Skyrim One-Shots

Vilkas x Reader ~Kitchen Knives~

There was a quiet exhale of breath as you wiped your brow.

Finally, you'd gotten the entire main room of Jorrvaskr clean.

Tilma would have a heart attack at the sight, no doubt, for the old woman herself had told you what an impossible task it was to keep the room even slightly clean for more than a few minutes. Aela, the surprisingly nice redhaired huntress, had even helped a bit before going off on her business.

It was nearly midnight after all, but you couldn't sleep, and what better rest than after a labor-intensive fit intense cleaning? You'd been at it for a few hours at the point, scrubbing, sweeping, throwing uneaten food in the waste bins outside. 

Most times the warriors of Jorrvaskr didn't leave too much of a mess, but there were a few who did it without a thought. You, after moving damn near every piece of furniture around to get the floor beneath it and reposition it, was not that keen on letting the hall go back to its former state in a matter of hours.

A talk with Kodlak would do in the morn, you decided. When breakfast was served.

However, you knew the Companions of these halls well after nearly a year of working with them, and the fact that all the circle members never had restful slumbers guaranteed at least one of the twins would be up scrounging for food

Usually, it was Farkas, though he never seemed to mind waking up at absurd hours- he had become a good friend of yours because of his sheepish habits. Vilkas, however, was a moody, bitchy bastard when it came to waking up in the midst of night. Worse than he usually was on day-to-day interactions, which still were less than pleasant.

Farkas assured you it was only because Vilkas didn't like newbies, and you were the technical newbie caretaker, you supposed.

So until either one of you died, he would continue to utterly hate you.

Tilma and Kodlak both had given him chidings on it, and he'd just completely ignore you when they were around, but otherwise, it was all glares, teeth, and bark.

You huffed, flipping the small chopping knife in your hand in the air, waiting until it twirled around 2 full times before catching it with practiced ease.

"Don't we love the night shifts here," you grumbled, turning around and still twirling the knife between the air and your fingers with little care.

A loud curse echoed behind you, and before you knew what you were doing, you had whipped around and slammed that dagger out of your hand, a hand coming to slap over your mouth as you froze.

The sharp, small weapon had flown directly into the wall a mere hair's width from the face of Vilkas with a thunk, a solely enraged look growing on his features as you panicked.

"Vilkas, I am so-"

"Are you kidding me?" came his voice, all but a roar. Oh gods above, rest your soul in merriment for this would be your last day. 

"I got startled, I am so, so-"

"You flung a damn knife at my head! On Oblivion's planes, that's you being startled!"

You shrunk back, throat constricting as fear started to consume you.

You didn't do with people yelling at you.

No. It never ended well.

For you, at least.

The shuffle of movement from the downstairs was alarming, and you fought to keep your breathing steady the man started to walk towards you, a promise of pain in every step.