaming I love you, I love you, I love you—

But as his fingers wander down to the laces of your trousers, you figure that this is enough.

It has to be.

#fire emblem #fire emblem heroes #fe #fire emblem imagines #fe imagines #fire emblem grima #fe grima #reader insert #i still like making him feel dumb human emotions tee hee #so sorry its late nonnie !!!

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