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fairydustblossom · 8 months

Text

encroaching promises

azriel x reader

summary: based on this request "I would love if you wrote something where Azriel was a dick and he has to GROVEL. (Angst feeds my soul) please and thank you."

category: angst (i just rly love it)

word count: 4.8k

warnings: slightly nsfw in some parts, emotional (not physical) disloyalty ?? maybe ?? kinda ??

notes: umm this was so fun to write! it came to me so fast like I didn't even have to edit it?? hopefully it's good lmao anways i hope you enjoy this @liddyr03, thank you for sending in a request!!

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Something had shifted between you and Azriel. It had been a gradual shift, one you had felt coming on for some time- but you could have never expected the reason for the growing distance between you and your mate.

He had been working longer hours, waking up earlier, barely spending any free time with you and you knew the middle Archeron sister had a part in it. You had tried to ignore it, their growing closer. Azriel had taken a liking to her. At first, your heart had warmed at Azriel’s willingness to help. There had not been many opportunities in his life where he could help someone directly, not just in a battlefield or in an interrogation room. You witnessed the impact it had on him, you could feel his inner peace, the way he viewed himself, his self worth improving- and you were proud of him. You really were happy that Azriel was finally seeing himself in a way you had always seen him. You believed in kindness, in helping others, in going above and beyond for someone in need, you had always preached it to Azriel. It had been one of the things that had drawn him to you, seeing in you traits he wanted to possess. But now, it had gone too far.

You had noticed Elain and Azriel growing closer and closer. You had pushed your wariness aside, opting to be kind to her, hoping to help her in the way Azriel was doing so. Maybe she could be a good friend to you both, you thought. But Elain had not been as welcoming to your helping hand. Instead, she had treated you as she had treated all other fae, like you were a monster, personally responsible for her family's misfortune.

You tried time and time again to be graceful, to brush off her rudeness. You chose to be understanding, to put yourself in her shoes. But still, she treated you poorly. When you would join Azriel in visiting her, you noticed the difference in treatment. How she would look at him, and how she would look at you, like you had something she wanted.

Eventually, you stopped joining Azriel in his visits, finding it hard to control your feelings of jealousy and not wanting to come across as an irrational possessive mate. He was only helping her get better, you told yourself.

After you stopped going together, you noticed how his visits grew longer and longer. The longer he would be there, the more you would question it. What are they doing? Why is she keeping him there? Is it him that wants to stay longer?

The questions would run through your head until the moment he would walk into your shared chambers. You would lay your eyes upon your tired mate, but you would catch the gleam in his eyes, happy with himself for doing some good for once, and you would push aside all jealousy. How could you ever doubt your mate? The very same male that had worshiped you for years, that had vowed his undying love to you, who was bound to your soul. And so you would welcome him home with open arms, letting him fall to bed, little words spoken of his day.

It kept on like this, for months, till a whole year had passed and you no longer recognized your relationship with Azriel. You barely spoke anymore, going through your established routines around each other in silence. What had once brought you so much comfort, now left you fretting that something had irrevocably changed. You knew next to nothing about what Azriel was thinking, of where he spent his days, although you had a good idea of who he spent them with. You who had once been his closest confidant, wrapped in his arms till late hours of the night, whispering every thought that crossed through your minds to each other. You were barely having any sex. What used to be almost a daily activity, was now a hurried fuck in the dark, taking no time to explore one another's bodies, only looking for a quick release. You hadn’t actually seen your mate’s body in months. Had Azriel finally had enough of yours after all this time?

Elain’s smell had practically been imprinted on him. You never smelled any sex, no, and you thought, no you hoped, that Azriel would never do that. But it hurt all the same when you could smell her on his clothing, for that only happened when a fae was around all the time.

You had decided to take matters into your own hands. You were waiting for Azriel to come home, wearing his favorite silk slip that you had surprised him with on the night of your mating ceremony. Determination drove you- you would not let him go to bed without first feeling satiated.

And so you waited, your belly fluttering with parts equal nerves and excitement. You were excited because you knew your mate would melt at the sight of you, and love on you like you were accustomed to. You felt maybe all you and Azriel needed was one night to destress, to reconnect and everything would be back to normal.

When Azrile came home, his eyes immediately darkened at the sight of you, he recognized the slip you were wearing, images of your mating ceremony flashing through his mind. He was overcome with need for you and it only took a matter of minutes before you were pressed up against the wall, lost in a hungry kiss. You sent all your excitement down the bond and he groaned into the kiss, sending his desire right back. You were elated, nothing pleased you more than the feeling of Azriel against you and feeling the bond thrumming with need.

Azriel was quick to pick you up and carry you to your shared bedroom, tossing you on the bed. You sat up on your knees, wrapping your arms around his neck, wanting to slow this down a bit. You could feel how badly he wanted you, not only through the bond but by the bulge pressing into your flushed bodies. The mother knew you wanted him just as badly, and any other time you would have given into your needs in a desperate attempt to chase the release you were craving. But you wanted to take him in, wanting to drag this out as long as possible, to drink in the sight of his glorious body that your eyes had been deprived of.

You pressed your forehead against his, willing your breath to calm down. Azriel pulled his head back a bit, brows furrowing slightly and a look of confusion overtaking his eyes, “You alright, love?” a wave of worry flowed down the bond, his hands roamed your body, bringing you comfort and spreading warmth all over.

You flushed slightly, butterflies erupting in your belly at hearing the pet name. Your ears perked, not having heard the endearment in so many months. Gods, you had missed him. You smiled shyly at him, and gave him a slight nod. Azriel felt his knees buck, so many years later and a single look from you could make him feel like the inexperienced younglin he used to be back at the camps. You looked so so lovely in that slip, the shy look you gave him, eyes shining with love, and the pink tint on your cheeks he had elicited all warmed his heart. He brought a hand up to your face, moving a stray piece of hair behind your ear, resting his hand at the base of your jaw all while staring intently into your eyes. When he saw your cheeks flush a darker red, he gave you a charming grin, amused and delighted by the sudden shyness in you. He loved that he still had that effect on you, as if you were meeting for the first time.

“I’m alright Az, just taking you in” you murmured, your voice sounding like honey to his ears.

“You can take me in all you want Y/N, I’m all yours to look at” he murmured back, dipping down to place warm loving kisses on your neck. You were delighted by his words, breathing him in deeply, relishing in the smell of his arousal. You felt delirious and giddy all at once, yes, you thought, all mine. Wishing to remind him, you sent the possessiveness you were feeling down the bond, making Azriel growl and nip at your neck more feverishly, marking you as his. He loved when you claimed him just as much as claiming you, feeling lucky to have someone in his life that wanted him as badly as he had always wanted.

The feeling of Azriel’s nipping and sucking your neck urged you on to keep undressing him. Undoing all the clasps you had started unfurling downstairs, you removed the tight fitting top of his leathers. You ran your hands along his arms, taking pleasure in the warmth of his bare skin against your fingertips. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, trailing your gaze up his tattooed arms, to his chest, hands sliding along- when your eyes snagged on something just below his pec and you halted all your movements. Azriel buried in your neck still, stopped as well, feeling you tense up. You pulled back, taking a good look at what your eyes had seen. It was a tattoo. One you hadn’t seen before.

Your heart sank, hurt overpowering any feeling of desire you had been feeling. The unexpectedness of the moment had left you vulnerable, leaving your side of the bond wide open for Azriel to feel the sudden shift in your emotions. He froze, suddenly panicked at why you were hurting and he pulled back, grasping your arms and holding you at arms length. He tried meeting your eyes, noticing they were locked in on his torso. When he looked down he saw what you were staring at.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the rose shaped tattoo resting on his right rib. You didn't know what it meant, but you had a feeling you knew what, or rather who, had been the cause of it. You thought of Elain and her precious garden. You thought of Elain and her treasured white roses. You couldn’t fight the tears that lined your eyes and you moved out of Azriel’s grasp to the other side of the room, wanting to be as far away from him as possible.

Azriel felt his heart sink at the way you fled his touch, as if he had burned you. He saw the look in your eyes and felt his that his world was crashing down.

“What is that Azriel?” you asked, struggling to conceal the wobble in your voice, not actually wanting to hear the truth you already knew.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, looking down at the tattoo your gaze hadn’t drifted from and then looked back up at you. Forcing himself to look at you, even if it made him feel like the biggest dickhead.

“It’s… It’s a promise” he said, wishing he didn’t have to tell you and see the betrayal in your eyes. He had been avoiding this conversation, feeling disgusted at himself for having made the promise in a lapse of judgment.

He saw the fire ignite in your eyes, anger rising at his answer. You already knew it was a promise, and he was aware you wanted more of an explanation. He only hoped you could forgive him, for he did not know if he could forgive you if it were the other way around. Shame creeped up his spine and he mustered up the courage to confess his mistake. He had barely been able to look at himself since the tattoo had seared itself onto his skin and he had opted to ignore it all together- to pretend it wasn’t there. Azriel had done so much pretending, that the tattoo had been fully forgotten moments earlier when he had welcomed and encouraged you to look upon him.

At your lack of response, he cleared his throat and carried on, praying to the mother in his head, for he knew he was about to hurt you and he would hate himself for having caused you pain, “I made a promise. I-I made a promise to Elain.”

You looked up at him then, and the pain he saw in your eyes made him feel sick to his stomach, knowing he has caused it. “Y/N, I swear I didn’t mean to-”

You cut him off, your voice terrifyingly low “What did you promise her Azriel?”

His cheeks were red and his body felt hot with shame as he replied, “I promised I would always be there to protect her.”

His words, uttered barely above a whisper, felt like daggers to your heart. You flinched, unable to conceal the effect they had on you. The tears broke free, you managed to hold in your sobs by biting the inside of your cheeks, but you couldn’t hold back the tears. You were biting so hard you tasted blood, and the world felt like it was spinning. You couldn’t find any words, there was nothing to say. He had promised her something he was supposed to only ever promise you.

“I fucked up. I know I did, I’ve been working out a way to undo it.” He started to plead, taking a few steps to close the distance between you. You stepped away, not letting him get near, barely hearing his words over the rushing sound in your ears. “Rhys and Feyre have been helping me find a way to break it. We actually know how, the same way they broke their deal from under the mountain, we just need Elain to-”

You were done listening to him, his words only adding to the hurt you were feeling. Rhys and Feyre knew your mate had promised his protection to another? Did everyone know? Why hadn’t he told you?

“Leave” you hissed at him. You didn’t care to hear his excuses, you were done. Never would you have ever spent so much time with another male, never would you have ever made such an intimate promise.

“What?” he asked. He had been expecting you to react this way, for months he had been mentally preparing himself. But to hear you actually say it still caught him off guard. “Y/N, please, I can expl-”

“Leave” you said again, your voice strengthening with conviction. “Get out of my home, Azriel.” You felt if Azriel stayed any longer you would go mad, and you meant your words. This was not a home anymore, not with him in it. He had bound his soul to another, and kept it from you. If he remained here any longer, you don’t know what you would do. You could feel your power thrumming in your veins, begging for release.

Azrile looked heartbroken, like a man that had lost everything he cared about in this world. He pleaded with his eyes, pushing everything he was feeling down the bond, hoping you would take back his words. When you only looked away as a response, he knew he had to respect your wishes. It pained him unlike anything else to leave you alone after the damage he had caused but he understood there was nothing he could do at that moment to make it better. He steeled himself, calling all his shadows to him, fighting with the ones that were wrapped around you trying to comfort you, and then he vanished.

You broke down when Azriel left, letting the pain of your failed relationship consume you. The image of the rose tattoo was all you could see behind your eyes and you ran to the bathroom to release the bile that had risen up your throat. You sat there on the floor, picturing all the interactions you had witnessed between Azriel and Elain. You could have prevented this, you couldn’t help but think, if you had only stepped in sooner. If you had only kept that girl away from your mate. If you had only shown her anything other than kindness. You had in a sense, lost your mate to another woman. For how could he spend his days with you when he promised to protect another for the rest of her days?

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Azriel knew he had to fix this. He honestly had already been trying to, he wanted nothing more than to be rid of the promise he had made Elain. A promise that she had coerced him into. But to be rid of it, she had to be in agreement. Rhys and Feyre had helped him contact Helion and that is what he had told them. The High Lord of day had also told them it would cause great pain, which Elain had grasped onto in her refusal to break the promise. She argued she had been through enough in the past years to willingly put herself through more pain.

Azriel blamed himself, really. For letting Elain get so close to him, for having been there at her beck and call to the point she expected, no demanded, that treatment from him all the time. He had spent the last few months attempting to convince Elain to go through with breaking the promise. He was doing everything he could for her, hoping if he did enough she would come to her senses and consent to Helion’s spell.

He kept telling himself she was only holding on to this because she had lost everything else in her life, it made her feel that she was finally in control of something- that she didn’t mean his beloved any harm. But Azriel had come to the realization that whether Elain meant to hurt others or not with her actions- she was being selfish with them. He was devoted to you and he would not let Elain cost him what he prized so dearly in his life. His mate, he kept thinking, he would not lose his mate.

Rhys and Feyre were curled against one another in the living room when Azriel winnowed in, looking distraught, wings drooped, and frantic shadows dispersing around the room- swallowing all light. He dropped down to his knees, tears lining his eyes as he looked up at his High Lord and High Lady. They were instantly alarmed, Rhys dropping to the floor to join his brother while Feyra went to Azriel’s side. Rhys grabbed Azriel’s face in his hands, quickly assessing him for any injuries, he tried peeking into Azriel’s mind and only saw your pained expression. Azriel dropped his head on his brother's shoulder, looking like a fallen angel, and he cried. “Please help me. Please, brother”.

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For the next few weeks, you had isolated yourself- putting wards around the house to prevent any of your family from winnowing in. You had felt each of them attempt to come in, to console you, but you refused to let them in.

You couldn’t forgive them, at least not anytime soon, for having kept this from you. You felt embarrassed. You didn’t know how long ago the promise had been made, you didn’t know how long they had known- all the interactions you had with your family since the time Elain came were now painted in a different light in your mind. Had they all thought you a fool? To let your mate get so close to another female, when Elains affections for Azriel had so clearly been written on her face? You couldn’t bear to face them, knowing they had kept this from you.

You had also distanced yourself because you weren’t sure of what you would do if you came across Elain. Your territorial feelings had only been enhanced and you were scared of what you would do to your High Lady’s older sister if you saw her.

Azriel had tried almost everyday to talk to you, but you remained firm in your decision, refusing to yield to his pleas. You had received countless notes from Rhys, the only one who could get past your wards, and had burned them all. Until the latest one. You had been reading when a note appeared on the page you were on. Unlike the other ones, this one did not come to you unfolded so you had no option but to read the words they said. “It is done. Azriel is recovering in the infirmary.” The note raised your heartbeat and caused dozens of questions to rise within you. Suddenly Azriel’s absence the past few days made sense. He had been resolute everyday since you had kicked him out in gaining your forgiveness, staying outside the door to your home waiting for the day you would let him back in. He hadn’t pushed or attempted to break through your wards, and you knew he could, he was the spymaster after all; instead, he had patiently waited, accepting his punishment. Every night, for weeks he had waited, until a few days ago, when he had disappeared and hadn’t come back. You figured he had gotten tired, or given up- you were still too hurt to find out why he had left.

Now, worry filled you. Was he okay? What did Rhys mean by “recovering”? You recalled the time Rhys and Feyre had faked breaking their bond, fooling everyone by breaking the promise they had made instead- you remembered their shouts of pain, and that was the High Lord and the High Lady, the two most powerful fae in all of Prythian.

You quickly stood up, pacing around the room, trying to decide what to do. Deep down you knew even if you didn’t go right now, adamant in your stubbornness, worry would eat you and thoughts of Azriel would consume you. Acknowledging you wouldn’t be able to go an hour without knowing, you made your decision and winnowed to the infirmary.

When you arrived, the sight of Azriel made you gasp. He looked awful. You could see the stark dark circles under his eyes, his ruffled hair, the pain expression etched on his face even as he slept. He looked thinner too, as if he hadn’t been eating well- he hadn’t, you learned later on, too sick at his own actions to feel any appetite at all.

You rushed to his side, grasping one of his hands, they felt cold, almost lifeless, and you reached deep within to the bond that tethered your soul to his, the bond you had buried deep down within you and ignored for weeks. You sighed with relief when you found it and tugged on it. He was still there you could feel, but the bond was dulled, as if life had been sucked out of it.

You burst into tears, never having imagined that the beautiful bond you cherished would ever be in such a weak state. This feeling you had feared, the feeling of Azriel fighting for his life, of barely being there overwhelmed you.

You cried for him, for your love, for everything that had happened until your throat felt hoarse and the tears wouldn’t come anymore. You had sat there by his side for hours, squeezing his hand and murmuring his name over and over, tugging at the bleak bond, willing it to go back to normal.

All night you spent by his side, the sun was now rising over the mountains of Velaris when you felt a hand land on your shoulder. It was firm and gentle- Rhys. You didn’t look up at him, your head pressed against Azriel’s hand, cradled within your own. When your tears had dried you had resorted to praying to the mother, you were convinced if you prayed enough he would be okay and you wouldn’t let anything interrupt the prayers that tumbled out of you.

“Y/N” Rhys mumbled, sitting down next to you, arm now wrapped around you. “He’s going to be okay.”

When he realized you would not acknowledge him until you felt satisfied with your orison, Rhys pulled you into a hug, waiting for you to finish. He does not know how long he sat there next to you, only that the sun was now high up in the sky. You slumped against him, still not letting go of Azriel's hand and started crying again. “You knew” he heard you say, and he felt a pang in his chest. He realized now that not only had you been hurt by Azriel, but he had hurt you as well.

He nodded, “I’m sorry for keeping it from you.” He said “I was only doing what I thought best. I will let Azriel explain everything when he wakes up, I want you to hear it all from him. But just know I am sorry”

He felt your body shake more violently at the mention of Azriel. “What if he doesn’t wake up?” you asked, voice small and filled with agony.

“He will, Y/N. He will.” He pulled you away to look in your eyes, making sure you were taking in his words. “Madja and Helion have both guaranteed that he will wake up, his body just needs to heal.”

You nodded, calming down slightly at his words. “How long has he been here?”

At this, he looked down, embarrassed to tell you he had kept yet another thing from you in hopes that Azriel could go to you himself and tell you he had gotten rid of the promise. “He has been here a few days, I-I didn’t take it would take long for him to wake up. I wanted him to be able to tell you.”

You only nodded, having already guessed as much, piecing together Azriel’s absence outside your door with his unconscious body. Later, you would give Rhys hell for keeping it from you, but currently you had no energy to fight. You leaned into his hug further, needing the comfort he provided and resigned yourself to waiting.

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It took three more days for Azriel to wake up, Rhys had briefly explained that the impact had been greater than it should have been because they had manipulated Elain into consenting to break the promise instead of her going willingly into it. You could feel the anger Rhys felt towards his sister in law as he explained- making sure you understood they had coerced her in a way not too unlike how she had done to Azriel when he made the promise. Your anger towards Azriel had diminished, you still wanted to hear what he had to say, but you were ready to forgive him. All you wanted was for him to wake up.

You were sitting next to Azriel, head nodding off in sleep. After almost four days of little to no sleep, you were struggling to fight it off. Your eyes had fully shut and you could feel yourself drifting when you felt the hand you were holding twitch.

Immediately you gasped and sat up, watching with wide eyes as Azriel’s eyebrows furrowed. He seemed to battle with himself to wake up and once he finally did you stood up grabbing a cup of water for him. He looked at you with daze eyes and croaked out, “I’m sorry”

Your heart melted, his voice was barely there and you shushed him, raising the cup to his lips, urging him to drink some water. He gulped down the water you offered, pulling back to catch his breath, then he looked at you again, eyes filled with sorrow before he whispered again “I’m so sorry, my love”

You only nodded, too overwhelmed with emotion to form any words. Instead, you pushed everything you were feeling down the bond and in return Azriel poured all of his love. You could feel how sorry he was, his love for you, his sadness. His eyes watered at feeling the bond thrumming again, he had been convinced he would never feel it again and he thanked the mother for blessing him with such an amazing mate.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” he kept mumbling, groggy from his week-long slumber and unable to form any other coherent sentences.

You shushed him and cradled his face to your body, peppering his face with kisses wanting to convey how grateful you were for your mate. You stayed there, curled up against him the rest of the night, letting him know how much you loved him, your mate, who had risked his life to make things right.

“I would do it again, for you, I would do anything” he murmured, head tucked in the crook of your neck, before drifting off into sleep again.

#azriel #fairydustblossom #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acotar fanfiction #azriel acotar #azriel fic #azriel fluff #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel angst

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wordstome · 5 months

Note

könig as the nutcracker 🥹🥹

you just brought some terrible sleeping beast out of me, anon.

nutcracker prince König x fem reader (mostly gender neutral but you're wearing a dressing gown)

tw: mouse murder???

He's a very odd looking nutcracker, all things considered, but you can't take your eyes off of him.

"If it's a nutcracker why does it have that stupid veil over its face?" Your brother asks, noisily crunching candies between his molars. You glare at him, both for the rude remark and for chewing with his mouth open.

"This is a special one," your aunt gushes. "He's based off of a legendary soldier who never showed his face on the battlefield. One of a kind, from a specialty toy shop.”

"How interesting..." You muse, gently rubbing the fabric of the veil between your fingers. It's sturdy fabric, but still soft to the touch.

"He was probably ugly as hell," your brother declares. You swat him, and he only cackles and gets up to graze at some more sweets.

"Maybe you should try covering that ugly mug up once in a while," you call after him. He pelts you with a walnut shell.

Your aunt shakes her head fondly. "This one's not just decorative," she says. "He's a real nutcracker by Steinbach."

You look at her, wide-eyed. "So he can crack nuts?"

She nods and tosses you a hazelnut. "Try it."

You lift the wooden man's veil a little to put the hazelnut in his mouth. You could just pull the whole thing up and out of the way, but that feels almost...forbidden? You're not sure why you feel this way—he's just a piece of wood, after all, and he probably doesn't even have anything painted on underneath the veil other than those vibrant blue eyes. But even so, you're hesitant to unmask him.

Cracking the nut works like a charm, though, and some childish excitement bubbles up inside you as the remnants of the cracked hazelnut spill into your palm. "That's incredible!" you gush, running your thumb over the nutcracker's lacquered uniform.

"What do you mean incredible, that's what nutcrackers are for." Your brother returns, a few walnuts rolling around in his palm. He holds his other hand out. "Give him here."

"No. You called him ugly, so he's mad at you," you say, teasing him by holding the nutcracker out of his reach.

Your brother rolls his eyes. "Give it here, you little shit."

"Crack your own nuts," you shoot back. "This is my nutcracker."

He makes another grab for it, and this time he manages to grab the nutcracker's arm. It's only a lighthearted tussle between siblings as you shove at your brother and he refuses to let go of the nutcracker's arm—until it's not.

A terrible snapping of breaking wood causes you to gasp. The two of you stumble away from each other from the force, your brother holding a tiny wooden arm in his hand. He's just pulled it clean off. On closer inspection, your idiot brother has somehow managed to Hulk-rip the arm piece off of the piece that fits inside the socket. "This is a brand new nutcracker, how did you fuck it up?!" you cry.

"Hey, you should have—" Your brother takes one look at your expression and decides not to give you a hard time. "Look, I'm sorry. I was too rough on it. Sit tight for a second." You sit there, numbly staring at the pieces of your poor nutcracker. Really, it's your fault too—why didn't you just let him have the damn thing?

And why is this upsetting you so much? The nutcracker's just a decoration, albeit one with a little more function than most. You feel a sort of attraction to this little wooden man in your hand, though. Maybe it's because his unique design is interesting, or maybe it's because you're intrigued by the idea of a masked soldier who never shows his face. Either way, he was your gift anyway, so it's not that unusual that you're attached to him...right?

"Here, let me see him." Your brother's back, but to your horror, he's holding a pair of needle-nose pliers. "Absolutely not," you respond, jumping up from where you were sitting on the floor. "You are not getting anywhere near my nutcracker with those things. You're just going to fuck it up even more."

"It'll be fiiine," he insists, clicking the pliers open and closed like some maniacal toy surgeon. You're not sure you like the devious glint in his eye. Your brother's a nice guy for the most part, but sometimes he gets this look in his eye that you imagine Dr Frankenstein must have had when he was assembling his creation.

You hold the nutcracker and his detached arm protectively to your chest. "I'll figure out how to fix him in the morning with glue or something," you insist. "I don't need you poking around with pliers and splintering the wood."

"Are you sure? I am sorry, for what it's worth."

You wave him off. You're still kind of mad at him, but you're both adults. You'll live. "Don't worry about it. I think I'm going to head to bed soon, anyway."

"You should keep his arm with him, dear," you aunt pipes up. She had gone into the kitchen during the whole ordeal, but had probably heard everything go down. "Tape it to his side or something. You wouldn't want to lose it."

That's a good idea, you muse, examining your poor amputated nutcracker. You're just about to take her suggestion when you get an idea.

Your brother checks in with you later, right before he goes to bed as well. "You can't be serious," he says. "You made him an arm sling?"

You tie the knot on the little scrap of cloth around the little wooden man's arm nice and snug. "Oh, I'm dead serious," you say. "Doesn't he look cute?"

Your brother lets out a resigned sigh. "Yeah. Sure."

The rest of the evening is relatively uneventful. You put the nutcracker in your room, right on top of the dresser, while you go about your bedtime routine. It always brings you a bit of joy to walk out of the bathroom and see him there, standing tall and proud.

Well, your evening would have been uneventful...had you not bolted awake in bed an hour or two later.

You're groggy and confused, trying to figure out what the hell is going on, when you hear the cacophony of noise. It sounds like footsteps, dozens upon dozens of them, stampeding through your walls. And then the mice show up.

They crawl up from the corners and the floorboards, swarming across your room. You're too terrified to move or even scream out, sure that you must be having some terrible nightmare or hallucination.

And then your nutcracker moves.

You're absolutely positive now that you must be dreaming, watching frozen from your bed as your nutcracker leaps down from your dresser as if he's a living, breathing man and beginning to fight the mice. And he's even...talking?

"Finally, some worthy adversaries!" you hear him cry. You gape at this bloodthirsty little soldier as he beats through mouse after mouse with his tiny sword.

It's an impossible battle, you think. There's no way he can take all those mice alone, and with one injured arm aside...you're usually pretty squeamish when it comes to dubious little animals, but you can't just leave your nutcracker to be overwhelmed. Besides, this is all a dream, so nothing matters, right?

There's one mouse, larger than the others, who's at the back of the pack, squeaking as if giving orders. You're having quite a wild dream, honestly, because the mouse is even wearing a little crown. Like a king, you think with some amusement. You reach over the edge of your bed to pick the mouse up by the scruff.

You're not quite sure what happens next. One moment, the mouse is chattering angrily at you, the next you're on the floor. At first you think you've simply lost your balance and fallen onto the floor, but when you scramble to your feet, you nearly fall over again as you take in your surroundings.

You've shrunk.

Your bedroom is cavernous above your head, your bedposts and furniture as tall as skyscrapers. And worse still, the mice are huge too: the once palm-sized mouse king is now as large as you are, sneering down at you from his snout. You didn't even know mice could sneer.

You yelp and throw yourself to the side to dodge one of the mice lunging at you. "It's time to wake up," you mutter to yourself through clenched teeth. "It would be really really nice to wake up right about now...!"

The mice are unrelenting, a vicious gleam in their eyes as they nip at your heels. They manage to corner you against a piece of furniture, snapping their jaws menacingly. All you can think to do is pray as they draw ever closer, their breath hot as they crowd around you—

A sword neatly lops off the head of one of the mice in front of you.

You gasp and look upwards to see your nutcracker looming above you, his sword gleaming in the low light of your bedroom. He's incredibly menacing at this size, his veil becoming intimidating rather than charming. You're far smaller than him now—if he had been a normal sized man, he would have easily cleared six feet. His eyes are vibrant and intense, staring down at you for a brief moment before they turn back towards his enemy.

You sit there, stock-still in awe as you watch him mow through his adversaries. It takes you a moment to realize you probably shouldn't be hanging around and gawping. Good thing, too, because your knight in shining lacquer is too distracted to notice he's being snuck up on. The larger mouse is creeping up behind him, a wicked glint in its eye.

"No!" you cry. Thinking fast, you pull off your slipper and chuck it at the mouse's head, stunning it. I can't believe that actually worked, you think.

You have to give your nutcracker some credit, his reflexes are wicked-sharp. In a single heartbeat, he's run the mouse king through with his sword. He cuts an imposing figure, his eyes sharp and deadly. But there's a sort of glee in them as well, the kind of thing that should make you uneasy.

It doesn't.

The rest of the mice, seeing their leader fallen, beat a hasty retreat, tugging the corpses of their fallen comrades along with them. You watch them, fascinated, until all that remains of the bloody conflict are a few tiny pools of blood streaked along your floorboards.

"I must thank you," comes the voice of your nutcracker. You look at him, unsure of what to say. You're welcome for throwing a shoe at a giant mouse to keep it from killing you?

"I...of course," is what eventually comes out. You smooth out your dressing gown in a futile effort to look presentable. "I couldn't let him hurt you."

The nutcracker tilts his head curiously. "You don't know me."

"Of course I do. You're my nutcracker," you say, instantly feeling silly once the words leave your mouth. You just received him as a gift, and you only just found out he was sentient anyway. You don't know why you feel so protective...

He shifts his injured arm, the sling still in place. "You bound my arm, as well."

You flush with embarrassment. "I-it was the least I could do," you stammer. "I shouldn't have let my brother do that. Really, it was my own fault—" Your words die in your throat as the nutcracker moves in close to you, so close that you can feel his body heat. Since when did he have body heat?

"Pretty," he murmurs under his breath. You stare at him, dumbfounded. Is your nutcracker...hitting on you?

Suddenly, you snap back to your senses. "Oh my God," you exclaim, staring down at yourself and then back towards your surroundings. "I'm still small. And I haven't woken up yet. Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming. Please tell me I'm dreaming." You pinch your skin, letting out a small exclamation when it hurts. But you still don't wake up.

"Hmm...you won't solve your predicament that easily, little one," the nutcracker muses.

"Wha—do you know how to fix this?"

"I have a hunch," he responds, brow furrowing. You hadn't noticed eyebrows on him when you were examining him earlier in the evening, you note.

"Do tell."

"You've had a curse placed on you, but I don't know how to break it. I do, however, know someone who might know how."

"Well then take me to them!" You stare at him beseechingly. You watch as several indecipherable emotions run through his eyes, then he nods.

You visibly relax. "Thank you."

"You'll have to trust me. You may find the whole process a little...fantastical."

"More fantastical than my nutcracker coming to life and fighting an army of mice on my bedroom floor?" you ask, cocking an eyebrow. His eyes crinkle in a way that must mean he's smiling.

"More fantastical than that," he says. He offers you a hand like a true gentleman, and to your shock, it feels like flesh, not wood. His grip is firm but soothing, his hand so huge it dwarfs your own.

"Let's do this, then."

uhhhhhhh wow this got kinda long I had to cut it short. I'll probably write a part 2? But it's gotta wait because I've got a gazillion other things to write first :P Thank you for the inspiration, anon! 🥺

#yes this König has blue eyes #könig #konig #könig x reader #konig x reader #könig x you #konig x you #könig fanfiction #konig fanfiction #könig cod #konig cod #könig call of duty #cod #call of duty

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inoreuct · 8 months

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i’m thinking about zosan.

thinking about sanji who says you’re the dumbest fucking man i’ve ever met but also god, i’m so in love with you it hurts and you call and i answer, because you’d do the same. i would move mountains to get to you if you needed me.

thinking about zoro who says you’re a priss and an ass and absolutely insufferable but also i’d fucking kill for you. i don’t know what i’d do if you ever got hurt because that would mean i failed to protect you and also i’ll be there. no matter what, i will be there. say my name and i’ll cross oceans for you.

zosan who bicker and fight and and snip at each other’s heels like they’re getting paid for it, but as soon as one of them actually gets hurt it’s over.

zoro takes a bullet to the side and sanji’s there, furious and incandescent in his rage, covering for him, fighting for the both of them because he can. he’s strong enough for zoro to be weak, just for a moment.

sanji gets a slash to the thigh and zoro’s tearing across the battlefield with a vengeance, desperately cutting down anything that gets in his way because they’re insignificant, they don’t matter, not now, not ever, not when sanji’s compromised.

and their love isn’t all just blind rage in the name of protectiveness, either; it’s the way sanji stocks up on zoro’s favourite liquor and yet still locks the cabinet to give zoro the satisfaction of stealing it and not getting caught. it’s the way zoro appears in the galley after dinner, gently taking the clean plates from sanji’s hands with a dishcloth, drying as sanji washes.

it’s the way their things keep shifting around until there are more of sanji’s clothes in zoro’s room than zoro’s, until zoro’s sword cleaning kit becomes a permanent fixture on sanji’s nightstand. they still decide to not share quarters; they’d really drive each other mad if they did. they’re the kind of people who need their own space.

but on the nights when the quiet gets a little too quiet and the silence gets a little too loud, they know where to go. they show up at each other’s doors in the middle of the night to crawl back into sleep-warm sheets and familiar arms; zoro runs hot and sanji runs cold, and it never gets too much of either.

the nightmares are vicious, with the lives they lead. the ghosts of their pasts are still very much alive when they close their eyes. but when it gets too much, there is always, always a door open. a designated side of the bed. soft reassurances mumbled half-asleep but no less concerned, no less tender, lips pressed to mussed hair, a second heartbeat, an anchor, a safe port to dock in the night.

and even when they don’t need the company they seek each other out anyway, simply because they can and they want to; late nights in the flickering light of the electric lamps, laughter hushed so that they don’t wake the others, curled together so closely they can’t tell which limbs belong to whom. it’s easy— warm and content and strong like the rhythm of the sea, and they don’t need to say anything to hear what they already know. i know you. you know me. i care for you. you care for me. i choose you and you choose me and i need you, i never learned how to love but by god will i try, because i’m learning from how you love me.

their love is a constant. it flows like the waves they sail, but it will never ebb— and it says we may fight and we may argue but i don’t care, i don’t care, i will be there. call for me. please. do not doubt me. do not doubt us. we may drift but you are the home i return to. i will come home, always. always, for you. to you.

#zosan #one piece zosan #op zosan #zoro x sanji #ronoroa zoro #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #they make me SICK #SICK I SAY #GGGJFHFHHFHDHDHDJHD #one piece sanji #one piece zoro #one piece #one piece but my heart is no longer in one piece because of these clowns

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azsazz · 9 months

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Tonight I'm So Lonely (Part 2)

Cassian x Rhysand's Sister!Reader

Summary: Part 2 to the One-Liner Anon Request: This is so cliche but what about “of course it’s you.” for your writing exercise 😙

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 1,306

(Part 1)

_________________________________________

You turn towards your brother, eyes sparkling with tears, shining much like the stars framing you from behind. “Why wouldn’t he tell anyone?”

Your name is a soft exhale from your brother's lips, and you fall into his open arms instantly. Clutching him back as tightly as he’s hugging you, you realize that you’ve missed him more than you ever noticed before. Fighting with Rhys and being ignored by Cassian has taken a toll on you, and your eyes slide shut as you try to stop the tears from spilling over. “I don’t know why. Does he know?”

You nod against his shoulder, throat too tight with emotion to speak. It feels like a cavern in your chest, your heart cracking and caving in upon itself, mirror to how you’d felt when your mother had been murdered before your very eyes.

“I know he knows, Rhys. I can feel him sometimes, even when he thinks he’s blocking me out.”

Sometimes, when Cassian forgets that you’re his, you can feel every hit he’s taking during a particularly rough training session, the soreness in his bones, the splitting of the skin across his knuckles when he fights. You can feel his utter joy when he’s having a night with Rhys and Azriel, the laughter they share and the dizziness that comes with bottles of fae wine.

But mostly, you can feel how lonely he is. That flicker of pain that could be your own when he catches sight of you and turns the other way. When he sits down the table from you as far as he can so that he doesn’t even have to look at you, the tremble of his soul as it fights from his chest, reaching out to you when he’s trying so desperately to pull away.

“I’m so sorry,” Rhys answers, because he doesn’t know what else to say. Then, “Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No,” you answer quickly, pulling away from him. He doesn’t let you go, though, hands planted on your shoulders in a comforting manner. The sight of his glittering crown is obnoxious, and you’d normally snort at him, teasing him for wearing it, but tonight, it gives you an idea. “But I will need your help cornering him.”

***

“I wanted to talk to you before I told anyone.”

“But you haven’t.”

“It’s not as simple as that,” Cassian curses, running his fingers through his wind-blown hair. His digits snag on the tangles and he winces, tugging them out instead to work at the belt of his sheath, needing something to fidget with to expel some of this nervous energy.

His heart slams in his chest just being in your presence. He never thought he’d find his mate, never thought it would be his High Lord’s little sister. Someone he’s grown up with and hadn’t looked at as more than a nuisance until the both of you had matured and he’d really seen you for who you are; beautiful and a lot more worthy than anything he can give you.

Finding you lying in crimson spilt snow was his worst nightmare come true. Each breath was agony and his fingers trembled so hard that the sword he had gripped in firm fingers had fallen to the ground. If Tamlin and his family had still been at the scene Cassian wouldn’t have been able to fight them off, he would’ve gladly accepted his fate too, knowing in that moment that if he didn’t have you around, he didn’t want to be either.

But it hadn’t been until you kissed him that fateful night, when the Night Court had seized the lands they’d lost during the war, that Cassian realized just how much you meant. Long days and nights on the battlefield spent wielding weapons that cut lines through enemy armies, his mind never strayed from you. How you were faring, if you were injured or lying somewhere out on the bloodied field, alone and exhaling your last breath, so close to losing you again.

It terrifies him, the idea of losing something so important not only to him, but to your brother, to the court.

“It is as simple as that, Cassian,” you argue, “You could’ve just talked to me at any point, instead of running away like a child.”

“You don’t understand,” he chokes, throat tight.

“Then help me understand!” Your chest heaves, cheeks red with frustration. Why won’t he talk to you? Why won’t he tell you what’s going on in that thick head of his? Why is running away from you so much easier than it is to stay?

“I’d rather have my wings torn from my back than to come so close to losing you again!”

Your mouth parts, words caught in your throat. Your chest aches with a thousand wounds as you stare up at him. Cassian’s chest heaves, hazel eyes sparkling with unshed tears. You haven’t seen him looking anything close to this since you’d woken up after the incident and he was by your bedside, begging the Mother to let you stay.

“I—”

But Cassian continues, now that the words have started spilling. “You’re…you’re the High Lord’s sister,” he argues, but it’s weak. He’s trying to convince himself, you realize. He won’t look at you, wringing his fingers together nervously. “And I’m just…me.”

“Oh, Cassian,” you coo, reaching out with a hand to caress his face, to tilt his head to meet your gaze, but he pulls away. “You’re the Lord of Bloodshed,” he scoffs at the title, “One of the High Lord’s Inner Circle, but most of all, you’re mine.”

Something breaks in him at your claim. His body slams into yours so fast you can’t prepare. Large, rough hands cup your cheeks and eager lips meet yours as Cassian backs you into the wall.

It takes your mind a moment to catch up, but when he grunts against your lips you snap into motion. Wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him pulled close, you move your mouth against his. It’s hot and desperate. Your teeth brush against his but the feelings quickly replaced with his tongue swooping against yours as it delves into your mouth to explore.

You meet him, keening with pleasure at the touch. His body shudders and his knees nearly give out, relaxing his body weight into you. It’s comfortable, not at all drowning, it’s everything you’ve been wanting for so long, finally within your reach.

Your bond thrums happily in your chest and you can swear you hear his purring. His cock is heavy in his pants and you shiver at the feeling of it pressed into your body. You’ve fantasized about that cock.

Cassian feels like coming home. Like waking up from the longest nap in the world. You haven’t forgiven him, not in the slightest, but his silken hair feels like heaven as you rip the tie from the back of his head. His muscles feel like opening the most precious Starfall gift, rippling beneath your nails as you rake them down his body.

He groans, hands just as desperate to touch. They slide down your sides in a possessive manner, over the round of your ass and beneath your thighs as he grips tightly and lifts you into his arms with the ease of a warrior.

You curse against his mouth and he swallows it greedily, cock swelling in his tight leathers.

“Say it again,” he breathes against your lips.

“What?” you ask, dazed. You angle your head away but he doesn’t let you go far, trailing kisses beneath your ear to keep you close.

“Say that I’m yours again,” he pleads, and you gasp when he bucks his hips against yours as he walks. “Mine, Cassian,” you moan, digging your fingers into his hair once more. “You are mine.”

#cassian x reader #cassian #cassian acotar #acotar #acowar #acmaf #azsazz

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norman-fucking-reedus · 2 months

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More GirlDaddy Daryl cause the love I have for him is actually not funny

I thought of a name a longgg time ago for his daughter that I think is super cute, It was gonna be Darylina but then I thought how Daryl would hate that THEN I thought how DARYL would make CAROL the grandma so obviously Carolina is the perfect name

She’d be called Lina for short, Carol as a joke and Carolina when shes in buttfuck trouble (which teenege Lina gets into a lot of but shes her mothers child)

I feel like she’d be a total badass, a good balance between Daryl badass and Y/n badass. She’s a hardcore daddys girl so by age ten she was already mastering the Dixon way of hunting.

“Ya got light steps naturally, let’s keep em tha’ way kiddo”

“Okay daddy!”

Lina would be more like Daryl as a kid, and I feel like Daryl was a rowdy kid.

She practically bounces off the walls from the assigned hours of too early in the morning to too late in the evening. Getting jumped on before he gets out of bed wasn’t exactly on Daryl’s bucket list (but he wouldn’t have it any other way)

Yes, she constantly climbs onto her father like a cat. No, there’s nothing he can do to get her squealing giggling frame off him. His only option is to accept his fate and play 21 questions directly over his shoulder.

“Lina! M’working, get offa me”

“Wha’cha workin’ on?”

“Stuff”

“Wha kinda stuff?”

“Adult stuff”

“Wha kinda adult stuff?”

Daryl uses her whenever he works on his bike, and his massive fingers can’t fit to reach something. She feels very important when her tiny fingers reach it, and she lets Daryl know how very useless he is.

“Daddy yer not gonna be able to fight if ya can’t fit yer fingers in stuff”

“Really? Damn. Good thing yer gonna protect me”

“No daddy, yer have to protect yerself because m’gon go protect mommy”

“Tha’s good idea, mommy can’t protect herself”

“But mommy can fit her fingers in stuff”

“Then why ya protectin’ her ‘nd not me?”

“Because I like mommy”

“I like mommy more”

Oh maybe I should mention they bicker over EVERYTHING. And guess who has to be the tiebreaker?

“Babe! Tell this rat tha peanut butter is indefinitely better than tha jelly!”

“Daryl she doesn’t even know either of those are and everyone knows jelly over butter”

“See mommy is always right!”

“Are ya cheatin’ one me??”

There’s a very strong love-hate relationship between him and teenage Lina, especially when hormones start to change and tempers flare.

Once again, Lina is a mini Daryl and Y/n, so when she shoots back during arguments, she’s aiming for the head.

“For tha last time, no. Too dangerous and m’not gon be able ta keep an eye on ya. End of discussion, quit pushin it”

“M’not a fucking kid anymore. I didn’t want ya keepin’ a damn eye on me in tha first place?!”

“Gettin real ballsy there little girl, I said wha’ I said”

“Ballsy? Little? Clearly I got more balls than ya since yer too fuckin’ scared to take me”

“Carolina. Wherever this is comin’ from, cut it the fuck out.”

“I’m gonna cut you the fuck out.”

“Scuse me?“

“Good luck on the battlefield when ya can’t even fuckin’ hear”

After every hard slam of her door, Daryl is left to stand in the deafening silence feeling like an utter failure.

Obviously, he gives her the time to decompress before going to apologize, this time with his crossbow in hand.

The door creaks slightly open before all the way, however there’s no little girl that comes running out into his arms. She stands tall in front of him, mirroring his expression of anxious discomfort.

“Ya stay close, no matter what. Understand?”

“Okay”

Daryl hands her the crossbow.

“Look- I know yer not a kid, but yer still my kid. Yer gon always be m’little girl an yer growin’ up scares tha livin’ shit out of me”

“Ya’ve killed people.. isn’t tha’ scary?”

“Wha’s scary tha’ if I didn’t kill ‘em they might’ve killed ya”

Lina hugs him tearfully.

“M’sorry fer arguin’ with ya”

“Nah, m’sorry fer not givin’ ya a chance”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

(Daryl’s inner child definitely gets healed each time after apologizing and talking it out. He breathes so much better and just feels so much better AUGH my baby)

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #norman fucking reedus #daryl x reader #daryl x female reader #twd #daryl dixion imagine #twd daryl dixon #daryl twd #twd daryl #daryl imagines #daryl x you #daryl x y/n #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic

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jermer10 · 4 months

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TF2 relationship hcs + miss pauling

suggestive, gn reader | silly romantic hcs

drabbles under the cut :P

Scout:

- the most emotionally immature out of all the mercs, also the most inexperienced with dating so he can get pretty jealous over stupid things - a demo flirts with you? dead. a medic pockets you for too long? whoops didn’t see that enemy sorry medic. god forbid another scout even breathes in your direction - ironically he used you to make Pauling jealous and eventually realised he actually likes YOU (fake dating trope my beloved) - non-stop rambles about you to his ma, when she meets you she’s already calling you her child in law - dates with scout usually consist of going to baseball games or getting lunch together, he’s pretty simple and won’t plan anything too extravagant unless it’s an occasion (with spy’s help ofc) - not huge on pda, will hold your waist or sling an arm around your shoulders on occasion, in privacy however he is HUGE on physical affection he loves you sm <333 - stroking your hair and running his fingers along your back, kisses on your neck, throwing in a couple of cheesy pickup lines here and there - pretty much only refers to you with pet names, “doll, babe, toots, handsome, etc” he’ll only use your name when he’s emotional or during intimacy

Soldier: - the most dense man on god’s green american earth so unless you’re similar to zhanna, chances are he won’t even bat an eye at you. you need to be batshit and violent for this man to notice you first - wakes you up at 5am sharp every morning for “training” (forcing you to workout with him whilst he yells at you….lovingly?) expect to be buff as hell after a couple months because his routines are intense - “DROP AND GIVE ME 20 CUPCAKE” “GOOD JOB SOLDIER. HERE IS A KISS FOR YOUR HARD WORK” “PUSH THROUGH THE PAIN SWEETHEART” - his kisses are really rough, he lifts you up into the air and spins you around or dips you and it’s genuinely super sweet, he enjoys picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder as well :3c - he has no jealous bone in his body, only random accusatory statements towards anyone who shows kindness towards you and it deters them enough for soldier to never have to worry - dates with soldier usually consist of working out or going to war museums, will never plan fancy dates so that’s all up to you - does not care about public or private affection, he will makeout with you anytime, anywhere and is unapologetic about it, much to everyone else’s dismay - “EUGH! GET A ROOM YOU TWO!” “AFFIRMATIVE, WE WILL MOVE TO THE LIVING ROOM”

Pyro: - i hc pyro as being aroace so a romantic-platonic relationship between you guys would be more mushy and cute than anything else - going out on ice-cream dates and buying matching colouring books and seeing how differently you each colour the same scene - cheek kisses no matter where you are is a must!!! holding hands around the base, tapping on each-other when bored and to show affection <3333 - the other mercs have no fucking idea what your relationship is but none of them care as long as you’re keeping pyro in check - you’re the first and only merc to see pyro without their mask on, one of the most tender moments shared between you and something that they treasure - pyro doesn’t get jealous, but they will harm anyone who makes you uncomfortable, no questions asked - cuddle buddies!!!! you guys can be seen lying around the base in a sleepy huddle, i can see demo joining and medic or engie tripping over y’all 😭 - they are super attentive of your needs and compromise despite having trouble feeling romantic or sexual attraction, as long as you enjoy it, they enjoy it

Demoman: - more of a flirt than scout is, and that’s saying something. demo will chat you up at any time of the day, whether it be in the privacy of your bedroom or straight up on the battlefield - has died MULTIPLE times because he just cant keep his eye off you, he makes mental notes of how attractive you look while bashing an enemy spy’s brain in and uses it later (WINK) - a solid 80% of your relationship is shared in silly drunk moments and the other 20 is rooted in insecurity. demo being jealous? likely. demo being scared of you leaving him for someone with two eyes and their head on straight? definitely - there are nights where he feels completely sober just holding you in his arms and acknowledging that you’re here and you love him, warts and all - SUPER BIG ON PDA!!! he wants the entire world to know that you’re his, also super big on cheesy nicknames “beauty, my love, handsome boy/beautiful girl/gorgeous partner” - messy kisses, lazy cuddles, dragging his fingers along your body feeling every dip and curve <3333 even if the affection seems half assed, his heart is devoted to you - offhandedly mentions you to his mum after dating for a year or so, to which her response is to slap him upside the head for not telling her sooner and then asking about grandbabies - you’re demo’s rock, if you asked him to go sober for you he probably would. he adores everything you do, words are unnecessary just look at his face

Heavy: - the stern and silent type, he generally doesn’t show public affection towards you unless it’s to protect you or to calm you down - in private he is the most gentle merc, holding you close to him and stroking your hair, playing with your fingers and mentally squealing at how cute and small they are compared to his, rubbing your back with his palm - he is a man of few words, but it’s pretty obvious that he is completely enamoured by you just from the way he touches you and how his gaze softens when he sees you - would plan the most personal dates, things that he KNOWS you would enjoy doing or seeing just so that he can see you smile up at him - “Любимая (darling), Дорогая (dear), Любовь моя (my love)” are the most common pet-names you’ll hear him calling you, he’s a more traditional guy - heavy is not a flirty man, he’s too blunt and would rather say what he means in the most direct way possible. thaaaat doesn’t mean he discourages you from flirting with him however - his family is extremely weary of you to begin with, heavy doesn’t talk about you much and so they’re going to be on guard (despite the fact that he could crush you with one hand if you did have malicious intent) - after a while though they warm up to you and consider you apart of the family- baking with you, teaching you how to hunt bears, making bearskin clothing, cooking the bear meat, talking about marriage and children, ANYTHING they can do to include you

Engineer: - it’s tough dating engie - he’s either working or passed out from the exhaustion of working, so you never really get quality time with him - he still takes every chance he can get to show you a good time, whether it’s cooking dinner with you or writing songs for you, he is much more romantic than he leads on - “darl, darlin, sweetheart, honeybee” sweet and simple names that roll off the tongue - the merc most inclined to shower with you. not even in a sexual way, he just enjoys the calm heat of the water and how intimate it is to share such a space - creates devices to make your life easier; need a new weapon? no need to buy a faulty mann co one, he can build you anything you want. need your very own kitchenette so you the other mercs can’t keep stealing your food? he was already drawing up the plans a week ago - the type of guy to bring you breakfast in bed every morning, putting on some slow romantic music and peppering your face with kisses to wake you up - always keeping tabs on you in battle, making sure that you’re safe and unharmed (despite knowing that you can respawn he still hates seeing you hurt) - the least jealous man to exsist, he is completely secure in himself and knows that if you didn’t wanna be with him, you simply wouldn’t

Medic: - another workaholic over here, it’s a mission getting him away from the operating table, or his desk right next to it - quiet, soft moments are few and far between, but when you do get them they are spent in each other’s arms lazying around the base - medic isn’t the romantic type and would likely just take you out to a traditional dinner or would want to teach you how to perform certain medical procedures on dates - don’t get him wrong! he loves you entirely, he just doesn’t see the need in being overly romantic with you, his way of showing love is letting archimedes anywhere near you or letting you lie on the operating table while he finishes up his paperwork - his pet names for you include “schatz (treasure), maus (mouse), meine taube (my dove)” - will pocket you 1000% and the other mercs HATE it - they have to strategise a way to keep you separated from eachother during battle - it wouldn’t matter if you were invincible or on the verge of death, this man would protect you to the ends of the earth. that being said he is also a massive shithead, will tickle you randomly or poke fun at you when you’re in a bad mood. its sweet. usually - in that middle ground of jealous but also chill af, he will only really become jelly if you’re flirting with someone else, but if they’re flirting with you he does not care unless you’re uncomfortable

Sniper: - simultaneously the most chill and anxiety ridden person on earth, the way he can go from 1 - 100 in five seconds should be studied - it takes him a VERY long time to actually warm up to you, let alone DATE you, so be wary that you’re in it for the long haul if you want this man - the first 6 months of dating are torturous for the both of you, he is far too nervous to touch you and instead of telling you this he will literally just ignore you, but once you start being physical he is one of the most touchy mercs - you will have to be the initiator in most situations until he becomes more comfortable with affection, this man has spent most of his adult life in a van isolated from society so its no kidding that he would be awkward with you (even though he adores you) - “love, babe, darling, honey” generic nicknames, if he’s feeling more comfortable he’ll use “sweetheart” or “roo” if you’re getting on his nerves - he doesn’t do dates. like sorry to burst your bubble but he would consider eating dinner together in his van or even just having a bath together a date - extremely jealous but will never admit it and it is VERY obvious. this could be said for most of his feelings though and reassurance is all he really needs - will spy on you using the scope on his gun during battles, killing enemies who might try to sneak up on you <3

Spy: - spy is by far the MOST romantic merc out of the bunch, will take you out on date nights every week, intimacy regularly, affectionate both in private and public, etc he is the dream - in saying that he is also a player, he needs a partner who can keep him feeling fresh, and someone who is just as cunning as he is - will intentionally try to make you jealous in order to get a gauge on the kind of person you are. he is entirely mind games babe and will play it off as if he doesn’t care about other people trying to flirt with you (he wants to kill them with his bare hands) - he is either going to be obsessed with you or mildly attached, there is no in between and it will be strikingly obvious which it is - often refers to you as “mon amour (my love), beau/belle (handsome/beautiful), mon bébé (my baby)” - most likely enemies to lovers, if you’re good at your job he sees you as competition, if you’re not he sees you as a nuisance, either way you’re initially a problem to him - but then he starts to wonder: why can’t he stop thinking about your skin? and the way you say his name? and the way you bashed that sniper’s brains out? he is smitten without even realising it - occasionally cloaks and follows you around to keep you safe from enemies, but mostly sticks to trying to win the match

Miss Pauling: - if you thought engie or medic were bad you have NO idea with pauling, she quite literally has one day off a YEAR - and you bet your ass she is spending it in bed all day cuddling with you - doesn’t use pet names, she’ll either call you by your last name, or some nickname variation of your first name. she called you “babe” once and cringed so hard she couldn’t even look at you - as much as she doesn’t want to put you in any danger, she LOVES bringing you along for missions. she gets to finish earlier and spend time with you, its a win-win situation - coming home from work and eating dinner with you is the highlight of her day, she could be completely exhausted and yet you bring life back into her with just a smile - yes you had to “fight” scout for her and there was absolutely no competition, he didn’t even know you two were together until she rolled her eyes and kissed you in front of him (he was surprisingly supportive) - she’s far too busy to be jealous, if someone was flirting with you she wouldn’t even notice until it escalated and the person was on the floor with you standing over them triumphantly - she dreams about being able to go on museum dates with you one day, but for now bubble baths, dinners, and morning kisses are all you both get <\3

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 demoman #tf2 heavy #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #miss pauling #tf2 miss pauling #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 imagines #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #jermer10

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slayfics · 7 months

Note

Hey again! I've returned with another fanfic request :D

So, I've been rewatching mha, and I got to the kidnapping part, and that got me thinking for fic ideas!

The reader ended up getting kidnapped by the league (along with bakugo), and the rescue team went after them (all like in the anime). Could you do shoto's reaction to all of that and the Aftermath once they're all living in the dorms? It could be really sweet and fluffy with a little bit of angst (flashbacks from shoto's pov??)

I've said this before, and I'll say it again, I adore all of your work, and I will support you till the day I die!!

Shoto rescues you from the League of Villains.

Shoto sat on the train, his mind haunted by the last time he saw you. The League of Villains had kidnapped you along with Katuski, your face was painted with terror when they pulled you into the wrap gate. The rest of your classmates being unable to reach you or Katsuki in time.

"Hey man, don't look so worried. We will get them back." Eijiro spoke, sitting next to Shoto on the train. A few of your classmates had devised a plan to sneak out and try to rescue you and Katsuki.

"I know we'll try our best," Shoto said, looking out the window of the train, his expression reflected in the window giving Eijiro a mirrored image of his distress.

"I'm sure they are doing fine, they are tough. Plus Bakugo's there too and you know firsthand how strong he is," Eijiro said, still trying to soothe Shoto.

However, at Bakugo's name, Shoto's face gave a wince.

"Yeah," he replied.

Eijro's face fell a bit realizing he wasn't helping much at easing his friend's worries. The only thing stopping him from trying again was Momo going over a rescue plan with everyone on the train.

Shoto and the other students who had come on the secret rescue mission followed Momo's proposed plan. Even as far as disguising themselves in ridiculous outfits. Momo's plan included following her tracker that she had placed on one of the villains to check out and see if you or Katsuki were there or any other information leading to your whereabouts.

Following Momo's tracker had led them to a building just outside of town. Eijiro had come prepared with night vision goggles, allowing them all to get a better look inside the building. However, this only revealed the location of several stowed Nomo. You and Katsuki were nowhere in sight.

The next occurrence left all of your classmates shaking and paralyzed with fear. The villain All For One appeared just meters away from where everyone was hiding. Soon followed by the other League of Villains members, Katsuki, and you.

Not soon after All Might had appeared on the scene and began battling with All For One. Shoto and the rest of the classmates that came were frozen with fear, unable to move. While each of them knew something had to be done, it was unclear as to what.

Seeing Shoto's visceral reaction and instinctive drive to go to you, Tenya grabbed his arm and held him back. Tenya knew it was too dangerous to move in without a plan. Luckily Midoriya, like always, devised a plan that allowed for him, Eijiro, and Tenya to make it across the battlefield and rescue Katuki. This distraction leaving the villain dumbfounded watching their escape through the sky gave Shoto the perfect opening to call for you.

Stunned at seeing your classmates fly through the sky like a shooting star giving Katskui an escape, you almost missed Shoto calling for you to join him and Momo down the alleyway.

You ran to him quickly once you realized.

"This way!" Shoto yelled at you.

You ran to him and Shoto roughly grabbed your wrist, pulling you to run. The three of you ran until you were sure you were far enough away from the villains. You all stopped at the commotion in town watching the news broadcast of the fight. Your adrenaline began to run off after you were safe and you looked down to realize Shoto was still holding onto your wrist.

"Oh sorry," he said, noticing and letting go. A blush might have made its way to your face if you weren't so overwhelmed with the situation.

The rest of the events went by in a blur. Now you found yourself carrying your belongings inside the UA common room seeing the news broadcast replay in your mind. You all watched All Might take down One For All on the news broadcast in town that night before making it back to your homes safely. A few days later Aizawa made an appearance at your home proposing all the students move into dorms to keep them safe.

It took some convincing but you finally were here moving your things to your dorm room.

"That looks heavy, do you want help?" You heard a voice call. You turned around to see Shoto placing his own belongings on the floor.

"Uh sure," You responded, and Shoto picked up your oversized box of belongings. "Lead the way."

You walked with Shoto to the elevator pressing your floor level on the elevator.

"How have you been fleeing?" He asked as the elevator started its ascent.

"Ok, happy to be here at UA again," You said trying to keep a joyful smile. The truth was you had been having nightmares every night about the incident.

"Well, I'm happy you are safe and in good health," He responded.

The elevator door opened and you both stepped out as you led Shoto to your dorm.

"It's this one," You said, opening the door.

"If there are any other heavy boxes don't be afraid to come get me," He said, dropping the box on the floor.

"Thank you, I appreciate it... and um... thank you for coming to rescue me that night. I never did get a chance to tell you that," You replied.

"Of course, I was only able to because of Yaoyorozu. Back at the summer camp, she placed a tracker on one of the villains," Shoto explained.

"Oh," You exclaimed, feeling our stomach turn a bit at the sound of Shoto mentioning her name. "I'll be sure to thank her too," You said looking at the floor.

Shoto nodded, "You have been doing okay since then though? I know that must have been pretty traumatic being being kidnapped by villains," Shoto said, a worried expression plaguing his face.

"I'm fine, don't worry. Besides, it was hard to be scared with all of Bakugo's yelling about how he was going to murder every last one of them," You laughed and tried to brush off Shoto's concern.

Shoto having his own reaction to you mentioning Katsuki averted his gaze from you, "Right... well, let me know if you need any more help." He said as he made his way out of your room.

"Todoroki wait!" You called as he stepped into the hallway. Shoto turned back around with a curious look on his face.

"Um.. thank you again," You nervously spat out as you hurriedly stepped forward to wrap your arms around him bringing him into a hug. Your face buried in Shoto's chest kept you from seeing the bright red shade his face turned as he awkwardly wrapped his arms around you for just a moment before pulling away.

"Of course," he responded, voice deviating ever so silently from his usual cool tone. "Good luck with the rest of moving, don't over-exert yourself." He said as a soft smile spread on his lips before he swiftly exited unsure of how to process your sudden affection.

Thank you for the request and your continued support! My first time writing for Shoto- I tried to do my best! I hope you enjoy it~

Tags~

@unofficialmuilover

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eywathemother · 1 year

Text

Fish Lips; Introduction

Ship: Aonung x Kiri's twin sister!Reader

This is a series.

Warnings: Language, bullying, gore, fighting, talk of war, injury and blood, slow burn, enemies to lovers (not really a warning just some people don't like that trope), death of (a) character(s), not proofread

Words: 1,840

Keys: (y/n) = your name,,(y/i/n) = your Ikran's name,, Neural Queue= the braid extension of a Na'vi's nervous system that allows them to link up to animals and Ewya,,

Chapters; Introduction || Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 || Part 10 ||

Spoilers for Avatar: The Way of Water A whole ass lot.

Please don't make fun of my horrid translation of Na'vi from the movie... I'm not sure if i am 100%, It's so hard as a beginner in Na'vi to figure out the right translation so hopefully I made it grammatically correct or else I'm severely embarrassed. I know I got English and asshole right but that's about it lol.

" We're so toast." You whispered allowed, more to yourself than anyone else. Lo'ak didn't like that and sent you a side glare." Shut up, (y/n)." You rolled your eyes at him with a scoff and turned your head back to the dream walkers. They were wearing military clothing and carried heavy weapons." This is your fault though; you shouldn't have followed those tracks." You grumbled.

Kiri, your sister looked towards you with a glance of agreement. He scoffed but ignored you, keeping his eyes trained on the people.

" Dad's going to ground you." Kiri whispered and Lo'ak rolled his eyes." Stop." Kiri eyed him amusedly at his aggravation. " For life." She continued to tease." Kiri, stop." He said a bit louder.

"Sh, what if they hear us because your loud ass doesn't want to shut up." You hissed and Lo'ak quietly mocked you. Spider and Lo'ak began to whisper about the battlefield, and you just rolled your eyes.

" I gotta call this in." Lo'ak suggested and Spider's eyes widened." No don't we're gonna get in trouble." Spider whispered and he wasn't wrong. Especially you and Lo'ak considering what happened during the raid a few days earlier.

You weren't even technically supposed to be out, being grounded and stuck with your grandmother until your ankle healed. During the raid while you and Neteyam were trying to get Lo'ak off the ground and back to spotting the gunships came in. When running away an explosion that knocked all of you down caused a rock to land on your ankle. Luckily it wasn't heavily but it left bruising and swelling of your ankle.

It hurt to put too much pressure on it, but you didn't want to be stuck to your grandmother's side for weeks." Listen, let's just go. Tuk shouldn't be here anyways." You whispered, rubbing Tuk's arm who looked a bit worried.

Lo'ak took this into consideration and nodded his head once." Let's go." You all turned around and began to move further back into the forest as quietly as you could. Lo'ak began to inform your father as you and Kiri put in your ear piece. You all stopped and huddled down while Lo'ak informed your father.

"What's your provenance?" Jake asked and Lo'ak and Spider glanced at each other while your rubbed Tuk's shoulder. Tuk was mostly worried about getting in trouble, but you had anxiety of the possibility of your guys escape souring.

" Uhh, we're at the old shack." Lo'ak said, glancing at Spider who shook his head.

"Who's we?" Jake asked and Lo'ak hesitantly spoke everyone's names. Jake began to give instructions and soon you were heading out of the area in a hurry.

" We're going to be in so much trouble." Kiri hissed at Lo'ak and Tuk who was in front turned around." It's almost eclipse come on!" When she turned back around one of the soldiers from before popped out and grabbed Tuk.

She let out a scream and almost immediately you all grabbed your weapons and started hissing at them. In a few seconds you were surrounded by a whole squad. You began to drop your weapons as they screamed at you to do so.

A soldier came around, grabbing you roughly and pulling your Neural Queue. you let out a yell and hissed at the guy pulling your braid. It only made him pull harder and he kicked the back of your knees bringing you down to the ground.

The one holding down Kiri grabbed her hands and almost looked happy to see that she had five fingers." Colonel, four fingers. We got a Halfbreed."

He glanced at Kiri and her fingers before moving to Lo'ak, demanding him to show his fingers. Lo'ak being Lo'ak showed them but decided to flip him off while doing so.

The guy chuckled." You're his. Aren't you?" Lo'ak responded with a hiss but that only seemed to confirm this guy's question." You're his alright."

He grabbed Lo'ak's braid, pulling him up to his feet as Lo'ak cried out in pain." Where is he?" At first he didn't answer but Colonel pulled his braid again." Ngaytxoa (I'm struggling with the translation on this part) 'ìnglìsì...ne vonvä (Sorry, I don't speak English to assholes)."

Colonel tugged again." Peseng ngeya sempul(Where is your father?)?" He tugged harder this time, making Lo'ak scream. He held his ground though, hissing at Colonel.

"Really you wanna play it this way?" Colonel took out his knife, leaning it towards Lo'ak's neck.

"Ftang(stop)!!" You shouted, Kiri crying out as well. Colonel stopped, throwing Lo'ak down. He turned walking towards Kiri." Kehe(no)!" You shouted pulling against the mans grips.

"Kehe, no, stop!" Lo'ak shouted miserably failing to get up and intervene only to be held by his braid once more. "Stop! Don't touch her!" Spider shouted, trying to pull from his captures grip. Colonel stopped in front of Spider, like he knew him." Please don't hurt her please." Lo'ak pleaded behind him.

"Whats your name, kid?" Quaritch asked and Spider glared at him." Spider. Socorro." He answered and something seemed to click in the man's mind because a small smile appeared on his face." Miles?" Spider shook his head a bit." Nobody calls me that."

'Is this man somehow related to Spider?' You thought as you watched the weird exchange between them." Well I'll be damned. I thought they sent you back to Earth."

"You can't put babies in Cryo dipshit." Spider responded and an uncomfortable silence fell in the air. Finally Colonel stood up." What are we doing boss?" The one holding Spider asked, as Colonel pushed his communicator on." Iron sky blue unactual."

"We're standing by for extract." he responded." We are bringing in high value prisoners." You all began to be moved and Kiri tugged and pulled." Let us go." The one holding her yanked her back." Shut up."

They moved you all and sat you down, tugging and barking 'shut ups' when any of you spoke. As you struggled against your capture a video of what sounded like Jake and the guy standing as boss played.

As the sky began to turn to Eclipse, they gathered you in a line. Waiting for something, you assumed was your father. It began to rain as you all waited, listening intently for any signs of your mother or father.

Then you heard your mothers calling, ears perking up you waited for your time to move. Kiri mumbled comforts of her own under her breathe, the soldier holding her eventually got tired of it. Yanking her head down he aggressively told her to shut up.

An arrow hit his head only a few seconds after. As they started shooting you took your chance. Moving your hands upwards you grabbed the man's arm, biting into it enough to draw blood. He screamed and when he let go you took your chance.

Following Tuk you ran as fast as you could, Lo'ak helping you over the log towards the escape route. You weren't fast enough and your braid was soon yanked back. Falling backwards you landed next to one of the soldiers. He grabbed your knife he had been holding onto and put it to your throat.

" You listen here, I-" But before he could finish an arrow went into his head. You felt a sting on the bottom left side of your neck, but you paid no mind and began to run to where Lo'ak and Tuk disappeared. You caught up to Lo'ak and Tuk who were stopped with the rest of your family.

"(y/n)!" Jake called out. He ran over, reaching his arms out as you held your neck." They got me a bit." You huffed, and he removed your hand from your neck. Neytiri came over, analyzing the cut. It wasn't deep but you were losing blood. He put your hand on it." Keep pressure on it. Don't move your hand." He rushed you to his Ikran, helping you up and immediately flying off as everyone else followed quickly.

You knelt next to Kiri who was listening next to your Marui, Tuk had her head down peaking inside. Your wound had been stitched up and bandaged and they finally let you go after an hour of monitoring you. You were a bit pale from some blood loss and they recommended to take it easy. Lo'ak and Neteyam had stay next to you the entire time, taking peaks at your wound and either making teasing comments or talking about a cool scar forming.

" What's going on?" Neteyam asked as they both came and squatted where you guys were. Kiri immediately silenced them, and you all began to listen to their conversation.

" I cannot, you cannot ask this." Neytiri stated, and you heard her move." I cannot leave my people." She set something down." I will not." She defied.

"He's hunting us." Your father replied, and your ears went back as you listened." He's targeting our family." He sounded so tired, and it made you feel bad for making him worry today." You cannot ask this!" Neytiri yelled at him." The children, everything they've ever known, the forest. This is our home!" She screamed at him.

" He had our children. He had them under his knife." A small silence passed." We got lucky (y/n)'s neck wasn't cut any higher, she could've died!" he huffed, and a tense silence broke out between them. You stared straight ahead but you could feel the glances from your sisters and brothers.

Your mother sighed, a few seconds later you could hear her pick up something." My father gave me this bow, as he lay dying! And he said protect the people." She said a bit more quietly." You're Toruk Makto!"

" This will protect the people!" His voice was sounding more agitated the more he had to explain." Quaritch has Spider, that kid knows everything!"

You glanced at your siblings, all of you sharing a look before going back to listening. " He knows our whole operation! He could lead them right in here!"

" If the people harbor us, they will die." You knitted your eyebrows together, hating that your father was telling truths. " Do you understand?"

Another silence fell and you could hear your mothers' huffs of emotion, distraught by the thought of leaving her people behind." Look I got nothing, I got no plan." Your father admitted." But I can protect this family, that I can do."

You knew what this meant, this meant you were leaving your home. Kiri rubbed your shoulder in comfort, and you grabbed her hand in silent thanks.

You could hear your mother begin to cry." But I know one thing." He paused." Wherever we go, this family is our fortress." You looked at your siblings and you all snuck away quietly to go to a spot and talk about what you just heard.

Later that night they had brought you into the Marui to tell you the news you were expecting. You were leaving your home, to go far away, to protect the people and your family. You were upset, beyond upset really, and you knew everyone else was too.

You didn't get much sleep last night, thinking about how you will most likely never get to see your friends, or call the Omaticayan clan your people ever again.

#avatar x reader #avatar the way of water #avatar #aonung x reader #aonung #atwow x reader #aonung x you

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lixiesbrowniess · 1 year

Text

Omaticaya

Word count: 1,6k

“SYNOPSIS”

Since your parents died you always spent time with the Sullys. You used to babysit Tuk when Jake and Neytiri wanted to stay alone a bit, you were really close to the sully siblings and approximately you were the same age as Neteyam. When they decide to leave and go to the Metkayina people you were asked if you wanted to go. Obviously you decided to follow them you really were too close to them to let them go without you.

“RELATIONSHIPS”

With the Omaticaya clan

Neteyam: you two are really close since you started living with them. You always talked about your problems and helped each other. You used to go hunting together on your Ikrans and always getting into trouble because of Lo'ak. One time you were hunting and saw Neteyam and Lo'ak chatting while sitting on the branch of a tree not much high. You silently approached them flying on your Ikran, you let yourself slip under your ikrans stomach and pulled at their braid while flying over them.

Lo'ak: he's not a crackhead. But you loved spending time with him, it was so funny and even a bit revitalizing. You always are by his side when he feels down or during his punishments. One time he was getting scolded by Jake because he was about to fall on the battlefield almost getting shot. You were right next to him, as soon as Jake let him go you immediately started laughing and soon he started too.

Kiri: you two used to spend time together talking about Eiwa and to admire the beauty of nature. Usually you ended up discovering really fascinating plants and sitting there to admire it. Once you two found a really bizzarre plant and you two got closer to it the suddenly it started to fly away but Kiri's hair got stuck in it and she started to fly away. Thankfully you were able to pull her back down.

Tuk: she was like your little child. Since you used to babysit her she loved you. She wished to stay with you forever and you melted when she told you that. Once you two were playing hide and seek and you knew exactly where she was. You acted like you didn't but then you lifted her in your arms and started tickling her. Neteyam was secretly watching and he giggled at you two.

With the Metkayina clan

Ao'nung: you hated him. For real, you didn't like him. Still you couldn't help to find him intriguing... All right maybe just a bit good-looking. But he was an ass so you tried not to look at him too much. When you first arrived to the Metkayina people you two had eye contact like at least three times but you always looked away first. One time while him and his sister were teaching you how to ride Ilus he caught you looking at his hands so during swimming lessons he would pull at your tail earning a growl every time.

Tsireya: you girls became comfy with each other real quick. She was always happy to see your development while learning who to breath and she would shower you with compliments. Once you two where going around during the eclipse and ended up in finding Rotxo and Ao'nung underwater literally n4ked so you two quickly run off careful that they don't notice you. You kinda laughed about it but you still couldn't elaborate it.

Rotxo: boy was really funny but still a bitch when he was with Ao'nung. When he was alone with Tsireya teaching you guys the way of water he was making you laugh genuinely. One time you, him and Neteyam were swimming while Tsireya was explaining something of the gestures language and Rotxo silently did a funny face you three started laughing almost drowning cause you forgot you were underwater.

A month already passed since the day you arrived at the Metkayina village. You were almost fully adapted to the way of water and now you guys could even fulfill some tasks but always accompanied by Tsireya, Ao'nung or Rotxo.

“you have your free time today” Ao'nung said while you were still helping him and Rotxo with their tasks.

“really?!?” you turned to him quickly and staring at him waiting for a response.

“no, i was just joking” he said after looking at you.

You raised your eyebrow and sighed looking away from his gaze. “Ha. Ha. very funny fish lips”

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow looking at you with that hateful smile. “oh? So you often look at my lips?”

You turned giving him a 'wth!?' look and threw him the first thing that happened to be in your hands.

“damn why are you so pissed about that” he asked jokingly still smirking at you.

You threw something that looked like a little jar which he dodged at the last second after continuing.

“oh don't worry no one has to know that. You can look how much you want” he grinned even wider [if it's even possible]

You finally succeed to hit him straight to his face. with something, but soon you realized it was just a piece of cloth as he was still smiling at you.

“woah chill, chill!” Rotxo said making you stop and turn to him.

“he's just teasing you Y/n, you can go” he said laughing a bit.

“thanks Rotxo.” you marked the last word glaring at Ao'nung who, on the other hand, just grinned at you wider watching you go away and chuckling seeing you tail wriggle nervously.

So, recapping, today was your free day and you decided to spend it with the Sullys.

“Y/NNN” you heard Tuk scream before running to you. She jumped in your arms happily.

“look who's here mhm?” you said smiling at the little girl. “i see you” a voice said from the marui. You look to the owner before smiling and greeting him back.

“You've been pretty busy these days” Neteyam said before picking Tuk from your arms.

“Yeah Ao'nung really exploited me” you said rolling your eyes.

“well at least you didn't have to spend ALL your day with that asshole like i did” you hear Lo'ak sigh.

“and i still can't punch him in the face” he continued

You rolled your eyes as Lo'ak sighed again. “we all know how he is” you said chuckling.

You patted his head sitting between him and Neteyam who was tickling Tuk making her scream in happiness while trying to get off his grasp.

You could feel that Lo'ak wasn't really in a good mood and you wanted to make him laugh a bit.

Out of nowhere you headlocked Lo'ak, who almost got an heart attack, and you laughed as you two fell to the ground.

“you give up??” you asked smiling wide. “oh- you think you can get me that easil--” he tried to free himself failing as you used your legs to trap him even more.

“c'mon guys. You really can't stay quiet for a second” Neteyam said chuckling and shaking his head.

“this is the first thing i see when I get home on my free day? Seriously?” you and Lo'ak turned your face to look at the voice.

"i see you, Kiri” you said still not willing to let go. Lo'ak, on his side, waved at her before going back to trying to broke your headlock.

When Jake and Neytiri came back as well you decided to let Lo'ak free as he finally sighed getting up crossing his legs.

You guys had dinner together before you then headed to sleep.

You opened your eyes as you felt something moving outside the marui and you carefully got up and headed out just to find Neteyam moving his feet in the water while looking at the horizon.

“hey 'Tey” you said sitting next to him. “Hey” he answered a bit dully.

You two just stared at the stars and listening to the sea breaking between the rocks without saying anything.

He the bole the silence with a question. "Do you miss the forest Y/n?” you turned to look at him.

He was still looking up to the sky as he looked a bit hurt.

You sighed and turned to the sky again “yes. I do.” you said “i miss our home and the times when we used to hunt together...”

He looked at you “you think we'll be able to go back?” he asked

You turned to him again “honestly? No, i don't think so... But i know that slowly we'll get used to this” you answered looking at the surroundings.

He moved fast and hugged you. You blinked a bit before hugging back. “don't worry 'Tey, you'll see we'll be happy again soon.”

After a bit you two got up. “c'mon let's go to sleep” you said as you two headed back into the marui.

You laid next to each other and slowly fell asleep.

The morning...

“y/n” you heard a voice calling you while you were still asleep.

“five more minutes...” you murmured half asleep

“Y/N GET UP YOU'LL BE LATE!”

You're eyes shot open as you looked at the familiar face looking at you.

“Re'ya what happened??” you asked blinking not fully awake.

“My father asked to see you he has a proposal for your tasks” she said still shaking you by your shoulders.

You blinked even more at that and tried to elaborate what was being told.

“you can do you usual tasks but if you accept you can do some new tasks but i don't know what he'll propose to you.”

You finally stood up as you thought about it. Maybe something new would've been fun.

Meet the Olo'eyktan or continue your tasks

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#avatar twow #avatar the way of water #aonung x reader #aonung #avatar rotxo #rotxo x reader #tuk sully #neteyam x reader #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak sully #neteyam sully

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katealot-writes · 8 months

Text

Will Solace is so strong.

This is the thought that floats through Nico’s head as he watches the infirmary staff make trips to and from the Big House carrying box after box of replenishing supplies.

He sits by the hearth, absentmindedly dragging the tip of his sword through the dirt in lazy figure eights as he voyeurs.

Will pushes the door open with his foot and pauses to shift the position of the box in his arms. His face scrunches up in brief concentration and his shoulders and biceps flex beneath his Camp Half-Blood tank top, jostling the parcel into a more amicable position.

Nico tried to pull from his subconscious any recollection of what those arms felt like on the not insignificant amount of occasions where he was carried toward that very same building they were making deliveries to. Sadly, though, he came up only with dream-like imaginings. It was unfair, really, for the amount of passing out Nico had done in Will’s arms, that he couldn’t remember what they felt like wrapped around him, chords of muscles taught beneath freckled skin.

Once Will has a better grip, he steps farther out of the doorway and turns to hold the door open with his back, allowing Paolo to pass by carrying two much smaller boxes.

And considerate, Nico thinks.

His eyes follow the demigods as they make another trip down the steps of the Big House and across the courtyard to the wooden shack where Will and the other camp medics work. Nico can see Will’s calves peeking out beneath his eternal cargo shorts, tensed and defined with years of literally running around battlefields healing campers.

Will laughs at something Paolo says to him and Nico’s feels a fluttering in his chest.

Will has the most drop-dead gorgeous smile Nico’s ever seen…

“You’re staring.”

Nico almost jumps out of his skin, his grip on his sword tightening instinctively as his head snaps around to whomever had caught him.

Drew from cabin 10 was smirking at him with her arms crossed. His face burned.

“No judgement,” she said, glancing up as the boys emerged once more from the infirmary, “Paolo looks hot with his hair up like that.”

Nico isn’t sure what to say, but words tumble out of his mouth regardless.

“I wasn’t staring at Paolo,” Nico half-confessed before he bit his own tongue, cutting himself off.

Drew looked back to him, and again smirked knowingly.

“I know,” she said.

Then, she simply turned and walked away again, swishing her hips the whole way she went.

Nico could still feel the heat in his face and he glared daggers into the ground where the impression of his blade had made a small gash in the dirt and in a small radius around it, surrounding greenery was not longer green.

Nico pulled his blade out and tried pushing some dirt into the hole with his foot. After what felt like a discreet enough amount of time, he allowed his gaze to wander back up. He saw Paolo making his way empty-handed to the infirmary and Will standing at the base of the stairs, a sagging plastic bag in each hand. He listened intently to Chiron, who’s equine lower half was tucked away into his wheelchair today as he sat at the top of the stairs on the porch.

The way Will was oriented, the sun that bled through the trees got caught in his hair, illuminating the blond curls so it appeared as though his face was framed in literal gold. Beads of sweat glistened on his bronze-colored shoulders and at the base of his neck, tanned beautifully by the summer rays.

Will finished his discussion with Chiron and was making a final trip back across the courtyard. He started whistling a tune as he walked, and it carried on the air, traveling farther than Nico thought was probably naturally possible, and ringing out clearly down the valley so that campers milling about slowed and relaxed as they listened to the melody.

Will was maybe the most effortlessly beautiful demigod at camp, Nico concluded with an involuntary sigh.

Will, with his calves like carved marble, lean, muscular arms peppered with freckles that seemed to multiply the longer the summer dragged on. His golden hair and his perpetual goofy grin and his laughing eyes, so blue you felt like you were falling into a cloudless sky.

Eyes that were looking directly at him.

Oh Styx, Nico thought, he’s looking right at me.

Nico’s posture straightened and he looked pointedly away from Will and very inconspicuously at the dining pavilion, then the sky, then the ground. His face burned as an embarrassed blush crept back up his cheeks.

…But even though he had just been caught so obviously gawking, he couldn’t help but chance one last look toward the boy.

Relief (and a twinge of something he couldn’t quite name) flooded Nico’s body when he saw Will was no longer looking at him, simply looking in the direction he was walking. Nico let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

Will arrived at the entrance to the wooden shack and, with no free hands, kicked the bottom of the door in a rhythmic knock. He stood for a few seconds longer before someone pushed the door open from the inside. Will caught the edge of the door with his ankle, exposed and prominently on display in his signature flip-flops, and pushed it fully open to head inside.

Not before, however, looking over his shoulder and locking eyes with the son of Hades.

Nico almost looked away, but he faltered when he saw the smile that broke out across his face. Like they were now both in on a shared secret. To cement the fact that he was now also staring, Will winked.

Nico felt like he was short circuiting, and he saw rather than heard Will laughing to himself, his shoulders bouncing gently before he disappeared into the building at last.

Oh my gods, Nico thought, Will Solace just saw me staring at him.

Then- almost laughing himself now,

And he stared back.

#solangelo #katealot writes #nico di angelo #will solace #might put this on ao3 if the reception is any good

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insult-2-injury · 1 year

Text

Debts Repaid

Dan Heng x F!Reader

When a stubborn Dan Heng is injured in battle, you insist upon healing him. He's never liked debts, but being beholden to you wouldn't be the worst thing, he thinks. Not when there are so many ways to balance the scales.

AO3 Link, 4k, fingering, cock warming, dirty talk, p in v, light pain kink

~~~~~~~~

“You’re hurt.”

“Nothing to worry about.”

“I knew it!”

“Move aside, please.”

Despite the inherent lack of sincerity in his ‘please’, you allow Dan Heng to finally slip past your wide-armed defensive stance and into the safety of his bedroom.

“I knew it,” you repeat, following him inside without much forethought. “I knew you’d been hurt the second you vanished after that fight. You act all humble and weird when you’re in pain. Let me see it.”

The tight-laced man, forever stoic, sighs and your existence seems to be well… nonexistent as he goes about his business as if you aren’t trailing him like a fly buzzing over his shoulder. Nothing new, really. The duality of Dan Heng is that regardless of his short, but not infrequent check-in texts when the two of you are separated, he avoids you on the Express like you’ve got some disease he’s reluctant to contract.

It’s just that you’re a healer. Your job in and out of combat is solely to make sure everyone stays alive and well, and if you can minimize unnecessary discomforts, well, it’s in your nature to do so. There’s just one person who complicates things. But Dan Heng and you have always had each other’s backs on the battlefield, so it should stand to reason that you should have each other’s backs in the more civil, quiet corners of the cosmos as well.

“Come on, let me help. Then I’ll leave, I promise.”

His eyes narrow over his shoulder. “I hear March calling for you.”

“Filthy liar. Where did you hurt yourself?”

“There she is again.”

You glower at the back of his head. “Oh, you’re a comedian, too, huh.”

“Something like that,” he says, forever impassive as he puts his things away with a well-hidden stiffness that belies the pain you can sense he truly feels.

“Fine, you want to go old-fashioned? Be that way.” When he predictably fails to provide the location of a first aid kit, you take it upon yourself to rummage through his lower cupboards.

He’s terrible at tolerating help, like he’s been hard-trained into an accepting solitude. And when he denies you, it’s automatic, a spring release that holds the cold weight of indifference. But you’ve seen him throw himself into the fray when your wellbeing is at stake.

Dan Heng cares in his own ways.

Your fingers find the handle of a first aid kit.

“A-ha.”

“I said it was nothing to worry about,” a frigid voice says and you nearly leap out of your skin at how quickly he’s moved to stand behind you, the top of your head banging against a cabinet shelf hard as you swing to meet his downward gaze.

“It’s not nothing,” you grit out, rubbing the top of your scalp. “I saw you trying to hold your shit together, saw you make a break for the hallway the moment we got back. You’re stupidly stubborn, you know that? Stop saying it’s nothing.”

A strange bout of nerves creeps in as you scowl up at his towering form from where you kneel – the signature, flat, unamused slant of his lips, the glacial gray of his eyes not leaving yours.

His gaze narrows almost accusingly and, with an aching slowness, the tips of his fingers extend to graze the crown of your head. Not patting in condescension, not running through the strands there as you might have liked, just resting there at first, warming the top of your head. Until he draws those fingers together, clutches a small handful before releasing, measuring your reaction as he roots around the depths of your wide-eyed, questioning stare; seems to come to some conclusion before he backs away silently.

Your jaw opens and shuts as your response speaks for itself, staying put for far too long to appear unphased, that same jittery feeling in the pit of your stomach as after a warp; except this time tainted with a sickening need to crawl beneath the spotlight of his gaze again. Perhaps nuzzle further into that strange contact. Never before has he touched you willingly; never without pulling away like it scalds.

With enough space to draw breath now, you leap to your feet, albeit on weaker legs. “So?”

“So what?” he says as if nothing has transpired, wincing as his clothes move against whatever wound is on his chest.

“Where is it, then?” You tip your chin up, determined now. “Your injury.”

He doesn’t reply, observing you, gaze steel and unflinching as he puzzles you out.

“I’m serious, Dan Heng, it’s why I’m on the Express in the first place. Unless you don’t trust my elemental process, which is totally fair. We can go another route, then, or I can go grab someone else. I just can’t in good conscience leave you here without at least knowing what shape you’re in.”

You trust him implicitly. Does it go both ways? Regardless, gone are the days you watch with an ache in your chest as he limps back to the Express with a tight-lipped grimace to tend to his own wounds. The crew says it’s fruitless, that he’s like an oyster snapping shut the moment you so much as look in its direction. Cold, dark, and mysterious, he might be. Impenetrable, he is not.

There are few things in life as hard as cracking through the exterior of the man standing before you, and few things that would be more satisfying. Dan Heng, you think, is an oyster worth cracking. And sometimes to crack the shell of a particularly tough one, you can’t ask permission.

“Your elemental process is sound, and you’ve never, to my knowledge, produced less than desirable results. You are highly capable,” he responds flatly after a time. “But I don’t care to be in the debt of others.”

“Enough of that talk. You won’t be in my debt.” You wave off his foolishness, feeling your cheeks heat, throat tighten a little at the compliment, however oddly phrased. “Do we need to draft up a legal document, something that will hold up in court? Or maybe Welt can tally up our debts, lord knows he’s looking for something to do.”

It is a victory when a tiny, amused huff punches from between his lips. “No,” he says after what feels like minutes, “no, that won’t be necessary.”

“Good. Besides, I don’t think Welt would approve of what we’re doing anyway,” you say before you realize how it sounds. Something flickers behind Dan Heng’s eyes. “I just mean talking silly debts.”

He nods, gives an acknowledging hum before turning away from you, allowing your heart to start beating again. “I suspect Welt would be too busy delighting in our collaboration to find much issue with talk of misplaced obligations.”

Dan Heng shrugs out of his jacket, movements stiff and jerky.

“I mean,” you blurt lamely, “if anything, I’d be in your debt. You’ve rescued my ass countless times.”

“Nonsense.”

You haven’t thought this far ahead, haven’t anticipated the inevitable intimacy of the situation. And it’s almost scandalous the way his black long sleeve shirt clings to his lean, athletic form – you should be feeling sorry for him, not eyeballing him like some degenerate.

Dan Heng tosses his coat carelessly over the back of his desk chair. “Debt can be easily mistaken for ownership.” You’re quickly losing your nerve, fire blazing across your skin as his fingers find the hem of his shirt. You turn away quickly.

He continues. “It has a tendency to… complicate things.” He clearly has no reservations about modesty – you can hear the struggle as he draws his shirt up over his abdomen, unsticking it with an agonized groan from the unseen injury you can only assume is on his chest. “I don’t intend to own you, although it wouldn’t be the worst thing. But maybe you’re right, it’s best if we mutually agree to balance the scales.”

The air is thin, suffocating, and you have no capacity to process his words, suddenly, their meaning much too big to untangle.

Your thoughts spin in a hopeless broken circuit; shit. What are your intentions here? Hadn’t they been purely to help? Oh, you’d be kidding yourself if you said you weren’t endlessly intrigued by Dan Heng but this… were you eager to settle a debt just as much as him?

The pad of approaching footsteps has you spinning on your heel.

Dan Heng, shirtless, clad in nothing but his black trousers now, the lean muscles of his hard chest on full display. He takes in your clear, doe-eyed trepidation with nothing but a sharp calculation.

But the weeping crimson across his left breast shatters the hyperawareness of his proximity. You gasp at the three ragged, parallel claw marks, each about the length of a forefinger.

“I’ll be fine, my body heals quicker than most.”

“Doesn’t matter if this gets infected,” you exclaim. “You’re so frustrating. I’m going to heal you and then I swear I’ll pummel you right over again.”

He hums.

“You should’ve come to me,” you scold, too absorbed in concern to consider how close you are to him. “How were you even going to fix it at this angle, huh? Sort of just look in the mirror and hope for the best? You can’t do this again, Dan Heng.”

You don’t wait for a smart remark, pointing to the space where his bed meets the cherry paneled wall. “Go sit, I’ll grab a washcloth. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

At least he follows your instructions, albeit with an inclement downturn of his lips as you aid in propping him against the wall, grabbing a pillow for his head. He seems inherently uncomfortable with the fussing but says nothing of it, and you care little as you settle in beside him. The wound leaks, not a terribly worrisome amount, but enough that there’s an urgency to your actions as you dab around the claw marks.

“I’m so mad you,” you say after a time, trying to distract yourself from the way his eyes haven’t left your face since you started. “For not taking better care of yourself. I get worried when you disappear like that, you know. I don’t even want to ask how many times you’ve handled all this by yourself.”

“It’s easier that way.”

“To be alone?” Your eyes meet his and the intensity of his stare has you swiping the cloth a little too close. A groan of pain catches in his throat.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to–”

You trail off. His face is contorted beautifully, like he’s lost in some kind of strange daze as his eyebrows furrow, like he’s concentrating on the feeling. You sit back on your heels with a tumultuous sigh. “I need to disinfect. It’s gone untreated long enough that I don’t want to take chances.”

His eyes slit open, roll over to yours with a sardonic tilt to his brow that says haven’t we already agreed to this

“It’s just… it’s going to sting. A lot. Obviously. But the rest is comparatively painless.”

You bite at the inside of your cheek and his eyes fall to the nervous tic, his pink tongue flitting out to lick at his bottom lip. With a nod, his hand slides to rest innocuously atop your knee as he settles back against the wall.

“I trust you.”

A lump climbs into your throat at the unexpected honesty of his words. It’s not only the bleeding heat of his palm that has you dizzy, it’s the weighted significance of what he’s just allowed to slip into the light. A trust you’d rather die than break.

You nod back, watch the rise and fall of his chest to steady your own. What would the rest of the crew think if they knew where you sat, thigh pressed hotly against Dan Heng’s? Your heart pulses in rhythm to whatever strange tension is bridled amidst the growing silence, his hand resting upon your knee like a comfortable promise.

Okay.”

Tentatively, you swipe across the first lesion. He goes rigid and the strangled groan that comes out of him doesn’t sound entirely like one of pain, you think, the noise reverberating up your spine and worming its way into the back of your brain.

You pause, allowing you both a breath, your palm sliding down his bicep and squeezing comfortingly, yet in the same instant, Dan Heng anchors his nails into your thigh. Hard.

You wait for him to unlatch from you, something anxious and excitable rising from the pit of your stomach. But he doesn’t release, his fingers scalding against the bare skin where your skirt has ridden up.

Whatever rationality you have left, you call upon it, legs squeezing together to assuage the flash of startling heat between them when his thumb swipes back and forth, like he’s the one comforting you. “Almost done,” you say, throat humiliatingly dry.

Not daring to meet the icy vortex of his gaze, you wet another cloth and clean him with quaking hands, pressing hard to remove the grit that has crusted around the wound. He jerks again, the lean muscles of his legs tensing against the sides of yours as his hips almost roll with the movement.

The silence is punctuated by your name, rasped out with an almost reverence, the tendons in his neck flexing as his head falls back against the wood. You stiffen in disbelief, and his hand goes back to kneading into the soft of your flesh.

“Do you need a… um. Do you need a break?” you breathe.

“No, keep going.”

The aching pulse between your legs acts as gravity, his palm drawing a little further up your leg, lethally close to breaching the point of no return. You balance on that tightrope, a single glance revealing fully the effect you’ve had, as well, his arousal pushing intently against the confines of his trousers.

Not trusting yourself to speak, you finish cleaning the wound, something shockingly perverse relishing in a small way the audible clench of his jaw, nails digging half moons into your flesh as he rides out the sensations. You shudder at the twitch of his hand, like he’s restraining himself from providing some sort of relief to the insistent need between his legs.

“Well,” you swallow, “all that’s left now is the easy part.”

Your eyes lift to his and a dangerous change ripples through him at whatever he finds there. Deliberately slow, as if not to spook you, he wriggles a palm between your thighs, prying them gently apart for better access, tracing delicately along your trembling skin.

“You c-can’t.”

“I can.” He slides to cup you between the legs.

The sudden, bleeding heat of the pressure of his entire palm cuts off your protest in an exhilarating rush. Your head lolls forward. Placating fingers move to drag across the flimsy cloth barrier between him and your cunt, pressing accusingly into the space you’re most wet for him with a satisfied hum.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asks softly.

“I just need to finish up h-healing, then we can–” Your tongue is too heavy to speak as he brushes lazy figure eights across the crotch of your panties, probing with a perfect pressure, solid yet tender, but not only for your benefit. He’s drawing pleasure from this, too, gaze mapping across your features like he can memorize every delectable crease at the corner of your eyes, every tiny flare of your nostrils as you utter vacuous objections.

“You are.” He nods grimly. “You said I should have come to you sooner. I wish I would have.”

“Just let me finish–” Fingers slide beneath sodden fabric to dip two fingers inside you with humiliating ease, a depraved squelch the only sound of your resistance shattering as your hips lurch to chase his touch.

“It’s a shame that I kept my infatuations with you in the dark for so long. I could’ve had you some time ago. Don’t be mad at me,” he insists and a torn whine releases from your throat. “Consider this recompense for the lost time.”

The position is slightly awkward and his pumps are shallow in turn, but you concede to shamelessly grinding against his palm. You think you should feel some terrible guilt in the way you’re being driven by baser impulses, even while his wounds still call to be tended to. But the concern lies deep beneath the high of watching the enraptured look on his face at your display.

Gently, he slithers his grasp beneath your thigh in order to lever your position up and over one of his legs.

“That better?” he asks, fingers finding a more comfortable home again between your legs, rolling in a perfect rhythm across your clit.

You nod mechanically.

“Good,” he hums low, “that's good.”

The subtle flush of his pale cheeks and his own labored breath as he gets off on the pleasure he’s giving you sends an exhilarating thrill down your spine, expanding until you’re drenching his fingers with a long, final whine.

“There you go.”

When your spasms dissolve into delicate flutters, Dan Heng drags his fingers from you. Mindlessly, you kick off your panties completely.

“I thought we weren’t talking debt anymore,” you catch your breath, heart slamming against your ribcage still.

“Consider us even.” He inhales deeply, letting out a long, cleansing sigh.

“I don’t think we’re even. Does that mean you own me?” Your eyes rise purposefully to meet his and there’s a long silence before he speaks, voice lower.

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

Debt is a scapegoat, you know, for the formidable pull between you. Deliberately unbalance the scales here and you’ll be inclined to return to each other for more. Not that you wouldn’t have anyway, but you realize this moment gives an excuse to provide an answer to the overarching question between you of what this was, what this could be. And you know you want more. It doesn’t stop at cracking his shell. You want Dan Heng.

“I need to heal you now,” you say and he just blinks at you. “Can you hold still?”

He searches your features before his head dips in a slow nod.

You reach down to pop open the top button of his pants, rewarded by the shaky sigh that fans across your face as he fully comprehends. You’re grateful he’d saved you the trouble earlier of removing his intimidating top layers. He doesn’t protest, settling back to watch with a hawklike precision.

You guide him out tenderly, his cock springing back against his belly, precum drooling, smearing across his skin. Aside from the gentle whirring of his database behind, the only sound is Dan Heng’s appreciative groan as you pump him twice, caging his legs between yours as you delight in the heated weight of him in your palm.

The still glistening fingers he’d used to pleasure you with he slides across the tip of himself in small circles, wiping you off there, gifting you the sight of him mixing you in with his own beading arousal.

One hand wrapping his base, the other bracing on the wall beside his head, you raise your hips to position him at the soaking wet heat of your entrance. Palms seize hold of your waist.

“I’m warning you now, if this is what you want…” he grates, tone taking on a darker edge. “I won’t spare you my compulsions any longer. I’ve wanted you too long to be satisfied with having you just the once.”

You smile at the admission, answer clear as your drenched folds envelop him with undue ease, the stretch exquisite as you bear down on him slowly, the both of you unable to do much more than share a shallow gasp. Dan Heng’s abdomen pulls deliciously taut as he’s taken inch by inch.

Your lips part, eyes flutter shut. There’s no going back, you agree. Not now that you’ve felt the needy throb of him inside you. “You’re going to have to hold still,” you repeat.

He pinches the hem of your shirt between thumb and forefinger. “Take this off.”

You smile, pull your top over your head, the movement jarring you atop him, tearing a hiss from between his teeth before he’s back on you. His greedy palms take the immediate liberty of exploring. sliding across your bare skin and you savor his focused infatuation for a moment before you gently tug his wrists away.

“Stay still,” you repeat. “I can’t very well patch you up if you’re moving all over the place.”

Dan Heng’s eyes darken on yours with a cold, severe impatience as he registers your intent with a tick of his jaw. He’d all but admitted earlier he likes his pain served hot; so he won’t mind you warming his cock while you put him back together, will he?

A long, calculating stare before he answers, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. “Of course.” His head falls back against the pillow, throat bobbing when you sit back to settle more comfortably onto his length, the ghost of a grimace upon his lips.

It’s a strange experience on both sides, the process of electro healing. Some say it’s an itchy, distressing sensation; some say it’s pleasant, the feeling of your skin knitting itself back together.

If you were to go by Dan Heng’s reactions, you’d say it’s the latter. Every bit of him is a live wire, tensed and vibrating as you guide your healing hands across each mark on his chest, electricity prickling and drawing stubborn skin back together. It’s a drawn out process, one that requires the touch of a patient hand in order to not leave behind scars.

It’s difficult work, made infinitely more so by the fixed state of tortured lust recycling between the both of you, stoking with each subtle shift of him inside you.

“You’re doing well,” you murmur softly, years worth of proper bedside manner taking hold.

His cock twitches at the praise, but otherwise he’s stone cold, jaw set, eyes seeming to fight in order to focus with a vicious intensity on the space you’re connected, like he’s tormenting himself with the sight.

“Almost done,” you whisper, a bandage weaving its way into existence as you trace your index in a rectangle around his wound. “There shouldn’t be pain, but some people say they feel a bit of a phantom itch around the area, so I like to bandage over it regard–”

A hand threads into your hair and the world spins as you’re flipped with impressive speed onto your back, your head hitting the soft of his pillow with a gasp. His palm wraps the front of your throat lightly, keeping your head effectively trapped within his frigid gaze, almost daring you to try and look away as his thumb seeks the support of your ratcheting pulse.

Dan Heng kicks his pants off the rest of the way, wasting no time shoving your skirt carelessly above your waist before spearing himself into you again, his pool of restraint run dry by your teasing. “I should keep you here for good. Never let you leave this room.” Your legs wrap his waist as he spears into your folds, hitting a spot again and again that has your toes curling.

His lips slam against yours, tongue pressing in to better devour your cracked whimpers. You’re going to pass out, you think, can’t even seem to draw a breath as he spirals atop you. He pulls back to lick across the seam of your mouth, groaning appreciatively. “I hope you had fun. I have my proclivities. But so do you.” He leans into your ear; soft, even voice a contrast to the way he fucks recklessly into you, each thrust brutal and precise. “You did such a good job on me today. Nobody could have done it better. I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to fuck you like this–”

With a shattered cry, you climax, back arching against his as he pulls back to drink in your twisted expression. “Tell me how I own you,” he pants, breaths coming quicker, “tell me who you belong to now.”

His mouth captures yours again, not even wanting of an answer, and even through the white hot heat of your release, you search out his lower lip with your teeth and bite down. The choked splutter that escapes from his throat is beautiful, his striking features twisting into a snarl as he picks up a devastating pace, driving himself into you with a ferociousness on his face you’ve only ever seen aimed at shared enemies.

His hand clutches a handful of hair at the crown of your head as he leverages himself to slam as deep as he can. Each stuttered jerk of his hips is bliss as he spills inside you, his head falling into the sweat damp crook of your neck as if he can’t hold it properly upright as he groans out a lengthy release.

Fingers comb through your hair and slowly you’re rolled over onto his chest as your breathing evens out, tucking yourself into his side, hand splaying across the bandage there. You look at him, feeling utterly spent, and are rewarded by a contented sigh when you smooth your palm across his stomach.

“So, how do we know if the score is settled?” you say and he huffs a small laugh.

“We’ve got time.”

You smile to yourself. In the meantime, it wouldn’t be the worst thing, you think, being Dan Heng’s.

#dan heng #honkai star rail #dan heng x you #dan heng x reader #dan heng/reader #hsr dan heng #hsr #fanfic #hsr fanfic #f!reader #fem reader

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the-greatest-magic-of-all · 5 months

Note

For the fanfic bingo, what if Fabriz 'grabbed the wrong bag' but they didn't grab each other's bags, Fabian grabbed the wrong bag and now has to figure out where his bag that has a sleeping riz in it went

Ugh, Anon your mind! Gimme a sec...

Alright! I'm back with a fic that I really didn't expect to be as long as it is... I really have a problem. Anyway! Think of this as the spiritual successor to "Frightful Snow & Delightful Fire"! Because it's basically the same premise but this time it's hot instead of cold!

Send me a prompt and help me get a bingo!

Words: 8,881

The raucous noise of a tense battle rang out within the padded walls of the Aguefort gymnasium. Sounds of foam blades and bullets striking torsos and limbs. Squeaks from sneakers skidding against the shiny floorboards. Shouts from the audience of students, hyping up one side or the other.

Fabian sat amongst the rowdy crowd of teens next to a cheering Gorgug. His sweaty form lounged against the cool, hard metal of the sparring gym’s bleachers. Still somewhat panting from his match against a slippery aasimar monk. Priscilla Maynard, head cheerleader. She gave him a run for his money, ending their bout of fights in a draw. Two wins a piece.

Usually, he wouldn’t be fighting her during school hours. Most days, all of the martial classes were trained separately. But every so often, during last period, the martial teachers liked to combine their classes for the sake of keeping the students on their toes. It’s not like he’d be only duelling with other Fighters out in the wide world of Spyre. So, he couldn’t complain about this little switch-up. Especially since it meant that he got to watch his boyfriend kickass without having to be in any danger himself.

Riz Gukgak was certainly a sight to see on the battlefield. Blink and you’ll miss him. It was only with years of experience that he could track Riz’s relative position in the makeshift dynamic environment made up of foam shapes and raised platforms. He tumbled through the legs of his paladin opponent. Used his sword of shadows to get out of being cornered. His newfound arcane Mage Hand to trip them. Darted underneath a staircase to hide and gain Sneak Attack when he popped out to shoot his opponent with his Nerf arquebus. Landing shot after shot. Hit after hit.

Quite a sight indeed.

Umberlee below, Fabian loved him.

By the time his match was called in his favour, Riz’s tiny chest heaved and he looked a bit dead on his feet. But he still smiled as his rogue teacher, Ms. Shadow, lifted his arm in victory. His gaze found Fabian’s within seconds of searching the bleachers. Finding him clapping and cheering for his win, perhaps, too loudly. And if Fabian had a big enough ego (and he did!), he’d note that Riz’s smile got a bit wider when they locked eyes.

Porter’s deep, rocky voice interrupted their little moment with the announcement, “Thistlespring! You’re up next!”

Riz shot up in the air a foot, his tail standing on end, more than a little startled by the hulking Earth Genasi’s sudden appearance. Fabian could see it in his eyes as he silently cursed Porter’s innate earthen stealthiness as he hung the Nerf arquebus with the rest of the faux weapons. All before he scurried from the sparring mat. Making his way back up to his seat next to Fabian.

“Wish me luck?” Gorgug asked as he got up from his seat beside Fabian, offering his fist for a bump.

Never one to leave his boy hanging, Fabian quickly balled his fist and accepted the bump with a wink. “You know it.”

Riz accepted the fist bump that was offered to him as well, as he and Gorgug passed each other on their way up and down. It wasn’t too long before he bounded up the rows of bleachers, closing the distance. Using the last bit of his energy, he pushed off of the last step to jump, not into the seat next to Fabian, but directly into his arms.

And despite him being absolutely drenched in sweat, Fabian held him close. Settling Riz in his lap, he pressed a kiss on the top of his greenblack undercut and murmured, “Excellent work, darling.”

“Aww, thanks. You weren’t half bad yourself,” Riz said, rubbing his nose against the underside of his jaw and lacing their hands together in his lap. “Pretty sure Maynard only stunned you once.”

“Ugh, monks.” Fabian spat out as he scowled at the memory.

Riz chuckled as he poked Fabian in his dimpled cheek and said, “I’m invoking boyfriend privileges, by the way.”

“Oh?”

“Class is done in, like, ten minutes. I’m gonna crash in your backpack. That okay?” He asked as if he didn’t know that Fabian could never tell him no. Not when Riz looked up at him with his big, amber eyes.

“Sounds good to me, The Ball. Ooh, that’s gotta hurt,” He and Riz hissed in unison as they watched Gorgug land a critical hit on his opponent. Yes, it may have been with a foam greataxe, but Fabian wasn’t convinced he’d like to be on the business end of it. “Want me to drop you off at your office or home?”

“Neither,” Riz answered faintly, still caught up in that crit before he went into more detail. “Mom wants the apartment all to herself and Gorthalax tonight. And as a soon-to-be adult, I can appreciate her honesty and bluntness and I will honour her request. But also, BLEGH! SO GROSS!” Fabian let out a guffaw as Riz descended into exaggerated disgust, pantomiming gagging and clawing his eyes out. A couple of the students around them shot them annoyed looks, but Fabian paid them no mind. Eventually, Riz let his disgust at sex fade away, letting his head fall back against Fabian’s chest. “So, yeah. I’m going to be taking a Sleep spell gummy and really passing out. Like, for seven hours straight.”

Fabian hummed in thought. “I’d be remiss not to mention that that’s normally how long one sleeps for.”

“Sounds fake,” Riz said after he spent a couple of beats with his face screwed up in faux introspection. “Sleepover?”

Clutching his imaginary pearls, Fabian scoffed and turned his nose up at Riz. “Sure! Call me a liar and then ask for me to open my heart and my home to you!” His offended act lasted two more seconds before he softened and answered his question. “Of course, Mama won’t mind.”

“Alright, I’m going to beat the rush,” Riz said, getting up to crouch on Fabian’s lap and rub their cheeks together before scurrying off to the locker room.

Batting his eyelashes and twiddling his fingers after him, Fabian put on his silliest sexy voice and said, “See you in your dreams.”

“Blegh,” Riz said, wrinkling his nose. “Hate it when you do that.”

Fabian didn’t even try to hide how much he loved annoying Riz.

The class wrapped up about ten minutes later, following Gorgug’s winning match. Heading back to the locker room with the rest of the humongous throng of students, the two Bad Boys crowded into the now-tight space. Fielding accidental shoves and elbows to the stomach on the route back to their things. After an arduous journey, they arrived at their bags and quickly got to work on getting out of there as fast as possible.

After checking on Riz and finding his adorable sleeping form in his backpack, Fabian would’ve been out of there in a minute flat. Would’ve, if didn’t need to dig through his locker for the homework he’d carelessly shoved in there. Normally, he wouldn’t care, but Riz had been on him lately about caring about his academic success. Those big, amber puppy-dog eyes staring up at him in disappointment were his kryptonite. So, yes he needed to find this homework. And he needed to find it soon or else he’d be driven mad by the thundering chatter all around him.

With the sound level being what it was, Fabian could hardly hear himself think. Not with this cacophony of a hundred voices having a hundred conversations rattling around his head. Like the one occurring directly to his right.

Blaze Evermore, a jockish Fire Genasi linebacker on the Owlbears, was boasting about how his older brother was taking him to the City of Brass for the weekend. Got ‘em tickets to this underground pit fighting ring and everything. Interesting! It’d be far more interesting if Blaze’s bros weren’t jostling him around and pushing him into Fabian’s open locker door. Smacking his head with it via the proxy of Blaze’s bulky frame. All in good fun, yes. But Fabian was going to get a concussion if they didn’t—Found it!

With one good tug, he yanked a crumpled paper folder out from the bottom of his locker. Thrusting it into the air in triumph. Only to be reminded he was still surrounded by a bunch of boisterous guys when Blaze sent him and Gorgug crashing to the floor with an unintended hip-check.

“Whew, sorry, Cap!” Blaze said apologetically as he offered Fabian a heavy, calloused hand. Fabian grabbed it, happily taking the help up back to his feet. A little rocked in the head, but as a Bloodrush player, he was used to it. “Didn’t mean to knock you over.”

“That’s alright, Evermore. No harm done, except to my spleen. You okay, Gorgug?” Fabian asked, trying to shake the fall off as he watched Blaze help Gorgug up off of the ground as well before he bent down. Handing Fabian the closest fallen backpack to his feet. It didn’t even cross his mind to double-check that it was his because his mind was paying much more attention to not forgetting to grab The Ball’s briefcase. Why wouldn’t it be his? Slinging the backpack over his shoulder and taking the briefcase in hand, he gave Blaze a nod. “Have fun this weekend.”

Blaze smiled wide, revealing a missing canine tooth. “I will!”

“Gorgug, see you later.”

“See ya!”

Aguefort must have some type of soundproofing surrounding the locker rooms because as Fabian made it out of there, all was quiet. Almost deafeningly so. Not a peep came from the room behind him. The only sounds to hear were the idle hum of the academy settling for the day and his own breaths.

Whew.

Alright.

Time to head home.

The next hour passed rather uneventfully. Hangman only grumbled and huffed a little bit about Riz’s presence on the ride home. Receiving a couple of pats on his school for showing a level of restraint toward his boyfriend. He kissed his mothers on both of their cheeks as he passed through the kitchen on his way up to his room. Once inside, Fabian rested his Riz-filled backpack in the middle of his bed and the briefcase of holding next to it before he went about having a shower. He desperately needed to scrub after-sparring stink off of himself.

Clouds of steam followed in his wake as Fabian stepped out of his en suite bathroom and finished up working the last of his leave-in conditioner into his coils. With his comfy pair of silk pyjamas on, he was ready to spend the rest of the evening waiting for Riz to awaken from his spell-induced slumber. Which reminded him, he should take Riz out of his backpack now.

He hadn’t bothered when he first got home. Knowing that the space within his backpack held a certain appeal to Riz’s primal, Goblin brain. Warm, cramped, very cave-like, and thus, safe. This Fabian understood. Riz had assured him this many times, that he liked falling asleep in his backpack more than in his own bed. But Fabian couldn’t in good conscious keep in him in there for any longer.

Sliding across the wooden floor with his socks, he leapt onto his Chaos King-sized bed and crawled to the middle where he left his backpack. More than ready for some cuddling time with his favourite guy, Fabian’s heart stopped when he zipped it open and saw what was inside.

Nothing.

Well, not nothing.

A wave of grease and rubber accompanied the sight of school folders, crumpled-up papers, a cute lunchbox riddled with Sig Fig stickers... Oh, and a bag full of tinkerer’s tools. Fabian groaned. Slapping a hand across his forehead. When Blaze and his bros had bumped into him, he must’ve gotten mixed up and taken Gorgug’s backpack instead.

Nice going, Seacaster.

Zipping Gorgug’s bag back up and taking it with him, Fabian made his way off his bed to pick up his crystal. Holding it between his ear and shoulder as he strode over to his closet to throw on a jacket overtop his pyjamas. He’d only be out for a couple of minutes, he figured. No need to change for the ten minutes it would take The Hangman to get to the Thistlespring tree.

The first thing that he heard was the sound of sparks flying and a clank before Gorgug’s cheery voice came over the call. “Hey, Fabian! I’m kinda in the middle of welding something for my mom. What’s up?”

“Very sorry for interrupting, Gorgug. But it seems to be that we’ve swapped backpacks.”

“Oh? Yeah, I guess it was lighter than usual,” Another clanging sound erupted on the other end of the line. “Do you need it back now?”

“Yes, The Ball is sleeping in it.” Fabian could hear the wince in Gorgug’s voice, which in turn, made him pull a face. He knew how much learning the ways of artificing from his parents was important to Gorgug and how he silently hated being pulled away from it. But he really needed Riz back.

“Gotcha. Hold on,” Gorgug said before he leaned away from his crystal, his voice growing distant, to call out. “Mom, can you go get my backpack? It’s actually Fabian’s,” Suddenly his voice returned to its original volume as he asked, “Need me to bring him over?”

As he slipped his leather bomber jacket on, Fabian quickly said, “No, no, no! Don’t worry, I’m on my way.”

“Awesome. Huh?” Gorgug was pulled away from his crystal again and once it returned, his confused tone made Fabian’s stomach turn. “Uh, Fabian? My mom’s saying that Riz isn’t in there.”

“What are you talking about?” Fabian asked, his voice hollow as he stood stock still in the shadow of his closet. His heart beginning to race.

“She says—what’s that, Mom?” Another long moment of quiet as Wilma spoke to Gorgug not close enough to the crystal’s receiver for him to hear. Leaving him in suspense until Gorgug returned and said, “She says that it doesn’t seem like your bag anyway. There’s not much in it except for—oh, an Owlbears jersey with Evermore on the back. I think this is Blaze’s bag.”

��Which might mean that he has mine. Shit. Thanks, Gorgug. I have to go.”

“Yeah, of course. Good luck finding Riz! Bye!”

Didn’t Blaze say he was going to the City of Brass for the weekend? The same City of Brass in the Elemental Plane of Fire?… The one where if you head down the wrong winding street, you could be enslaved for it? That City of Brass?

Shit, shit, shit.

Fabian hung up as soon as he could and then went straight for his Fantasy Whatsapp app. He and Blaze had never really talked outside of practices, games, and passing each other in the halls, but they both were in the Owlbear group chat. Surely, if he just went through all of the participants in the chat he could find Blaze’s number. After a minute of scrolling and trying to leg bounce his anxieties away, he let an ‘Ah hah!’ as he found Blaze’s profile pic and his number underneath it.

Tapping the little crystal button next to Blaze’s number, he didn’t even get to agonize over the dial tone before a tinny artificial voice said, “We’re sorry. Your call cannot be completed as dialled. The person you are trying to reach has gone interplanar and the call cannot connect at this time. Please try your call again. Beep.”

Fuck.

Fabian stood in silence next to his open closet. A sense of emptiness and confusion filled his chest. Crystal still pressed up against his ear. The call disconnect tone, low and droning, beeped incessantly. Urging him to make a choice and end the call already. What was he going to do? What was he going to do? His grip on his crystal tightened as his face hardened in resolution and he realized there was only one thing to do.

He’s going to get his boyfriend back.

But first, he definitely had to change out of his pyjamas.

Riz stirred from his deep slumber for only a moment. Long enough to yawn and stretch and reposition himself amongst the nest he made out of Fabian’s things. These Sleep gummies were good. So good. They somehow managed to temporarily mute his ever-running-a-mile-a-minute brain long enough for the want of sleep to overtake his racing thoughts.

Smothering any wonder of why everything got so hot all of a sudden. Or why he could hear muffled shouts, cheers, and jeers all around him when he was in Fabian’s room. Those didn’t matter.

Not when he could instead burrow into and wrap himself in Fabian’s letterman jacket that smelled just like him. Sea salt, cedar, and cinnamon. Riz took a deep breath of them, ignoring any of the other strange, exotic smells that seeped in from the outside world. The last thing he thought of before he slipped back under was Fabian holding him tight. Feeling safer than ever in his arms and wanting only to stay in them forever.

Filled with a renewed purpose and determination, he texted Gorgug. Informing that he’d swing by his place to drop his bag and pick up Blaze’s before he started gearing up for an impromptu solo mission.

Frandrangour rested in its holster just above where he wrapped his battlesheet around his hips. Tying it off so some of the sheet still hung from the knot. He may not be a pirate like his Papa, but he’d sooner die than give up their aesthetic.

And for his clothes, he’d remembered enough from his Planar Geography class that temperatures in the City of Brass tended to be pretty hot. Staying between a breezy fifty degrees Celsius and wanting to rip your own skin off. So, he opted for the loosest white tank top with the lowest cut sides he could find in his closet and a pair of deep turquoise and orange harem pants. The Plane of Fire wasn’t going to catch him slipping. Climate or fashion-wise.

Ready as he was ever going to be, he did a quick Fantasy Google search for the closest portal to the Plane of Fire as he raced down to the Manor’s garage. More specifically looking for one that would get him as close to the City of Brass as possible. And by the time he was settling onto The Hangman’s leather seat, he’d found one near a place didn’t expect.

The Elmville Firehouse.

At first, it seemed a bit counterintuitive to him, you know? Surely whoever decided where to place the Fire Department there knew there was a portal to the place where Fire was born, right? But, after a moment’s thought, it kind of weirdly made sense. Who else would you want to fight any invading fire elemental than the people with gallons of water and a huge hose to spray it? Also, seeing as it sounded similar enough to what he remembered Blaze talking about, he decided to take the risk.

After doing a backpack swap with Gorgug, who thankfully didn’t ask too many questions about where he was going to find Blaze, Fabian was off to the Firehouse. Urging The Hangman ever faster as they sped through the streets of Elmville. Not that his trusty steed needed much encouragement to hit his top speed.

Skidding to a stop in front of the huge, brick building, he asked only for The Hangman to wait at home for him. Getting a reluctant okay, he rushed inside the station to ask exactly where the portal was. The firefighters were nice enough. They’d looked a bit skeptical at first as he explained that he needed to save his boyfriend from waking up scared and confused in the City of Brass. But showing them his Aguefort school ID and having Fandrangour on his hip helped them believe that they weren’t sending him to his fiery death.

“Gettin’ all kinds of adventurers today,” A half-orchish man named Kark said in a gravelly grumble as he led Fabian around to the back of the firehouse. Stopping in front of a back shed with an arcane padlock, he began flipping through a ring of runed keys that he had on his belt.

“Really?” Fabian asked.

“Yeah, two Fire Genasi boys went through about an hour and a half ago.” Kark answered absent-mindedly, humming a tune Fabian didn’t recognize under his breath until—“Hah! Here it is.”—He took hold of a key that looked almost identical to the rest, in Fabian’s opinion. But he said it was it, then it was it. Kark slotted the key into the padlock’s hole, a small arcane hum vibrating out once he unlocked it, and then he opened the door. A blast of heat hit their faces as the portal to the City of Brass was revealed. A whirling vortex of pure magic, tinted orange, red, and gold, hung like a tear in the fabric of space before them. Kark took a step back, grimacing at it as he asked, “You sure about this, kid?”

Fabian chuckled and smiled up at Kark, a brick house of a man who regularly ran into burning buildings, yet was still weary of what lay ahead of them. “I am. I’m an adventurer. It’s what we do.”

With one last wink at Kark and a deep breath, Fabian walked through the swirling, roiling portal.

Coming out of essentially a crack in a red stone wall, the heat hit him first. As solid and unyielding as the wall he’d just stepped out of. Instantly the immense heat sent beads of sweat down his forehead and left him a bit agitated and antsy to leave this Plane as soon as possible.

It was so distracting that he almost got run over by a merchant’s hurrying wagon. Fortunately, he rolled well on his Dexterity saving throw to jump out of the way at the last second. His back pressed up against the red stone, Fabian pushed his irritation with the city’s climate and tried to gain his bearings.

The street he just stepped into was choked with people. Hustling and bustling with throngs of folks of all kinds on foot and in wagons (or pulling them? Umberlee below.). All making their way back and forth. Either deeper into the city or toward a giant golden gate set in the black obsidian wall that encircled the entire metropolis. The tall buildings that surrounded him were carved with intricate designs. Topped off with spiralling towers. Colourful banners of red, orange yellow hung out of windows and from brassy poles with what looked like the emblem of a noble house.

What little breeze there was brought with the smell of a plethora of spices Fabian had never encountered before. He could practically taste them on his tongue with how strong they were. Shouts of a language he knew but a dialect he didn’t also were carried on the wind. Though his father keeping that tornado on as a crew member had done wonders for his knowledge of Primordial, the differences between Auran and Ignan were significant. Enough that he was worried that he might misinterpret something if he tried his hand at Ignan. Best to stick to Common then.

Pushing himself off of the wall, Fabian began to search the surrounding streets for anyone who might’ve noticed the Evermore brothers heading in a certain direction. As busy as this place was, it didn’t seem like there were a lot of people that stayed put longer than a couple of minutes. Nobody except for a beautiful Fire Genasi woman wearing hardly anything at all posted up in front of the entrance of “First Flames”. A building that just screamed ‘House of Pleasure’ not unlike the Gold Gardens back on Leviathan.

Long, fiery hair, decorated with gold and brass charms and hairpins, fell around the greeter’s sweet, round face. Waving at passersby, asking if they wanted a cool drink and some hot company.

“Hello, handsome. Name’s Cinder,” She said to Fabian once he landed in her sights. Her voice was nice and sultry as she waved him closer. “You look like you’re searching for someone.”

“I am actually,” Fabian answered with a queasy smile as he cautiously approached but tried to keep a respectful distance away. “But I don’t think he’ll be in there.”

Cinder practically cooed at him, probably mistaking his discomfort for general shyness. Her slim, ruby fingers wrapped around his to urge him closer to her and the bedecked double-door entrance. Resting a forearm on his shoulder, she made a sweeping motion with the other toward First Flames and said, “Oh, sweetie, that’s not a problem. We have this charming lad named Smoulder and he would be more than happy to make your day.”

Following her motion, he could see inside of First Flames and it didn’t look unappealing. Lush and plush and filled with beautiful, scantily clad people strutting around and draping themselves over customers. Fabian couldn’t help but skin up his nose at it. Maybe he would’ve enjoyed this place before, but now, all he wanted was Riz.

“That is a lovely offer but I’m not interested in… companionship today. I’m afraid I’m taken.” Fabian said as politely as he could and stepped out from under Cinder’s arm.

Taken aback for a moment, Cinder then let out a sigh. Placing her hands on her hips, she shook her head and laughed. “Of course you are. Anything I can help you with before you leave us for good?”

Hmm, well, she was one of the only people he’d seen so far who could’ve stayed put long enough to notice the Evermore brothers pass by…

Worth a shot.

“Is there a chance you saw two Fire Genasi guys who looked out of place walk through here about an hour and a half ago?”

It took Cinder a moment, her stained lips pursed and fine brows furrowed in thought before her face and hair brightened in remembrance. “Indeed I did! They asked for directions to The Pyre.” Fabian’s confusion must’ve shown on his face because she quickly added, “It’s a pit fighting ring. Down in the Rookery.”

“Right. And that would be…?” Fabian said. Drawing out the syllables of every word and arching a questioning brow until Cinder burst out into full-hearted laughter. Through her giggles and titters, she managed to tell him the route he needed to take to get there as quickly as possible. Though she did warn him to stay on his guard. This city wasn’t a forgiving one. Yeah, he knew a thing or two about cities like that. With one last thanks to Cinder again for her help, Fabian set off deeper into the city to find The Pyre.

Easier said than done, of course.

The City of Brass didn’t seem to have an urban planning committee that cared about easy navigation and wayfinding for newcomers. Tight and crowded streets would bend and twist and (he swore on his life) would curve back around. He’d end up in a different district than the one he was in seconds ago with little warning. And it’s not like the locals were exactly hospitable. He almost got his head chopped off for asking for directions, on two separate occasions. And he barely managed to escape the wrath and chains of a noble-looking Efreeti he accidentally bumped into.

Luckily after two hours of searching, he turned a corner and stumbled upon the place Cinder had described for him. It won’t look like much, she’d said and she wasn’t wrong. Situated in the crook of two side streets, a beefy Efreeti man guarded what was essentially a hole in the wall covered by a flimsy-looking dark wood door. No signs or any distinguishing features to be seen. Yet, all the same, a couple of well-dressed Tieflings strode up to the bouncer and discreetly handed him their tickets. And after a moment of inspecting the little pieces of cut brass, he let them in.

That’s another problem. He doesn’t have a ticket.

Crouched behind an alleyway with a view of the Pyre’s entrance, he’d searched through Blaze’s backpack. Looking for any sign of a similar cut piece of brass that he assumed was engraved in some way, but he came up with nothing. For a moment, he weighed the possibility of it maybe being a pay-at-the-door situation. But that train of thought was swiftly derailed as he watched the bouncer toss a man out into the busy street for even asking.

Shit.

Fully sat on the ground now, Fabian let his head loll back and hit the hard stone wall behind him. The oppressive weight of the heat of this place bore down on him. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and wiped the dripping sweat out of his face. There had to be something he could do. He’d come this far. And Riz was somewhere in that place. So close yet somehow miles and miles away.

Okay, okay. He can’t get in without a ticket… and if Blaze’s smug boasting in the locker room was any indication, they were pretty hard to get. So he couldn’t go around asking where to acquire them. Not if he wanted to keep his head on his shoulders. But that would mean he needed to get in without a ticket. How could he get in there without a ticket? Ugh, if Riz were in his position, he’d make a stupidly high investigation check for a backdoor. But Fabian had a sinking feeling if he were to try the same, he’d end up walking around the same block for hours on end. No, that wouldn’t do at all.

As Fabian sat in agonizing contemplation, the Pyre’s door opened up enough for whoever was on the other side to speak to the bouncer. A high, nasally voice asked, “Is he here yet?”

To which the bouncer only grunted and shook his head.

“That idiot. He’s supposed to be in the ring in ten minutes.” The voice said, his tone dripping in barely concealed aggravation. “If he does come tell him to get his ass into the pit ASAP. Got me?”

Another grunt, but this time with a nod instead before the Pyre’s door shut once more. Leaving the side street quiet and Fabian’s mind with an idea. He was asking the wrong question. It’s not how could he get in there without a ticket. It’s who could get in there without a ticket. Though he left the subclass behind when he became a Battle Master, it looked like the Pyre was about to get a new champion.

Jumping to his feet, he adjusted his father’s eyepatch, squared his shoulders, and lifted his chin. He marched up to the towering bouncer with the same confidence he had on his first day of school. Staring up at his eight-foot-tall form, Fabian smiled and said, “I heard this ring needed a challenger on short notice. And I just so happen to be aching for a good fight.”

Flame-filled eyes, hard and blazing, looked him up and down. The bouncer’s strong nose wrinkled in a glare at him. His gaze lifted from Fabian to behind him as he probably searched for whoever was supposed to be there. Must’ve come up empty. Since, in the end, he rolled his eyes and let out a huff of smoke from his nose as he opened the door for Fabian. And with a voice deep and rumbly like smouldering coals, the bouncer called out into the dark and hazy doorway, “Naflia. He’s here.”

“Finally!” Came the high-pitched nasally voice again. Soon accompanied by a relieved, swarthy face wreathed in a mane of fire and a short, stout frame clothed in fine brass garments. This Azer woman’s face turned surly, though, once she got a good look at Fabian. “Where the fuck have you—Jubi who the fuck is this?”

Settling a wrist Frandrangour’s pummel and a hand on his chest, Fabian went to introduce himself, “I’m—”

But Naflia cut him off, tired and gruff as she said, “Actually I don’t care. Can you fight?”

“Yes, I—”

“Perfect come with me.” She said and without another look, Naflia took him by the hand and dragged him into the building.

Leading down into a tight, spiralling stone staircase lit only by torches. Their hurried steps echoed off the walls as they went. Until they reached the bottom and came to a sitting area for guests. It was lit by blue flamed lanterns and filled with seat cushions and low-lying tables filled with goblets, plates, and candles. But Fabian didn’t have time to admire any of the furniture or the guests.

No, Naflia, surprisingly as strong as she is, yanked on his arm to get him moving again. Away from the plush niceties reserved for paying customers and into an employees-only backroom. One that led to a stone chamber filled with benches and rough, rugged fighters. All of them had harsh scars and mean mugs, scowling at him as he passed by. Fabian’s pretty sure he saw one of them laid out flat, covered in bruises and blood, hopefully just unconscious.

“What kind of establishment do you run here, Miss?” Fabian asked frantically as he brought him into a dead-end tunnel and placed him on a square platform.

Stepping back, Nafila grinned and gave him a shrug. “It’s pit fighting, kid. What did you expect? Flowers and roses?”

“A healer on deck,” Fabian answered with a grimace.

“Bah! You’ll be fine. Just don’t die. It’s bad for morale.” She said with a wide wave of her hands. Just as a tiny mote of fire flew in from around a corner, flying into her ear with purpose. Naflia squinted and tilted her head as if being quietly spoken to before she looked back up at him with a grin. “Alright, kid. You’re on in a minute.”

“A minute! Don’t I have to sign something? A waiver perhaps?” He frantically asked with a crack in his voice. Oh, he so didn’t think this plan through. He thought that he’d have enough time to scope the place out before having to fight. But apparently, Naflia didn’t care to get him acquainted with anything. Probably more fun for her. “Don’t you want my name, at least, before you throw me to the wolves?”

“No wolves. Just some punk Firenewt with anger issues. What’s your name?”

“Fabian Seacaster.”

Naflia arched a fiery brow at him. “Huh. If you say so.” She said as she reached behind her to a large brass lever in the wall and yanked it downwards. “Was just going to call you Wh’tila.”

“What does that mean?”

“Pretty boy.”

Hmm.

He didn’t hate that. Not at all.

“That works.” He said as the platform beneath his feet started to shift and rumble as it began to lift him into the air. The sound of huge gears cranking and turning filled his ears as the ceiling above him parted. Slowly but surely, he was raised into a circular arena. With stone walls that raised maybe a hundred feet over his head and were lined by metal railings. Lit by torches hung in elaborate sconces. And just beyond the railing were rows and rows of stands filled to the brim with people screaming their heads off.

The last thing he heard before the roaring audience drowned her out, was Nafila as she said, “Best of luck, Wh’tila. Remember, put on a good show but. Don’t. Die.”

Soon enough, she was gone from his sight as the platform froze in its final lifted position. Letting out a mechanical hiss as it did so. He faintly heard a similar noise about fifty feet away. Pulling his gaze away from the crowd all around him, he looked out across the arena filled with fire pits and racks of weapons to find his opponent.

Orange skin mottled with veins of gold and deep crimson reptilian eyes, the Firenewt opposite Fabian stood ready and raring to go. His fists were wrapped in gauze and he had a huge slashing scar that ran across his chest. There was this strange calmness that came off of him in waves that unsettled Fabian a bit. A sinking feeling grew in his gut that he was about to get his shit rocked by a monk for the second time today.

As he tried to remember the tips Ms. Jones had given him about fighting monks this afternoon, Naflia’s disembodied voice filled the arena. “Ladies and gentlemen! I assure you our next two fighters are about to give you the show of your lives.” At the sound of her voice and the feeling that it was truly go-time now, Fabian began to untie and unwrap his battle sheet from his waist. “The Swift Inferno, a returning champ faces off with fresh-blood fighter, Wh’tila! It’s sure to be a fight for the ages folks. Which one of these young men will come out on top? We’re about to find out in three, two, one.” As she counted down, Naflia’s last words to him rang in his head like a tolling bell. “BEGIN!”

Don’t Die.

Now, Fabian didn’t have any monk friends, so he didn’t feel bad about voicing his opinion of their range of movement.

It was fucking stupid.

Stupid and bullshit and should count as cheating.

To say that The Swift Inferno lived up to his name would be an understatement. And if you said it in front of Fabian he’d shoot you a death glare that rivaled a Sea Hag’s. Because that cute little comment didn’t help him dodge the bastard’s flurry of blows or escape his steps of the wind! Swift’s attacks just didn’t stop coming. So much so that Fabian couldn’t find an opening to strike. He just kept pushing him back and back until he hit the arena’s wall, which worked out in his favour.

As he evaded another one of Swift’s punches, both he and Fabian realized in the same second that he’d accidentally over-extended his arm. Sending it slamming into the rough, uneven stone just beside Fabian’s head. And in the moment before Swift could wince and pull his fist back, Fabian grabbed it. Keeping it where it was and leaving the entire lower half of Swift’s elongated, salamander-esque body open for him to pierce with Fandrangour.

Pulling his blade out of Swift’s abdomen with a flourish, he shoved the Firenewt away from him to give himself some room to work. Swift stumbled back, clutching his now bleeding side. Blood covered his hand wraps. Staining them red. Looking back up at him, Swift snarled.

Fabian smirked as he took a more offensive and showy stance. He arched an eyebrow and asked, “Shall we?”

Swift spat at his feet and sneered out, “Fuckin’ priss.”

“I believe it’s pronounced Wha-till-ah. But what do I know? En guarde!”

Their fight raged on. Fabian, on an upswing, managed to land a few more hits on Swfit. While Swfit tried his best to stun him as often as he could. He only succeeded once, but man oh man was that hard to come back from. Especially since one of Swift’s roundabout kicks sent Fabian crashing to the ground about half a foot away from an open fire pit.

As Swift leapt on him and pressed his face closer to the burning coals, he heard a voice call out from above. “What are you doing here, Cap?!”

Chancing a glance away from his opponent, Fabian followed the voice up into the crowd to see Blaze. Practically falling out of the stands as he leaned over the guardrail to wave at him. Yes! Yes! Blaze was here. He just needed not to die and he could get Riz back!

From within Swift’s hold on him and between the flurry of fists, Fabian yelled as loud as he could, hoping that Blaze could hear him. “Switched! Bags! The Ball! In! Mine! Ugh, one second!”

Reaching down into himself, to the pool of energy in his center that he always pulled from, he pulled from it once more. A tiny current of wind swept up from the ground and swirled around him as he gained his Second Wind. Curling up both of his feet to aim for Swift’s stomach and, using his newfound stamina, booted Swift off from on top of him. Fabian knew he’d be back on his feet soon enough, but he didn’t mind. The effects of the spell he was about to cast would look better if he was standing up anyway.

Nafila did tell him to put on a show.

“Had enough?” He asked as he watched as Swift staggered to his feet, swaying. But he was still standing. Not for long, though.

“You wish.”

Swift descended upon him once again. With flaming fists of fury, spending all of the ki he had left trying to pummel Fabian into the ground, he did his best to withstand his attacks. Taking blow after blow until his moment came. A split second when Swift left his chest open.

“Looks like my lucky day then,” Fabian smiled wide and cocked his fist back, wreathed in a helix of wind, as a low rumble of a distant stormcloud hummed. He directed it straight into the middle of Swift’s chest as he shouted, “Have a nice flight!“, in Auran. Casting Thunderwave.

BOOM!

A tide of pure stormy rage surged out from where Fabian’s fist connected with Swift’s flesh and swept him off of his feet. Sending him flying back ten feet as a thunderous boom filled The Pyre. So powerful and cacophonous that once the ringing in his ears stopped, he thought he’d deafened himself because the whole arena went silent. His pants were so loud in his ears. Chest heaving, he looked out into the stunned crowd before searching for The Swift Inferno. Finding him flung against the curved stone wall, unconscious.

Hold on… Hold on!

Fabian spun around to where he found Blaze in the crowd to lock eyes with him just to double check what he thought was happening was happening. Blaze, with his square jaw and freckled, ruddy face, beamed down at him as he threw his arms into the air. Letting out a whoop, “Let’s go, Cap! HOOT! GROWL!”, and started a chain reaction of cheers and chants as the rest of the crowd erupted.

Instinctively, Fabian whispered underneath his ragged breath, “Hoot growl.”

He’d won.

Holy shit, he’d won!

Oh, how he wished Riz was awake to see this.

The sound of a thunderstorm directly over his head was enough to rip Riz out of the inky void of sleep and back into the real world.

At first, he thought he imagined the sound of thunder crashing. Since, in the first seconds following it, everything around him went quiet. But then a jockish voice above him started yelling a familiar chant and soon an entire audience was joining him in cheering. Leaving Riz to quickly cover his sensitive ears and wonder just what the fuck was going on.

The Owlbears didn’t have a game today, did they? There’s simply no way. He’d marked them all down in his calendar app on his crystal so that he’d miss getting to watch Fabian in his element as Captain of the Bloodrush team.

Mind still groggy from the Sleep gummies, Riz tried to wrap his head around where he was when an abnormally loud voice spoke over the din. “Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like we have a winner! Give it up for Wh’tilla!”

A winner?

Wh’tilla?

Who the fuck was Wh’tilla and why did they not sound like a high school Bloodrush team he’s ever heard of?

Okay, that’s it!

Riz practically ripped his way out of Fabian’s backpack. Claws digging and scratching into the sturdy canvas until he could find a hole in the zipper and claw his way out. Instantly, as he popped his head out, he almost wished he didn’t. Because all at once he realized that he was in a place that was unbearably loud, chokingly hot, and definitely nowhere near Elmville. Sitting in a crowd of hundreds of rowdy people of all kinds, with a quick look around he concluded that he was in an underground arena of some kind. Most likely illegal, but never mind that. None of it explained why he wasn’t in Fabian’s room right now.

“Oh! That’s why Cap’s here!”

Huh. That sounds more useful to him.

Whipping his head around to look at the person who was holding Fabian’s bag on his lap, Riz looked up at the young, Fire Genasi’s face. It was familiar, that was for certain. Someone he’d never talked to but saw often enough for them not to be a complete stranger. He must be on the Bloodrush team. The strong jaw and bulky shoulders were a dead giveaway. His name? Oh, by the Gods, it was Flames or something. No, Blaze! Blaze Evermore! Fabian had called him a line-back-thingy when he’d tried to explain Bloodrush to him once. Yes, okay. But why did he have Fabian’s backpack?

“Hey, Blaze. Uh, what’s up? Man.” Riz said more awkwardly than he would’ve liked. He just didn’t know how to talk to Fabian’s Bloodrush teammates. Were they and Riz friends-in-law? Would they treat him differently if Fabian wasn’t in the room with them when they hung out? So many questions and no time to answer them.

Thankfully, Blaze just shrugged and nodded his head in the direction of the arena’s pit. “Nothin’ much. Just watchin’ Fabian kick ass.”

“Huh?” Riz turned to inspect the pit again and what he saw made him gasp.

Fabian stood with a black eye, blood running from his nose, and his arms spread wide in triumph as he soaked up the audience’s cheers. Giving them dramatic, ballerina-esque bows with a big smile on his face. But that wasn’t the part that got Riz’s heart racing.

No, that was reserved for something that no one else seemed to notice, not even Fabian. Behind him, about ten feet back, what seemed to be his defeated opponent, a heavily injured Firenewt stirred. Achingly slowly, he got up. Raising himself onto his arms, Riz saw the seething look he was shooting Fabian. Daggers into the back of his unsuspecting head. And almost imperceptibly, smoke began to pour out of his slitted nostrils as his jowl began to expand. A fact from his studies of inner planar creatures shot into Riz’s head.

Firenewts can spit fire.

They can spit fire at anyone within ten feet of it.

Riz was moving before his thoughts could get any further. Though they did. How could they not?

Could Fabian have enough hit points to withstand a blast of fire to his back? Maybe. But with how punchdrunk he looked, Riz wouldn’t bet money on it let alone Fabian’s life.

With all of his eight strength, he pushed his way through the crowd.

Sure, what damage it would do to him probably wouldn’t kill him, either. However, Riz doubted that anyone would get into the ring before that Firenewt rained down blows on Fabian’s unconscious form. By the time they pulled him off of Fabian, he’d be dead.

Despite the shouts for him to stop, Riz bounded up the metal railing and leaped off of it. Shocked gasps rang out behind him, but paid them no mind. He only smirked as, once he began to fall, spectral angel wings appeared on his back.

He’d thought that wearing this vest would be overkill for this afternoon’s sparring class, but, like always, his father was right. It always pays to be prepared. He was happy about all those gasps though. They were an excellent way to pull Fabian’s attention away from gloating and towards him.

“Riz!” Fabian shouted, his voice somehow loud enough to hear over all of the noise. The single step Fabian made toward him as his smile turned all soft and fond once his eye locked onto him wasn’t going to be enough to avoid the fire.

Maneuvering on his temporary wings, Riz tried to make himself fall faster while still keeping course towards Fabian. All the while he unfurled a multi-coloured braided length of rope, entwined with the help of all the Bad Kids last summer, from his belt. He’d yet to ever cast Rope Trick properly before, but if there was ever a time to do it, it’d be now.

In the split second before the Firenewt opened his mouth, Riz tossed the rope up into the air. He felt it catch on an extradimensional space and dove to grab Fabian’s awaiting hand. Then as Fabian's larger hand wrapped around his, he yanked as hard as he could on the rope to pull them up. Riz's muscles screamed at him as he held on to all of Fabian’s weight as they were both snatched up and into the hideaway he created.

“The Ball, what the—” Before Fabian could whip himself up into a bluster, Riz took his face into his hands as gently as he could and pointed it downwards. Letting him see through the window down into the pit as the Firenewt belched fire exactly where he was standing. Fabian’s eye went wide. “—Oh.” Meeting Riz’s know-it-all gaze, Fabian blushed before he put a hand on his chest and another against his forehead and said, “My hero.”

“Damn, right,” Riz said with a nod, ignoring how hot his cheeks felt. “What are we even doing here? Since when do you pit fight?”

Fabian groaned. Letting himself flop back into a sprawl on the floor of the Rope Trick as he explained himself. “Ugh, I didn’t mean to be here. Blaze, Gorgug, and I swapped bags accidentally. I got Gorgug’s, Gorgug got Blaze’s, and Blaze got-”

“Yours.” Riz interrupted, his mind still whirling a mile a minute. Peering down at the pit below, another question popped to the forefront of his head. “Where are we?”

“The City of Brass,” Fabian answered, barely lifting his head to do so.

“What?” Riz reared back before pressing his face to the glass of the Rope Trick’s window to the outside world. Only now, with this bird’s eye view did he notice the abundance of Fire Genasi, Azers, and other fireborn or touched creatures in attendance. No wonder it was so fucking hot! That’s the capital of the Plane of Fire for you. Wait. If he was brought here accidentally by Blaze that must mean—oh. Riz looked up from his snooping to crawl over to Fabian’s prone form. Peering over his head, Fabian’s lone silver eye opening as he did, Riz softly asked, “Did you go interplanar just to come find me?”

Fabian shrugged with an amount of adoration on his face that made Riz feel like he was about to throw up.

“I’d go to the ends of the multiverse to find you.” He said, simply. Almost nonchalantly. As if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Oh, Riz just couldn’t take it. Slapping his hands against his face, he fell back as well and curled into a ball. Fabian’s soft chuckles didn’t help. Especially not when he also pulled Riz over to him and wrapped him up in his arms. “What? Too mushy for you?” Riz could only nod, too overwhelmed with such big feelings. “Like you wouldn’t do the same.”

Of course, he would.

In a heartbeat.

He’d venture across the multiverse and back twice if that’s what it took to find him.

The two of them stayed just like that for a few long moments. Content to stay in this embrace for maybe the rest of eternity… Well, that’s a bit much. This spell wouldn’t even have an eternity. Maybe another fifty minutes. Tops.

If it weren’t for the stray glance Riz made downwards, they probably would’ve. But now that he felt like he could speak again, he couldn’t help but comment on the Firenewt below them. And how he was frantically punching the air around where he’d swept Fabian up from. “Huh, looks like your opponent is a bit confused.”

“I’m sure he is.” A beat. “Think I can drop down on him and knock him out?”

“Fabian.”

“What? I wanna win.”

Riz rolled his eyes, not immune to Fabian’s puppy dog pout, and said, “On my cue.” Fabian let out a whoop and kissed Riz’s cheek before he scrambled to get into place. “Drop down in three, two, one, now!”

In a fall, complete with twists and summersaults, Fabian soared out of the extradimensional space with flourish and theatrics. Landing on top of the poor Firenewt in an obnoxiously dramatic pose. Riz couldn’t hear anything from within the hideaway, but he knew the crowd must’ve been going nuts. He didn’t want to, but Riz couldn’t stop a fond smile from playing on his lips as he said, “That’s my guy.”

By the Gods, did Riz love him.

Whew!! There you go! I hope you liked it, Anon! Another one ticked off the bingo board!

Send me a prompt and help me get a bingo!

#fabian seacaster #riz gukgak #fabriz #fanfic #fantasy high #fic bingo #prompt bingo #this one is a doozy but so good!!#it's also the fic i was talking about when i said i needed to change an ending now that riz knows magic!

77 notes · View notes

vampsquerade · 11 months

Note

Hi! hope you have a good day! Can you do a poly "Ghost x male reader x Soap" (if you comfortable writing poly relationship) with slow burn, angst and fluff at the end?

Where Ghost and Soap already in a relationship until the reader came into their team The two male thought the reader wasn't talkative around people but few weeks later, things change at first Ghost seems interesting in the male skill using gun and how fast he can run and Soap like the male sense of humour.

Both of them thought it only a friendship type of things. Until the male save Ghost from the enemy on the battlefield and him laughing at Soap jokes. That when the two males known what happen to them, they weren't sure if M/n would comfortable in a relationship with them, so they start doing small things for him like making coffee or helping training,..

And M/n notice it, he even started to fall for the both of them. But he keep denying the things they did for him because he thought that what friend do. and M/n don't think he is ready for a new relationship, he wasn't sure he is good enough for them (the male got trauma from the previous relationships) (more angst please, I would like to suffer for a little bit)

(・∀・)

After a while, the three of them got into a mission together, everything went good until the male got shot. He thought he going to be de@d soon (only to find out that he only got shot at his leg) so M/n confessed how he feel about the two of them which got him embarrassed when Ghost mention it when they got back to the base.

(andddd I don't know what to do with the ending cause I'm ran out of idea. I would want to see how the treated each other when got into a relationship. Sorry about the grammar, English isn't my first language)

hello anon! thanks so much for your request, i’m sorry for having taken so long to get to it because i will be honest, i rewrote this 29 fucking times…anyway, thank you for being as descriptive as possible because that really helped me out. and it’s okay! if you would like, feel free to leave a request in your native language so it’s more comfortable for you, i can translate it easily!

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Ghost x Male!Reader x Soap: One’s Company, and Two’s a Crowd

Trigger Warnings: angst wth a happy ending, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, gunshot wounds, past abusive relationships, relationship trauma, accidental confessions, reference of domestic violence

Simon and Johnny had, despite their slight differences, found themselves in a relationship together. Behind closed doors, the relationship was as domestic as it could get with an angsty man who’s had the worst of the worst happen in his life and a golden retriever boyfriend whose purpose for his traumatized lover was to show him there is some good in this world. Though his biological family is gone, Simon’s found his place in the Task Force and SpecGru; and a new member was just about to join the family. You walked into the room where Simon and Johnny were sitting, and his eyes grew wide when he saw you do a double take once you saw them. “Hey—who the fuck are you? How the fuck’d you get in?” he asks, quickly standing up.

Johnny’s quick to do the same, grabbing Simon’s hand tightly to hold him back. “Easy, Simon—let’s give him a chance to explain himself,” he says. His ocean blue eyes are soft as he looks at you, meanwhile Simon’s dark brown eyes are glaring into you so hard you feel like you’ll suddenly feel the blade of an invisible knife ghost against your neck before digging into you. “I’m new around here, sorry. The main contractor was telling me to try and introduce myself to anyone who’s around,” you explain. Your voice is so soft and so gentle, despite your military build. You’ve even got your arms raised in the air as a form of surrender. Simon, still wary of you, walks over to you and begins to frisk you for weapons. Satisfied that he doesn’t find anything, Simon lets you lower your arms before walking back to Johnny.

“You should probably learn how to fucking knock,” he scolds, glaring at you hard still. “He doesn’t need to knock Bonnie, this is the common room,” Johnny says before shaking his head slightly. “Sorry about that—what’s yer name? I’m Johnny and this here is Ghost,” he asks in a more kind manner. “Ah, cool. Nice to meet you two, please call me Y/N whenever we’re not on a mission or anything,” you say, giving the two a more peaceful and gentle smile. “Y/N…very nice name, I’ll say. Glad to have you on our side, too. I’m sure all of us will make some real good memories now that you’re here,” Johnny says. You can’t help but smile, nodding your head a bit, “Can’t wait to see what the future holds for us—this is going to be really exciting. I’ll be out of your hair now, see you around,” you say.

The duo then watches you give them a little wave once you step back out of the common room. It makes Simon sigh deeply, looking back down at Johnny. “M’sorry, love. I didn’t mean to snap on the kid like that…you know how I am…” he apologizes. It makes Johnny laugh, leaning over and giving him a kiss on the cheek as he leads him back to the couch. “It’s okay, you’ll eventually warm up to him…I hope,” he says, wrapping his arms back around Simon. He does the same, holding onto Johnny once more and closing his eyes. “He seems…a bit promising, however. I’ll try my best to warm up to him…” Simon mumbles, nuzzling into Johnny’s chest. “Go at your own pace, alright?” Johnny reassures. Simon nods, sighing again as he closes his eyes. His lover’s embrace always seems to calm him for the better.

Time seems to fly, the more you spend time on base and out on missions, the more Simon and Johnny seem to notice you’re completely reserved to everyone else. The only time you ever speak is on missions, and even then, it’s only when you need to make call outs or call in a UAV. The two of them are impressed however, your ability to run and gun down enemies is something that they haven’t seen in quite some time. The way you carry yourself is with so much pride and a determination to do your job the best you could now that you’re in the big leagues, met only by the silence of someone who actively acknowledges just how good they are. It’s not arrogant or anything, as you tend to give everyone a thumbs up once you’re asked how you’re feeling before, during, and after a mission.

Outside the field, you’re even more isolated and really only hang around Johnny and Simon whenever they invite you to. You laugh at Johnny’s dumb jokes, picking up on some of his Scots and occasionally using it whenever the time is right. Johnny starts to feel drawn to you, and with your expertise in handling weaponry and staying cool in the field draws Simon closer to you too. It’s shocking, but it’s what draws the romantic duo closer to wanting to know you better. Johnny comes up with the idea to make you more comfortable, following Simon’s suggestion to get you closer to the two of them. It’s a big risk, he says, but Simon’s more than willing to make that risk for you.

You warm up to them both, talking more and more only when you’re with them. The prospect of potentially adding you to their relationship makes Johnny and Simon a bit excited. They begin to treat you nicely, waking you up whenever you’ve slept long enough, giving you coffee or tea if it’s too early in the morning, and treating you with a kindness you haven’t really felt in a long time. It almost feels…a little domestic. It’s a form of intimacy you didn’t even have in your last relationship, and in turn it makes you a bit wary. Still wanting to be friends with them, you just return the gestures whenever you can. Acts of service seems to be Johnny’s love language, and quality time seems to be Simon’s.

For you, it’s gift giving. You give them little trinkets and stuff you find—out in the field and in the cities you all travel to—showing them that you’re their friend and want them to know you appreciate them. It scares you, after a few months of doing this, as you eventually find yourself catching feelings for the both of them. It felt wrong, having such strong emotions for two men at the same time. It almost reminds you of your past relationship, except you were forced to share yourself with two different people who ended up forgetting you in the end. They’d exclude you and eventually started hurting you physically whenever you protested the relationship.

So once you wake up from a nightmare recounting that verg relationship while sleeping on the couch of the common room, Johnny and Simon are immediately alerted by this as they sit and talk seated at a table in the corner of the room. They see the cold sweat dripping off your forehead, your chest heaving slightly as you try to regain your breath and rush over. “Are you doing alright? What’s the matter?” Johnny asks, looking at you. “G-Get away…please…” you plead softly, shocking the duo slightly. “Bonnie, come on…we just want to help you…” Johnny says, reaching out for you. You crawl further back into the couch, as if scrambling to get away from them.

Simon, despite wearing his usual skull balaclava, is clearly distressed by your sudden behavior. “Do you…feel scared because of us…” he asks softly, trying to show his concern for you. Not a word comes out, however, a gentle nod of the head is the only answer given. “Do you feel comfortable enough to talk about it? We just want to understand…” Johnny says. You just remain silent, not even realizing that your body’s begun to tremble. “Please, let us understand…help us understand…” he continues to urge you. Feeling overwhelmed, you just push them away and quickly storm out of the common room.

The duo doesn’t move or go after you, opting to give you the space you clearly need right now. Weeks go by, and you’re sent back on another mission with Johnny and Simon. They could tell you’re still very much not willing to talk to them. The distance aches their hearts, as all they want to do is understand what’s hurting you. They don’t even realize that they’re the reason; you’d swiftly fallen in love with the two men, and you really don’t want to have a repeat of your previous relationship the more you fall. It hurt, and you didn’t want to see them hurt from it either. It’s distracting, especially on such an important mission like this. Suddenly, you can faintly hear your callsign being yelled.

“Liquid…”

“Liquid!”

“Liquid! Get the fuck down!”

You snap out of your thoughts once the disembodied voice yells at you, managing to hear a bullet whizz past your ear. Immediately you drop to the floor, clutching your TAQ-56 tightly in your hands. Not realizing the enemy’s become fully aware of your presence long before you started zoning out, the realization of three of you being pinned down where you were positioned really rang in your ears. Maybe it was just the bullet that whizzed past, or the thundering gunfire that surrounded you making your ears ring. Whatever it was, you forced yourself to wait for the enemies to call out to their own teammates when reloading to return fire.

The shootout lasts for a while and as a last ditch effort against the remaining 4 scattered enemies, one of them hurls an active frag grenade towards Simon. “Ghost, move!” you exclaim. Simon looks down and quickly moves back, firing at an enemy that appeared from the left of a different building. Running from your cover, fire is immediately opened on you as you grip the grenade and hurl it back to the one that threw it. A bullet pierces through you in an unknown area, pain immediately surging in your body as you fall to the floor. The grenade explodes on the enemy that tossed it, as well as his friend that happened to be unlucky enough to move forward. “Y/N! Streamin’ bloody Jesus!”

“I-I can’t go on anymore! Just know—I really love you guys!” you exclaim, not even paying attention where you had been shot at. Johnny comes out of his cover and fires at the remaining enemy before joining Simon at your side. Simon’s already removed your body armor and was in the middle of checking where the bullet hit you, and he seemed to have frozen in place at your confession. Johnny turns his attention to your leg before looking up at your face, “You uh…you’ll live, Liquid…you got shot in the meatier part of your calf,” he says a bit awkwardly. Instantaneously upon hearing you weren’t even dying, your heart dropped even further into the seemingly bottomless pit.

You just accidentally confessed.

The once talkative trio was now completely silent, being treated by medics and being moved to get further care for your gunshot wound. Simon and Johnny patiently wait to be allowed to see you and once they do, the tension in the room is just as heavy as it was back when you first joined the whole operation. “Y/N…we need to talk about what you said earlier,” Johnny urges gently. A deep sigh escapes you as you sit there in the infirmary cot. You’ve begun to play with the stitching to your jeans, huffing softly. “It was the heat of the moment…” you make an excuse for yourself, blaming it on the situation.

Simon raises his brow after, “You do know that that makes it all the more true. This isn’t something you can easily avoid,” he says, reminding you of the other side of the coin. Feeling defeated about this situation, your shoulders slump as you reluctantly look up at the couple. “Okay, fine—I’ve…I’ve had feelings for you two for quite some time but…ah…” You say, trailing off as different points come through your mind. Deciding to start on one, the look in your eyes becomes somber as the duo watches and patiently waits to hear what you have to say. “Can I first explain why I started pushing you guys away…?” you ask, hoping they’ll provide you a safe space to speak.

“‘Course ya can…go in and tell us, lad…we’re listening…” Johnny reassured you. Simon nods silently, waiting to understand why you began to act so distant in the first place. “Well…when my partner and I were dating, they decided to add another person to the mix…except, it was a blatant slap to the face,” you begin, feeling a bit overwhelmed as the story of your past relationship comes to light. Johnny and Simon both reach for your hands, gently holding onto and caressing them. They give you a moment to recollect yourself, clearly treating you much better than you had been treated. “It was only like that because it was basically a way for my partner to distance themselves and cheat on me.”

The last sentence makes Simon furious, and he squeezes at your hand a little tighter. You couldn’t help but keep going, “The two of them had degraded me and…sometimes they hit me…whenever I asked them to join or made a protest to the whole thing.” Johnny’s eyes, usually soft, looked immediately protective, “Oh bonnie…you didn’t deserve to be treated like rubbish like that. Is the ended relationship why you ended up joining the military, and eventually us?” he asks while reassuring you. A silent nod is your only response, as well as the quivers of pain and fear your body gives.

“I pushed myself away to keep myself from hurting like that again…from personal experience, I’ve become so afraid…” you say. Your own hands then hold onto Simon’s and Johnny’s a bit tighter, and they do the same. “We wouldn’t let that happen at all. Johnny and I here, well—the two of us have fallen in love with you at the same time. It’s completely understandable if you want to join or not,” Simon confesses, rubbing at the back of his still balaclava-covered head. “Promise we won’t ignore how you’re feeling…a relationship as big as ours relies heavily on trust so…” Johnny says, looking at Simon before you.

“Will you trust us?”

The question comes out of their mouths perfectly in sync, showing that giving you the move you’ve always deserved is something they both agreed on doing. A heavy and apprehensive silence filled the room, the 50/50 chance of you agreeing or not waiting to be flipped by a singular figurative scenario. “I’ll trust you…” eventually came out of your lips and confirmed your answer. Not even realizing they had been holding their breaths, Simon and Johnny sigh in relief. “Thank fucking God…” Simon says, putting a hand in his chest. Johnny chuckles as he leans forward and kisses your cheek.

“Best choice, Y/N…you’re going to be so loved…you’ve even got Simon all exasperated about this,” Johnny says, slightly joking with you. Simon grumbles, rolling his eyes as lifts his balaclava up before he leans forward and kisses your other cheek. “That’ll do…” he says, ruffling your sleeve a bit. “Thank you—I’m really hoping this could work out for us…” you mumble softly, kissing both Simon and Johnny’s cheeks. This was the staff of a new beginning, and the first step from healing what you’d experienced before. So much love was on its way to you, and you were just so happy.

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