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the-unexplained-council · 4 months ago

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Stay A While? ;; Morning Frost

Legends of Avantris; Once Upon A Witchlight

Summary: After yet another sleepless night, you spend some time with Mornjng Frost while he’s on his look out shift. You’re not the only one tired, and when your brain is tired some things like to slip out.

CW: n/a

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: your friendly neighborhood insomniac author is back with a short fic I conjured up after an unintentional all nighter. if there’s any mistakes i apologize!! hope you enjoy 🙏

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Your heavy eyelids consumed your features. The sound of whistling wind echoed in your ears, rippling against the canopy above. You felt the cold ground spring up, making you silently curse to yourself for improperly fastening the padding. You sighed, closing your eyes for what felt like the thousandth time.

Sleep didn’t come.

It was late, or rather early. No matter how much you traveled from dusk till dawn, no matter the extra filling of warm helpings of dinner, your body wasn’t allowing you rest. It’s not like it was the only time, it definitely wouldn’t be the last.

With a defeated gruff, you sat up and spooned your hands into your lap, dipping your head in lazy defeat. What else could you do other than finally give up? If you fell asleep now, you were sure to oversleep. There was a lot of traveling left to do until the next town, there was no point.

“Another night?”

You lifted your head over towards the tabaxi that sat on the far side of the campfire, his ribboned journal in hand with a pencil in the other. His golden eyes lazed over you, not exactly bored, but not entertained in the slightest. His hood was down, a rare sight for the tabaxi, and his tail loosely curled around his feet. His ears lazily responded to any sounds of the forest all around you, though his body remained still.

You looked towards the dying fire, frowning. Sitting in a much more comfortable position for yourself, you nodded soundlessly in response. The tabaxi softly closed his journal, ribbon marking the page he left off on, before he stashed it away into his bag which sat beside him.

“Is there a reason?”

You didn’t look away from the fire, your mentality smoothie-fied due to the lack of rest for the past 24 hours, maybe more. Sometimes there was a reason, sometimes there just wasn’t. What was it this time? Nothing came to mind, of course.

“No,” you meekly replied, throat hoarse from the lack of talking for however many hours everyone had been laying down for. You turned your head over to Frost, who’s arms were now loosely crossed across his chest with his eyes closed. “Did you know I was awake?”

“I did, yes,” he opened his eyes again, golden eyes on you. The glint of the dying fire lit them up more. “Though, I have never known you to want to be disturbed when you are actively trying to rest, even if you can’t.”

You hummed in response, looking over the others who also laid under the canopy. They were all in their little piles, the sounds of Gideon’s and Gricko’s snores echoing around the area with the background of fire cracklings. Once you knew they were all contently asleep, you brought yourself to your feet.

Sensing your quiet request, Frost gave a silent nod and gestured to the placement beside him with the flick of his tail. You walked over, careful to mind your step over Torbek’s long arm and Kremy’s tail, before you sat beside the sorcerer.

It was a comfortable silence, the snoring of your friends with the crackling of a dying fire, the nocturnal forest life around you, and the soft little thumps here and there from Hootsie’s ‘sleep stompies.’ The silence with Frost was always comfortable, you couldn’t deny that. No matter what, if you had to deal with not talking to anyone for one hundred years, you’d choose to do it with Frost.

The wind blew, icing your exposed skin. You held yourself, letting out a chilled huff.

“Would you like a blanket?”

“No thanks, I’m okay,” you responded a little too quickly, earning a curious slight turn of the tabaxi’s head, his eyebrow quirked. You swallowed a bit, realizing you were suddenly a little thirsty. “I’ll be alright for now, just a little wind.”

The tabaxi was silent for a moment, thoughts undoubtedly stirring in his head. “I don’t mean to intrude,” he started cautiously, as if choosing his words wisely. “However I have noticed lately how restless you’ve been. Not just in a sleepless sense, but even when you’re awake you seem.. disturbed, mayhaps a little distracted. If I may, I want to ask what is really on your mind.”

You licked your lips a little, avoiding the tabaxi’s eyes. It was true, you guess you had been pretty.. out of sorts lately. With the recent stressors of the carnival being ran to shambles, and only a week—maybe a week and a half to be generous—of constant, agonizing stress and mental gymnastics and physical wear and tear. It was getting to you, was it not for everyone else? Was everyone else not being hammered with constant anxiety being here? Other than Torbek of course, he was anxious even before this hellfire. You knew Kremy was worried about his debts being paid to Garou, wasn’t everyone? But that seemed to be the only thing really weighing him down, though you were sure it wasn’t due to how well he hid everything else. Neat, precise, just how he wants it.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Brought to reality from your thoughts, you looked at Frost. His hands laid neatly in his lap, legs crossed and his tail curled around him. His half lidded eyes hooded his full expression, his body undoubtedly also tired from his night watch shift. It was a sincere question, his mind was grinding, you could see it in the ways his fingers twitched here and there, tail tip in tow.

“Any great ideas?” You humored, wanting to know what he’d come up with. Part of you already knew there wasn’t much hope, you tried pretty much everything yourself. Exercise, background noise, winding down with a book or scribbling, herbs, teas, it never worked. Maybe there was something you never tried, something he’d offer and it would help. The other part of you hoped Frost would come to your exhausted rescue.

Frost was silent for a moment, his eyes drifting to the side for just a moment. “Have you ever, perhaps.. talked your exhaustion out? As in talking until your body gives in? Or, perhaps if you wouldn’t like that, maybe have someone massage your shoulders?” He looked back at you. “I have heard it works for some individuals. I know talking often works best for Kremy, and massaging works best for Gideon when he has his difficult nights. Everyone is different, I’m sure if those don’t work something else will.”

You gave him a confused look, never having heard about those options before. You supposed they made sense, though you weren’t sure if they’d work. You yawned, used to the lack of oxygen to your brain at this time of night/morning. You shrugged at his suggestions, neither denying nor accepting either option to try.

Frost turned his attention to the fire, humming softly. The both of you sat there for a moment, comfortable silence surrounding you.

You looking up at the tabaxi, titling your head just slightly in your tired curiosity. “Would you like to do that?”

“Me?” He looked at you again, surprise in his golden eyes.

You nodded, shifting slightly closer and tenderly laying your head on his shoulder. “I can take watch,” you offered. “I can help you sleep.”

“I am not as tired as you think I am,” Frost spoke softly, the snaking of his tail wrapping around your waist tickling you. He laid his head against yours, a sigh escaping his nose. “Besides, I offered to help you, it would be rude to turn it towards myself.”

You laughed a little, shaking your shoulders as you did so. You looked down at the tabaxi’s lap, gently placing a hand over his paw. You felt the sorcerer relax when you did, his tail curling around you tighter. “Then let’s help each other?” It came out as a question more than a statement, a request.

Frost loved requests.

“I like that arrangement,” he thrilled out, a quiet excitement. He turned his upward, meeting your hand roll into his palm. He held your hand, rubbing the back of it in a gentle massaging motion. You closed your eyes, relaxing into the feeling of Frost beside you. “Would you like it if we wake Kremy for his watch shift?”

You hummed, trying to form a proper thought in your mind. A tired ‘nah’ rolled off of your tongue, turning your head to bury your face into his arm. Frost chuckled softly, carefully adjusting his body so his chest would face you. You happily obliged, lazily crawling half into his lap, legs sprawled out behind you and everything else on the tabaxi. He chuckled again, wrapping his arms around you and holding you to his chest. He laid down, stretching out his own legs from their previously crossed position. He gently began to run claws through your hair, careful not to nic you on any knots or bumps.

“If cuddling someone is all you need, you could have always asked,” Frost quietly played, earning a very tired chuckle from you. You nuzzled into his chest more, arms wrapping around his torso. “I’m sure anyone would be happy to oblige.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, eyes closing on their own. Frost continued to brush your hair tenderly with his claws, his other paw rubbing gentle circles into your middle back. Soon, you heard a rumbling, felt a rumbling. You were confused for a moment, only to realize it was coming from Frost’s chest. He was purring, soft yet deep in his chest. God, was it music to your ears.

“I think I like yours the best,” you sleepily slurred. This earned a gentle rub to your spine in acknowledgment, which you happily took. “Gideon is full muscle, not a pillow.. Kremy is Kremy.. Gricko snores the loudest.. Hootsie is fine, she just moves around a lot.. Torbek acts like if he moves an inch he’ll break me somehow.. and Twig moves more then Hootsie does-“

Frost chuckled, bouncing you as his chest did. “I’ve gotten so used to it all I barely notice,” Frost confessed, his hand rubbing up and down your spine in gentle and precise motions. “Sometimes I wake up with Gricko’s feet in my face and I can’t remember the last time I really cared that I did.”

You fake gagged at the thought, which Frost found amusing. You couldn’t imagine that, you’d probably gag as soon as you woke up.

Frost shifted, lifting you up slightly which made you squeak. You were brought up to his neck, which you found much cozier. You buried your face into his neck, letting the fuzziness of his fur embrace you happily. You used an arm to reach up and play with the fur between his ears, feeling the softness of it all.

“When was the last time you’ve really cuddled with someone?” You absentmindedly asked, curiosity on your sleepy mind. You have seen Frost lay with the group on the sleep piles, and you’ve seen Hootsie and Frost snuggled beside each other countless times, but when was the last time the tabaxi has really held someone like this?

Frost hummed, leaning into your land for a moment. “I’m not quite sure, it’s been a very long time.”

“Why cuddle with me right now?” His tail beat against the ground softly with a soft ‘thud.’ You noticed his stuttering of movements on your back, though they didn’t stop. He seemed to have not been expecting that question.

You leaned away, supporting yourself on an arm to look the tabaxi in the face. He held your side up for some support, meeting your eyes, observing your eyes. His fur was slightly fluffed, something only someone he was close to would notice, it was so small.

He didn’t speak, only watched. You could see how his eyes moved that he was thinking, though what of? You didn’t quite understand, though you new the tabaxi never reacted this way unless there was a reason.

“Frost?” You called him to reality. He blinked. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, of course not,” he answered honestly. “I just am.. debating how to properly put my words together.”

You smiled, playfully booping his nose. “Aw, don’t tell me you have a crush on me, Morning,” You were only teasing, playing around, though there was a flicker in Frost’s eyes. What was that? Fear? Anxiety? Morning Frost, anxious? You sat up, hands on his chest as you cradled him. “Wait, Frost, do you?”

Frost stayed laid down for a while, seemingly not sure what to say for a moment. He then sat up to join you, looking you in the eyes. “Yes,” he confessed softly. “I’m very sorry if that upsets you, I understand if this changes your image of me.”

You furrowed your brows, huffing and using a hand to take one of Frost’s arms and feel to take a hold of his hand. You held his hand to your stomach, offering him a soft smile. Frost looked at you, an unknown emotion in his eyes.

“Frost, that doesn’t change shit,” you smiled at him, laughing a little. He smiled a little in return. “Would I be snuggling up with you right now if I didn’t like you? Nonetheless cradling you? Frost, c’mon.” You both laughed a little. He sat up straighter, adjusting you to sit properly in his lap. He supported your back, watching your facial expressions carefully, tail neatly secured around your waist.

“I suppose not,” his smile faded slightly, his eyes shying away from yours. You caught it, just barely, but there was hesitation in his expression. You used a hand to gently hold his cheek, running your fingers through the beard-like fur there. He leaned into it, humming in satisfaction. He cupped that hand, gently grazing the top of it with his thumb. He turned his head, hesitating, before planting a very gentle and prominent kiss against the ball of your palm. It caused heat to flush your face, but you didn’t pull away. He noticed your reaction, pulling your hand from his cheek. “Was that too forward?”

You stammered to find words, flustered and surprised. Frost frowned, shifting immediately to try and set you off of his lap. You grabbed his arms, making him pause. You stopped for just a moment, admiring him as the rising sun and began to frame his perfect features. There wasn’t much room to think between the slight panic and the gummed sleep deprivation you suffered from.

You kissed him.

He paused, surprised by your gesture before he melted into the kiss. You let his arms go, freeing him and allowing him to properly hold you, one arm was wrapped around your middle, the other loosely just below the back of your neck. His tail was wrapped around your waist, the tip rhythmetically tapping against your thigh in contentment.

And boy, could that man purr.

He carefully pulled away from the kiss, a prominent upward smile on his lips. His ears were fluffed, forward facing you. His pupils were large, the gold accenting the black core in the middle. If he wasn’t a six foot predator you would have thought he was a kitten with how excited he looked.

You smiled sheepishly. “Stay a while?”

Frost glanced towards the now stirring pile, knowing it was almost time for Kremy to get up on schedule. He gently took your hand and kissed your knuckles, then very gently your forehead. Your face flushed at each kiss.

“Gladly. Now, should we wake Kremy up so you can at least take a nap? I’ll carry you if you’d like me to when we travel.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, the sun orange and pristine. “Only if you agree to be my boyfriend.”

The tabaxi’s tail flicked, whiskers twitching.

“I think I’d be a fool to say no.”

#legends of avantris #once upon a witchlight #loa #ouaw #fanfiction #fanfic #morning frost #x reader #ouaw morning frost #morning frost x reader #ouaw frost #frost x reader #unexplainedfanfics

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blackenedsnow · 7 months ago

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Hey how are you doing could I request a yandere DBZ frieza x female reader x yandere frost, the reader is frieza s/o who came to the tournament of power to cheer him on but she has short vision and sees frost and confuses him with frieza and give him a passionate kiss, now she has to deal with an angry jealous frieza and a persistent wooing from a lovestruck frost?

cold-blooded rivalry

WARNING: Yandere themes (obsession, jealousy, possessiveness), mild violence and threats

PAIRING: Frieza x Reader x Frost

NOTE: Hi! Thank you so much for this super fun request! Sending love your way, take care! <3

SUMMARY: Attending the Tournament of Power to support Frieza, your short-sighted mistake of confusing Frost for your partner sparks a jealous rage in one and a lovesick obsession in the other.

The crowd’s roars echoed across the arena, deafening and chaotic. You squinted from your spot on the sidelines, shielding your eyes from the glaring light overhead. You weren’t about to miss Frieza’s glorious moments in the Tournament of Power, even if your eyesight left a lot to be desired.

And then you saw him. That sleek white body, the glint of armor-like purple, the graceful way he carried himself as he descended to the edge of the arena. Your heart swelled. Of course, that was Frieza. No one else moved with such effortless superiority.

You dashed toward him without hesitation, the din of the tournament fading into white noise. “Frieza!”

Before he could turn fully, you threw your arms around him and pressed a deep, passionate kiss to his lips. The smooth texture of his skin felt familiar, and his scent had the same cold, metallic sharpness you knew so well. You smiled against his lips as his body froze beneath you.

“Oh?,” came a voice. A voice that, while similar, was not quite… Frieza’s.

You pulled back in horror, your blurry vision focusing just enough to see a very confused Frost staring back at you, his crimson eyes wide but delighted.

“Oh, my stars,” he said, voice low and sultry. “I didn’t realize Frieza had someone so enchanting in his life. Perhaps fate is being kind to me today.”

Your blood ran cold. “You’re not Frieza.”

Frost tilted his head, a smirk curving his lips.

Before you could stammer an apology—or run—an unmistakable voice sliced through the moment like a blade.

“What. In. Hell. Do you think you’re doing?”

You turned to see Frieza, his golden transformation already gleaming dangerously. His scarlet eyes burned with fury, his lips curled into a snarl. The air around him crackled with power.

Frost, unfazed by the shift in atmosphere. “Ah, your companion here was just—”

“My companion,” Frieza hissed, advancing slowly. “Is mine. And you,” he snapped his tail, pointing at Frost, “had better remove your filthy lips from her memory before I erase you from existence.”

Frost chuckled, his demeanor still maddeningly calm. “Oh, but she kissed me, Frieza. A gesture of true passion, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Frost!” you cut in, voice panicked. “It was a mistake! I—I thought you were Frieza!”

Frost’s smirk only deepened. “Mistake or not, the sentiment was… exquisite. Perhaps you’re beginning to see there are others worth your affection.”

Frieza’s aura flared violently, the air around him heating with his barely restrained rage. “You overestimate your worth, Frost. She belongs to me, body and soul. I don’t share.”

“Oh, I’m not asking you to share,” Frost replied smoothly. “I’m simply stating that if she ever finds herself displeased with you, I’ll be here, waiting.”

Frieza snarled, his tail whipping dangerously close to Frost’s face.

“Wait! Stop!” you cried, stepping between them before Frieza could lunge. You looked at your partner, pleading. “Frieza, please. I’d never betray you. You know that, don’t you?”

Frieza’s eyes softened—barely—but his tone remained sharp. “Then do not give me reason to doubt you again, darling. If you so much as glance at that worm in a way I don’t like…” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “You won’t like the consequences.”

Frost, meanwhile, gave a sly wave as Frieza dragged you away by the arm, his smile all too knowing.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Frost called after you. “We’ll see each other again soon. I’ll make sure of it.”

You sighed. The Tournament of Power was supposed to be exciting, but you hadn’t expected this level of chaos. Now you had to navigate Frieza’s jealous wrath and Frost’s relentless attention.

Something told you this was far from over.

#dragon ball #dragon ball fanfiction #dragon ball fanfic #dragon ball super #dragon ball x reader #x reader #ask #fanfic #request #oneshot #frieza #frost #frieza x reader #frost x reader

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inactivewattpadauthor · 3 months ago

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Kuai Liang x Reader: First Snow

Based on my first (technically very second since first time was when I was baby) snow experience that happened in January because my place DOES NOT snow at all. It was very magical. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ From where you were raised, any colder days didn't bring such weather. Sometimes the forecast would say so, but any "snow" would have melted before touching the ground. Now that you have been relocated for your path choice - to reside and train under the honorable eyes of the Lin Kuei's Grandmaster - you get to witness such beauty. Peeking out the blue curtains, it didn't look real. As if you were only dreaming of some white, fantasy world.

"I suppose this is the first time you're seeing snow?" Kuai Liang stood behind you. He watched you stare deeply outside for a few minutes. Additionally, he knows you come from a place that never snows.

"Yes. It's beautiful." You respond, still amazed like a child.

Grandmaster Blueberry Ice sighs and steps away. Somehow as if he's reading your mind, he commands, "Put something warm on and come outside." He just knows you want to play in the snow. You wasted no time getting a light jacket and boots.

Irony has it, you didn't much like the cold. You always enjoyed the summer because it was always so comfortably warm, unlike the harsh freezing winter. But you learned to grow into it. Especially with who you're working under. The excitement in you made you much more invulnerable to the chilly weather you're about to feel.

However, the very second you step out with a smile on your face, you get hit in the face by a snowball, definitely on purpose. You hear the mischievous laughter of your closest peer.

"Frost." Kuai Liang had scolding in his tone. Like a disappointed dad. His look at her says it too.

"I thought it would be funny." Frost deflected.

You shook off the snow and giggled. You'll get her back soon. First thing you wanted to do is make a snow angel. After that easy snow activity, you moved on to the harder one. "I'm going to build the best snowman the Lin Kuei has ever seen!" You got straight to it.

"Man, where's her dignity?" Frost watches you, cringing.

"She's never experienced this before, let her have it." The old, scarred man defended. He finds your playfulness endearing, given that when he was a boy, he nor Bi-han weren't allowed playtime much. Just straight training.

"Okay what do you guys think? I worked so hard on it!" You present them with:

(ignore Gunny lol)

They both quietly glare at your... work. They both seen and are capable of making better snowmen, but yours is just funny. Not entirely bad, but funny.

"Why does it look miserable?" Frost judges.

"You know what? Because you're around." You playfully shot back before chucking a weak snowball at her. She is offended.

"Oh you-"

You see her getting a much more solid snowball ready and you immediately go behind the grandmaster for shield. "Wait, wait, wait, wait , WAIT!" You laugh with some panic.

"Gods." The grandmaster simply says as he just has practically two grown children playing around him. And he doesn't budge when he feels you jumping on his back for his protection from Frost bullying you.

He is amused. ~~~~~~~~~~~~

#mortal kombat 11 #mortal kombat #mk imagine #mortal kombat imagines #mk headcanons #mortal kombat headcanons #kuai liang #sub zero #sub zero x reader #sub zero x you #sub zero x y/n #kuai liang x reader #frost #frost x reader #mortal kombat frost #goddesswritings

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multi-fandom-enjoyer · 1 year ago

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Barry: I'm going on patrol. See you guys later.

As he was about to leave the cortex, an ice wall blocked his path.

Forst: Not so fast Allen

It was April 25th, 2024. The day your friend Barry Allen was supposed to disappear during the multiversal crisis. So you and the rest of Team Flash were not taking any risks.

Barry: Come on, we dealt with Crisis almost five years ago.

Y/n: We're not risking it, Barry. You're staying here.

He tried to interject but you stopped him.

Y/n: Iris is on the way, and the rest of the team agrees with us. Plus, it wouldn't hurt you to take the day off.

Caitlin: Y/n and Frost volunteered to cover your patrol, and if anything happens, they'll call you.

After some more hesitation he said:

Barry: Alright, just let me know if Thawne shows back up.

Frost: Let's go before he changes his mind hotshot.

She took your hand as you both left the cortex.

#arrowverse #crisis on infinite earths #dc comics #dc universe #frost x male reader #frost x reader #killer frost #cw killer frost #cw flash #the flash #killer frost x male reader #killer frost x reader #danielle panabaker #danielle panabaker x reader #danielle panabaker x male reader #flash x reader #flash x male reader #x reader #x male reader

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pleasantspark · 3 months ago

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Champa's Autistic Daughter - Kale, Caulifa, Hit, Frost & Cabba x Fem! Reader

Summary: Champa has arrived with his Eldest Daughter (Y/n) with the intent on having the Universe 6's main warriors take good care of her, easier said then done when you realize that the person you're babysitting is actually needing special care. But don't worry, Hit has it under control.

A/n: There's no comment, other than this takes place within my DBZ Overhaul AU, I was bored and on the way to the store I thought about this. Might be Biased towards Hit. Sowwy.

Chapter One - Lord Champa's Request

It's a quiet day in the Null Realm as the various warriors of Universe 6 await the arrival of Lord Champa. They were supposed to await instructions based on the Tournament of Power but were asked to arrive at the Null Realm in what seemed to be either a prerequisite meeting or something else entirely.

Cabba stood on the sidelines eyeing Frost suspiciously as he made something with malicious intent, possibly a Concoction of Poison who knows. Kale nervously standing around, Caulifa brandishing a knife then throwing said knife in the air and Hit standing around idly as he looked and glanced at an invisible watch on his arm.

It's been nearly an hour since Champa announced and the four main warriors were getting a bit restless. That was, until a bright light caught their attention. In a blinding light, stood Champa, Vados and what seemed to be a (H/C), (H/L) female, with sharp (E/C) eyes, fair colored (S/C) and a meek expression on her face.

The others' attention was caught by her and just like that ceased what they were doing prior.

”Lord Champa, what took you so long?” Kale asked, a little bit nervous.

“Oh, you know, finishing my first meal of the—”

“He means 10th. Meal, and we had to get (Y/n) ready.” Vados said, and the others turned to the female clutching Vados' skirt, and once she was made aware of the attention she received she began to hide behind the female's skirt.

“Oh! You haven't met (Y/n) yet, have you?” Vados asked, and the others nodded.

“She's my daughter. I had her with some random mortal. Me and my brother were interested in her, turns out she was with my brother first an' cheated on him with me. She fell pregnant, and for nearly her entire life, up until she was 16 he called me angrily to announce that and I quote. “That dumbass bitch whore, Jane literally CHEATED ON ME, and HAD ME RAISE YOUR CHILD. Come and get her or I'll erase her myself.” tch. I had to come down to Universe 7 where I had my ass kicked by my brother and told to “Never bring that mistake around here again.” at first I had want nothing to do with her, but—“

“Let's get straight to the point, Lord Champa had a daughter from an affair his partner was having on his Brother, this caused (Y/n)'s birth, his Brother Lord Beerus raised the child, and Lord Beerus handed her over, Lord Champa didn't want anything to do with her, and I forced him to take responsibility.” Vados said, and Cabba looked over.

“So she must be strong isn't she?” Cabba asked hopeful, Champa choked on his Pudding and gasped.

“No, abso-fucking-lutely not. She is NOT a warrior— no offense, sweetie— she is my only daughter, and she can't afford to get hurt. You're lucky you get to meet her at all!” Champa snaps.

“But why would you introduce her to us if there were no plans on having her participate in the Tournament of Power? It seems so counterintuitive don't you think?” Caulifa asked.

“Because she STILL needs training.” Champa snarls, and the others are confused.

“Training? What does that have to do with anything? Can't you train her yourself?” Kale asked, a bit sheepish.

“Oh I would, but she has special needs and special “requirements” that I cannot help her with. She has a particularity that she did not inherit from me.”

With that said, Hit narrowed his eyes and nodded. “She has autism.”

Champa and Vados looked surprised.

“Huh, Auto— wha?”

“Autism, formerly known as Aspergers Syndrome, now known as Autism Spectrum Disorder, it's a disorder categorized under a learning disability that needs attention and help. Perhaps, (Y/n) here needs someone to accommodate her training sessions like you suggested. She can get too overstimulated easily and needs help, not... Whatever you were doing prior.”

“That's very observant, Hit.” Frost purrs, “But have you considered this? Maybe she needs a bit of... “Work done” like Poi—“

Just as he was about to suggest something awful, Hit slammed his fist against the Frost Demon's face, and sent him to the floor.

“Try anything and you will wish you were killed by me.” Hit said, and Champa nodded.

“Very well, since you seem to know what you're doing, I expect you to teach my daughter alongside Cabba, Caulifa, Kale and Frost. Before the Tournament of Power has arrived. I do not tolerate failure, and if a single hair has been hurt on my daughter...”

The threat hung limply, no room for any pleasantries, he made it clear there would be bloodshed, just as Champa threatened, he disappeared with Vados leaving a panicked (Y/n) in a room with strangers she just met.

This was going to be an interesting time.

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xnixnbvg · 24 days ago

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champa's autistic daughter

universe 6 x reader

champa has revealed to everyone of his secret affair child he conceived with his twin's ex partner. although, the problem is. his daughter is special... champa hopes with the tornument of power in a few weeks he could enroll his daughter in... but with that comes a lot of training...

status: ongoing

chapter one

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child0feden · 8 months ago

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BABY NAMES, PART II

- finally did a little something for olve hereee… i really need to finish my dating headcanons for him though lolol! hope you guys like this! again, i know i am not all that great with names but i really try and i tried to choose names that actually fit the personality of the father as well as just pretty names :)

TED “ NOCTURNO CULTO ” SKJELLUM

dad! ted has three daughters named tara skjellum, seren skjellum and topaz skjellum…

- topaz is the english word for the yellow precious stone, the traditional birthstone of november, ultimately derived from greek τόπαζος!

✩ seren means “ star ” in welsh!

all three of your daughters look exactly like ted, they look exactly like their father in every way shape and form! they have his fluffy blonde hair, his nose and really just almost all of his physical features… topaz is the one who looks like most like you but even then, she still looks much more like ted! you have to really study her to see the features she did manage to snag from you! ted is just the proudest girl dad ever, he adores his little girls and would not trade them for the world… he never wished he had gotten boys instead, never wished one of them could have been a boy… he has always been just so beyond content with his girls! he just works so well as a girl dad, works so well letting his girls braid his long blonde hair and carrying them on his hip, works so well helping his girls decide on what cute little outfit to wear in the morning, works so well helping you tie their hair up with little ribbons and butterfly clips…

your first born with ted was topaz and she was born in november, hence her name! another reason her name fits just so well only really came into play when she got older and her eye colour began to get more pigmented… they were bright green with speckles of almost gold and yellow dotted around, shining especially bright in the sun of warm summers! when she is old enough, ted gets her a custom necklace with said birthstone implanted into a small silver heart attached to the chain, resting atop her own heart! ted knows not to spoil your children, no matter how much he might want to at times, no matter how many puppy dog eyes they give him… he knows spoiling them will only actually hurt them, knows spoiling them will skew their view one money and good, but when he does give them gifts, surprising them with something after they get good grades or just behave really well, the gift is beyond meaningful and sentimental, something that they will be able to take with them through their whole life and not get bored of!

then you ended up having tara just a year after topaz! so they basically grew up together at such a close age, they almost acted as if they were twins! always wanting to wear the same little blue denim dungaree dress with the same colourful striped sweater underneath, down to the same light up shoes and the same velvet ribbons tying their hair up! topaz was a pretty small child so honestly, had they not looked so different, most people likely would assume they were born twins from afar! you and ted had seren much later, when topaz and tara were around both around ten to thirteen! both of you knew you wanted one last baby, one last child and so you planned one and managed to fall pregnant not long after all of the planning was done! topaz and tara were not all that happy at the news of a new baby… they just did not see the point at all and were obviously just kind of afraid of their father forgetting about them, forgetting them and replacing them with a new baby! but obviously, that could not be further from the truth and the two of you always reassured them of that! when seren was born, their attitude quickly changed and they constantly wanted to be around her, letting ted show them how to hold her whilst he smiles softly at the sight of his first babies becoming big sisters!

OLVE “ ABBATH ” EIKEMO

dad! olve has a twin daughter named olivia eikemo and a twin son named onyx eikemo…

- olivia was the name used by william shakespeare for a character in his comedy twelfth night! this was a rare name in shakespeare’s time that may have been based on oliva or oliver, or directly on the latin word oliva meaning “ olive ” in the play olivia is a noblewoman wooed by duke orsino! instead she falls in love with his messenger cesario, who is actually viola in disguise!

✩ onyx is the english word for the gemstone, which can be black, red or other colours!

olivia and onyx are not identical twins but they both look like such a perfect mix of the two of you it is honestly kind of crazy! like yes, that is how genes work and all but they are the perfect mix… an almost exact 50 / 50 split of yours and olves genes, anyone can tell straight away that they are definitely your children but not many people actually assume them to be twins are first because whilst they both look like the two of you do much, it is in pretty different ways! whilst olivia got her fathers nose, onyx got yours and whilst onyx got his fathers eyes, olivia got yours and so on… olve honestly could not be happier about it, his children are his absolute pride and joy, he thinks they are just so perfect… he loves that he can see so much of both himself and you, the love of his life in your children! and he is kind of glad they are not identical twins because he finds those just kind of freaky…

the name onyx for your son works so especially well because you and olve are likely married, whilst you did not have a particularly traditional wedding you are legally married and instead of the usual diamond ring, he gave you a matching black onyx stone ring! you got married before your son was born and the name kind of just popped into your head one night when your tired eyes drifted down towards your ring before looking at your husband matching ring as his big hand rests on your bump and bringing the name up to him as you shared the idea of it being a generally nice and unique name! your son definitely grows up to be exactly like olve with his personality and interests too, likely forming his own black metal band in his teens years and olve could not be prouder! he is just constantly a proud father with your children, he is always so beyond happy with everything they do in life, they could never disappoint him even if they tried and he supports them in everything they choose to do… he might seem kind of stoic and stone faced at times but around you and his kids? he melts so quick and is really just an undercover goofy father! seeing your young son trying so hard to be more like him, copying his mannerisms and replicating his style with leather jackets and shades never fails to make him crack a smile and pull his son into his side, offering to do his corpse paint next before ruffling his black hair as you laugh at the sight!

TOMAS “ SAMOTH ” HAUGEN

dad! tomas has two daughters named hanna haugen, helve haugen and a son named hugo haugen…

- helve means “ flake, snowflake ” in estonian!

helve was your first born and looks like a double of you! seriously, a complete double… she has your everything, she inherited so few physical genes from tomas but definitely grows up to have a personality and outlook extremely similar to his which he absolutely loves! he just cannot get over how much she looks like you though! he loves it and is always telling her how beautiful she is, just like her mother…

hugo and hanna look like exact copies of tomas with his hair, his nose, his bone structure and all! honestly, you could see the uncanny resemblance the second they were born and placed on your chest in the hospital bed… you could immediately recognise the same eye shape, same nose structure, same chin and you could just go on about how much you saw of him in them! the resemblance only got stronger as they got older too, they have so few of your own features but tomas swears he can definitely see you in them, swears your daughter your lips and your son has your ears! you suppose it only makes sense for him to get his doubles since you got yours in helve…

your first little girl, helve, was born in during the night of late december, just a few days after christmas! tomas thinks her name works so well since as she was being born, as she was truly making her entrance into the world, it was snowing outside… small, pristine little white snowflakes fluttering down from the dark night sky and floating past the glass of the hospital windows, serving as a calming sight during every small break you got from having to push! tomas was letting you squeeze his hand and scream at him as much as you needed to, his warm eyes studying your face as you stared out at the snow whilst his free hand brushed your hair back from your sweaty face… helve being a winter baby only made more and more sense as she got older, every time it snowed she would be begging you and tomas to let her go outside, staring up at her father with pleading eyes as he sighs and brushes his long hair back before going to grab his jacket and her puffy light pink snow suit, cracking a smile and looking at you with love in his eyes when she begins to squeal, excitement taking over her small body at the idea of getting to make a snowman with her papa! they play outside for so long together whilst you watch from the icy windows and occasionally pop out to take some pictures of them, laughing every time you see tomas pick your daughter up and softly slam her down into a pile of fresh snow, both of their own muffled laughs reaching your ears! your future two children turn out to not be the biggest fans of winter and prefer to stay inside with you, clad in their fluffy pyjamas and cuddled up on the couch with the fireplace crackling, hot chocolates in hand as they simply waiting for their older sister and father to come back inside! tomas never really saw himself having a child at all, let alone three, but after helve? he just kind of found himself wanting more with you!

KJETIL “ FROST ” HARALDSTAD

dad! kjetil has a daughter named raven haraldstad…

the name raven works beyond well for your daughter! it was already decided as her name well before she was born just due to his general appreciation for the bird and their beauty but when she was born, the name was only even more solidified because she came out with a full head of fluffy raven black hair, making both you and kjetil smile down at her as she was placed on your chest, his hand coming down to stroke her petal soft cheek whilst mumbling to you about how perfect she is…

you fell pregnant with raven a bit later in life, not crazy later but likely late 20s to mid 30s! and whilst the two of you had never really thought about children all that much, never really planned on having a child… you decided to keep it, decided that maybe having a child would be a nice change in your lives and since you guys were getting a little older, you likely would not be able to wait much longer! kjetil is just so happy with your one little girl, so content with your only child… he treasures her as if she put the moon and stars in the sky, he feels such a strong will to love her and protect her! your daughter is absolutely infatuated with his nose ring! she is just so strangely fascinated with it for some reason, her big eyes that mirror his own are constantly trained on the shiny sliver in his nose as he holds her on his hip, her small fingers always reach up to poke at it as he chuckles at her antics, letting her gently poke at it curiously before planting a kiss to her fluffy black hair… not to mention when kjetil wears eyeliner or eyeshadow too! she is just so fascinated with quite literally everything her father does, she is a major daddys girl and both of you know it! and if he ever showed her some of his performance art? wether it be an old video or doing something in front of her, from a safe distance of course, it only ever fuels her obsession with her father and everything he does!

got any dad thoughts? send ‘em into my ask box hehe, bonus points if they are halloween dad thoughts because i think we all love halloween here <3

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ballin-and-cant-get-up · 2 years ago

Text

Fluff Alphabet - Frost PT.1

Request: Could you do a fluff alphabet for Frost? If you can’t, could you at least do F, J, M, W and X? (Also, could you do street fighter?) Could you add P to the frost thing pls?

I am going to be used an un-cyberized Frost who works with SF alongside her S/o. This contains Letters C, E, F, G, H, K, L, M, N, P, Q, W, Y

Other Content: Masterlist

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C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Frost is not the most emotionally aware person, but she tries her best. She covers her own problems with bravado, so don’t expect her to give any a valuable insight. She would probably just hold you and try to make you feel secure. She’s doing her best.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Frost tends to be very abrasive and dominant in everything she does, including your relationship.

Well...until you try to be dominant.

She will tease you relentlessly, but the second you retaliate, it’s like a switch was flipped.

Frost will immediately become shy and submissive.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

It depends on what the fight was about.

If the fight was about something small, Frost tends to hold a tiny grudge but will let it go after awhile. She WILL get you back though in one way or another 😈.

If the fight was something big, she will get really emotional about it and accuse her S/o of planning to abandon her. Frost also resorts to insults and underhanded comments during an argument. She doesn’t mean them, but it still hurts. It takes a lot of patience to be in a relationship with Frost. Afterwards (or if her S/o starts to cry), Frost will begin to panic and frantically try to apologize.

If the fight is about her exodus from the Lin Kuei or her alliance with Kronika, there is a chance she could get violent. She will stop herself, but it is a really sensitive topic. It is best to steer clear of those subjects.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Frost tends to act like she doesn’t care, but she does and she doesn’t know what her life would be like without you ,nor does she want to.

Don’t expect her to say anything, but she tries to show her appreciation in other ways.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Secrets? Nah

Frost tends to keep most things out in the open. She usually says what she means and means what she says.

It’s what she doesn’t say that is concerning.

Frost bottles A LOT of her emotions up and she tends to keep things to herself. Expect to have to do a little digging if you wants her to open up.

Once she sees you aren’t going to tear her head off for expressing herself, she will begin to be more trusting.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Her lips are cold.

No clue what you were expecting but kissing her is not like kissing an ice pop.

If feels like a normal kiss but your lips tend to feel tingly like you rubbed menthol on them.

She is VERY good at kissing. Like damn!

The first kiss will definitely come when she has to bail you out after you do something stupid. She would be yelling at you one second and yanking you towards her the next.

She blushes like crazy immediately afterwards.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

It could go one of two ways depending on how dominant or submissive her S/o is:

Scenario #1

Frost: “(Y/n)?”

(Y/n): “Yeah?”

Frost: “You’re my S/o, now.”

(Y/n): “O-okay.”

Frost: . . .

(Y/n): . . .

Frost: “Also, if Cassie even looks at you, I am going to kill her.”

(Y/n): “Frost, no!”

Scenario #2

Frost: “H-hey, (Y/n)?”

(Y/n): “Yeah?”

Frost: “I..uh... wanted to-”

(Y/n): “Tell me you think I am hot?”

Frost: “What?! No!”

(Y/n): “Well, I think you’re hot.”

Frost, furiously blushing: “Fuck off! I hate you!”

*Frost walks off*

(Y/n): “Love you, too! I’ll pick you up later!”

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Frost hasn’t really thought about an official marriage. She doesn’t see the point, but is open to it if her S/o is.

Her S/o would need to propose to her because she wouldn’t be able to other wise.

(Y/n): “Do you want to get married?”

Frost: “I...I thought we were?”

After getting married, Frost and her S/o would either live on the Lin Kuei Compound (if she reconciled with Sub-Zero), or live in an apartment.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Frost doesn’t really use nicknames, but call her by any pet name and she will implode.

Frost: “GOD DAMMIT, (Y/n)! How many times have I told you...?! (Y/N)!”

(Y/n): *Takes out earbuds* “Hmm? What did you say, snowball?”

Frost, a blushing flustered mess: “I-I don’t remember.”

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Frost is not a fan of PDA and is rather reserved about her relationship. She definitely won’t gush about her S/o in public; she has a reputation to uphold. What would people think if the coldest killer on Earth melted at the very sight of her S/o? However, she will brag to Cassie and jab at her inability to hold a boyfriend.

Just because she doesn’t initiate PDA doesn’t mean she will stop her S/o from doing so

PDA has an...effect on her. If you even hold her hand in public, she will have a complete mental shutdown. If she was still a cyborg, she would be steaming like a cartoon. Cassie can, and has, used this against her before.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

She may or may not like to make frozen treats. I know it is cliché, but her ice powers make it really easy and she enjoys it. Ice cream, Sorbets, Iced coffee, Ice pops, etc. She will make anything and have her S/o taste test.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

(With cyberized Frost)

It seemed like a completely normal night returning from work. Walking up to your home, you heard a crash and rolling sound from inside. A burglar? You are (probably) a trained fighter and your girlfriend is a stone-cold, killer cyborg, so you felt pretty confident you weren’t in danger. You cautiously open the door and creep through your living room. You grab a (preferred household weapon/item) and follow the noise. You climb up the stair, avoiding creaky floor boards. A bump sounds from the bedroom. Before you can get to the door, it opens with hitch pitch creak. A headless figure emerges. You shriek as the figure lunges at you. Its grip is tight and it pulls you into the room before letting go. You flip the light switch and see... Frost’s body?

A muffled, “(Y/n)? (Y/n)! Help!” can be heard from under the bed. You peak under and spot your girlfriend’s head in the center of the cobweb filled dark.

“Frost? What happened.”

“My body malfunctioned and I-”

“Lost your head?”

“Shut up! Can you help me out?”

“Your body seemed pretty coordinated. Why can you get yourself out?”

*Blushing* “I can’t fit.”

“Oh, give me a minute”

You had to use a broom to push her out.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

She doesn’t cope...like at all.

When you are away from her for long periods of time, she gets CRAZY aggressive.

It got so bad that Kronika had to give you a temporal anchor so you could visit her fortress.

And Elder Gods forbid you join the coalition against Kronika. Frost will be inconsolable (privately of course) when she hears the news and then become extremely angry.

On the battlefield, she’ll make a B-line for you and try to murder your ass. She will act like she hates you more than Quai Liang but she is really just hurt.

The only thing keeping her going is Kronika’s promise that you will be by her side in the new Era.

#frost x reader #frost #mortal kombat 11 #mortal kombat x reader #fluff alphabet #Headcanon #reader #male reader #female reader #gender neutral reader

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urdreamydoodles · 3 months ago

Note

I love your headcanons!! I’d love to see how you think the X-men would react to the reader playfully biting them, in or out of the bedroom, whatever scenario you’d like (you can go with any characters, but bonus points for Logan, Erik, Charles, and perhaps a new one, Victor Creed 👀)

X-MEN CHARACTERS X FEM!READER

You bite them playfully

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Rogue, Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Hank McCoy, Emma Frost, Laura Kinney, Wade Wilson, Victor Creed, Julian Keller, Kitty Pryde, Cable, Warren Worthington III, Morph, Mystique, Magik & Alex Summers

Reply to anon: OMG yes, Victor my little mad dog!

Logan Howlett

- You don’t expect him to react. Not really. He’s endured bullets, blades, and the unrelenting weight of time itself. A playful bite from you should be nothing—should be a drop of rain against an unshakable mountain. And yet, the moment your teeth graze his skin, a low growl rumbles from deep within his chest, something primal and unbidden. His muscles tense beneath your touch, like an animal caught between instinct and restraint.

- His gaze finds yours, sharp and golden, flickering with something unreadable. His lips curl into the faintest smirk, but his eyes betray him—dark with challenge, with something wilder lurking beneath. “That all you got, darlin’?” he rasps, his voice rough as gravel, his fingers curling at his sides as if resisting the urge to seize you right then and there.

- But Logan is nothing if not a man of action. A heartbeat later, his arm is around your waist, pulling you in close, the heat of his body searing against yours. His voice dips lower, a teasing growl, though there’s a dangerous edge to it now. “Y’know what they say, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. “You bite a wolf, you better be ready for it to bite back.”

- And he does. Maybe not in the way you expect—not with teeth, but with hands that grip too tight, with lips that press too hard, with a possessiveness that lingers in every touch. Because Logan doesn’t do playful. He does hunger. He does need. And if you dare to tease the beast, you’d best be ready for the storm that follows.

Remy LeBeau

- Remy freezes the moment your teeth press against his skin—not from pain, not from surprise, but from something far more dangerous. The corner of his mouth twitches, not quite a smirk yet, but the promise of one. And then, ever so slowly, he tilts his head toward you, his red-on-black eyes gleaming with mischief.

- “Ma belle, you tryna kill me?” he drawls, his accent thick and lazy, but his voice carries that unmistakable edge of heat. His fingers brush over your arm, slow and deliberate, as if tracing the intent behind your bite. “'Cause I gotta warn you, chérie… I ain’t the kind to die easy.”

- The next thing you know, he’s got you backed against the nearest surface, one hand braced beside your head, the other tracing the curve of your waist like he’s memorizing the shape of you. His grin is downright wicked now, his gaze molten with amusement and something darker. “See, you play this game wit’ me, mon amour, you best know the rules.” His breath is warm against your lips, teasing, taunting. “You bite me? I devour you.”

- And then he leans in, and oh—Remy doesn’t just kiss. He claims. He teases. He tastes. His lips ghost over yours, never quite giving you what you want, never quite letting you escape, because if you’re going to start a game with the Ragin’ Cajun, you better be ready to lose.

Kurt Wagner

- The moment your teeth sink lightly into his skin, Kurt stills, his breath catching in his throat. For a split second, his mind goes utterly blank—because of course you would do this, of course you would find new ways to unravel him, to leave him speechless and stumbling. His tail flicks once, betraying his surprise, before curling around your waist in retaliation.

- And then—oh. Oh, then he laughs. A low, breathy chuckle that rumbles in his chest, warm and so utterly Kurt. “Mein Schatz,” he murmurs, his voice rich with amusement, his golden eyes gleaming. “Was that supposed to be threatening? Because I must say… you might have to try harder.”

- But his tail tightens ever so slightly, his hands settling on your hips, his body pressing just a little closer. His voice drops into something softer now, something teasing but fond. “Or perhaps you weren’t trying to scare me at all,” he muses, brushing his nose against yours, an intimate little gesture that makes your heart stutter. “Perhaps you were simply asking for a little attention, ja?”

- And oh, does he give it. He moves fast—so fast you barely register the shift before you’re elsewhere, whisked away in a blink of smoke and laughter. One moment you’re standing, the next you’re tangled in his arms, wrapped in the warmth of his teleportation, caught between breathless kisses and whispered endearments. Because if you’re going to bite him, liebling, he’s going to make sure you never regret it.

Scott Summers

- Scott’s reaction is immediate—sharp inhale, muscles tensing beneath your touch, jaw tightening as if trying to suppress whatever instinct just surged through him. His discipline, his restraint—it has always been his armor, his cage. But you—you have a habit of making him forget himself.

- “What was that?” he asks, voice lower than usual, a little rough around the edges, though the slight flush creeping up his neck betrays him. His fingers flex at his sides, like he doesn’t know whether to pull you closer or set you firmly away. But his ruby-red gaze is locked onto you now, and he is searching—for your intent, for your reasoning, for something he can brace himself against.

- “You can’t just—” He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, as if that will somehow ground him. His lips part, like he wants to scold you, like he wants to tell you biting is not part of a proper battle strategy, but the words never come. Instead, his hand lifts, cups your chin, his thumb grazing over your lower lip in something dangerously close to reverence.

- And then, ever so slowly, his lips brush against yours—light, testing, but oh-so-intense. Because Scott Summers does not give in easily. He does not let himself have. But you—you are different. You are his exception. And if you are going to play with fire, then you had best be prepared to burn.

Jean Grey

- Jean stills the moment your teeth graze her skin, not in fear or surprise, but in the way someone freezes when they have just stepped into the unknown. She has felt so many things in her lifetime—pain, joy, rage, divinity itself—but the sharp, teasing sensation of you doing this? That is something new. Her lips part slightly, a breath catching in her throat, and though she does not speak, you can hear her thoughts as if they are your own: What exactly are you trying to do to me?

- And then, oh, she smiles. Slow, knowing, the corners of her lips curving into something dangerously affectionate. Her fingers trace lightly over your arm, telekinetic energy humming faintly beneath her fingertips as she studies you with emerald eyes that gleam with amusement. “You do realize who you’re dealing with, don’t you?” she murmurs, voice soft but laced with something teasing, something nearly predatory. “You think you can surprise me, love? That’s adorable.”

- But Jean is not one to let challenges go unanswered. The next thing you know, her hand slides to your jaw, tilting your face toward hers with effortless ease. She doesn’t need to use her telekinesis to hold you there—no, the intensity in her gaze alone is enough. “Tell me,” she muses, leaning in so close her lips barely brush against yours. “Do you bite because you want my attention? Or because you already have it?”

- And before you can answer, she kisses you—deep, slow, deliberate. Not just a kiss, but a response, a promise. Because Jean Grey is made of passion and power, and if you wish to tease her, if you wish to provoke her, then you must be prepared for the storm you have just invited into your arms.

Ororo Munroe

- The moment your teeth press gently against her skin, a low, melodic hum escapes her—a sound not of displeasure, but of acknowledgment. Ororo Munroe has spent years cultivating grace, control, an unshakable presence that commands gods and mortals alike. And yet, this—this quiet, playful act of yours—catches her off guard in the most unexpected of ways.

- Her silver eyes flick toward you, gleaming with something unreadable, and for a moment, the air around you shifts, electricity humming faintly in the space between your bodies. Not as a threat, not as a warning, but as a reaction—as if even the very elements themselves are uncertain how to respond to the way you unravel her. “My love,” she says at last, her voice a soft, indulgent purr. “Was that meant to challenge me? Or are you merely being mischievous?”

- Slowly, her fingers trail along your shoulders, feather-light, teasing, carrying the same effortless power as the wind itself. And then, in one smooth motion, she moves—you don’t quite know how, only that one moment you are standing in place, and the next, the storm has wrapped itself around you. You are pulled flush against her, her presence enveloping you in warmth, in strength, in the quiet promise of something far greater than either of you can name.

- “If you seek my attention,” she whispers, her breath brushing against your ear like the gentlest breeze, “you need only ask.” And then, with a slow, deliberate smile, she leans in, her lips brushing over the spot where your bite had just been—a silent response, a wordless challenge of her own. Because if you are to tease a goddess, then you must be ready to be worshipped in return.

Rogue

- The second your teeth sink playfully into her skin, Rogue gasps—sharp, sudden, entirely unprepared. It’s not that she doesn’t like it, not at all, but more that she did not see it coming. For all her strength, all her bravado, you have just done something no enemy, no battle, no nightmare has ever managed to do: you have caught her off guard.

- “Sugah,” she breathes, her accent thickening just a bit, her voice a mixture of amusement and something else—something dangerous. Slowly, her green eyes flick to yours, and oh, that look—half-smirk, half-warning—tells you that you might have just started something you cannot finish. “Did you just… bite me?”

- And then, before you can answer, she does what Rogue does best—she acts. One moment, you are standing comfortably, the next, she has you pinned. Not roughly, not cruelly, but firmly, her gloved hands gripping your wrists, her breath hot against your skin. “Y’know,” she muses, tilting her head as she studies you, “if you wanted my attention that bad, all you had to do was ask.”

- But the glint in her eye betrays her—because for all her teasing, for all her bravado, the truth is simple: she loves this. Loves that you would dare to play with her, loves that you know exactly how to unravel her defenses, how to make her forget the space she so often has to keep between herself and the world. And so, with a wicked little smirk, she leans in, her lips hovering just above yours as she murmurs, “Hope you know what you started, darlin’. ‘Cause I don’t play fair.”

Erik Lehnsherr

- The moment your teeth press against his skin, Erik goes very, very still. Not out of fear, not out of surprise, but out of calculation. He is a man of war, of tragedy, of wounds both seen and unseen, and he has spent his entire life anticipating danger. But this—this playful, fleeting bite from you—is not something he had prepared for.

- And then, slowly, he exhales. Not in frustration, not in anger, but in something far deeper—something like acceptance. His sharp, silver gaze flicks to yours, unreadable yet knowing, and a slow, deliberate smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “Liebling,” he murmurs, his voice as smooth as tempered steel. “Do you think this is a game?”

- He does not move immediately. No, Erik prefers patience, prefers anticipation, prefers to let you feel the weight of what you have just done. And then, finally, he acts. His fingers ghost over your jaw, light as a whisper, his touch deceptively gentle. But his grip—when it finally settles—is not. His hand tightens, not cruelly, but possessively, his thumb tracing over your pulse as he studies you like a puzzle he has yet to solve.

- “If you wish to test me,” he muses, his voice a low, dark promise, “then by all means… continue.” And then, in a move so smooth it leaves you breathless, he takes—captures your mouth with his, slow and unyielding, like gravity itself bending to his will. Because Erik Lehnsherr does not play. He conquers. And if you wish to tempt him, then you must be prepared to surrender.

Charles Xavier

- Charles Xavier is a man of the mind, a man who has unraveled the deepest corners of human thought and consciousness, who has witnessed the entirety of existence through the whispers of others’ souls. And yet, for all his knowledge, for all the mysteries he has unraveled, you still find a way to surprise him. The moment your teeth press against his skin—soft, playful, fleeting—he stills, blue eyes widening just slightly, as if he cannot quite believe that you, of all things, could ever be so unpredictable.

- But then, oh, then he laughs. Not a polite chuckle, not the refined sort of amusement he offers in conversations of wit and charm, but something richer, something real. A warm, low sound that spills from his lips like honey, as if you have just whispered the most delightful secret in the world. He tilts his head toward you, curiosity sparking in his gaze, and for a moment, you see it—the boy he once was, the one who believed in the simple joy of being alive. “My dear,” he muses, a slow, knowing smile curving his lips, “are you quite certain you wish to play this game with me?”

- Charles is a scholar, a tactician, a man who has spent his life wielding words and thoughts like weapons, and he is not one to let a challenge go unanswered. Before you can pull away, his fingers ghost along your wrist, light as a whisper, and suddenly—you feel it. Not words, not images, but a sensation, a feeling, as if he is pressing the weight of his affection directly into your soul. This is how he fights back—by letting you feel what you do to him, by drowning you in the sheer, unshakable depth of his love.

- “You are a fascinating creature,” he murmurs, his voice a soft, intimate thing, meant only for you. And then, with deliberate slowness, he leans in, his lips grazing the same spot where your teeth had just been, a silent response, a quiet promise. Because Charles Xavier is a man of the mind—but with you, he has learned to love the body, too.

Wanda Maximoff

- Wanda Maximoff has spent her entire life on the precipice of chaos. Magic flows through her like a storm, raw and untamed, and though she has learned to control it, there is still a part of her that lingers on the edge—uncertain, fragile, waiting for the world to turn against her. But you—you are different. You do not fear her, do not tread lightly as if she is glass that might shatter at the slightest touch. No, you play with her, tease her, press your teeth against her skin in a gesture so human, so simple, that for a moment, she forgets the weight of her own power.

- Her breath catches—just a little, just enough for you to notice. Her fingers curl against your arm, not to push you away, but to steady herself, as if grounding herself in the moment, in you. And then, slowly, her lips curve into something soft, something real. “You’re bold,” she murmurs, her voice laced with quiet amusement, but there is something else there, too—something dangerous. A challenge. A warning. Because Wanda Maximoff is not someone you tease without consequences.

- Before you can react, she moves. The world shifts around you, a flicker of crimson in the air, and suddenly, you are weightless, as if gravity itself has forgotten you exist. Her magic hums against your skin, curling around you like the brush of unseen fingertips, and she watches you with a look that is pure mischief. “Tell me, darling,” she whispers, tilting her head ever so slightly, “was that meant to tempt me?”

- And then, with a slow, deliberate smirk, she leans in—her lips barely grazing your skin, a phantom touch, a promise of something more. Because Wanda Maximoff is chaos incarnate, and if you wish to play with her, then you must be prepared to dance in the storm.

Pietro Maximoff

- It happens so quickly that even you don’t realize what you’ve done. One moment, Pietro Maximoff is standing before you, talking, teasing, filling the space between you with his usual boundless energy, and the next—your teeth graze his skin, a fleeting, playful bite, quick as lightning itself. And then? He’s gone. A blur of silver and laughter, a gust of wind where he once stood.

- But before you can even blink, he is back—and oh, that look on his face. His lips are curled into a smirk, his blue eyes gleaming with something wild, something electric. “Really?” he breathes, shaking his head as if in disbelief. “You think you can bite me? Me?” His laughter rings out, sharp and bright, and suddenly, he is moving again—circling you, his presence a flickering pulse in the air, there and gone all at once.

- And then, he strikes. Not with speed, not with force, but with something far worse—anticipation. He stops right behind you, so close that his breath is warm against your ear, his voice a whisper of pure, unfiltered mischief. “You know what they say about quick reflexes, don’t you?” he murmurs, and before you can even think to react, his lips brush against your neck—a flicker of a kiss, a ghost of a touch, so fleeting you almost question if it happened at all.

- And then? He’s gone again. Laughing, running, taunting. Because Pietro Maximoff is not someone who is caught—he is the storm itself, and if you wish to play this game, then you must be prepared to chase the wind.

Hank McCoy

- Hank McCoy is not a man who is easily surprised. He has spent his life in pursuit of knowledge, unraveling the mysteries of science, of genetics, of the very fabric of existence itself. And yet, for all his intellect, for all his careful observations of the world—he does not see you coming. The moment your teeth press playfully into his skin, his entire body freezes, blue fur bristling slightly, golden eyes widening in stunned disbelief.

- “Oh, my stars and garters,” he breathes, his voice carrying the unmistakable weight of a man whose entire world has just shifted. Slowly, his gaze flicks down to you, studying you with the same meticulous focus he applies to his research, as if you are some rare, fascinating discovery he has yet to fully understand. “You do realize,” he murmurs, voice warm and teasing, “that by initiating such an experiment, you are opening yourself up to… repercussions, yes?”

- And then, oh, his smile. Slow, wickedly amused, utterly delighted. Before you can react, he moves—not with the hesitant carefulness of a man afraid of his own strength, but with the confidence of someone who knows exactly how to turn the tables. One moment, you are standing, the next, you are swept off your feet, cradled in arms that are both impossibly strong and impossibly gentle. “Ah,” he muses, adjusting his grip as if holding you is the most natural thing in the world, “I do believe I now have the advantage.”

- And then, with a quiet chuckle, he leans in—not to bite, not to tease, but to kiss the very spot where your teeth had been, slow and deliberate, a scholar testing a theory. Because Hank McCoy is a man of knowledge—but when it comes to you, he is more than willing to be a student of the unknown.

Emma Frost

- The moment your teeth graze her skin, Emma Frost’s response is immediate—a slow, measured inhale, the faintest arch of a perfectly sculpted brow. She does not startle, does not react with anything so crass as surprise. No, Emma assesses. A woman of elegance, of control, she has spent a lifetime ensuring that no one catches her off guard, that no one slips beneath the carefully constructed ice of her composure. And yet, you have done it, a playful bite against porcelain skin, an action so simple yet so bold that, for the briefest moment, even the White Queen falters.

- But then, oh, then she smiles. Slow. Deliberate. Dangerous. A curl of her lips that carries no warmth, only sharp amusement and something far more wicked. “Darling,” she purrs, voice smooth as silk, laced with the faintest edge of laughter, “if you wanted to get my attention, there are… other ways to do so.” Her fingers ghost along your wrist, deceptively gentle, a reminder that while you may have started this game, she is the one who will dictate how it ends.

- She does not retaliate with force, nor does she melt into you like some lovesick fool. No, Emma punishes in the most exquisite way possible—she makes you wait. A brush of her fingertips against your jaw, a lingering glance, the press of her body close enough to promise but never enough to give. “Tell me,” she murmurs, tilting her head, voice rich with amusement, “was that truly your best effort?”

- And then, when you least expect it, she strikes. A shift of movement so swift, so precise, that you don’t even register it until it’s happening—her lips against your pulse point, her teeth grazing the same spot where you dared to mark her. It is not surrender. It is not an answer. It is a lesson. A warning. A challenge. Because Emma Frost does not lose—but she does enjoy playing with her prey.

Laura Kinney

- The moment your teeth press into her skin, Laura reacts. No hesitation, no pause—her body tenses, muscles coiling like a predator poised to strike. Instinct kicks in before thought, before reason, before she can even register that it’s you. And for a split second, you feel it—the sheer, terrifying violence that lurks beneath her skin, the razor’s edge of a woman who has spent her entire life as a weapon.

- But then, just as quickly as the tension rises, it fades. A sharp exhale, a flicker of recognition, golden eyes narrowing as she processes what you’ve done. There is no laughter, no teasing retort—just a look. Calculating. Intense. Confused, but not displeased. “…You bit me,” she says at last, voice flat, as if stating the most bizarre fact in the world.

- And then? She tilts her head, considering you in that unnerving, almost animalistic way of hers. “Why?” The question is genuine—Laura has never been one for mind games or coy affections, has never understood the subtle language of teasing and playfulness. Biting is something she associates with combat, with survival. But with you? With you, it is different.

- Slowly, tentatively, she mirrors the action. A nip, precise and measured, as if she is testing this new form of affection, as if she is learning you the way she has learned every other part of the world—through experience, through instinct. And when she pulls back, there is something new in her gaze, something raw and unspoken. Because Laura Kinney may not understand why you did it, but she knows one thing with certainty—if you bite, then she will bite back.

Wade Wilson

- You barely have time to finish biting him before Wade gasps—loud, theatrical, utterly over-the-top. “OH. MY. GOD.” His hands fly to his chest, staggering back as if you have mortally wounded him. “DID YOU JUST—YOU DID. YOU ABSOLUTELY DID.” His voice is thick with emotion, somewhere between scandalized and delighted. “Babe. You bit me. Like a feral little love-goblin. That’s so hot.”

- And then? Then, all hell breaks loose. Within seconds, he is biting you back—but not just once, no, because Wade Wilson is incapable of moderation. He is nibbling at your cheek, at your shoulder, at your hand, peppering you with playful, exaggerated love-bites while making increasingly absurd noises. “CHOMP.” He sinks his teeth into the air dramatically, eyes wide with manic glee. “RAWR. Oh, sorry, that was my dinosaur impression. But honestly? If I were a dinosaur, I’d be a love-raptor. A snuggle-saurus. A Wade-a-don Rex, if you will.”

- The worst part? He does not stop talking. “You’re lucky I don’t have rabies,” he chatters, waggling his brows. “I mean, I might. I did lick a questionable taco truck the other day. But, y’know, if I do have rabies, then I guess that makes you my one and only transmission method—romantic, right?” He grins, then gasps again, as if struck by a sudden epiphany. “WAIT. Does this mean we’re in a vampire romance now? Am I your dark, brooding, undead lover? Babe, I gotta be honest, I am so ready to emotionally gaslight you across centuries of longing.”

- But then—just when you think he’s going to turn this into a full-fledged one-man show—he pauses. Just for a moment. The humor dims slightly, enough for something softer to slip through. And then, in a rare, fleeting act of sincerity, Wade leans in, pressing a kiss—not a bite, not a joke, but a kiss—to the very spot where your teeth had been. “…Seriously, though,” he murmurs, voice warm and uncharacteristically quiet, “that was, like, really cute. You’re really cute.” And then, just as quickly as it appeared, the moment is gone, swallowed up in another round of ridiculous, dramatic antics. But for that one, brief second? He meant it.

Victor Creed

- The instant your teeth graze his skin, Victor Creed laughs—a low, rumbling thing that vibrates in his chest, a sound that is both amused and hungry. He does not startle. He does not pause. No, Victor reacts the way a predator does when something small and delicate dares to bare its teeth—with interest.

- His fingers curl at your waist, grip firm, possessive, a wordless acknowledgment of what you have done. “Now that’s adorable,” he drawls, voice thick with amusement. “Little thing thinks she’s got fangs.” His golden eyes gleam as he studies you, head tilting slightly, as if debating whether to play along—or devour you whole.

- And then? He leans in. Closer, until his breath is warm against your ear, until you feel the sheer size of him, the sheer power in every inch of his body. “You wanna play rough, sweetheart?” he murmurs, voice dropping into something darker, something edged with promise. “You sure you can handle that?” And then, without hesitation, he bites back. Not gentle. Not teasing. But slow, deliberate, lingering—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you exactly who you are dealing with.

- When he pulls away, his grin is wolfish, sharp and deadly. “That all you got?” he taunts, dragging a thumb over the mark he’s left behind. “C’mon, now. If you’re gonna bite, bite like you mean it.” And with that, he watches, waits, golden eyes glinting with something dangerous, something wild. Because Victor Creed is a man who thrives on blood and instinct, and if you wish to play this game, then you must be prepared to lose.

Julian Keller

- The moment your teeth graze his skin, Julian smirks. A slow, lazy curl of his lips, equal parts cocky and intrigued. He doesn’t jerk away, doesn’t react with surprise—no, Julian Keller is a man who thrives in the unexpected, who wears confidence like a second skin. “Well, well,” he drawls, amusement dripping from every syllable, “look at you. Feisty today, huh?” His voice is low, smooth, laced with the kind of arrogance that makes you want to bite him again—harder, just to wipe that smug expression off his face.

- But then, before you can so much as think about it, he moves. Swift, fluid, his telekinesis pressing against you, pinning you in place—not harsh, not cruel, but playful. A silent reminder of who he is, of what he can do. His grip at your waist tightens ever so slightly, his body angled close, so very close, and for a second, it feels less like a game and more like a challenge. “That supposed to be some kind of warning, babe?” he teases, his breath warm against your ear. “’Cause if you’re picking fights, you should know—I never back down.”

- He doesn’t retaliate immediately. No, Julian waits. He lets anticipation build, lets you think you’ve won—that you’ve caught him off guard, that he’ll let this slide. But then, just as you relax, he strikes. A sharp nip against your jaw, quick and precise, a mimicry of what you had done to him. But unlike you, he doesn’t stop there. No, Julian Keller is competitive, and if you’re playing this game, then he’s playing to win.

- “Gotta admit,” he murmurs against your skin, voice a quiet rasp, “you’ve got guts. I like that.” His grip loosens, but that smirk remains, his green eyes gleaming with challenge. “But next time? Maybe try a little harder.” And just like that, he pulls away, walking off as if nothing happened, as if he hasn’t just left you standing there, heart pounding, already plotting your revenge.

Kitty Pryde

- “Oh!” The moment your teeth press into her shoulder, Kitty lets out a startled squeak, her entire body jerking in surprise. She phases instinctively, and before you even register what’s happening, you’re biting nothing—your teeth sinking into empty air as she slips through you, her molecules scattering like mist. It’s not that she minds, not really. It’s just that she wasn’t expecting it. And Kitty Pryde does not like being caught off guard.

- “Did you just—?” Her voice is breathless, half-laughing, half-accusing, her wide eyes locking onto yours. There’s no anger there, no real irritation—just confusion and delight, an almost incredulous sort of amusement at the fact that you, of all people, had dared to bite her. “Okay, rude,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest in mock offense. “You can’t just do that without warning! What if I phased and got stuck inside the floor? You’d feel really bad, wouldn’t you?”

- But her protests are all for show, because the next second, she’s grinning, her playful side taking over. Kitty Pryde is mischief wrapped in kindness, and if you think for one second that she’s letting this go unanswered, you’re sorely mistaken. “Y’know,” she muses, tapping a finger to her chin, “if this is how we’re communicating now, I could phase my hand into your ribs and just… give your heart a little squeeze. Not lethal! Just, y’know… uncomfortable.”

- And yet, despite her teasing, despite her empty threats, there’s a warmth in her gaze, an unmistakable fondness in the way she leans in, brushing her lips—soft, fleeting—against the spot where your teeth had been. “But,” she murmurs, voice dipping into something gentler, something real, “I think I like this way better.” And then, with one final cheeky grin, she phases through you once more, vanishing just before you can grab her in retaliation.

Nathan Summers

- The moment you bite him, Cable pauses. No visible reaction. No sharp inhale, no startled flinch. He simply stills, his entire body locking into that unnerving, soldier-like stillness. His metal hand, which had been resting at your waist, remains unmoving, his entire frame rigid as if waiting, assessing. It’s instinct, honed over decades of battle, of survival. Because Nathan Summers is not a man accustomed to softness, and affection—even when playful—is something he has never learned to anticipate.

- And then, slowly, he exhales. His head tilts just slightly, his cybernetic eye dimming, the faintest flicker of something amused passing through his otherwise unreadable expression. “…Did you just bite me?” His voice is low, gravelly, tinged with something between disbelief and reluctant amusement. “Huh.” He says nothing else for a long moment, simply watching you, studying you as if trying to decipher what exactly prompted you to do such a thing.

- And then, finally, he shakes his head, a quiet huff escaping him—something that might, under very specific lighting conditions, be mistaken for a chuckle. “You’ve got guts,” he mutters, the corner of his lips twitching in something dangerously close to a smirk. “Reckless, but gutsy.” His organic hand brushes against the spot where your teeth had been, as if committing the sensation to memory.

- He doesn’t bite back. Doesn’t tease or taunt or retaliate. No, Cable is not a man who plays games. Instead, he opts for something simpler, something quieter—his hand cupping the back of your head, his lips pressing against your forehead in a rare display of open tenderness. A silent acknowledgment. A wordless acceptance. Because Nathan Summers may not understand softness, but for you, he is willing to learn.

Warren Worthington III

- The moment your teeth sink into his skin, Warren lets out a sharp gasp—a mix of surprise and something dangerously close to pleasure. His wings flare instinctively, feathers rustling with a sudden, unconscious movement, his entire body reacting before his mind can catch up. Because Warren Worthington III is a man of control, of composure—and yet, with you, it seems to shatter so easily.

- “Did you—” His voice is breathless, his pupils blown wide, his blue eyes flickering with something unreadable. “You just—” He swallows, as if struggling to find the right words, as if the simple act of you biting him has completely short-circuited his mind. He is an angel carved from marble, all sharp lines and celestial grace, and yet here he stands, utterly undone by something so small, so mortal.

- And then, something shifts. A slow, wicked smile tugs at his lips, the sharp edge of his Archangel persona slipping into his gaze. “You really shouldn’t do that,” he murmurs, voice a velvet purr. “Not unless you’re prepared for the consequences.” His wings snap forward in an instant, encircling you in a cocoon of soft, gilded feathers, trapping you against his chest. His fingers ghost over your jaw, tilting your chin up so you have no choice but to meet his gaze.

- “Because now?” His lips brush against the very spot you had marked, his voice dropping into something dangerous, something electric. “Now it’s my turn.” And then, before you can even think to protest, Warren Worthington III—heir, angel, warrior—bites back.

Kevin Sydney

- The moment your teeth sink into his skin, Kevin’s entire form shifts in surprise. One second, he’s his usual self—sharp jaw, bright eyes, that ever-present smirk—and the next, he’s you, your own expression of mischief mirrored back at you. His voice, now an exact replica of yours, lilts with exaggerated amusement: “Wow, is this what I look like when I do something reckless? No wonder you love me.”

- He lets the illusion linger just long enough to make you blink in disbelief before shifting back, his laughter spilling out in warm, unrestrained waves. There’s no irritation, no reprimand—just the unshakable joy of a man who thrives on unpredictability, who relishes in the absurd. “Biting, huh? I like this new development,” he teases, rubbing the spot where your teeth had been with faux contemplation. “I gotta say, I wasn’t expecting that, but hey, I do have a thing for surprises.”

- He retaliates in the most Morph-like way possible—by suddenly growing a pair of exaggerated fangs and snapping playfully at you, his grin widening as if daring you to test your luck again. “C’mon, babe, if we’re making this a thing, let’s make it fun,” he quips, waggling his eyebrows in an over-the-top display of challenge. “What’s next? Claw marks? A dramatic villain monologue? Give me something to work with!”

- And yet, despite all the jokes, despite the effortless laughter, there’s something softer underneath. Because Kevin Sydney is a man who hides behind humor, who masks emotion with theatrics—but the way he touches you now, fingers brushing idly along your wrist, is genuine. “Seriously, though,” he murmurs, his usual grin dimming into something real, “I like when you do things that catch me off guard. It reminds me that life’s worth sticking around for.”

Raven Darkhölme

- The moment your teeth press into her skin, Mystique doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t jerk away. Instead, she merely stares, her yellow eyes sharp, assessing, calculating. It’s impossible to tell what she’s thinking—whether she’s amused, annoyed, or considering shifting into someone entirely different just to make you regret it. “Interesting,” she murmurs at last, her voice low, velvet-smooth, carrying an edge of intrigue that makes your heart stutter.

- Then, before you can so much as blink, she moves. A blur of shifting colors, of muscle and bone rearranging in an instant—and suddenly, she’s behind you, her lips a ghost of a presence against your ear. “You really think you can surprise me?” she purrs, her breath cool against your skin. “I’ve spent lifetimes being a step ahead. If you wanted to catch me off guard, you’d have to try harder than that.”

- But despite her words, despite her unshakable composure, there’s an undeniable interest in her tone. Because Raven Darkhölme is a woman who’s spent decades in control, who rarely allows herself to be touched without permission—and yet, you’ve just walked right through every layer of her defenses without fear. And that? That fascinates her more than she’d care to admit.

- “Brave,” she muses at last, her fingers tracing the very spot you had bitten, her expression unreadable. Then, with a slow, deliberate smirk, she adds, “But reckless.” And just like that, she shifts—her form melting into someone else, someone entirely unfamiliar—before disappearing into the shadows, leaving only her voice lingering behind: “I will be returning the favor.”

Illyana Rasputina

- The moment your teeth sink into her skin, Illyana freezes. Not in shock, not in discomfort, but in something else—something unreadable, something ancient and dangerous. Because Illyana Rasputina is not a woman accustomed to softness, and affection—even playful—has always been laced with sharp edges in her world. Her grip on her Soulsword tightens, and for a fraction of a second, her eyes flicker with golden fire, as if Hell itself has stirred in response.

- And then, she turns to you—slowly, deliberately, her expression eerily calm. “Did you just bite me?” Her voice is quiet, but there’s something lethal beneath it, something that makes even the air around her still. She doesn’t sound angry. If anything, she sounds… curious. As if she’s trying to decide whether this is something to be annoyed by—or something to encourage.

- And then, after what feels like an eternity, she laughs. It’s low, dark, a sound that carries the weight of fire and steel, of war and something far older than you could ever comprehend. “Hah. You’re bold,” she muses, tilting her head, considering you with something between amusement and fondness. “I like it.” Then, with a flick of her wrist, her Soulsword vanishes, and she leans in—so very close, her breath warm against your throat.

- “But you do realize,” she murmurs, her voice a whisper of shadows, “that I always bite back.” And before you can so much as react, she’s gone—vanished in a flash of eldritch fire, leaving nothing behind but the lingering heat of her presence and the unshakable knowledge that this game has only just begun.

Alex Summers

- The second your teeth graze his skin, Alex jumps—a sharp, involuntary reaction, his entire body tensing as if you’ve just electrocuted him. “What the hell?!” he blurts out, twisting to look at you with wide, startled eyes. There’s no immediate anger, no irritation—just sheer, genuine confusion, as if he cannot comprehend why you would do something so reckless.

- And then, as realization dawns, his expression changes. His brows furrow, his lips twitch, and before you can so much as breathe, he lets out a laugh—not the kind you were expecting, not cocky or smug, but genuine. It’s warm, boyish, disbelieving, the kind of laugh that makes the edges of his eyes crinkle. “You bit me,” he says again, shaking his head like he still can’t quite wrap his mind around it. “Are you—are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

- And yet, despite his reaction, despite his initial shock, there’s something undeniably fond in the way he looks at you now. Because Alex Summers is a man who has spent his life in the shadow of expectation, of responsibility, of chaos—and here you are, bringing something light into his world, something unexpected, something good. And maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t mind that as much as he pretends to.

- “Alright, fine,” he relents at last, rubbing his neck where your teeth had been, his grin turning almost challenging. “But just so you know? I’m keeping score.” And with that, he leans in—his lips brushing against your jaw, a teasing warning before he suddenly nips at your skin in retaliation, pulling back with a satisfied smirk. “Your move.”

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st4r-th0ughts · 6 months ago

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Mk11 x Shinnok’s Spawn GN! Reader intro poll! (Pt. 1 since I can’t fit all the tags lmfao)

part one here

*note- all interactions are strictly platonic, and the characters in each part are not 100% in order!

okay so there’s a lot of characters for me to write, so what better to way to decide than to do a poll? Based on the votes, the parts will be in that order!

Reader’s background (Mk11 timeline):

Reader is Liu Kang’s adopted child, a young one he found between Netherealm and Earthrealm. Kung Lao absolutely adored Liu Kang’s child, his very own nibling. As did almost everyone else when they met you.

It is revealed in Mkx, reader was the spawn of Shinnok, made to take his place should he ever perish. Raiden, who was now so obsessed with Earthrealm’s safety, even if it means attacking and shunning all those he deemed a threat, he banished reader from Earthrealm, demanding all those who ally with him to kill reader upon sight.

Now, in Mk11 after the time merger, reader can’t bring themselves to trust anyone. Not after being betrayed, left behind, and hunted. Living in an abandoned mansion, alone, in the dark.

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the-unexplained-council · 6 months ago

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Frostbitten Stars; Morning Frost

Legends of Avantris; Once Upon A Witchlight

Summary: The crew is separated in groups by walking into a mysterious room in a twisted manor, and you suddenly find yourself in a tundra. You’re stuck with the monotone tiger tabaxi in a frozen blizzard plane, one you’re not used to. You need to get out before you freeze to death, make it back to your other friends and make sure everyone’s okay… but maybe this isn’t so bad after all.

CW: cussing, frostbite mentions, starvation mentions, fluff, angst(?), weapon, fight, blood.

Word Count: 13.2k

-~-~-~-

“S-Shit..” you muttered, wheezing out a puff of hot air from your lungs, watching as the cloud of fog blew past your face. Your exposed skin being nipped by the cold, you felt every hair on your body begin to rise. Gripping your arms, you looked around the area.

Snow. That’s all you could see. Snow littered the ground, fluffing up the earth like a cotton ball plain. The clouds were light grey, shaking their frosted ends onto the ground below. There were hardly any trees around the area, though you could make out a pine tree horizon in the distance as you spin. The sun wasn’t visible, though the light kept the area bright.

“Guys?” You whipped around, suddenly extremely aware you were completely alone in this sudden tundra. “Gideon? Are you out there? I-It’s cold..” you hugged yourself tightly, begging for some warmth from the fire genasi himself. Even he would be cold out here, you knew. “Torbek..” you called faintly, wishing his wad of matted and deranged fur would be warm enough for this environment.

But no one was there.

Another heavy breath escaped your lips, your body shaking desperately to keep the blood circulating.

You pondered how you even got here, it was impossible, it had to be! You had been exploring this oddly twisted manor that reminded you of the mirror maze you’d find in a carnival. So many stupid twists and turns, doors that led to walls, stairs that led to nothing, doors that led to doors behind them, walls that turned into doors.. it was a nightmare.

You were originally traveling with the group, no one wanting to be separated due to the confusion. However, it seemed you took a wrong turn when you lingered a little too long behind. You walked through a door with a mirrored frame glinting with green.

Green.. that was Frost’s robe.

You had entered the door, thinking the door was the right direction to reunite with your friends.

Now you were here.

“Frost!” You called out, twisting this way and that in desperation. There’s no way you could be here, it just wasn’t possible! You had to still be in the manor, all you did was blink as you walked through the door and you were here.

You were getting significantly colder by the minute, desperately looking around for the door you came through, hoping this was just some Narnia adaptation. There was no door, why would there be in a place like this? You had to of been teleported.

What were you even supposed to do? The treeline was at least a mile, maybe more, away. There was a mountain to your left that stood tall, snow piled upon layers. A large river flowed alongside the mountain bed, ice along the shoreline towards the center, forever encased.

In a haze, you were determined to get out of here. Make it to the tree line. You thought. You can make it to the treeline, then make a fire.

Stuffing an ice chilled breath into your lungs, you tretched towards the line of trees in the distance. The snow crunching under your feet, you narrowed your eyes.

Make it to the treeline.

You tretched forward, heaving ice chested breaths as the snow crunched under you. The snow above fell solumly, slow and dance-like. All you had in your mind right now was survival. Once you had a fire you’d sit and figure out the rest.

Fire..

Thinking about the fun you and your friends have by the fire, the meals Kremy cooks and the shenanigans Gricko always uprooted. You missed it already, and you saw them only fifteen minutes ago.

About 100 feet away from your original spot, you noticed how the snow began to pick up. It was getting harder and harder to see in the thickness of it. The treeline looked like distant shadows now.

You stopped to survey your surroundings again. It wasn’t as far as you hoped, a little upset that the snow was high enough to slow you down so much. And.. what was that?

You strained your eyes, teeth clattering as you tried to make sense of the shadowy shape that had been behind you. You blinked a few times, then realized you saw something tall, something green.

“Frost!!” You yelled, stumbling over the snow in surprise. “Frost over here!! I’m over here!!” The new found adrenaline found your cold wet feet, running back to where you had last been just 30 minutes prior.

You saw the tabaxi turn around to look at you, then start jogging towards you. You felt so much relief, so much joy to see your friend that you just saw 30 minutes ago. Morning Frost, you’d take it.

“{y/n}?” The tabaxi inquired as he jogged up to your trembling frame. “How long have you been here? Are you feeling numb or perhaps feeling hot anywhere?” He dropped his heavy pack, immediately undressing his robe and wrapping it around your frame.

“30 minutes maybe,” you breathed out, just relieved to not be alone anymore. Breathing in, the musky forest smell of the tabaxi filled your nostrils as the robe was tied by the middle of your frame. It was surprisingly warm for such a thin appearing robe, and it was very large on you. “No I’m not feeling numb or hot yet, why?”

“You could catch hyperthermia very easily here, especially from not wearing winter clothes,” the prodigy explained, digging into his backpack and uncovering a thick quilted blanket with many shapes and colors and patterns thrown about. “Wear my robe, and wrap this quilt around you. It isn’t much, but it will be enough for now.”

“Thank you so much..” you grabbed the heavy quilt, wrapping it over your shoulders and relaxing at the warmth it gave you. You blinked, suddenly realizing Frost was in a thin short sleeved shirt with nothing giving him warmth. “Frost, the snow-“

Frost stopped digging in his pack, then looked down at himself. He then shrugged and continued digging. “I have fur, and I am very well equipt to handle this environment. The snow doesn’t bother me.”

You blinked, watching as the sourcerer lifted the pack and threw it onto his back.

“We should get to the trees,” he said quickly, looking around like you had before. “With the snow beginning to get worse we need to make a shelter and a fire before anything else. We mustn’t waste any time.”

Pulling the quilt closer around your frame, you nodded in agreement.

As the two of you marched toward through the terrain, it was mostly silence. With the both of you focusing on the trees, you figured it was better to talk once the fear of hyperthermia wasn’t on your plates. However, as you looked up at the humanoid beside you, you noticed his brows were knotted together tightly. He was very deep in thought.

“Frost,” you called for him, his ears twitching in acknowledgement. “Do you know why we’re here?”

Frost’s tail flicked, and his eyes wandered to the snow below him for a moment before returning to the trees. After a moment, he turned to you. “I have a theory, but I can honestly say I’m not quite sure yet.”

“Maybe we can brainstorm?” You offered, kind of hoping he’d agree so the silence wouldn’t be as loud as it was.

Frost nodded, looking back towards the tree line.

“I theorize that the mirrored frame around the door was some sort of magical item,” he began to explain. “I had noticed an encryption written into the door before I walked through,” an encryption? How did you not see it? “It was in a language I couldn’t completely understand, though I did recognize a few words. ‘Portal’ and ‘glassed eyes” were all I could understand. Mayhaps the mirror was the ‘glassed eye’ while the door was the portal.”

His ears twitched towards your direction, a puff of fog blowing past his face through his nose. You thought it made sense, though it was still very confusing. You didn’t quite understand it, but Frost didn’t either.

“Before I went through the door I saw your robe,” you explained. “That’s why I went through it, I thought you did.”

He hummed at that, his brows knitting once more. “Did you see yourself in the reflection?”

“Not that I noticed, no.”

“Interesting,” he muttered, looking up towards the sky as the snow fell. “Maybe the ‘glass eye’ didn’t see you at all.”

You didn’t know what exactly to say to that. You would admit that you weren’t exactly the smartest cookie of the pack, but you admired Frost for how smart he was. You looked down at your feet, feeling the soaked wetness in your shoes. Gross.

“The trees are up ahead,” Frost said, making you look up. The talking really helped pass the time, and the trees were maybe another hundred feet ahead easy. “When we get there, I will immediately try to get a fire going once we find a good place to camp.”

You nodded, starting to feel the iced air in the back of your throat. You hoped your throat wouldn’t get sore.

Entering the treeline, pine trees stood tall above you both. Pine trees, of all trees? Wouldn’t they be spruce? You thought it was a little peculiar, but at least they were full and created a small canopy above a good 50 feet.

Frost immediately scooped up some dead pine needles from their piles along the forest floor, snow still littered about around you both. He then pranced to the park and tore some off, feeling it between his paw pads before stuffing it under his bare arm.

“Let’s camp here,” he said, scraping stray pine needles and snow out until he found the bare ground. Cresting a large vacant circle, he tossed the driest dead pine needles in the center with the bark surrounding the top. “We have all of the lumber we need here, the canopy can act as our shelter for now unless the storm begins to get worse.”

He tore some more bark from the tree, casually glancing around the forest floor or up in the trees. You figured he was looking for branches, though the pine trees were too high and nothing laid on the snow but the fallen pine needles.

You copied his movement, using your foot to make a spot for you to sit without snow in your way. You were shivering much more now, the cold wetness at your feet and shins, along with the ends of the robe and quilt that dragged along the snow nipping at your legs.

Frost easily started the fire, the warmth springing to life gleefully. Frost gathered a lot of bark from the trees, making sure there would be enough to maintain the warmth of the fire.

“It will be dark soon,” Frost spoke, setting his bag beside you. “It will also be much colder. Take off your shoes and socks.”

“What?” You were surprised by the bluntness he had, blinking as he gave you his deadpanned expression.

“They’re wet,” he said monotonously. “You’ll get frostbite if they freeze on your feet.”

Oh, right.

You did as you were told, freeing your feet to introduce them to the chilled wind around you. You sat them close to the fire, not too close to where you or your footwear would catch flame. It felt nice, as stressful as this whole situation was.

Frost dug into his pack once more, his tail swaying this way and that. His ears were turned back, the eyes of his tiger eyes facing you. Was he.. irritated? You weren’t quite sure.

Eventually, after some clattering and then some, Frost brought out a small rolled up sack. His tail swished, he inspected it and then hummed. “I only have one tent,” he explained. “I thought I had more, but they’re.. missing.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if we stayed in the same one anyway?” You inquired, meeting the eyes of the golden-eyed tabaxi. You realized how embarrassing it was to say that without context. “C-Cause of the cold? More heat in the tent with two people instead of one right? You said it would get colder.”

The tabaxi nodded in agreement, setting the bag down and reaching into the bag again. “You’re right, I should have thought about that,” he said, head inside the bag. Why was his bag so deep? “The only other concern is I only have one sleeping bag.” He pulled the roll off of the top of his bag that you assumed was the sleeping bag, another smaller blanket in tow with his hand that had been buried in the bag.

“Oh,” you croaked out, blinking. Huh. I guess that makes sense, the group doesn’t usually sleep in tents or sleeping bags for him to have more than one of each. “Do you need help setting up?”

“No,” he gestured to the fire before turning around to the tent bag. “You need to dry your feet and footwear first and foremost. We can’t risk frostbite.”

He began to unfold the tent and set it up from memory, no instruction in sight. You stared at the fire.

You missed your other friends. How long have you two been gone? Did they go through the same door? Or were they in the same manor?

“Frost?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you go through the door?”

Frost glanced over from his half built tent, the fire crackling in the paused silence. “While we were talking, we had all realized after a few minutes that you weren’t there anymore. I went back to retrace our steps to hopefully find you, Kremy and Gideon went with me while the others stuck together where we left them.” He balanced the top, then his tail flicked in satisfaction as the tent was finished.

“Where are Kremy and Gideon?” You asked, looking out towards the direction you both had come from.

“They went through the door.” he said, grabbing the sleeping bag.

“The same door we went through?” You blinked and looked at him confused, watching as he rolled out the sleeping back on top of the small blanket.

“Yes,” he said, flattening the bag. “But in the frame I saw Kremy’s purple suit, and I didn’t see Gideon’s flame at all. When the door closed it didn’t have a hue anymore, until I stepped in front of it and it was green. That’s when I noticed the door engraving, and that’s when I walked through.” He walked over and sat beside you, an arm length away.

“The mirror had a green hue when I walked through,” you said. “I saw your robe in it.”

He nodded, looking at the fire. “Hm.”

The sound of the crackling fire filled the silence that came in tow, and the warmth in your feet helped you feel satisfied. You felt your shoes and socks and they were still soggy, which made you frown.

Frost fed the fire, encouraging it to grow larger.

“Have you noticed that there isn’t any wild life around?” He asked suddenly, never looking away from the fire.

“What?”

“There’s no birds,” he said. “And there’s no sign of any animals walking in the snow other than us.”

Looking around, you realized he was right. You were a little confused as to what that meant to him, to you it meant less worry about a pack of dire wolves or a wild owlbear.

“That’s good, right?”

“That means we won’t be able to find much food,” he explained, glancing over to you. “Unless there are some wild berries in the area somewhere.”

“Oh..” you looked down, holding the quilt tighter. You hadn’t thought about food. You didn’t feel hungry, at least not right now.

What you did feel, however, was the heaviness in your eyes. Soon after you realized the heaviness, you felt the cold much more than before. You then realized how dark it was now, and that the fire and the night sky above was all you had for light.

“We should get some rest,” Frost spoke in a cooled tone.. “We have a long day tomorrow, surveying our area and trying to find some food. I have some rations in my bag, but only for three days. We also need to find a way to go.”

You tiredly nodded, looking at your shoes. You grabbed some bark from the pile Frost had made beside you and tossed it into the fire, watching the embers fly.

Climbing into the tent, Frost in tow, you were ready to lay on the ground until Frost held your shoulder. “Take the sleeping bag,” he said. “It’s a lot warmer. I’ll sleep on the ground.”

“Won’t you actually get cold then?” You asked, frowning when he started to close the tent opening.

“No,” he said, sitting on the empty side of the tent with his legs crossed. “I’m used to the environment.”

~~~

God, it was so fucking cold. How hasn’t Frost started shivering yet?

The both of you had been hiking the forest for hours now. You were searching for anything at all, food or signs of life. All you guys could find was snow, trees, a river, and mountains.

Nothing.

“Frost,” you called out. “What’s the plan?”

The tabaxi ahead of you stopped and turned to you, no look of concern much at all. “I think we should try the river, there might be fish in it.”

“Do we have something to kill them with?” You looked out past the array of trees to the flat field of snow, the river at the base of the mountain in the distance. “Like a spear?”

Frost turned to keep walking, and you stumbled in tow. “I have my mage hand,” he said calmly. “I can pick it up and crush its mind.”

Duh. You thought to yourself, completely forgetting about that. Who needs weapons to hunt when you have Morning Frost? With his.. weird mind crushing ability..

You felt your head.

Walking from the tree line, the vast of snow looked the same in every direction. The mountain was to the right of you, and the river down below.

With the warmth of Frost’s robe and the quilt, it was a lot easier for you to manage the cold. You’d have to let your shoes dry by the fire again tonight, but at least your body was mostly warm.

“Do you think everyone else is okay?” You asked, looking up at the feline.

You were worried about Gideon and Kremy, wondering where they went, and how Gricko and Torbek and Hootsie and Twig were doing in the manor.. if they were even there at all. You gulped, thinking about how Kremy wouldn’t last the night due to hyperthermia no matter how much fire Gideon gave.

“Everyone will be fine,” he said with a hint of output confidence. “Gideon and Kremy have adventured through snowy terrain before, and Gricko and Torbek and Twig promised to stay put until we all came back.”

You didn’t feel very confident about that last bit. You were sure someone of that group would have wondered off by now out of boredom, or just plain defiance, and got lost.

“I guess,” you frowned, trying to spot a landmark for where you were. “But I’m still worried about everyone.”

Frost nodded, glancing over to you. His tail flicked towards you, an ear swiveling your way. “I understand your fear, but I have confidence in our friends.”

You nodded, huffing a breath in response. You couldn’t argue with Frost, and you knew he was trying to stay optimistic, as pessimistic as he usually is. You wanted to believe in them too.

Inching closer to the river, the mountain grew taller. The ice looked plastic, a blue hue throughout its sheet. The river roared, steam rolling upward as the temperature difference between the two battled. It was really pretty.

Frost sat his bag down, rummaging in his bag again. Humming, he pulled out a retractable staff. You blinked, not knowing what its original, or current, purpose was.

“Please, stand back,” he warned, tapping the ice with the end of the staff. “We don’t know if the ice is secure for our body weights, I’d much rather you stay on land.”

“I can help you know,” you whined a little, feeling pretty useless. “What can I do?”

Frost kept tapping the ice, resting his foot on the first step. The ice settled on his weight, than he completely stood on it. It was rock solid and safe.

“I will see if there are any fish,” he said, looking back. “If there is, I will slide them across the ice in your direction. Shove as many of them as you can into the bag, don’t worry about getting anything wet, it won’t be.” Gee, how helpful were you.. but it was something at least.

As you nodded, he adventured out deeper onto the ice. You were nervous with every sound from the ice you heard, worried he’d fall in. He took his time, tapping the ice in spots to make sure he stayed on solid ice. He was very skilled at it, and you weren’t very surprised.

You admired Frost, he was very charming. You also found him.. very nice looking. As you watched him walk on the ice, you realized just how nicely toned his frame was. He was fit, yet not too muscular. He was tall, shorter than Gideon but taller than Kremy, and his tail was always moving. When you looked at Frost you could picture his nicely defined face with his fluffed cheeks and tiger beard with soft golden eyes.

You didn’t really think about how handsome he really was until now. Such an odd realization at a very odd time, you thought.

As he found himself at the edge of the ice, you stood on your tippy-toes in anticipation. He looked into the river, looking left, right and forward.

“Do you see any?” You called out, hoping to any god in this forsaken land that there were.

You watched Frost’s ears twitch at your call, even from so far away. You knew he heard you by how his tail flicked to the right, but he never looked back. He looked at the water, then bent down closer while still atop the ice. You grew more nervous, worried he’d fall in.

Then his ears drew back and flattened, and his tail fell and snaked around. He looked left and right again.

“Frost?” You called out, a little scared now.

“I see the swamp,” you heard Frost in your mind. “In the river, the reflection isn’t the mountain or the snow. It’s just the swamp.”

~~~

The both of you were looking over the edge of this ice into this swamp for a while now. The farther down or up the river you guys went there were no fish, but there was a swamp.

“Frost I’m confused..” you murmured, clutching the quilt. “There’s no animals.. there’s no berries.. and the river has a swamp in it.”

Frost has been staring at the river for ages now. He looked stone faced, though with hints of anger and confusion. His tail was snaking around the area by his feet still, but his ears were back in place.

“I am rather confused as well,” he admitted. “Is the river magical as well?” He hummed, then suddenly began to his knees and lean into the river. You reached out to him, but just as you thought he’d dip his head in he brought his paw up and pushed it into the river.

You both watched as he sat it there for a minute, then pulled it out. He inspected his hand, then looked back into the river. Now he just had a wet paw, and the river was the same reflection of a swamp.

You got down on your knees beside him, watching as he spiraled into deep thought. You took the quilt and began to hold his paw in it, rubbing it and breathing hot air against it to warm it up.

Frost looked at you quizzically, not stopping the process. “You’ll get frostbite,” you said softly, meeting his eyes with a softened gaze. “You need to stay dry.”

Frost nodded in agreement, letting you continue to dry his paw. He sat down completely, using his free hand to rub his chin in thought. Staring out into the depths of the swamp river, there was silence between the both of you.

What could you say to cheer the tabaxi up? He seemed much more concerned than usual, and when he showed concern it only meant something bad. You wanted to help him relax. Sure this was really weird, but what could you do? You didn’t have any leads right now, you couldn’t get too wrapped up in these things.

“Let’s go and set up camp,” you offered softly, holding his paw between your hands in the quilt. “We can think about it when we’re warm and we eat.”

Frost looked at your trembling frame, then his paw. He sighed softly and nodded, laying his forehead in your hands for just a moment before standing up. He offered you a hand, which you obliged in taking, and he helped you up.

Frost grabbed his bag, lifting it over his shoulders and tossed it to his back. He looked to the left and then the right. “We came from the left,” he said. “It looks like there is another tree line to the right, let’s go there.”

You nodded, sticking close to his side to try to get some some warmth from him. With the damp quilt it was a little harder to stay warm now. Frost seemed to notice this, his tail brushing your leg before he offered his now dried paw.

You looked up at him, watching as he very barely smiled at you. You felt some heat rise to your cheeks and quickly looked towards the trees. Taking his paw, he kept your hand warm the entire way on this very long silent walk to the tree line.

You felt like you were getting closer to the tabaxi, like something was stirring in that mind of his. And maybe a little in yours too.

Nearing the tree line, you looked around and then back to from where you came. It looked really familiar. You looked at Frost, who you realized noticed it too.

“Did we go the right way?” You asked, gripping his paw a little tighter.

“I’m sure of it,” he said, squeezing your hand in reassurance. “My sense of direction isn’t off. I’m sure it just looks familiar because we are tired.”

You knew that was a load of shit. Frost’s tail flicks and twitching ears gave him away. You didn’t say anything. He was trying to give some hope.

You hugged his arm, holding his hand. It was getting colder and colder. The sun was setting, as hard as it was for you to really tell. You swore the temperature drops every hour. The fog from your breaths got thicker and bigger.

Your feet were hurting so badly now. They throbbed and started to almost burn. It was progressive, and you had ignored it for a pretty long time. Now they were starting to swell in your shoes.

“F-Frost,” you breathed out, causing the tabaxi to concerningly look down. “My feet burn..”

Instantly the tabaxi picked you up, causing you to yelp in surprise. “I apologize,” he said, adjusting his grip on you. “We need to get your feet dry immediately so I’m going to have to run.”

“What?” Before you could get an answer the tabaxi was already jogging towards the tree line, the bag bouncing on his back and his grip on you firm. You curled up, the cold wind hitting you. You hid in his warm chest, shivering as he tried to shield you the best he could.

Frost was very fit to be carrying you and his 70 pound bag behind him in a jog. You were very impressed, but more so in pain.

When you made it to the treeline he immediately used his feet to sweep the forest floor of snow. He laid you down and laid the bag next to you. You whined, your hands where the water had been in the quilt were starting to burn too.

“Please hold tight,” Frost said, hopping around you and gathering the bark off of the pine tree close by and then dead pine needles. Skillfully, he lit a small fire, more concerned about your frostbite than warmth.

He walked over and helped you take off your shoes and socks, setting them by the fire and then picking you up and setting you by the fire next. He went back over the to tree to your right, took more bark, and began to feed the fire of fuel.

Your feet were extremely red, much like a tomato. They still throbbed and ached severely, but they were much better out of your shoes. You put your hands up to the fire to help your hands as well.

You let out a sigh of relief. Thank god! Warmth!

Frost stood beside you and held his paw out. “I think we should let the quilt sit by the fire too.”

You nodded and he took it from your shoulders. He folded it neatly and placed it by the fire side, and your shoulders were greeted by the cold breeze.

“I think it’s getting colder,” you said gazing into the fire. “And faster..”

Frost didn’t say anything. He went to his pack and opened it, digging inside and bringing out some rations he had. He gave you one and then sat beside you, holding his in his paws.

You were so thankful for Frost. If it wasn’t for him you probably would have died on the first day to hyperthermia. You know he says he’s used to the terrain, but you were curious about how. He never exactly talked about his past.

You looked up at him to see that his eyes were closed. You looked at his arms and noticed that they were twitching just slightly where the stray snow stayed. You reached up and gently brushed him off, his tail flicking in acknowledgement, until he was clear.

“Thank you,” he murmured quietly, eyes still closed. He looked so peaceful like that, calm. You looked at his hands in his lap and realized he was meditating. You looking back up at his arms and couldn’t help but think how soft they looked, and how warm they probably were.

You leaned into him, holding his robe around you desperately for warmth. You laid your face against his nicely toned bicep, feeling the soft fur against your cheek. You heard a chuff-like sound come from Frost.

He was warm.

The two of you stayed like that in silence for a little while. You were thinking about the rest of the group, how you wondered if they were okay and alive. Then you wondered about the swamp reflection in the river, it was so odd.

Then you thought about the door. The colors of the mirror fram. Then you thought about the snow.

“Frost, you said you are familiar with the snowy terrain right?” You asked, sitting up and looking up to him quizzically. “Why?”

Frost opened his eyes and looked down to you, curious. “I grew up in the snowy mountains after being taken from my parents. I became a sourcerer in the terrain. Why?”

You got to your knees, held his arm and leaning more towards him. “Kremy talks about growing up in the swamp all the time,” you bounced. “Kremy became a warlock there too probably!”

Frost looked at you curiously, then his brows raised. “The door took us to the terrain that is centered around us, what made us what we are,” Frost’s ears perked and his tail danced. “The door’s hue was it seeing where we’d end up, and the door saw me first before you went in-“

“And the door saw Kremy first before Gideon went in! Frost! Maybe the river is actually like a glass wall and we can see into each others realms?” You bounced up to your feet, even though they still ached. “What if Kremy and Gideon are there? Do you think we could communicate with them somehow through the water?”

Frost smiled, then he plucked you up by your hips—earning a rise of extreme heat to your cheeks and neck—and sat you back down. “I think you’re right,” he nodded. “But it’s late now. We should wait until tomorrow.”

You whined a little, which made Frost chuckle. You hugged his arm and nuzzled into it as a sort of victory cheer, and he accepted it.

“Let me make the tent,” he said, placing a paw on your head gently. “Then we can rest and get up early in the morning.”

You nodded and watched as the tabaxi got up with a lighter bounce in his step. You were happy that he was seeing a little more hope than before. As the sun fell, the stars started to shine overhead. You looked up to watch them, the fire dancing in the night.

You noticed the patch of missing bark from a pine tree a few rows away. You looked at Frost quietly, his back turned to you.

He had taken the bark off of the tree next to you to make this fire.

~~~

You woke up shivering. You breathed out a desperate attempt to get warm, then sat up. The tent flap was partially open and the fire was out. Frost was outside, shivering as the snow fell harder onto him, the canopy no longer sheltering the area. He was trying to relight the fire, trying to get some warmth.

“F-F-Frost,” you breathed, shaking viciously. He looked over to you, seemingly disappointed that you woke up. “P-Please-e.. insi-ide..”

“I need to g-get the fire,” Frost frowned. “Give m-me a few minutes.”

You curled up in the tent tightly, trying to focus on staying warm. You listened outside, hearing the wind grow stronger. After a while you heard something being thrown against one of the trees, and a few moments soon after the tent opening and closing.

You opened your eyes to see the silhouette of Frost. He sat the no longer damp quilt on top of you and sat your shoes and socks to the side. With the lack of cold air rushing in, you didn’t feel as freezing.

“F-Frost,” you reached for him as he was about to walk away. He paused where he was then turned towards you. “Please st-tay..”

He watched how you shivered. His irritated tail flicks mellowed, and his flattened ears straightened. He took a deep breath then nodded, walking back over to you and kneeling.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” He asked softly, watching you carefully in the dimmed light.

Overcome with coldness, you really just wanted one thing from him.

“P-please hold me..” you requested. “I’m so c-cold..” reaching out to him he took your hand in his paws and nodded, looking at the sleeping bag and then laying beside you.

You curled up and buried yourself into his chest. If you weren’t so cold, you’d be embarrassed and hot in the face. Now it’s all you wanted for some warmth. It was soft, warm, and tender.

Frost wrapped his arms around you, his head resting on top of yours and his tail wrapping around your waist over the sleeping bag. You felt him shiver here and there for a while, but after a while he stopped.

Both of you finally began to feel some warmth, and eventually the sleeping bag was a little too hot for you. You wiggled out of your sleeping bag, only then realizing Frost was half asleep when you did. “Sorry,” you whispered, sliding out of the bag and throwing the quilt over the both of you, earning a tired half-assed grunt from the sleepy tiger.

You curled up in his arms, in return he curled around you for warmth. You felt his breathing slow, and you felt his tail relax completely. As you were dozing off, Frost very softly snored with a very light rumble in his chest.

You smiled and nuzzled his chest.

And he said tigers couldn’t purr.

When you woke up next you saw sunlight through the tent sheets. You yawned and sleepily hummed. The tabaxi still hadn’t moved from his spot, and the rise and fall from his chest was the same slow pattern. The tabaxi’s soft snores still surrounded you.

You knew Frost usually liked to get up early to meditate, but you figured he was too comfortable. You definitely were.

You were very warm wrapped up in the sorcerer's arms, a little toasty even. You weren’t complaining, it was so much better than the weather outside. However, you were ready to get up and try to talk to Kremy through the river.

You gently pushed against Frost’s chest, earning an ear and tail flick. The next little plush earned a tighter embrace and a small huff of defiance. The third you earned a huff and experienced the pleasure of seeing his eyes flutter open. He blinked a few times and then hummed groggily.

“Morning,” you smiled up at him. “How’d you sleep big guy?”

He hummed again sleepily, then let out a big yawn. Your eyes widened as you were shown his large sharp teeth and his huge tongue. You were glad he didn’t fight with his mouth at all.

Frost sleepily hummed away, the feeling of his claws flexing just slightly into your back prickled you in a very good way. He nuzzled his face into your hair and closed his eyes again. Humming once more, he responded. “Very well.”

His voice was easily an octave deeper and heavily groggy in a sleepy tone. You had to blink a few times to register that it was still the same Frost you fell asleep by. Before you could register how attractive his sleepy voice was, he opened his mouth again. “Mm,” his hum deep in his chest. “May I groom your head?” You blinked, surprised by the inquiry, but nodded. With another deep chested hum, you were met with the tabaxi’s sandpaper tongue on your head.

You were surprised to feel the tired tabaxi grooming your messy hair back. His eyes were half lidded and the rumble on his chest was prominent. His tail curled around the both of you and he hummed, grooming away.

Was he aware of what he was doing? Probably not. But god was this such a rare moment and god were you not gonna fuck it up. You smiled as you let this happen, your heart beating out of your chest with glee.

God he’s so hot right now.

~~~

“Do you see them?” You called out, glancing up from the river reflection towards 20 feet down the iced shoreline to the tiger tabaxi. His tail flicked as he never looked up.

“No,” he responded in your mind, his voice a patient monotone. “Yourself?” He peered over towards your direction, his partially lidded golden eyes waiting for a response. You could only offer a meek shake of your head.

The both of you had been searching high and low in the river reflection for 2 hours now. It was colder than the last few days, and even Frost was having troubles with the climate. If the both of you didn’t die of starvation first, there was definitely hyperthermia creeping closer.

Frost made his way towards you, his strides long to reach you faster as you stood, slightly slipping on the ice below. Your teeth were clattering together, your breath heavy and your body almost spasming to try to keep the blood flowing.

Frost rubbed your arms through the quilt and robe, trying to stimulate some warmth to you, as cold as his paw pads were. He carefully pulled you to his furred chest, rubbing your back as he hummed in thought.

As much as you loved his warmth, it was beginning to not be enough. Even he was starting to slowly freeze, and you could tell. You guys didn’t have much time, you both knew it.

“Mayhaps it would be better to create some signs for them to read when they come across the reflection,” Frost suggested. “I believe I have the materials, we can spread them along the river shoreline and the edge of the ice.”

“T-The shoreline?” You muttered into the fur of his chest, the fur reacting to the warmth of your breath by twitching. The ice was thick on the shoreline, there was no way you could see through it to the actual river.

“Mayhaps they can’t see where we are, or we can’t see them, because we are near the middle of the water while in the swamp they wouldn’t have ice at all,” Frost explained. “I may be able to break some patches in the ice, enough for the sign to be seen. We can’t be too careful.”

All you could do was hum, melting into the soft fur that twitched with every breath of yours. You were freezing, your feet began to burn again. You were getting so tired, your eyelids bobbing.

“May I lift you?” He asked softly, keeping his paws in place. You tiredly nodded, wanting the relief for your aching feet.

You felt the tabaxi’s paws wonder, finding them on the backs of your thighs before he easily lifts you up off the ground, resting your thighs around his hips and supporting your back as they wrapped. You let it happen, too cold to make a comment or noise of protest. You trusted him.

“I believe it’s best you stay at the campsite,” he said, head resting on yours. “I’ll handle the river and continue to search.”

You let out a sound that sounded like a mix between a hum of acknowledgement and a sickened groan. You felt Frost’s grip tighten onto your back as he started to jog along the thickened ice. You heard a crunch or two, though wasn’t sure if it was ice chunks from the snow piles forming on top or the ice that seperated the both of you from the chilled waters before. You were too tired to care.

The last three days have been life altering for your relationship with the sorcerer. Before the manor, your relationship with him was a well rounded friend; companions. The most you did was hug, talk about some heavy things occasionally, and only sometimes join the night sleeping pile when it was time for the group to turn in with no danger in sight. You were often bundled up next to Hootsie more than anyone, but you felt like that’s changed now.

While the both of you freeze like popsicles, you can’t help but feel your heart skip a few beats when Frost’s eyes linger a bit too long, or when his hooked claw clips the robe he gave to you to borrow, or when the brush of his fur ghosts fast your skin.

You were noticing all of the admirable things he did for you, around you, for others. Maybe.. you had these feelings for a while and you’re only just realizing that they’re only getting stronger.

“{y/n},” you hummed and adjusted your arms between the both of you, trying to find the best place for them to bake in warmth. “Don’t fall asleep, did you hear me?” His voice was firm and a little worn from the ice in the wind.

“I hear you now,” you moved your head up to hide into his neck, his head adjusting so you had room. “But I’m so tired..”

“You could die from hyperthermia if you fall asleep,” he sterned. “Your body temperature will drop, and feeling tired is one of the most dangerous symptoms of the development of hyperthermia. Do not fall asleep.” His voice thickened, and the smell of granola and cashew from the last of the rations were breathed in as he adjusted his grip onto you.

“Mmm..” was all you could muster. You were hungry, and you were tired. All you wanted was to curl up with Frost and sleep.

It’s all you wanted.

As you completely relaxed into the tabaxi, you felt your consciousness slip to sleep. Until, at least, you were met with a claw dug into your lower back.

“Ow!” You whined, jumping slight and reacting by reaching behind yourself, finding the tabaxi’s paw right where the sharp pain resided. “Ow ow! Frost cut it out!”

“Please forgive me,” he said, frowning prominent in his tone. “You were dozing. You can’t sleep.” He rubbed the sore spot he pricked you with, an unidentifiable huff rushing out of his nose.

As the canopy above shadowed over the both of you, Frost sat you down. He rushed to make a large fire, which caused some difficulty with the larger chilled winds. Taking longer than normal, you could tell the tabaxi was stressed. Right as you shuffled to try and help somehow, the pine needles caught and the flame grew.

“Please keep it strong,” Frost said gently, jogging to his bag that had resided in your temporary stationed tent. Hearing him rummage through his belongings, you took your shoes and socks off in routine. “I will be back in 2 hours to check on you. Do not fall asleep and stay by the fire. If anything happens I want you to blow this whistle.”

He walked over to you, his large paws softly thumping across the forest floor with littered snow. He held out a bright hunters orange whistle with a small rope at the end. It was too small for the tabaxi to wear around his neck, and too big for his wrist, but you figured it was big enough for you to wear around your neck and take off when needed without struggle.

Placing it around your neck, you glanced over towards his bag again. “Frost, what don’t you have in that bag?”

Frost’s feline ‘lips’ moved slightly towards a smile, his tail snaking around in a positive attribution. “A body,” he replied, his attempt of humor only really understood because of knowing him the way you do. It makes you laugh a little. “I carry around many essentials or things I think may be handy along our travels.”

He walks to his bag and lifts it, wrapping it around to his back and adjusting. “I’ll be back in two hours,” he spoke, his tone back to complete neutral. “Please stay safe.”

“You too,” you said, offering him a small smile. “Don’t fall in.” The tabaxi nodded, tail flicking towards the fire as a silent reminder to keep your eye on it.

Then he walked away, the snow falling behind him, enveloping him into the white shadows.

You were alone.

~~~

Frost’s paws crunched under the growing snow. The snow was falling heavier, his vision becoming impaired due to the density it was growing to be. He felt the snow trickle to his fur and melt, the skin underneath feeling the wetness.

He didn’t like being wet.

Without you by his side he noticed his body was a lot more tense. Mayhaps from worry, mayhaps from the lack of warmth you gave standing so close.

Making the signs and placing them deep in the ice and snow, Frost thought hard. All he could think about was how he could get the both of you out of this. You must still be in the manor, in the same room. That part was obvious to him.

The terrain was repeated, it was the same mountain and river and tree line. Depending on the direction you went, the river and mountain were either in the left or right side. There was always trees no matter how forward you walked. The sides never seemed to change. No matter how far left you walked, the mountain never got smaller.

An illusions room? Frost thought it was possible. The growing storm, however, made Frost doubt himself. Wouldn’t an illusion need help to keep the illusion there? Magic only did so much, there had to be something else. Mayhaps someone who lived in this manor had ice magicks, someone who was pouring ice into the room slowly.

That was possible, though then wouldn’t you or Frost have found the footprints in the snow? Wouldn’t you have found some sort of evidence of someone else being there already from the past 3 days you were there? Maybe the mountain? But the snow was too dense now to see to the mountain, nonetheless from the mountain to where Frost was now.

A sharp coldness stung Frost’s feet pads through his shoes, a surprised jump erupting from the tabaxi. He lifted his foot and hopped to the side, looking down.

There was water on top of the ice.

Frost narrowed his eyes a little, observing as the puddle slowly, yet noticeably, started to get larger.

The ice was.. melting? But the temperature was dropping.

He looked up at the sky. The sun wasn’t even showing because of the growing snow.

Then he saw red.

His eyes widened as the spot below him, the ice, turned to a red, then an orange, a yellow. He teleported to the shoreline, narrowly missing the plume of flame erupting from the ice—the water?—where the smoke of green lingered from when he teleported.

“Frost!”

His ears perked, the burst of fire warming his body even from the distance away that he was. The voice was faint, it was grained. It was Kremy.

“Frost…water!!! It’s…pane…like a…fuck…look...!!” Frost couldn’t quite understand behind the mix of the boiling water and ice around the fire, the roar of the fire itself, and the iced wind picking up.

He tried to reach out with his mind to reach Kremy. “Kremy, I can’t understand you, respond to me in your mind.” Frost prayed it worked. He didn’t understand much that was going on, but if the four of them had to work together between rooms and communicate through each other for them to get out..

It was like an escape room.

“The water is a barrier,” Frost heard Kremy say. “It’s like a glass pane! It’s like a divider between our rooms, and for fucks sakes look above you!!”

Frost was confused, until he looked up in the sky where the fire started to die.

Just behind the haze of the snow was a glistening glass eye staring right at Frost.

~~~

The lack of Frost’s warmth and calming nature really made your thoughts spiral. You hoped he was okay, you hoped he found Kremy and Gideon in the river reflection. And god, you hoped someone found a way out.

You watched the fire, tossing a chunk of torn pine bark onto the flame.

You had admired Frost before all of this, but as the days went by your admiration grew. Before when he’d hold you due to the cold, comfort, or greeting, it wouldn’t last longer than a second and your heart never skipped a beat like it does now. He always smelled nice, but now that you’ve been much closer to him you grew accustomed to the forest musk in his fur. His eyes looked much more gold up close, more defined.

The more you thought about the way he moved during combat, the more you thought about the way his tail sways and his eyes narrow in observation, the way he jokes with the group in his forever monotone voice, the way he smiles only slightly.. you felt butterflies.

Surely the tabaxi wouldn’t feel the same. You were merely friends, you always have been. He never looked at you with anything more than concern and respect towards you throughout your time together. He would mind his hands, ask for permission before anything at all, never lingering his hands outside of his jurisdiction. He only held you when you asked, he only ever treated you with platonics.

You started to find yourself thinking about how his sandpaper tongue would feel along your shoulders and neck, how his deep chested purr would feel against your head as you lay on his chest. You wanted to feel his cheeks graze against yours, the whiskers tickling your nose. You wanted to kiss him, the whiskers tickling your face like little kisses sparking from the lipped center.

You wondered what else you could learn from the tabaxi, as his lover.

The chilled air blew, the fire shrinking slightly from the attack. You tried to move in a direction that would block the wind, then the wind changed. You decided to just throw more pine needles and bark, hoping it would uphold to the horrendous conditions.

It’s been about 2 hours, you were sure Frost would be back any minute now. The cold was getting worse, even by the fire you were struggling. Frost would surely be trembling when he gets back.

Hearing the crunch of snow you relaxed. Speak of the devil.

You tossed some more bark into the fire, shivering at the sudden burst of icy wind. Hearing the crunches of snow come to a stop, you turned around towards Frost.

Instead, you were met with an unfamiliar pair of legs hovering right behind you. Your eyes widened, following the legs to the torso, to the head.

This.. wasn’t Frost.

“W-What-“ you stumbled backwards, the pile of bark toppling over and some igniting in the fire. The figure stepped forward, you stumbled back again, trying to fight to stand.

Glancing down as you hurried up, you noticed the figure’s footsteps were quickly covered by snow. It was like they never existed. No trace.

You swallowed and looked up at the figure’s face, trying to identify the person before you. They wore snow white clothes, boots and a large winter coat with a furred rim of the hood. They had on reflective goggles, a large designed eye right in the middle. Everything of this person was covered in white, specks of dusted snow falling off the gear they had.

“Frost!!” You fruitlessly screamed, watching at the figure reaching for something on their belt. You didn’t waste time, turning and running as fast as your aching legs could take you. You abandoned the blanket, running in bare feet with the robe of the tabaxi flying behind as you ran.

You dodged the trees, running through them without looking back. You had to find Frost, you didn’t know what to do. You never even suspected someone else could have been there with the both of you, why would you? There wasn’t even a sign.

The sound of metal chains filled your ears behind the wind, forcing your eyes to trail behind you. The figure was calmly walking, holding onto some sort of chain that came from their belt. At the end of the chain they held up seemed to be something weighted. The figure swung it to their side, tilting their head side to side as you’d dodge trees.

Then they threw it unexpectedly, almost as if it was teleported. You yelped, ducking behind a tree just in time due to the minimal heads up of the sound of chains. A loud shink filled your ear. You looked at the side of the tree where your head had just been, ice growing onto the tree where the blade resided.

It was a scythe. They had a kusarigama, a really really long one. You barely remember about it, but Frost talked about it once. You wished you listened better.

You took off faster into the woods, zig-zagging the terrain to hopefully deter the aim of the figure. You didn’t know what they wanted, but assuming they tried to kill you it was most likely to do just that.

“Frost!!!” You screamed out into the woods, trying your best to echo through the winds so he’d hear you. “Frost where are you!?”

A blade grazed your calf, ice quickly growing where the wound opened, causing you to yelp and faulter slightly. You stumbled back up, the adrenaline carrying you. The end of the other side roped around the thin trunk of pine just as you dove into the next line, the blade snaking into your thigh. The ice that grew was stained red awfully fast.

You screamed, reaching down to grab the handle and yank it out in a dizzy faze. You felt tears well in your eyes, watching as the blood dripped and painted the pristine white below. The pain pounding through you, you let the adrenaline carry you once more.

Run. It was all you could think. Run.

“Frost please!!!” You cried, running for the terrain of open snow, hoping he’d be on his way there. Maybe he’d see you as you run. He might hear you better if you run for the river, he might still be there.

You glanced behind you as you stumbled into the open field. All there was was the dark pine forest, the rows high and strong. The figure was no where to be seen.

With no sign of danger, you felt the adrenaline give way. The fear and dazed confusion forced tears to flow down your cheeks. What the hell was happening? The pain in your legs, your feet, were pulsing as your heart raced.

“Frost!!!” You screamed in desperation, the shock of someone trying to kill you overwhelming your senses. You were crying, shaking from fear and cold, and in so much pain.

Were you going to die here?

You looked towards the river, the silhouette of it slowly disappearing as the snow fell harder. Looking one more time behind you, you started to run as fast as you could to the river. Your legs begged you to stop, to lay down and bleed. Your feet cried for warmth, cried for compassion.

You couldn’t.

Seeing the river grow closer, you pushed yourself farther. Your legs started buckling, refusing. You pushed.

“Frost!!!” You screamed.

You heard a crunch behind you. Whipping around, you let out a choked sob. Your trail of blood painted the white canvas, painted your indenting demise. The figure was there already, was already so close.

They were a shadow in the storm, though they quickly became more defined. As the both of you connected in sight, you watched them start to spin the scythe of the end of the chain. You let out a meek whimper, turning back around to meekly struggle and desperately attempt for the river.

“Frost!!!” You screamed again, desperation in your voice.

Your legs gave up on you. They were cold, in pain. They couldn’t handle the conditions. Your adrenaline faded away as hopelessness took its place.

Falling into the snow, you choking crawled towards the river. The ice was below you now. It was cold, sticky. Your blood painted its crystallized glaze.

“Frost please..” you weakly begged. The tears in your eyes blurred your vision, no matter how many fell down your hot cheeks.

What an anticlimactic way to die.

You heard a crunch of ice. Slowly you turned to your back, looking up as the figure stood over you. Their head tilted to the side, observing your hopeless state. They caught the swinging scythe and placed it on their belt.

“What do you want..” you meekly demanded. “Why are you here!? Who the hell are you!?” They tilted their head to the opposite side. “FUCKING ANSWER ME!” You screamed, tears streaming faster.

They stared at you. Slowly, they bent down at your feet, one knee on the ice and the other at 90 degrees. You tried to crawl away, though they grabbed your iced calf and pulled you back.

“Where is Frost..” you sobbed to the figure. “Where is my friend? What did you do to my friend..”

They tilted their head to the side again, opposite to its current position. They inched closer to your face, almost as if they were observing you. The eye in the middle of their protective goggles bore into you, your breath hitching.

“Encased future visions portal the embedded facade,” a murky, deep graveled voice crept from behind the mask of the figure. The fog of cold flew into the wind. “Glassed eyes watch the facade break in your past.”

“What the hell are you saying.. I don’t understand!” You cried, trying again to crawl away from your pursuer.

“Encased future visions portal the embedded facade,” they grabbed your face and pulled you up. You kicked though failed to get to the danger. “Glassed eyes watch the facade break in your past.”

“I don’t speak riddles!!!” You cried. “Please!! Let me out of here!! I want Morning Frost!! I want him here and I want us out!!!” You begged, pleading the mercenary.

They pushed your face back, your support failing as you fall to the ice. You coughed and looked up at the figure stood over you, reaching for the scythe on their belt.

“No!!” You cried, lifting your arms in papered defense. “Please I just want my friends!! Please!”

They lifted their scythe up, head tilting one last time. You tried to crawl away, listening to the chains chime the bells of death. You closed your eyes.

“Ugk-“

You opened your eyes and looked where the figure was, watching as they flung themselves backwards and into the snow. Another figure was behind them, falling with them on top.

“Frost!” You breathed, watching as the tabaxi’s paws extended and claws came out. His claws grabbed the figure’s protected face, scratching the goggles and the eye that bore into the snow sky.

The offender grabbed their scythe butt and rammed it into Frost’s rib side underneath them, making Frost grunt and let out a whined groan. You watched as Frost wrapped his arms around the assailant and rolled the both of them, pinning them down as he took a desperate gasp of air.

Frost wasn’t the best with hand-on-hand combat, but assuming the assailant was due to the weapon of their choice, you figured Frost should know already. Frost has to have a plan, or else he wouldn’t have done this.

You looked around the terrain desperately as the two tussled and rolled in snow. A few yards away you saw Frost’s backpack. It was wide open, the snow falling into the guts of the bag.

Looking back to the two, you watched as Frost’s mage hand reached to disarm them, spinning and rolling this way and that to keep the assailant’s arms busy to not let them prevent the action. Turning back to the bag, you started to crawl with what strength you had left.

The chilled wind bore into your butchered thigh, your bruising feet no longer capable of individual movement. You were desperate to get to that bag. He had to have that rope, you remember the rope. You could use it to tie them up and question them for a way out. Maybe something to patch your wounds, stop the bleeding. Anything.

“Umf!”

You glanced back to see the figure’s face exposed and Frost being kicked in the chest across the ice. The figure was another tabaxi, a sort of snow leopard? Their eyes were ice white, blue lips and a dead gaze.

Your eyes widened when they looked over to you. Their other eye was a frosted glassed one.

As they took a step towards you, Frost tackled them to the ground effortlessly. “Get down!” Frost yelled at you, his eyes never leaving the leopard as his hands grew with a misted green hue.

You covered your face and laid against the ice. You felt a wave of some sort that shook the ground below you. You then heard more tussling, Frost hissing out words of attempted bargaining. You crawled again and reached into the bag, a rough texture hitting your hands.

“Frost!” You coughed out. “Catch it!” You pulled the bundle of rope out of the bag, sliding it with the reminding strength along the ice towards him.

Frost glanced over as you called, a breath being knocked out of him as it was slid. His tail wrapped around the rope, swinging it over. You laid on the ice, focusing on your breathing as you watched Frost struggle with the mercenary, trying to restrain them.

God. You thought. I’m so tired.

~~~

The crackling of fire filled your ears. The warmth enveloped you like a summer day. The smell of forest musk and the texture of a soft fur hugged your senses. A sandpaper tongue groomed your head.

You breathed out a pained whine, your ribs aching, your legs throbbing, your feet burning. The quiet hush of comfort held your ears, a soft paw massaging your aching side.

“Don’t move too quickly,” you heard Frost murmur into your ear. “I managed to patch you up with what materials I had, I don’t want your stitches to open.” His tail coiled around your leg loosely, his hands polite with your frame.

“What happened,” you croaked, trying to move to secure your surroundings. “We were on the ice..”

“That was a few hours ago,” he explained calmly. “You passed out from blood loss and hyperthermia while I was restraining our.. uninvited assailant.” He firmly held your stomach with one paw, the other on your shoulder holding you up to his chest.

You blinked, shivering at the cold. You were back at your campsite, the leopard tied to a thick pine trunk. They were awake, looking out at the falling snow. You tensed and Frost quietly shushed your worries, holding your head onto his chest when he felt your concern.

“It is alright,” he reassured. “They won’t escape. They won’t hurt us.”

“Frost I want out of here..” your eyes welled with tears. “I want out..”

He nodded, closing the robe around you tighter as he wrapped around you, acting as your blanket. “I know, it’s alright, we will get out.” He cooed, holding you close as you softly cried into his chest.

You hated it here. You were starving, you were tired, you were cold, you were in pain, and you were so fucking scared. You were over all of this. You were done. You wanted out.

“I have good news,” he said as your sobs died down. “Would it help you feel better if I told you about them now?”

After a moment, you sniffed up your cries and took a deep breath. You took the paw from your stomach, intertwining your fingers together. He gently squeezed your hand, his other paw rubbing gentle circles into the base of your neck. His touch was so soft, so gentle and loving.

You wanted to feel this love for the rest of your life, even if it was platonic.

You nodded, glancing over to the leopard. “I think we’re almost out,” Frost said. “We have the full riddle now, the one from the door. I believe once we figure it out with Kremy and Gideon we can finally break it.”

“But, what do they know?” You asked, gesturing to the attempted killer by the tree. “Maybe they know more?”

Frost shook his head, looking towards the leopard. “I tried to question them, all they would say was the same thing repeatedly. I’m absolutely positive it is the phrase from the door,” his tail flicked as the leopard shifted their feet. “I know they can say more than that, but they won’t. When I look into their mind there is nothing, like it’s a shell of what it originally was.”

You frowned, looking towards the fire. “I can’t even remember what they said.. I was so scared and in shock I wasn’t really listening.”

A hum purred from his chest, the vibration calming your heart.

“Would you like to brainstorm together?” He inquired, his head resting atop yours. You could feel the small smile on his lips by how he spoke, swelling your chest with butterflies. He was quoting you from your first day in this horrid place.

You smiled and nodded, carefully turning so your face could lay on his chest. You used your thumb to feel the fur of his paws, the pads you held being icy yet soft. You loved the roughness the edges of the paw pads gave, yet the softness you touched from the tops of them.

“They said, and I quote, ‘encased future visions portal the embedded facade, glassed eyes watch the facade break in your past.’ That is what was on the door, I’m positive,” Frost recalled. “The riddle and this person are without a doubt connected, they have a glassed eye. When I was at the river there was a large glassed eye in the sky watching me, I’m sure that it’s connected. This person could see us through their own glassed eye, watching us from a distance.”

You hummed, taking in all of this information. “Maybe they have to watch something happen? They’re watching us, and it’s a glassed eye literally, so that makes sense right?”

“It also said that the glassed eyes would watch the facade break in your past, and this is my past terrain. The setting is set, we have that figured out, but what is the facade?” Frost hummed in thought, his tail flicking in your lap now.

“Encased future visions..” you looked at the leopard, who was watching the both of you in a dead gaze. “Like.. a goal? Or like a dream for your life in the future? If it talks about the past at the end, maybe in the beginning it’s talking about your hopes for the future?”

Frost nodded, his head turning down to watch as you held his paw. “That is a very likely theory, I think you’re right.”

“Portal the embedded facade..” you sigh, watching the leopard more closely. Their tail flicked calmly, their ears trained on you both. It freaked you out. “Maybe it’s something to do with.. maybe your future dream is.. something you’re scared of? Something frozen in time? Because it’s encased.. sealed away? Something you want but have sealed it away?”

The leopard’s eyes wander to the tabaxi behind you. Their head tilts, an inaudible pant exiting with a fog. You looked down at your intertwined fingers, using your other hand to hold the back of Frost’s, using your thumb to feel the fur there.

Frost’s tail stilled for a moment, laying on your lap, before calmly swaying again.

“And this assailant is here to keep it encased,” Frost mostly spoke to himself. “That’s the only reason I can think of for why they would try to kill you, to keep the..” he trails off, his tail stilling again.

You looked up to the tiger tabaxi, curious and worried about why he stopped. His eyes were slit narrow, his breath a little shallow. You realized that he was putting pieces together, that he was starting to understand what the riddle was saying.

“Frost?” You gently squeeze his paw, watching as he was brought back to reality. “Are you okay?”

He looked into your eyes and nodded, rubbing your back softly. He lowered his head and buried his face into your neck, earning a heated blush pouring onto your cheeks. You squeezed his paw in surprise and he held you closer. His tail buckled you into his lap, which made you gasp with a little uncertainty.

You looked over to the leopard who was staring just as intently as before. They tilted their head.

“Frost,” you breathed. “What has gotten into you?” He pulled you closer in a comfortable embrace, as much as he physically could. He didn’t say a word.

You blinked. You then melted into his arms. You trusted him. Whatever this was, you trusted him.

You loved him.

You started to think about the riddle. If the first part was talking about a future he was sealing away for whatever reason, and the ending was about his past, the only thing that needed cracking was the facade. Was the facade a secret he was hiding? Or is it the facade of the future or his past? Or the facade that prevents the future he wants? Or the facade..

You closed your eyes, your breath hitching slightly. It was the facade he kept up, the one that prevented the future he wants so badly. He’s scared of something.

“It’s okay to be scared,” you whispered to him. “Everyone is scared of something.”

He offered a soft hum, his paw on your back moving to your side. He moved his face in your neck just slightly, his tail flicking.

“Frost,” you tried. “What is it?”

The crackling of the fire filled the silence.

“Frost,” you frowned. “I’m worried about you.. what are you so scared of? Why are you hiding from what you want in your future? We want to find a way out of here, and you need to fill me in..”

He lifted his head, looking at your eyes. You watched as he observed your expression, taking you in. He took his free paw and placed a single claw under your chin, making you look at him. His whiskers twitched as his eyes sorrowfully softened.

“{y/n},” he whispered. “I want to spend my life with you.”

“What?” You felt your heart leap from your chest. Were you hearing him correctly?

“I have.. I have admired you for many months while we are together on our travels. I have been.. enveloped in the way you smile, you laugh, how your eyes light up with my jokes, with how you observe the way I tinker with gadgets,” his eyes wondered to the side. “I.. I’ve grown to find romantic feelings for you, {y/n}. I want to be in a relationship with you.”

You felt a lump in your throat, a catch in your lungs as you took in the information Frost fed you. Your stomach was in knots, your head fuzzy and light. “You.. you like me?”

“I recognize you do not feel the same,” he closed his eyes and let you go, his paws holding themselves against his body. “I have hidden away my true feelings for you in fear that it would ruin our friendship, that you would no longer enjoy bonding with me and would leave the group. I never made any advancements out of.. anxiety that you’d feel uncomfortable in my presence thereafter. I care for you far too much to scare you away.”

You frowned, looking at his paws. You grabbed his paws, holding them in your much smaller hands. He opened his eyes to look at you, a glossy coating grasping them.

“Frost,” you smiled softly. “Frost I like you too.”

His eyes widened, whiskers twitching. A small smile, no, a big smile forming on the tips of his mouth.

“You.. romantically have an interest in me?” He asked, hope in his once saddened eyes.

“Frost you big ass cat,” you laughed, feeling so free and light. “I want to kiss you!”

“May I?” He watched you carefully. You laughed and held his cheeks and kissed him first, surprise in his face before he relaxed.

The both held each other there, a soft kiss on your lips. When you broke away you laughed aloud as the tabaxi’s tail wagged in excitement. You kissed him again, his embrace gladly accepting.

The cold was nonexistent to you. You were the warmest you have ever felt since your time here with the tabaxi. You felt so alive, so cared for and loved.

The sound of a movement by the tree paused your moment. You both looked over to the leopard who let out a large fogged breath. They held their head high and a purr sounded from them.

“Encased future visions portal the embedded facade, glassed eyes watch the facade break in your past.” they repeated, their dead gaze softening.

You blinked, having forgotten all about the riddle. “Is that it?” You asked the leopard. “We- We solved the riddle? This is all we had to do?”

The snow stopped falling, the icy air halting. You looked at Frost as he held onto you and stood up. He carefully held onto you while simultaneously throwing his backpack on, never dropping you.

You looked at the leopard who stared out into the flat snow terrain. You followed their sight, seeing a rectangular silhouette in the distance. You gasped, patting onto Frost’s shoulder and pointed.

“Frost!! Frost the door!! The door is back!!” The excitement was prominent in your voice, boiled over laughter from relief pouring out.

“Let’s see if we can tell Kremy and Gideon before we leave if they haven’t yet,” he said, adjusting his grip on you as he began to lightly jog through the snow. “Then we’ll all be out of here.”

God was this anticlimactic.

~~~

The feeling of a sandpaper tongue gently grazing along your head woke you. The low purr in his chest behind you calmed your heart, his tongue massaging your scalp. His paw rested firmly on your stomach, the other gently massaging your back.

You hummed in acknowledgement of your partner, who stopped his morning groom and buried his face into the back of your neck. His tail snaked over your hip, the end flicking in content.

“Good morning,” he murmured softly, using his thumb to gently massage your hip. “How did you sleep, my love?”

A smile crept to your face as you melted into his arms. The crackling of the fire in the dark filling your ears.

“I slept good,” you murmured back. “What time is it?”

His tail flicked in thought. “Mm,” he hummed. “About 5, you asked me to wake you up this morning so we could meditate together. Would you like to go back to sleep?”

You tiredly looked up at the sky, watching as the stars twinkled between the forest leaves. The moon shone below, the scattered tree species around the camp painted the terrain. The figures of your friends sleeping around the fire gave you a sense of calmness, a sense of relief.

It had been a month since the manor. Frost and yourself were officially together, no longer the only couple of the group. Kremy and Gideon had gotten out of the manor too, having already been married and showed their love for one another. You all had reunited with your friends, who said you all had only been gone for no longer than an hour.

Four days in that room was an hour for the rest. It was mind boggling to you.

You would never feel the same ever again in snow. You don’t think Frost would either. While the both of you got closer together there, it was.. traumatizing. Frost helped ease your nerves whenever snow fell anywhere, if at all.

He showed you he loved you every day. And you showed him you loved him the same.

“No, I want to get up with you,” you yawned, holding his paw on your stomach. “What do you usually do?”

A loving chuff filled your ears, the best of it brushing against your neck.

“Let me show you.”

You wouldn’t mind spending the rest of your life with him. Not one bit.

#legends of avantris #once upon a witchlight #fanfic #fanfiction #morning frost x reader #morning frost #ouaw frost #ouaw morning frost #ouaw #frost x reader #unexplainedfanfics

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bluetimeombre · 5 months ago

Text

☽｡⋆ Learning to fly, starting to crawl

Over one hundred years ago, you lost your wings but the wound still hurts like it was only yesterday. When your brothers mate wants to learn to fly, he doesn’t hesitate in teaching her, right in front of you. And nobody can see the scars except the one you love…

[OMG I'M ALIVE!!!! I've had this sitting in my drafts for months but have only just got around to posting. Basically, I have too many hobbies but i'm in a writing mood again., very fitting to start with my boy AZRIEL, whom i love very much. I hope you enjoy. This is linked to my other Azriel fic but of course can be read alone. Not proof-read and yes, she lost her wings. It's becoming almost a thing but it makes for some good ass angst. ENJOY!!!!]

☽｡⋆

The inner circle all sat around the table, eating and chatting merrily. Rhysand sat at the head of the table, as was tradition, while his mate- Feyre- sat next to him, their hands entwined. They smiled at each other, as so in love they were. Cassian and Mor were joking around along with Amren and Elian listened politely. Every now and then, she glanced the shadow singers way to invite him into the conversation but there was no such luck.

Azriel only stared ahead of him, glaring at the empty space where you usually sat. He wasn’t at all surprised you hadn’t turned up, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t be angry about it.

For a few weeks now he’d noticed the shift in you. You snapped easily and often rolled your eyes at anything your brother- the high lord- had to say. He’d heard you pace your rooms at night and his shadows (that favoured you above all) had reported that many nights you went to Rita’s.

But your empty seat irked him. And it irked him that Rhys seemed to not care in the slightest.

Az was the first to be aware of your presence, the echo of the door opening alerting them all and your scent hit him in the face. He inhaled it- your lavender, your sweetness, tinted by the alcohol lingering.

Rhysand huffed and everyone seemed to notice the shift. ‘I apologize about this, Feyre darling.’

Just then, you and Nesta stumbled into the room, arms linked and laughing your heads off about something or other.

Azriel drank you in. Your cheeks were flushed, your dress creased as you struggled to stay up right. Gods, what had you done?

You pouted dramatically, throwing a hand on your hip. ‘Uh oh, Rhysands got his grumpy face on.’

‘Isn’t that his usual?’ Said Nesta, causing the two of you to laugh again.

Everyone watched the two of you.

‘Where have you been?’ Az asked, wanting to rush to you and support you, but Rhys seemed one breath away from snapping.

‘We’re trying to have a pleasant meal, don’t ruin it,’ he grumbled.

‘Yes sir!’ You saluted.

Rhys growled and Feyre took his hand, squeezing it tightly.

‘Something tells me we’re not wanted, y/n,’ Nesta said to her.

‘Alas, we do not want to be here,’ you said, stumbling your way past the table. Before you went, you gave Feyre a squeeze on the shoulder, leaning down to whisper to her. ‘Feyre darling.’

‘Enough!’ Rhys shot up, hands on the table.

You barley spared him a glance as you and Nesta went about your way. You tripped on a plant pot, stumbling and apologizing to the object.

Azriel got out his seat, ready to follow you to wherever. No matter if you wanted him or not.

‘Sit down, Azriel,’ said Rhysand, taking his seat again. He picked up his fork and smiled at his mate like nothing had happened. All the while, your scent got further away from him.

He looked between where you’d disappeared and his high lord. He settled down and promised he’d find out what had made you act so.

☽｡⋆

You woke with unbearable pain in your head the next day. And your back. Your head was granted with the amount you and Nesta had drank, seeking to out-do one another so much so you drank out most of Rita’s.

But your back, the pain was new. Almost as if it knew why you were so angry, so bitter and it sort to make it worse.

Your curtains were drawn but the wind blew them back, letting you glimpse the outside world you dreaded to be a part of.

Shadows curled up your bed, brushing your hair back affectionately. They seemed to always be around you, as if they knew the bond that heaved in your chest even if their master didn’t.

You offered them a poor smile. ‘I’m fine.’ But they caressed you and smelt your lie.

From beyond the curtains, you caught a glimpse of figures in the sky. You’d always loved your room for the view it granted, of the sun, the moon, the stars. But after losing your wings, the view turned cold and the sky never seemed as bright.

It only got worse.

Though you knew the pain it would bring you to see, you wrapped a blanket around you and treaded over to the window.

Feyre was trying out her new wings, the black gifts she’d been given. Once mortal, she now had everything you wanted. The power, the wings. Your freedom was now hers.

And you hated it.

Azriel was looking close to her, encouraging her as she went. Though they were small figures to you, you could see his smile, how he held his hands out to her should she lose confidence.

How many times had you flown side by side, acting like the clouds abided you. The times you’d raced or dropped just to have Azriel catch you.

Never again.

The bitterness invaded your mouth again, blocking out all other logical senses.

Your door burst open- the shadows rushing to your side and curling around your shoulders. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was, the anger radiating from him was enough.

‘How dare you turn up in the state you did last night,’ snapped Rhys. You didn’t turn to face him, shielding yourself from his fury. ‘You had no right to ruin a lovely evening. We are trying to make Feyre and her sisters feel welcomed, its a shame my own sister can’t seem to do that for me.’

The words twisted in your gut. For him… had you not done everything for him? Lost your wings because you wouldn’t give in? Lost fifty years of your life to be with him?

‘Get over whatever it is going on and only return to us when you want to act like a decent human being.’ Rhysand snapped before leaving again, slamming the door- causing her to flinch.

The shadows ran down your hair, your cheeks, your sides. Giving you any ghostly comfort they could. ‘I’m fine,’ you told them again, retreating further into your room.

The shadows followed you, but only half of them. The other half had returned to their master, clouding him and whispering in his ear.

Her wings. She misses her wings.

She hadn’t had to say it out loud, they knew her pain.

Azriel paused in the sky, alerting Feyre. She’d seen the shadows surround him in flourishes. She couldn’t understand they were reporting in on you, that Az needed you to have something there when he could not be.

‘What is it?’ She asked, beating her wings.

He stared at her then at the wings. He was filled with the longing to be with you, in the sky, playing. Your wings were beautiful, just because they were you. A beautiful part of you.

‘I need to speak with the high lord.’

☽｡⋆

‘Ask someone else to train Feyre to fly,’ said Azriel.

He’d insisted he needed to see the high lord on urgent matters that could not wait. He’d expected it to be of the war, but Azriel opened with the line.

Rhysand was sat behind his desk, looking up to Azriel with some amusement. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘Ask Cassian,’ he said, he didn’t need to repeat himself.

‘Feyre wanted you.’

‘I can’t do it anymore,’ he said, stating it all simply.

Rhysand waited, wondering if he’d be graced with an explanation, but it never came. ‘Might I ask why.’

‘Your sister.’

Rhys’s amusement turned to a deep scowl. ‘My sister has asked you to stop flying with Feyre?’

‘No. She hasn’t asked, she never would. But I can’t teach Feyre to fly anymore.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m confused- what does any of this have to do with y/n?’ He asked.

Azriels shadows wound tight around him, coating him like a second skin. He wanted to yell, and he never let his emotions get the better of him. Instead, he curled his hand into a fist and clenched his jaw. ‘Do you really not think that this is hurting her?’

‘After her behaviour the past couple days I think it’s her who’s doing the hurting,’ he said, picking a bit of invisible lint from his shoulder.

‘She lost her wings,’ said Azriel with barely contained annoyance. ‘She lost them. They were cut from her back and she was left to bleed out.’

‘I do remember that Azriel,’ said Rhys, closing his eyes at the words. ‘I was there when we found her.’

‘So do you not think that teaching your mate to fly doesn’t effect her?’

Rhysand looked at him. His eyes changed, the hue turning darker. No, he hadn’t thought that. You’d never let on to feeling anything for your wings or lack of them. But then again, even if you had, would you ever have gone to your brother.

Azriel took a measured step forward. ‘Do you not think it hurts her that you teach your mate to fly, the same mate that gasped in horror when she saw the scars on your sisters back? That you have us fly in front of the house where she can see? Did you even know that when she bathes y/n covers all the mirrors so she doesn’t have to get a glance at the scars.’

The high lord held up a hand. ‘I understand.’

‘No, you don’t. You could never know what it’s like, neither could I, or Cassian. She had a part of her ripped off and she has to live without it every day. But you’ve gifted Feyre them as if it’s nothing.’

‘Because my mate has the powers,’ argued Rhys. ‘If I could give y/n wings I would- in a heartbeat, I would.’

Azriel nodded. He knew that, he knew the relationship between you and Rhys was fractured at best, but he also knew that if anything or anyone hurt you, Az would kill them. ‘I don’t want to reach Feyre to fly because it hurts y/n.’

Rhys leaned back in his chair, studying him. ‘And you care about her?’

‘More than I can express.’ He would give her the wings from his back if he could. ‘And if something hurts her… it hurts me.’

Rhysand nodded. ‘I’ll take her flying from now on. We’ll do it in the mountains, to spare y/n from seeing it.’

Azriel bowed his head. ‘Thank you.’

Rhys nodded but averted his gaze. ‘Look after her, Azriel.’

‘I always have.’

☽｡⋆

Nesta had gone to Rita's, expecting you later but you'd already snuck down to the Wine cellar and picked out the finest to drown your sorrows alone in. You'd past Cassian on the way, the male worried about your shifting gaze and the way you held yourself but you brushed him off and carried on your way.

You hesitated outside your door, where shadows lurked. Yes, they liked you and yes they were often with you, but never guarding your door.

Then, you smelt it. Not wine but sweet cedar and moss. Az.

You didn't want this. Didn't want him to see you like this, in pain in your mind and back, in longing for the wind through your hair. You knew he'd noticed your behaviour, he was the spy master, you'd only hoped... only hoped he didn't care as much as he did.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door and braced yourself for shouting.

Azriel stood there, looking regal and beautiful. His back was too the balcony, the door open and wind rusting his wings and sheets. His hands were behind his back and his gaze was... soft? It wasn't dark with anger or clouded in annoyance.

It was just Az.

'Azriel,' you do your best to smile, clearing your throat. 'What are you doing? I thought you had flying with Feyre?' you were trying but you were also just you and you missed your wings.

'I'm teaching her anymore,' he said.

You chuckle. 'Is she that bad a student?'

'I'm sorry.'

You look up to him, taking out the cork of the wine. Rose filled your senses. 'For what?'

'That she flys when you don't,' he mentioned it simply, as if you'd already told him what was hurting you and he'd accepted it.

You hadn't said it. You wouldn't. You hated yourself enough for being weak, you didn't need him, perfect Azriel, caring Azriel, to see how horrid your jealousy had made you. 'I don't know what you mean.'

'y/n,' he steps close to you, taking the bottle from you. He drops it at his side but no smash is delivered. The shadows swallow it up. 'Why won't you talk, instead of drowning yourself in pain?'

'I'm not drowning myself in anything,' you deny, moving away from him to close the balcony door. The air drifting in and moving everything but you only mocked.

'You can't fly,' he said.

Your eyes squeezed shut in pain. 'Yes, I know, you don't have to remind me.'

His boots sounded close behind her and he took her shoulders. He didn't force her to turn around, he only held her gently and soothed his thumbs over the knots in her back. 'You can't fly and words don't exist to tell you how sorry I am. If I could i'd give you the own wings off me back-'

'Don't say that.' The only thing worse than your pain, was Azriel going through it all.

'I would and I mean it just to see you smile again, if only for a second. I'd be glad to give them up,' he whispered. Your shoulders slumped under his grasp and he sighed in relief, it was better than tensing up again. 'I miss you smiling. I miss you laughing. I miss you smiling at me. I'm sorry if teaching Feyre to fly has hurt you.'

'It wasn't you, Az,' you turn in his hold, never letting him feel like it was his fault. In doing that, you admitted to being bothered. 'I can't be who I was, because I don't know how. And I don't want to try to only fail.'

He listened, hands trailing down your arms to rub.

You gulp. 'And it's not just losing the wings, it's everything I lost with it. Freedom. I can't join you or Cas, or anyone when you take to the skies. How am I going to cope in battle? I can't run as fast as I can fly, I can't fight as well. I can't hit Cassian over the head when he's being an idiot, I can't-I can't wrap them around you when we hold each other, and it's painful to think of everything I've lost when I've gained nothing.'

He listened, tears watering his gaze. You had not lost any of that, not to him.

'And Feyre,' you pulled away, crossing your arms around each other and looking out the window. 'I don't hate her, I wish I could but I can't. But she's been Fae for five seconds and she has everything I've ever wanted. Wings. My brother loves her. She's happy. I hate it and I hate myself.'

Your confession weighed your gut but your chest rose in a deep breath. You couldn't see Azriel behind you in the reflection of the windows and you couldn't hear him.

He'd gone. Of course he'd left, you'd whined about what you'd lost when you were at least alive. You'd complained about the High Lady- treason in Rhysand's book.

No, you were all alone.

But you weren't.

Az crept behind you and slowly- so you could pull away- wrapped his arms around your shoulders. He pulled you into his chest and matched his breaths with yours. 'I won't insult you by saying I get it, because I could never. But that time, when I found you after you'd lost your wings, I thought i'd lost you and that-that is how I imagine your feelings. Because I stopped breathing and I didn't think happiness would ever be in the world again. And your blood, you bleeding out has been in my nightmares since. If my hands were to be stained with it, let them, because it was the last thing i'd ever have of you.'

You had no idea. He'd felt terrible yes and been there the weeks and months it took to heal but you'd been so full of pain and guilt you hadn't thought of how he fared. Your greatest friend... your lustful secret.

Your hands came up to hold his arms.

'You do not have to be who you were before,' he whispered, head resting on your shoulder. 'Become better. Become something more. As for training, you're the strongest woman I know and still the only person I'd trust with my life.'

A tear escaped you.

He nudged your chin with his nose. 'And you can still hit Cass as much as you like.'

You laugh through tears, holding onto Az like he was the last thing anchoring you to yourself.

His wings slowly inched over you. 'And I will hold you all day, every day till I die, and i'll keep you safe.' His wings closed around the two of you as yours used to do.

Neither of you realised how much you'd missed it, needed it, craved it until it happened.

You'd lost your wings, but you had never and would never lose him.

#a court of wings and ruin #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #acotar #rhys acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #a court of frost and starlight #booktok #books and reading #azriel acotar #azriel acosf

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