Hermitcraft Oneshots and Other Things I guess

Strong (Scarian)

I'm really sorry about the repetitiveness in ships. It's literally just been Hex, Bdoc, and Scarian. I will do my best to start mixing it up!

...Starting next oneshot, because I found this prompt in my files and loved it.

*realizing that first I did two Bdoc oneshots in a row and now I'm doing two Scarian oneshots in a row*

I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! 'Redemption' has been eating my time and motivation like a clingy child.

Warnings are... injury. And pain. And shirtless Grian. Is that a warning?

Setting is NO ONE KNOW WHERE.

WC: ~500 (this really isn't fair, I both make you wait a million years AND give a short chapter? kill me)

Enjoy!

Pain. Some get numb to it after a while. Some don't really feel it in the first place.

Grian was not one of those people.

The pain in his left arm was like fire. Turns out phantom bites would get infected very easily. Black veins spread across his skin from the wound. His arm was in a sling.

The infection wouldn't kill him. But it burned. It was like a thousand tiny daggers under his skin, constantly stabbing him. It was a flame in his veins, frying everything in their path. It was a knife, slicing his skin with open slashes.

It hurt, to put it simply.

A lot.

Grian used his right arm to attempt to pry his shirt off. It was early in the morning, and Grian wanted to change into something clean.

"Rrrrgh, come on," Grian muttered, seizing the shirt and trying to pull it over his head. A cry escaped his lips when his left arm protested, despite not being used.

This was going to be harder than he thought.

"Is something wrong?" A head popped out from the doorframe. It was Scar, with a worried expression. Grian's boyfriend knew about the injury and had been helping him through it.

"Friction," Grian growled, nodding at his wound. Scar came forwards and sat down behind Grian on the bed.

"What do you need?" Scar asked, ever helpful. Grian hesitated for a moment. Undressing, did he really want Scar to have to help him with that? It was such a simple task, but...

"I... I can't get my shirt off," Grian mumbled, ashamed. Scar didn't laugh though, he just gently pulled Grian closer, his hands pausing at Grian's waist. Grian nodded, giving Scar his permission to continue.

Grian didn't think it would hurt.

He was wrong.

Grian winced as Scar gently tried to pull the shirt off. His hands clenched into fists, driving his fingernails into his own palms.

"You're okay," Scar whispered, his voice lighter than feathers. "It hurts, I know. But it won't hurt like this forever. You are strong, Grian. Stronger than you know."

Grian closed his eyes and imagined wrapping a rope around Scar's words. He and his rope clung to Scar's words like it was the end of the world. Pain flared around them, but that didn't matter. The world was an ice cube of pain, but Grian and Scar's words were thriving in the middle, radiating warmth. The words were a fire, but not the same fie as the pain.

The pain's fire was unruly, tearing apart everything in its path. It burned and flared. It wanted blood. It was agony. It was torture.

The word's fire was different. The fire flashed a different light. It was warm, a safety Grian couldn't describe. It sent flickers throughout him and overpowered the pain. All he had to do was focus on the flames that Scar had cast, and...

"Done," Scar said. Grian opened his eyes to see a clean shirt on his body. "Was that fine?" Grian smiled and pressed himself against Scar.

"Thank you."

Why am I so good at procrastinating? This didn't even take that long! Sorry this took so long, again. *sigh* I need to get better at this multiple books thing...

-Storm