Felix x Reader (From Once Upon a Time)

Chapter 14

Y/n's POV:

The trail back to the Jolly Roger was quiet, but not in a peaceful way. It was the quiet of uncertainty. The boys followed closely behind me, some still dazed from their sudden change in allegiance, others wide-eyed with wonder at the idea of something as foreign and fantastical as "home." I stayed near my father, helping direct the group and keeping an eye out for stragglers.

One of the younger Lost Boys—curly-haired, dirt-smudged—jogged up to me and handed me something wrapped in a strip of leather. My breath caught.

"My sword," I murmured, recognizing the gleam of the blade immediately. The handle was scuffed but still strong, carved with the initials of my uncle—Liam, my father's late brother. I swallowed hard.

"Thanks," I told the boy, my voice softer than I intended.

He just smiled and trotted off.

My father, of course, had declared without hesitation that Felix was to stay away from me. He didn't announce it aloud, but I saw the silent command in the way he narrowed his eyes whenever Felix so much as breathed near me. He was watching him like a hawk—one hooked arm always resting dangerously close to the hilt of his blade.

It was... understandable.

But also completely irritating.

As we walked, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye—a familiar hood, ash-blond hair catching in the wind, the distinct weight of someone watching me. I didn't even need to turn my head to know it was him. Somehow, without fail, Felix always seemed to know when my gaze lingered. Like he could feel it crawl across his skin.

And he smirked every time.

Arrogant, aggravating, infuriating...

And entirely too attractive for my own good.

When I finally glanced back, I caught him staring. We locked eyes for just a moment—too short to mean anything but long enough to say everything. I dropped my gaze quickly, feeling the heat bloom in my cheeks.

Moments later, I heard the crunch of boots in the sand beside me.

Of course.

He had slowed his pace and now walked beside me, our shoulders almost brushing. My heartbeat doubled. I reminded myself not to look at him.

And failed.

"So," he murmured, his voice low and smooth like spilled velvet. "What did you get up to while I was knocked out?"

His breath ghosted across the side of my neck, and I nearly tripped over my own boots. My eyes widened, and I forced my expression into something resembling indifference—even though my heart had clearly missed the memo.

"Why do you want to know?" I managed to reply, tilting my chin up. "Worried I was admiring a different Lost Boy while you were asleep?"

He laughed, the sound deep and teasing. "Please. I doubt you'd waste your time."

"Oh really?" I countered with a smirk, proud that I could still banter despite the fact that my entire nervous system had short-circuited. "And why's that?"

He leaned in just a little closer—close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him.

"Because I'm naturally charming," he whispered, "and you know you want me."

Arrogant. Cocky. Infuriating.

... Right.

"I was not ogling you!" I hissed under my breath, acutely aware of my father up ahead, completely oblivious—thank the stars.