#Snowfall And Dread

[blametheeditor]

Boo! The snow is thawing, but it’s still here. How despicable would it be if a lil tiny Fritz had to walk home through thick snow after his shift?

Take as long as you need, it’s cold outside! Everyone’s bones are sluggish. Headcanons on each character’s reaction or a short check-in is chill. Honestly just wanna make sure you’re surviving <3

Also, watch out for snowballs! I heard there’s a new FazSnowball flying around…

AH!

That would be despicable! It'd be a shame, even...if such a scenario wasn't written

Thank you for the check in!! I am currently surviving, fighting with characters, the usual. I hope you've been doing good and surviving as well <3

It's always a pleasure seeing you mcfries! Especially when you give me something I can sink my teeth it was too good not to make an almost 10,000 fic out of it

Snowfall And Dread

Content Warnings: Cursing. Dehumanization. Treating others as lesser than. Addressing someone as 'thing' and 'pest'. Mentions of death. Mentions of getting lost in a snow storms. Mentions of hypothermia. Mentions of caring for someone who's unconscious.

Follow up fic, nothing but wholesome snowman building and innocent burying of tinies in snow

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“Fritz,” has said teenager pausing from clocking out for the day. Part of him knew he would be caught at the door, and part of him dreaded the possibility of being asked to stay longer. Even though his shift technically ended two hours ago. 

But he would get in trouble if he tried to claim he was already off the clock. So instead of pressing the button, he turns away from the register to properly address his manager, tilting his head back to properly see the giant standing just outside the hallway for employees only. “Yes, Mr. Harrison?” 

The towering business man doesn’t look away from whatever he’s typing on his phone. “Did you double check that the tills were correct?”

“Yes, sir!” 

David Harrison raises an eyebrow, still not so much as glancing away from the screen. “And did you make a list of things I need to order?” 

“I did!” Fritz points above him at the giant register a few feet away. “It’s on the counter!” 

The business man finally looks away from his phone to spot the list in question. The giant then takes a few catastrophic footsteps to grab it, making the teenager take a few steps back out of respect. And maybe from a slight worry about the shoes capable of crushing him like a bug getting too close. 

It’s almost funny how David doesn’t question how the restaurant’s only human employee manages to count money from a register where he could be mistaken as a coin, or how someone so small could write using a pen twice his size. And yet the giant constantly grumbles about Fritz almost always managing to end up underfoot, as well as the fact he’s essentially useless since he can’t complete tasks like cleaning tables or serving food. 

At least the worst thing David can say is just how useless having a human working at a giant only restaurant is. Fritz has yet to be anything but useful, even if it is annoying for everyone to watch where they step. 

Not that David always watches. Fritz honestly can’t tell if the giant actually knows where he’s currently standing as the list being held is asked a question. “We’re already out of party hats?” 

“We’ve got half a box left,” Fritz explains, nervously twisting the strap of his backpack in his hands. “That’s why I put a note saying to order it Friday, so we have enough for next week after the all the parties scheduled for this weekend.” 

At least, he’s pretty sure Lefty wrote that part down for him. Not that he wasn’t part of the process! He doesn’t just ask the animatronics to do his job for him. Ask for help walking to the storage room that would have taken him a whole hour just to get to, yes, but Fritz wouldn’t order someone to check the supplies and make a list. There’s just a possibility Fritz was distracted, either because the pen was used to chase him across the paper, or because one of the other animatronics demanded for his attention. And if he’s distracted, then Lefty takes advantage and ‘accidentally’ forgets about what he’s doing. 

Honestly, Fritz should stop trusting the animatronic bear so much. Not when the last time Lefty forgot they were supposed to go to David’s office and ended up at the prize counter where Fritz was labeled as only being worth 400 tickets. The worst part is even Orville agreed! 

Thankfully Lefty did write the part about ordering the party hats Friday. If he hadn’t, David wouldn’t be typing on his phone instead of lecturing Fritz about wasting precious time, that if he said to do something then it better be done correctly, or else- 

The phone in David’s hand suddenly ringing admittedly makes Fritz jump. He then tenses as his shoulders hitch up in a poor attempt to cover his ears, prepared for the yelling guaranteed to come during the call. One of the many habits the giant refuses to change despite having a human employee who’s eardrums could burst and where a misplaced step could be fatal. 

There’s no stopping a sigh of relief when David immediately turns to walk back toward his office as the phone is answered. Which means his hearing survives another day! And he can clock out without getting in trouble! 

“Mr. Smith?” stops Fritz a second time, his finger hovering over the button to end his shift. 

The teenager pulls his hand away, turning to see Mr. Hippo standing by one of the tables, the animatronic hippopotamus holding a box of crayons. Which means Fritz completely forgot about his promise to help pick out what pictures to have for the coloring station. “Oh, I’m sorry! Did you need help setting up your station?” 

“Oh no, I have it covered,” Mr. Hippo smiles. “I just wanted to ask if you were aware that it’s currently snowing.” 

“Snowing?” comes the immediate chorus of the other three animatronics repeating it together, with Happy’s excited cheer much louder than Orville’s bewildered murmur. 

“Snowing?” Fritz finds himself repeating as well, needing a moment to process what was being said. It doesn’t truly click until he turns to the door to the outside, staring out at the streetlight working hard to keep the darkness away. 

A wide smile spreads across his face at the sight of snowflakes falling past the light. Realizes what snowing means. That his walk home is going to be cold but anything except boring. Maybe he’ll even be lucky and it’ll snow enough to make a snowman! Or he can convince Mike to-! 

Oh, wait, Mike won’t be walking him home. Because there’s no Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica at this location. The giant night guard doesn’t come here for his shift, meaning he won’t be coming in early to help Fritz navigate through the snow. 

Which is fine, Fritz’ll be fine! He’s walked through the snow without a giant to help flatten the path before. It just means less worrying about slipping and more work to trudge through knee high snow. Even though it looks like it won’t stop snowing anytime soon, it shouldn’t get too deep by the time he gets home. 

He just wishes he had a proper snow jacket, but he’ll be fine! “Think Mr. Harrison will let me have the day off tomorrow?” 

Lefty snorts. “And here I thought you finally learned never to give him such credit.” 

“Wish me luck getting here on time!” Fritz waves as he finally clocks out for the day. “See you guys tomorrow!” 

“Mr. Smith!” Happy calls, giving Fritz a good excuse to shut the door after the wind sent a freezing shiver down his spine. “Didn’t Mr. Harrison promise to walk you home if it snowed?” 

Oh, had the business man made a promise like that? No offense, but it doesn’t sound like something David would say. If he had, then it would’ve been something Scott had to forcibly gotten an agreement for. 

Wait, he remembers now! Specifically David’s annoyance and Scott’s anger when the man came to restaurant last month to demand that Fritz wouldn’t walk through the snow alone. Because this is a giant only restaurant, meaning this location is a lot closer to the giant side of town then all the other ones, which means the weather is a bit different. 

Fritz shivers at the memory of having to face the rain shortly after he transferred to this location. Distinctly remembers how much it hurt when a droplet the size of his arm slammed into his back. It only got worse when it made him fall face first onto the sidewalk, ending with him having a decent sized scrape on his cheek. That was one of the few times he agreed to the animatronic’s insistence he didn’t go home, even though he was right about David lecturing him about this being a restaurant not a hotel the next day. 

As for Scott, he was much more upset about the scab that covered half of Fritz’s face. Truthfully, the teenager’s pretty sure James was hired part to make sure Mike doesn’t bleed out, and part to ease Scott’s mind concerning certain teenagers. 

Suddenly, the snow seems a lot more daunting than before. And as Fritz watches it falling, he realizes each flake is at least the size of his hand if not bigger. He can also hear the howling wind as it races past the windows. 

To be honest, he would genuinely be grateful if a giant walked with him, just to make sure he didn’t get buried by snow. Even if they only went as far as needed to get to where the snowflakes are small enough to sit on his finger instead of as big as his head. 

David had promised to walk Fritz home if it was snowing. The business man wouldn’t be too upset if he was asked to follow through on it, would he? 

Except...he would. Fritz can perfectly picture the glare of someone dare interrupting him during an important call. Interrupting him period even if it’s not necessarily ‘important’. Would wave his hand if he listened to Fritz’s request and tell the teenager to figure it out himself. There’s better things for the giant to do then escorting some lowly human home. 

It’s times like these when he regrets agreeing to transfer locations. 

Fritz glances back at the hallway where he can hear David’s yelling despite the office door being closed. Looks outside at the ground slowly being covered by snow. “I-I don’t want to bother him. Besides, it doesn’t look that bad!” 

Happy and Mr. Hippo share a look of concern as Lefty shrugs. “It was certainly a pleasure knowing you.” 

"Lefty!” 

“Orville, even you can agree he won’t last five minutes by himself.” Fritz wilts as the bear turns away, walking back to the stage. “But it is his decision to make. Unless you would like to forcibly keep him here.” 

“As unwise as it would be you walk home alone,” Orville begins. “We wouldn’t keep you here against your will, Mr. Smith.” 

“But we are going to highly suggest you ask Mr. Harrison to walk you home,” Happy adds. 

Fritz does appreciate how considerate the animatronics are to not grab him without permission or to force him to do something he doesn’t want. They’ll take advantage of the fact he’s no bigger than a speck to them to tease him, like taking a very long detour to get to David’s office. But they don’t just pin him down or snatch him off the counter like all of his coworkers do. Or completely avoid picking him up because it feels too weird having someone sitting in your hands. 

He wouldn’t be upset if they did force him to stay, though. Might even prefer it since it’d give him a good excuse why he didn’t go home. Maybe...maybe he can go ask David to walk him at least until the snow is human sized. 

And get berated the entire time. Or get completely ignored and either get left behind or nearly stepped on several times. Get told this is yet another reason why he despises humans, how hard can it be to walk home in the snow? 

…he’ll be fine going home alone. How bad can it really be! Sure the snowflakes are giant, but they’re also really light. Rain is just pure water falling to the ground as fast as it can, but snow gently drifts down unless the wind blows it away. It also doesn’t look like it’s been snowing for long, plus it takes more than thirty minutes for the streets to collect a full inch of snow. He’ll be safely away from giant snowflakes by the time it gets that bad. 

He’ll be fine! 

“I’ll be okay, I promise!” Fritz calls up to the three remaining animatronics, giving as confident of a smile he can manage. “I’ll see you all tomorrow!” 

He’s quick to walk through the door before anyone can say anything else, maybe even get David themselves. Unfortunately, a snowflake lands on his arm not even a second later, immediately soaking through his jacket. It makes his teeth chatter as he’s chilled to the bone, making him want to do nothing more than to walk right back into the restaurant. 

But he can’t. Not unless he wants to get yelled at for wasting David’s time. He’ll take the cold walk home alone in the dark over that any day. 

Fritz wraps his arms around himself tightly as he begins to make his way home. Yelps when snowflake touches the back of his neck, the teenager scrambling to pull the hood of his jacket he completely forgot about over his head. Unfortunately, he only manages to make things worse as the action puts the snow on top of his head, a shiver wracking his body as it melts and leaves him trembling like a leak as the wind only makes him colder. 

He’s only five steps away from the restaurant, not even one step from a giant’s perspective, and he’s already miserable. 

Shaking his head, Fritz continues walking, hunkering down into his jacket to keep himself as warm as possible. Even though he’s freezing, his ears and nose are protected. And hey, the wind might be cold, but it’s blowing from behind to give him a boost forward! 

There absolutely won’t be any stops during this walk, though. Not when there’s no giant around to help him warm up after building a snowman. Normally he doesn’t have to worry about when the snow inevitably soak through his gloves, not when Mike always swept him up once his fingers went numb. It’s completely unfair how the night guard never needs gloves himself, even while holding a deemed ‘Irish Jig popsicle’. 

It’s also unfair how a single step for a giant is twenty steps for a human. If Fritz was a giant, he most likely would already be away from the snowflakes slowly but surely weighing him down. They won’t hurt when he manage to land on his head or back, but they’re a lot heavier than expected. And despite the fact he has barely any body heat compared to giants, each one melts too quickly for him to brush them off in time. 

He’s actually a little concerned with just how soaked his jacket is. The ice cold water had long since melted through the long sleeve underneath, but he doesn’t see an end to the storm anytime soon. No, if anything, it seems to be getting worse. 

Fritz pauses for a moment to look behind him. Stares past the streetlight towering over his head at the faint glow of the restaurant, the glowing letters of Fazbear Entertainment Center too far away to properly read. To be honest, he hasn’t gotten that far down the sidewalk, but he’s gotten far enough away it wouldn’t be worth going back. 

The teenager ducks to keep a snowflake from smacking him the face. The wind is definitely getting a bit stronger, but it’s still blowing against his back if he keeps walking home. Which means he should continue going. Especially now that the sidewalk is slowly but surely getting covered in a thin layer of snow. 

He turns away from the restaurant. Forces himself to put one foot in front of the other, even though he can’t feel his toes. Or his fingers. Or his face. 

It’s fine, he’ll be fine! It takes about, thirty minutes for snow to be an inch deep? He’ll be out of giant weather long before that. And he can even stop by Mike’s location for a bit! Fazbear’s Pizzeria is on the way home, and the night guard is guaranteed to come in early. He would also never say no to Fritz coming inside to warm up before continuing on his journey. 

Actually, maybe he can ask Mike to walk with him. Or just carry him the whole way home. The giant wouldn’t mind, right? He’s never minded before, and maybe he misses the tradition just as much as Fritz does, and- 

His thoughts are cut off as the wind nearly sends him face first into the snow. Fritz quickly pinwheels his arms to stay upright, gasping in pain as the biting cold attacks his fingers. Even though he sees he’s wearing gloves from the streetlight's orange glow, he can’t help but think there’s nothing on his hands to keep them warm. He protectively pulls his arms in close, quickly moving to take another step forward, only to find his foot is stuck. 

Looking down, Fritz trembles at the sight of snow piling up around him. Feels like yet another snowflake landed on his shoulders as a shiver races down his back at the realization he made a severe miscalculation. 

Oh no.

No, it’s fine, he’ll be fine! He’s been walking for a while, so he has to at least be close to where the snowflakes are smaller than the tip of his finger. He’ll get somewhere warm before the snow gets too deep. There’s no need to panic, he’ll be fine, it’ll be fine. 

Even as every single inch of him trembles from the cold, unable to see his breath in the air anymore, a single step forward almost impossible to take. 

He doesn’t notice when he trips before falling into the snow. 

“-and I thought I explicitly told you to-!” 

David cuts himself off mid-sentence as his phone rings once again for the fifth time in a row. Briefly moving the phone away from his ear, he sighs at Scott calling him yet again despite the fact he’s sent every previous call straight to voicemail. Apparently the man can’t take a hint. 

“Please excuse me for one moment,” is all David offers before pausing the rather trivial conversation in order to answer the incessant ringing. “And what is so important you had to call me five times?” 

“Did Fritz get home safely?” comes the most idiotic response he will ever hear. 

It’s times like these where he genuinely regrets making such a fuss over having Fritz transferred to the location he owns. Even he can admit the kid had lived up to the unanimously positive accounts of just how much of an asset he is to have on the team. No one cared to tell him just how annoyingly protective Scott is over the runt. Nor did someone think it would be important to make the words ‘human’ a little bigger to not make David look like an absolute dumbass requesting such a tiny thing to work at a giant only restaurant 

What’s done is done, though, and what’s done is his apparent ‘superior’ abusing the fact David can’t hang up on the man less he gets written up. 

The business man pinches the bridge of his nose. “And this is my problem why?” 

“He’s not answering my calls-“ 

“I wonder why,” David huffs with an eyeroll. 

“-and since it’s snowing I wanted to be absolutely certain he made it home safe,” Scott continues, not even pausing to acknowledge the very not so subtle dig. “So can you please confirm he did?” 

It’s the word ‘snowing’ that pulls David up short, a memory trying to pull at him for attention. He almost ignores it, waves away this entire conversation to say he isn’t Fritz’s mother, where the kid is and what happens to him isn’t his responsibility. 

Except it is. As annoying as it needing to be careful watching where he steps in his own restaurant is, he made that decision. Fought long and hard with Scott to have Fritz work here instead of some rundown building with idiotic managers who have no idea how to use such an employee. 

Snowing, why does that sound so familiar? And why does Scott almost sound like he’s panicked? 

“Give me a moment.” 

Surprisingly, Scott doesn’t make a fuss about not getting an immediate answer, the man eerily quiet as David stands up from his desk to walk to the main room, glancing down to make sure no miniscule figures end up underfoot. 

He sees no sign of Fritz, and a look out the window sends an unexplainable twist to his stomach at the sight of steady snowfall. 

He turns the phone away from his face as he catches Orville’s attention. “Where’s Fritz?” 

Instead of the elephant immediately tattling on Lefty for keeping the kid past clock out time, the animatronic manages to force its permanent smile into a look of worry. “He left thirty minutes ago.” 

“Fuck!” comes a genuinely panicked curse from Scott before David can full process what that means. “I can’t believe you, David!” 

The business man sputters. “What did I do?” 

“You let a human teenager go out into the snow alone!” Scott yells, and David is never admitting he had to hold the phone away from his head or else risk his eardrum bursting. “After you promised you would walk him home!” 

He remembers now. Of Scott standing on the ground next to David’s desk, lecturing the uninterested business man who was contemplating how much trouble he could get into if he put Scott in a jar to shut him up about the difference between weather made for giants vs humans. Distinctly remembers the moment Scott realized he wasn’t being listened to. 

”David, I swear to God. If Fritz ever dies on your watch-”

”Aren’t you being a bit dramatic, Scott?”

”I don’t think you understand just how dangerous it is for him. It’s almost like you want him dead.”

”Okay now you’re being dramatic. I don’t want him dead, I just don’t think something like snow is as dangerous as you’re making it out to be.”

Now that David’s actually looking at the snow, he realizes the snowflakes are easily half of Fritz’s size. Starts to understand why Scott assumes he wants the kid dead. 

“God damn it, David! I trusted you! Now the poor kid’s either frozen or about to be all because you couldn’t be bothered!” 

“In my defense,” David murmurs as he quickly grabs his coat, tucking his phone against his shoulder to pull his gloves on. “He didn’t come to the office to tell me it was snowing.” 

“I texted you,” Scott growls lowly, his voice quivering. “Twice about there being a storm tonight.” 

David remembers the text. Remembers making sure he brought a scarf and gloves with him. He also remembers rolling his eyes when he spotted Fritz’s jacket that was made for anything but the snow. 

“I’m sure he’s fine,” David lies as he quickly walks to the front of the restaurant, pointedly ignoring Lefty’s stare promising his death as he unlocks the door. “I’ll text you once I find him.” 

“And call James,” is all Scott says before hanging up the phone. 

David doesn’t bother to give an explanation to the person still waiting on the other line, ending the call as he steps outside. Looks down at the pitiful amount of snow currently covering the sidewalk. Takes a moment to briefly lift his shoe to see the imprint left behind. 

It’s not enough snow to even warrant snow shoes. But considering the fact Fritz doesn’t even stand as tall as his ankle makes it enough to be quite a chore for a human to walk through. He chalks the reason his heart is beating rapidly against his chest to the cold air making it hard to breathe. 

“Fritz!” 

David hesitates to choose a direction to walk. He’s never bothered to ask the kid about his commute to and from work, not when there’s never really been a reason to care. It might’ve come up in a rant the business man didn’t pay attention to, again not having a reason to care unless something infuriating was said, such as Mike’s or Eggs’ name. 

Though there was that one time Fritz mentioned stopping by the location Mike work at, something about it being on the way home. 

It’s not perfect, but it’s the best he’s got, meaning David makes a right as he quickly walks down the sidewalk, watching every step he takes. 

“Fritz!” 

That absolute dumbass. David knows that Fritz got the exact same lecture about the weather from Scott. He remembers the kid getting two lectures, one concerning the rain and how he could literally get swept into a drain if he’s not careful. Fritz will stay the night at the restaurant if it rains, but he won’t stay when it snows, or at least ask the giant tasked with keeping him safe to walk him home? 

Contrary to belief, David doesn’t want the kid dead. Scott’s a different story, but despite it being annoying needing to check under his feet before so much as standing up, the giant still checks. Comments about how he wishes someone steps on Scott or a kid turns the man into an action figure to take home and keep forever, but it won’t be his shoe or his hand putting the tiny thing in the lost and found bin. 

“Fritz!” 

Once he finds Fritz, he’s not letting the kid out of his sight for a week. Seriously, what kind of idiot walks into a snowstorm where the snow is bigger than them? Not to give Eggs any credit but even that thing would be smart enough not to walk through it alone. Honestly how has Fritz even survived this long? 

A shiver runs down David’s spine as his search continues to come up empty. He’s seen firsthand just how fast humans walk despite only being two inches tall, but Fritz couldn’t have gotten too far even with a thirty minute head start. There should at least be some sign he’s going the right way, like microscopic footsteps in the snow or a lopsided snowman sitting under a streetlamp. Unless doesn’t take the sidewalk and uses some offroad trail through the trees. But even Fritz would know that’s a stupid idea. 

“Fritz!” 

He’s beginning to grow a little worried. Despite there being snow on the ground, it’s not enough to make a loud crunch whenever he steps, meaning he should at least be able to hear a soft yell to acknowledge the kid’s name being called. That’s if Fritz can yell, though, and if David picked the right direction to walk. 

There’s also the possibility David did go the right way but he passed the kid. He hasn’t looked up from the ground once, but with the snow blowing all around him and it being pitch dark between the streetlamps, it’s possible he might’ve accidentally missed a misshapen lump in the snow. The wind might’ve covered a quiet yell as David walked right past the buried form. 

Fuck. “Fri-!” 

His yell is silenced at the sight of something red sitting in the snow under the next streetlamp. Keeping himself from running toward it, David carefully checks where he’s stepping, making sure he’s not ignoring anything else that might be buried. Finally, he reaches the circle of light, kneeling down to get a better look. 

“Fritz,” David breathes, staring at the sight of the kid curled up in a tight ball, half buried in snow and not even twitching at the sound of his name. 

That’s far from a good sign. But first things first, Fritz needs to be taken away from the snow. Which would have been infinitely easier if the human was standing and walking on his own, but he’s not, meaning David has to pick him up. 

Pick up an unconscious figure smaller than his finger when he can’t remember the last time he held a human. 

It’s not that David’s afraid of holding them. It’s more so the principle he has absolutely no idea where they’ve been, and he certainly doesn’t want someone walking over his hand when they just trampled through the mud, or through soda that was split on the floor. 

To be honest, Fritz is most likely covered in twenty different species of germs considering the kid works in a children’s restaurant and walks across counters that have God knows what covering them, but that’s not what has him hesitating. It’s the fact Fritz looks so small, like he’ll break at any moment if he’s so much as breathed on. 

David takes a deep breath. Leans down as he reaches a hand out to carefully try and brush the snow off the kid’s back. Sighs in relief when there’s no scream of pain from a rib being broken. 

Honestly, how hard can it be to pick up a human? Mike does it all the time, and if that can handle not snapping Fritz in two, then so can David. 

Steeling himself, the business man slowly scoops his fingers into the snow. It’s almost pathetic just how small the pile is, yet it was enough to completely cover the kid if the wind was blowing just a little harder, meaning it’s also enough for David to slide his hand underneath Fritz before lifting his hand. 

Great, he picked the kid up without crushing him. Now what does he do? 

Well, it’d be a good idea to see if Fritz is even alive. 

David freezes at the realization he can’t say for certain the kid is breathing. Even as he holds the absolutely miniscule thing, he can’t see or feel a single shiver, and his gloves make it impossible to tell if there’s a heartbeat. 

Ignoring his own pounding heart, he’s quick to take a glove off before delicately placing a finger over Fritz’s chest. David nearly jumps as the kid almost immediately latches onto him, curling around the thumb longer than he is tall like his life depends on it. Though in Fritz’s defense, it does. 

David’s relief is covered by anger at getting jump scared. “You dumbass, why didn’t you tell me you were awake!” 

There’s no response, not even a twitch saying his words were heard. His thumb is simply hugged tighter, a pitiful heartbeat beating against his fingerprint to prove the kid is alive. He’s also freezing, a shiver running up David’s arm as it becomes clear a living ice cube has claimed his finger. 

But at least the kid’s alive. 

With both hands occupied, it takes David a moment to try and brush as much snow off of Fritz as possible. And despite the fact the kid is so cold it hurts to touch, the business man doesn’t have the heart to pull his finger away, which means he carefully moves the literal icicle into his ungloved hand, hissing in pain once the transaction is complete. 

Hoping to keep his fingers from going numb, David unbuttons his coat so he can tuck his occupied hand against his chest, surrounding the kid and his hand in warmth. 

David isn’t confident this is what he should be doing after finding someone nearly frozen in the snow. But what matters is he found Fritz, the kid is alive, and he’s no longer in the cold, slowly warming up. It might not be perfect, but it’s enough for now. 

Carefully standing up, David shoves his extra glove into his coat pocket before grabbing his phone as he starts walking. It takes him a solid five minutes just to send a single text to Scott saying Fritz is fine with only one hand free, and the other making him paranoid Fritz’s heart skipped a beat and focusing on the kid instead. At least it only takes a few seconds to pull up James’ number to call. 

“You found him?” 

“I take it Scott already told you,” David growls. 

“He did,” and at least the doctor respects him enough not to give an ‘I’m not angry, just disappointed’ act. “Is Fritz okay?” 

“The runt’s fine, his heart’s still beating.” The business man glances down at the figure still hugging his finger as they pass under a streetlamp. “I’ve got him in my hand inside my coat so he’s out of the wind.” 

“Good. You will need to keep holding him until his temperature’s back to normal.” 

David gives a flat look to the darkness. “And how long is that going to take?” 

“As long as it needs to,” James replies evenly. “He’ll get warmer faster if he’s wearing dry clothes and drinking something warm and sweet.” 

David bristles. “And how am I supposed to make him hot chocolate with one hand?” 

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” 

"Don’t patronize me.” 

“Not patronizing you,” James smiles he can hear the smug smile. “I’ve seen you make coffee and text at the same time. But as long as Fritz is awake, you can set him down for a moment, just not for too long.” 

“Fine.” 

“You did a good job finding him, David,” brings the business man up short from the sincerity. “If you need any help just give me a call, but I know he’s in good hands.” 

David hangs up before James can decide now would be the best time to chew him out for letting this happen and calling about what do if the kid stops breathing necessary. Scott’s content to just text that they’ll be talking about it later, but for now he’s being left alone with the assumption he’ll be busy making sure Fritz doesn’t die or end up with a cold. 

He doesn’t know how long it took him to get to his house. The only thing he does know is his ears and nose have gone completely numb, Fritz is still alive, and he wants nothing more than a cup of coffee. 

Unfortunately it’s a chore to simply get through the front door. Reaching around to his opposite coat pocket to find his keys, fumbling to circle through the ring with one hand until he can jam the right key into the lock. And then there’s taking his coat off, something that’s meant to be a simple task turned into a multistep process of taking his arm out of one sleeve, removing his other glove, moving Fritz blissfully unaware of the problems he’s causing to the other hand only after bribing the sleeping figure with another thumb to latch onto, until finally the coat can be put on the rack. 

David can’t help but pause a moment to glare down at something so small and yet it causes him so much trouble. 

He wouldn’t be surprised if Scott put in an emergency request to transfer Fritz to another location, one where he won’t freeze death while walking home. The man will also hold this over David’s head for as long as they work together, constantly bringing up the fact the so called ‘superiority’ giants have over humans means letting someone almost die under their watch. 

Again, in David’s defense, Fritz should’ve come to him before walking home alone. The business man will take some responsibility, but it wouldn’t have happened if some dumbass of a teenager didn’t think they could survive snow where an inch deep is over a foot to them. 

He’ll berate Fritz once the kid’s awake. For now he needs coffee and to check if he has ingredients for hot chocolate. 

David finds himself flexing his hand as he walks to his kitchen, trying to warm it up after holding a sentient ice cube for so long, glad his finger could get a break before it got too numb. Of course that means his other hand is currently in agony, but there’s nothing he can do about it now. 

After setting his coffee machine up and pressing the button to give him the largest cup possible, David stands by the counter, watching the steam rise up from the hot drink. Finds himself looking down at his occupied hand as Fritz seems to twitch in his sleep. 

Under his bright kitchen lights without having to worry about the wind and the snow, David’s hit once again with just how small Fritz looks. Curled up in a ball, hugging a finger that could easily smother him, lying in a palm like it’s the most comfortable bed imaginable. The best part is the thumb being curled around is almost twice Fritz’s size. 

All of his fingers are taller than the kid. His hand just seems to swallow Fritz whole. He won’t say it’s adorable, but he’ll definitely say it’s entertaining. 

It’s also entertaining just watching something that small exist. It’s weird being able to feel the soft heartbeat against his thumb and watch as the tiny chest lifts up and down for every breath. He can’t feel Fritz shaking in his hand, but he can definitely see a distinct shiver. 

...hold on. 

David brings his hand closer to his face, staring at what is definitely a shiver. Which can’t be a good thing, not when they’re inside a house where the heater is currently running while being held by a giant. 

D- Is shivering bad?

J- Was he shivering before?

David blinks at James’ text. Looks back at Fritz who he swears have shivers that are getting stronger. 

D- I don’t think so.

J- Then it’s a good thing. It’s better for him to shiver then to not be if he’s still cold

Well the kid is definitely still cold. David’s been holding him for at least half an hour, and yet it doesn’t seem like he’s any warmer than before. But if James says it’s a good thing then they won’t go to the hospital just yet. And if James is wrong, then David can tell Scott he trusted the doctor to know what he’s talking about. 

Tucking his phone away, the coffee machine beeps to remind him there’s a cup waiting. Snagging the mug, David moves to walk to his office, intent on finishing what he was working on at the restaurant. Fritz might think that eight o’clock is a little late for leaving when the building closes at six and everyone else is home by seven, but the business man has rarely left for home before ten. 

The business man hesitates at the hallway. Looks down at the human he’s holding at the reminder he can’t exactly put Fritz down, at least not until the kid’s awake, meaning he would have to place orders and update spreadsheets with one hand. 

Just another thing to add to the list of grievances. The things he does for the ungrateful pest. 

Sighing, David turns to the living room, carefully sitting down on his couch as to not jostle Fritz too much. Can’t help a glare as he turns on the TV, finding a random movie that’s already halfway over. It didn’t matter what he watched, the only thing he wanted to do was work, not listen to amateur actors reading a script that never should’ve made it past a rough draft. 

He could call James and demand the doctor take care of Fritz himself. It’s David’s mess, but it’s a bit careless to leave someone who most likely has hypothermia in the care of anyone who isn’t a certified health professional. Isn’t it more important that Fritz wakes up then teaching David a lesson? 

Despite the clear right answer, he doesn’t pick up his phone, only glares at the TV and occasionally rolls his eyes at the tenth cheesy one liner in a row. Keeps an eye on Fritz as the kid starts to shiver enough for David to notice. Enough that his hand starts to ache from holding an ice cube that never melts and never dethaws. 

Placing his mug down, David begins to tedious process of somehow getting Fritz to latch onto his other hand. Instead of needing to all but pry the kid away, he’s surprised when the offered thumb is immediately grabbed, almost as if drawn to it and going so far as trying to climb into the hand himself. 

David raises an eyebrow as he nudges the shivering figure. “Are you just pretending to sleep?” 

There’s no response, not even a guilty wince for getting caught. Nothing but the kid desperately trying to absorb all the precious heat David only just managed to get for himself. 

Wait. 

Glancing at his coffee mug, David carefully transfers Fritz to the hand that’s been subconsciously claimed for himself. Once it’s done, he wraps his numb fingers around the warm mug, able to actually feel the cold melting away. After a moment, he then sets it next to Fritz, the kid flopping over without hesitation to snag the thumb he only just got feeling back in. 

It’s not adorable, but this is certainly much more entertaining then whatever is on the TV. 

David doesn’t try to hide the smirk on his face as he continues to play the game of chasing warmth with Fritz. It is thoroughly amusing to watch the tiny limbs that could easily be pinned down or pulled away move on their own volition simply because one hand is warmer than the other. It’s almost like having a living magnet. 

D- Is it bad if he moves around too much?

J- Define ‘too much’

D- Aren’t you the doctor?

J- If he’s moving around on his own volition, it’s a good sign 

J- If you are the cause of him moving ‘too much’, I suggest limiting such movement

David looks down at the human in his care. Decides James knows absolutely nothing about what he’s talking about. He does length the time between each switch, however, only because he doesn’t know how much longer his hands can take holding an icicle doing a terrible job of getting warmer despite all his efforts. 

Actually, should he be worried? It has been ten full minutes since they’ve been at his house, and Fritz seems to be just as cold as before. He can’t exactly give the kid something warm to drink if he’s not awake, but being inside a heated house while being held by a giant should at least be helping. 

David takes a moment to hold Fritz closer to his face, eyes narrowing as he looks the kid over. Hesitates when he realized the kid’s jacket is completely drenched, and apparently he’s been wearing a backpack this entire time. 

No one’s allowed to blame him for missing that. The kid’s tiny, and again he’s not an expert of taking care of someone with hypothermia. It’s also not his fault for completely forgetting what exactly James told him on the phone. 

David stares for a moment at the microscopic backpack straps around Fritz’s shoulders. Scowls at the jacket zipper he can’t even see. 

Wrapping his hand around his mug, the business man coaxes the tiny thing to let go of his thumb before delicately pinning down the arms smaller than toothpicks. 

...never mind, he’s cutting the straps and jacket off. 

When Fritz wakes up, it's to the smell of coffee and warmth. 

At first he’s confused, not able to remember falling asleep. The last thing he does remember is trying to clock out on time, only for David to ask him to check inventory. And then Lefty helping him, and someone saying it was snowing, and- 

Oh! That’s right! He was walking home in the snow, and then he got really, really cold. 

Opening his eyes, Fritz finds himself lying in a dark cave. A very familiar one where the ground moves up and down, and a fingerprint bigger than his head sits close by. 

He sighs in relief at the realization he must’ve made it to Fazbear’s Pizzeria. Or he was at least close enough for Mike to find him on the way to work. Hopefully he was at least awake when the night guard first found him and didn’t make the giant panic too badly. Well, it’s impossible to make Mike panic, worry might be a better word. 

Despite being surrounded by warmth, there’s no stopping a very sudden and almost violent shiver from wracking his body, making Fritz curl up tightly to try and keep what little body heat he has. He no longer feels like he’s frozen, but he feels sore, and tired. Wants to do nothing more then go back to sleep. Wishes he wasn’t wearing wet clothes that are cold to the touch. 

Suddenly, the hand above him lifts away, making Fritz yelp as he tries to shield his eyes from the bright light. 

“Are you finally awake?” 

Fritz goes so still he stops breathing. Because the voice booming around him isn’t Mike’s. 

Trembling, the teenager slowly lifts his head, blinking rapidly against the light to try and see his surroundings. Feels his heart begin to pound when he doesn’t see the uniform for Fazbear night guard's, and instead spots a handkerchief big enough to act as a blanket sitting in an all too familiar suit pocket only a few feet away. 

Mike wasn’t the one who found him in the snow, David did. 

All Fritz can do is stare up at the giant in terror as the rumbling voice shakes the air. “It’s about time, I was starting to think you weren’t ever going to wake up. But now that you are, we need to make you something warm to drink. Do you have extra clothes in your backpack?” 

“Y-Yes, sir,” Fritz quickly responds, turning to grab the mentioned backpack only to realize it’s nowhere to be seen. 

“I had to cut the straps to get it off your back,” sends a shiver down the teenager’s spine. Before he can ask how or why, a hand cups around him right before David sits up. 

Fritz can’t tell what’s shivers from being cold or shivers from fear as he tumbles into the waiting palm. He doesn’t try to say or do anything except curl into a protective ball as the giant then stands up, leaving his stomach far behind. And then he’s being jostled by heavy footsteps as he’s carried somewhere. 

Please don’t drop me, please don’t crush me.

Suddenly the giant stops, and Fritz barely holds back a shriek of fear as something nudges him. “Will you freeze to death if I leave you alone for five minutes while you change?” 

The shiver wracking his body is one from the cold at the thought of being anywhere except near a giant’s body heat. But Fritz doesn’t dare do anything except shake his head, trembling as he meets David’s unimpressed stare. “No, s-s-s-sir.” 

The moment the hand is set down, Fritz scrambles off the warm palm, almost immediately regretting it as his entire body starts to shake from the cold. He doesn’t say anything, though, just wordlessly watches as his backpack is dropped in front of him. 

“I’ll be back in five minutes,” the giant says, walking away before receiving a response. 

Fritz doesn’t hesitate to start digging through his backpack, though it takes a moment for his numb fingers to cooperate in grabbing the zipper. By the time he unzips it, his teeth are chattering and he’s already exhausted. There’s no stopping a relieved sigh when he grabs the clothes he wore to school though, ones that managed to stay dry despite his entire bag being soaked through. 

Once his Fazbear uniform is stuffed into his backpack, Fritz immediately curls into a ball as he hugs his knees, already feeling so much better than before. His hands and feet are still numb, and there’s no keeping his shivers at bay, but it’ll be better once David comes back. 

The thought of the business man has the teenager tensing at the reminder just who found him in the snow. Not that he isn’t ungrateful! There won’t be a single day where Fritz won’t thank David for saving him. 

But he knows what’s coming. He’s surprised David’s held back this long before lecturing Fritz about how stupid it was to walk home alone. About the trouble he’s caused, that it’s his fault the business man has to listen to Scott’s yelling, that the teenager’s fired and good luck getting hired at any of the other locations because who’s going to want to be responsible for some useless human who can’t even walk through the snow- 

“You didn’t freeze on me again, did you?” 

Fritz jolts at David’s words, scrambling to his feet as he shakes his head. “No, sir.” 

A hand isn’t offered, the business man simply watching him with an unimpressed look. “That’s what you wear to school?” 

The genuine terror Fritz felt at the thought he won’t be held anymore is replaced by uncertainty as he looks down at his clothes. They’re definitely not a full piece suit or a button up with slacks, but he didn’t think wearing baggy pants with a colorful t-shirt over a black long sleeve wasn’t the worse thing possible. “Um, sometimes?” 

“And I thought Scott’s wardrobe was bad,” David murmurs. 

A hand is finally offered, and Fritz runs to the warmth radiating off the giant. Can’t help himself from curling in the center of the palm his numb limbs slowly start to dethaw. Even though David must be furious, he appreciates the giant willing to push aside his anger enough to help Fritz stay warm. At least until he’s no longer at risk of hypothermia. 

As the giant begins walking, Fritz takes a peak at his surroundings. Feels the blood drain from his face at the sight of an elegant house surrounding him. Can’t seem to swallow the lump in his throat at the realization he’s inside David’s home. 

Getting buried in the snow would be better than whatever the giant has planned for him. 

“You’re supposed to drink something warm and sweet,” David rumbles, making Fritz flinch from the borderline annoyance in the business man’s tone. “However, I don’t have any human sized dishes or utensils.” 

The teenager’s heartbeat skyrockets as he’s then stared at with of impatience, one that is all too familiar and means that this is Fritz’s problem. And if his problem, then he needs to fix it. 

“Do you, uh, m-m-may I borrow a piece of aluminum foil?” Fritz asks as quietly as possible while still being loud enough for the giant to hear. Despite having made the request after being told something was made specifically for him, he’s still surprised when David immediately opens a drawer before passing over a piece as big as his arm. 

“You better not waste it.” 

The teenager quickly nods his head in agreement, his hands trembling as he begins to bend the foil into the vague shape of a cup. At least he tries to. He’s never actually done something like this before and he hadn’t realized just how hard it is to bend when made for a giant. 

In the end, Fritz beams as he somehow manages to make a seemingly functional mug. There’s even a small handle! A misshapen one, but it works! 

Even David seems impressed as the foil mug is presented. “I take it you've done this before.” 

“I actually just read about it in a book,” Fritz admits. “It’s about humans living in a world made just for giants, but apparently they use aluminum foil for almost everything, and I’ve always wanted to try it-!” 

He cuts himself off when David simply stares at him with a silent question of ‘are you done yet’. He shuts his mouth with an audible click, offering his mug for the giant to take. Silently stares down at his hands until an impatient throat clearing has him look up to see the mug being offered back, this time filled with something that smells distinctly like chocolate. 

Fritz quickly accepts it, protectively pulling the warm drink closer. “Th-Thank you.” 

“You were an absolute dumbass tonight,” David growls overhead. “What the hell were you thinking? I know for a fact Scott had discussed that under no circumstances were you to go home alone if it’s actively raining or snowing.” 

Scott had. Even reassured Fritz that if David was to refuse to walk him, he was to call the older man who would in turn make sure the giant keeps his promise. Except that would only make things worse. A reluctant David is better than a furious David that Fritz dared to tattle on him to Scott. 

Fritz only nods his head in agreement to show he’s listening, that he also agrees. He would’ve taken getting berated the entire walk over landing himself in David’s literal hands to be punished however the giant sees fit. 

“From now on until the end of winter, I will be walking you home every night.” 

...wait, what? 

David rolls his eyes at Fritz’s shock. “I can’t have my only competent employee getting buried in the snow. And Scott has another thing coming if he thinks he’ll be transferring you back to that shithole of a so called restaurant.” 

He’s, he’s not being fired? Scott isn’t banning him from working at any Fazbear location? 

“Scott and I will find a punishment we fell is fit for pulling such a reckless stunt,” has him flinching as the giant walks out of the kitchen and into the most lavish living room Fritz will ever see in his entire life. “But that’s something we will discuss at a later date. Until then, we’re going to make sure you don’t freeze to death.” 

A shiver shakes his entire body as if to prove that despite how warm he feels, there’s still barely any feeling in his limbs, and he’s pretty sure that if he checked the mirror his lips would look blue. But even as David sits down on the couch, turning until he’s lying with his chest at an angle, the hand he’s sitting on doesn’t try to deposit him somewhere he can’t bother the giant. Isn’t left downstairs in a pile of blankets while the business man goes upstairs to sleep in a bed that’s just as ornate as the rest of the furniture. 

Fritz is gently set down next to David’s pocket, the hand that carried him settling down close by. 

“You aren’t going to put me in a jar?” 

He nearly slaps a hand over his mouth. But even as David’s mouth twists into a cruel smirk, the business man makes no motion to stand back up. “I’ll suggest it to Scott.” 

That does nothing to calm Fritz’s terror over what’s going to happen to him regarding a punishment. If anything it makes him absolutely terrified thinking about what David might do in the future if the business man randomly decides that even if Scott didn’t agree to put him in a jar this time, then what’s stopping him from doing it at some point. 

But Fritz doesn’t hesitate to move closer to the hand that automatically cups over his head, careful not to spill any of his drink as he lies down, taking a deep, long breath before sighing in relief as he’s completely surrounded by warmth. 

Because even though David constantly calls him a pest, the business man went looking for him in the snow. Took him home and kept him warm. Cared about him enough to go through all that trouble just to make sure he was safe. He trusts the giant won’t do anything to hurt him, not tonight or any other night. 

Fritz is almost asleep when he sneezes. 

“You better not have a cold.” 

[prismatica-the-strange]

Pictures in order under the cut

[taamlok]

escitalopram is a hell of a drug, it's been snowing for like 3 days now and i haven't thought about killing myself once

[swordgrace]

𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅𝐒𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃, 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃.

⠀ཾ༵ 𑁍┆ cregan stark x fem!targtower!reader.

SYNOPSIS: as the youngest daughter of alicent hightower, you are wed to the young wolf, cregan stark. what many believe to be a union of strife, such a notion is proven wrong very quickly.

anonymous request.

{ FORMAT: one-shot — requested by anon.

{ WORD COUNT: 6.7K.

{ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), arranged marriage, reader is a targtower with pale hair & lilac eyes, skin color unspecified, first time sex (for reader), loss of virginity, p in v sex (unprotected), massive breeding kink, all stark men have a breeding gene, oral sex / cunnilingus (fem!rec), face-sitting, biting/marking, making out, lots of touching, missionary position, talk of having a child, soft ending + aftercare

{ AUTHOR’S NOTE: There’s been a ton of Cregan requests, so I hope that this satisfies a lot of people until I post another! ❤️ Thank you all so much for the incredible requests and support of my work, it means the world to me and I am extremely grateful for all of it. See you guys soon!

𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟 — 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐜𝐞.

The North was often regarded as a harsh and unyielding environment, with bitter, stinging winds and snowfalls that could bury men alive beneath their might. Such tales were often told to scare children or dissuade them from leaving the roost.

It was untamed and savage, according to your mother — she who vehemently fought against your betrothal to Cregan Stark, the Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. A marriage steeped in wariness and discord, you had been pleasantly surprised by your husband’s kindness and warm stoicism.

Piety was a rarity in the bleak, bloodsoaked world you lived within — innocence was a quality as uncommon as a diamond in the rough. When Cregan had been offered such a sacred proposal during the last days of King Viserys I, he nearly scoffed at it.

A Targaryen, a Hightower — he almost imagined that the both of you would not do well together, and that it would become a sour union, made only to please families and uphold duty. His advisors, old men with embittered grudges against the South, cautioned him away from it, imploring him to wed a girl from the Vale or the Reach.

When Cregan Stark met you, clad in pale shades of sage and ivory, with lilac hues and a smile that could melt even the toughest of ice, perhaps it would not be a dreadful marriage after all.

Even with a dragon at your heel, there was something positively resplendent about you — Cregan could feel it within his marrow, a feeling seldom felt by any man locked in an arranged betrothal.

It was your innocuous, tenderhearted nature that beguiled him, as if you unconsciously drew him in with your honey. Your very first meeting happened to be to seal the marriage pact itself before you would be shipped away to the North, to be his wife and the new Lady Stark.

Cregan rarely found himself charmed by anyone, yet you possessed an inner beauty that flourished in his presence. You were your own flame, burning through his hardened exterior. He did not mistake your docile nature for weakness — you possessed a dragon, where he did not.

You were rather taken with him, perplexed by his outward ruggedness and gruff accent, the way in which he carried himself, massive physique clad in the thick trappings of a wolf. He was a mountain of a man, yet he handled you as if you were some precious jewel, sacred and worthy of admiration.

Alicent begrudgingly watched as you, her youngest daughter, untainted by her own fractured morality, was sent away to the North in the hands of some brute. For the good of the Realm, Viserys had told her, but it cut deeper knowing that it was you, her beloved flesh and blood.

Yet, as you found yourself beneath the crimson leaves of the Weirwood Tree in the Godswood, hands bound with Cregan’s own, you forgot about your mother’s bitterness entirely — and you were happy.

The first kiss was one that would make a permanent residence within your memory for lifetimes to come. He had cradled your face, towering over you as if he were a solemn statue, but even you could see the softening within his visage.

King’s Landing was suffocating, more often than not. The animosity that festered between your family smothered you, crushing you beneath its sharp heel. You were no longer surrounded by bitterness and resentment, and instead, cloaked by the protection and warmth of your new husband.

The feast held in honor of your blossoming union was one of merriment, the mood lighthearted and blissful. You sat beside your husband, stomach tumbling with a coil of nerves. Everyone seemed foreign to you, unfamiliar faces with their northern attitudes and odd indifference.

You could not fault anyone for having their suspicions, given your heritage. Being a Targaryen, pale-headed and violet-eyed, bringing your dragon from the South — it must’ve been jarring. Growing into your station as the Lady of Winterfell would be a long and arduous process, but you hoped that Cregan would show you the way.

Oblivious to your Lord-Husband’s smoldering stare, you politely consumed bites of the sugar-dusted fruit cobbler, admiring the vibrant aura within the room. Your wedding gowns were as pure as the driven snow, accented with silver embroidery and lined with pale fleece to keep you warm, given the cold gnaw of winter.

If it weren’t for Cregan’s steadfastness in providing you with a new wardrobe fit for winter, the icy chill would’ve consumed your extremities from the inside-out.

Leaning over within his seat, Cregan reached for your hand, stormy-gray hues churning with a kindness reserved for you. “How are you faring, wife?” He inquired, voice a low rumble; a soothing timbre that sent shivers down your spine.

“Very well,” Warmth crawled along your flesh when he referred to you as wife so openly and affectionately. You weren’t accustomed to having someone be so attentive to you, hang upon your every word, treat you with such courteousness. “This is so wonderful. I must thank you and your Keep, for your kindness.”

If you were anyone else, Cregan might’ve treated you with a stalwart cordiality found in most formalities, but you were not anyone else. You were good, sweet, and kindhearted — above all, you were quite innocent. He would’ve been telling himself a bold lie if he hadn’t thought about taking you to bed several times already.

The colors of the North suited you — his home suited you. Not many men of his position were so lucky when it came to betrothals, but he felt as if he was beyond fortunate to have married you. Cregan only hoped to be a good husband to you and to your future children, heirs to Winterfell, with the blood of the dragon and the wolf in their veins.

He had forbidden a bedding ceremony, content to guide you to your chambers once the festivities ceased, instead. Cregan enjoyed observing you and your demure mannerisms, from the way you made small talk with those around you, complimenting the choice of food and drink. It warmed his heart to know that his wife was an amiable soul.

“You needn’t worry, Princess. It is my duty as your husband to show you a bit of Northern hospitality.” Cregan mused, a ghost of a smile tugging at either corner of his mouth. He rarely showed any emotion, let alone treating his subjects with a smile given his hardiness, but he did show a sliver of it for you. He didn’t want to scare you away.

With a delighted smile, your hand shyly curled around his, your skin unblemished and soft. Cregan hadn’t touched a woman as silky as you, and it made his blood run hot — an inopportune time, given that it was in the midst of his wedding feast. “Thank you, my Lord.” You weren’t sure if you were permitted to abandon formalities just yet.

Cregan huffed, gaze twinkling with amusement as he let your smaller hand hold his own, digits tenderly caressing over your knuckles. “I would hope that you only call me ‘my Lord’ if you’re angry with me,” His chest rumbled with an affectionate sound. “You aren’t in King’s Landing anymore.”

Embarrassment rippled through you, but before you could correct yourself out of anxiousness, Cregan gingerly squeezed your hand. Instead, it evoked a smile from you, the very same tender expression you’d given him when you were proclaimed as his wife. “I will call you husband when I am pleased with you.” You mused, bright as could be, and so blissfully naive.

Often regarded as a brooding, serious man with little traces of humor, Cregan found himself letting his guard down just enough with you. Of course, to any observer, he still seemed rather stoic, but the brief, fleeting looks he gave you, the threadbare smiles — it suggested otherwise.

As the excitable buzz of the feast began to simmer, Cregan stood from the table, wood scraping across the stone floors of the Great Hall. He stepped away from you, sparing the servants and guardsmen a word before he returned to your side.

“Is there not to be a bedding ceremony?” You whispered, stomach still tight and festering with nervousness. It was something you feared since you last saw Aegon and Helaena be hauled away for such a thing. The concept of it frightened you, twisted and unusual.

With furrowed brows, Cregan shook his head, offering his thick arm out for you to take. “No,” He grunted, noticing the swell of anxiousness etched into your features. “I would never subject you to such a thing, or myself.” He murmured, feeling you take his arm as he led you from the Great Hall.

Relief flooded through you, and you finally relaxed, seemingly appreciative of Cregan’s thoughtfulness in the matter. “Thank you, husband.” You sighed, gripping onto his arm as he led you into a warm corridor and towards a massive spiral of thick, stone steps.

Though, you still had a duty to perform — consummating the marriage, creating an heir. Part of you feared what it all entailed, given that Helaena never seemed pleased with any of it. Would he hurt you? You were uncertain, but you wanted to believe that your new husband would keep you safe.

Cregan welcomed you into your marital chambers, tidied and polished for your stay. Whatever belongings you brought with you, they were situated near a set of fine, wooden chairs circled around a stone table. Everything seemed warm and comely in his quarters, the direwolf aesthetic heavy-handed, the hearth crackling and bursting with ripples of fire.

“If there is something not to your liking, inform me — I will have it rearranged,” Cregan rumbled, following in your footsteps as you neared the open hearth, warming your hands and basking in its glow. He stood close to you, towering over you with his bulk and might. “How are you?” He asked, ensuring your comfort above all else.

There was little need for the hearth when Cregan was near, radiating a natural heat that drew you in. His countenance seemed softer, not nearly as impassive as he’d been before. “I am more than fine, I promise.” You assured him, hands wringing together. “I thought that I would miss home, but I do not. Isn’t that terrible?”

Perplexed, Cregan seemed inclined to listen to your elaboration, chestnut tresses framing his face. “It isn’t a terrible thing, princess. I would imagine that it must be freeing, to be somewhere else. You’ve never left the capital.” He replied, knowing that you were quite sheltered for most of your life.

A soft sigh escaped you, and you tried not to think about it anymore. You didn’t want to sour the mood with talk of home and the past — this was now. “It is liberating,” You confessed, craning to look at him with a semblance of wonder and affection. “I am happy that I’m here with you.” You spoke with genuineness and finality.

It was pleasing to hear you say such a thing, and even better to know that you truly meant it. One thick, burly arm slowly encircled your hips, bringing you into the warm expanse of his chest. “Good,” He murmured, expression steely. “That pleases me greatly.”

To know that Cregan valued your happiness was a wonderful feeling — you felt cared for and seen, shrouded within his protectiveness. You imagined that it would be a blissful marriage. “Thank you, Cregan.” His name slipped from your perfect tongue, and he thoroughly enjoyed the sound it made.

A low rumble vibrated through Cregan’s chest as he drew you as close as he could, tracing his calloused digits along the soft curve of your jaw. “You are very beautiful,” He murmured, timbre edged with a delicious husk that made your knees buckle. You shivered, something that he took note of. “Are you cold, wife?”

You nodded, sucking in a sharp breath when his lips neared yours. “I am.” A squeak escaped you, followed by a steady exhale. You had been kissed before, but the extent of your experience abruptly stopped there. You imagined that you wouldn’t be cold for much longer.

His lips met yours, the kiss tender yet passionate, deepened by your husband. Cregan found your mouth to be most pleasant, pliant and perfectly soft, yet malleable. You reciprocated his kiss, hands moving to press against his chest.

“Will it be painful?” You whispered, likely in an attempt to soothe your gnawing nervousness. Agony was something that didn’t coexist with pleasure, in your mind. You wanted this moment to be special and sacred, binding yourself to your husband.

Cregan hesitated, gently cupping your face with his rough palm, tenderly stroking along your cheek. “I wouldn’t dare harm you, princess. You have my word.” He assured, and it confirmed his suspicions — you hadn’t been with another before. “It might be painful, but I will be gentle. We don’t have to start tonight.”

Admittedly, it was quite the opposite for you — you wanted to start tonight, but you longed for clarification first, and he gave it to you. You shook your head, hands slipping toward the front of his tunic, as if silently pleading with him to stay. “I want to.” You insisted, looking like the picture of innocence.

As much as he liked you sweet and pious, Cregan had a feeling that it would be somewhat different after this. His gray hues swirled with a heavy desire, dropping towards the delicate curve of your mouth. “May I?” It was all that he needed to ask, and as soon as you nodded, he brought you in for a heated kiss.

Despite his appearance, a stone-faced wall of muscle and Northern strength, he was incredibly gentle with you. He held you against him, never tight enough to cause you discomfort, hands softly kneading into your hips. You kissed him back as best as you could, feverishly hot, butterflies erupting within your stomach.

His beautiful wife — Cregan could not imagine another, now that he had you in his arms. The way you kissed him was innocuous and tender, as if you were also terrified of making a mistake. Your purity, a precious thing indeed, would be tarnished and dissolved after this evening.

The thought of you, round and swollen with his child, was both tantalizing and tempting — well within his grasp. Cregan wondered if they would take after you, pale-headed with lilac hues, or perhaps himself. If the Gods were good, they would be a blend of the both of you, a dragon and a wolf.

You shivered again when your burly husband curled his hand into the back of your wedding gown, fingers slipping between the gaps, feeling inklings of your bare skin beneath. “I’ll keep you warm, wife.” He rumbled, pressing a kiss against your jaw. It wasn’t from the cold, he knew this, but his honeyed words made you flustered.

He dropped his cloak, allowing the thick curtain of fur to land against the floor. He was impossibly broad, as thick as stone, tunic loose yet snug enough to accentuate his brawn. You felt your breath hitch within your throat, swallowing another barrage of nerves.

Cregan’s mouth assailed your neck, hand peeling away the collar of pale fur in order to reach you. Every kiss was passionate, wrought with need, yet maintained that air of gentleness. Roughness was in his nature, but he wouldn’t dare fall into that pit on your wedding night.

You tasted ambrosial, sweet velvet beneath his lips, which peppered themselves wherever they could. He listened to your soft gasps and needy whines, your hands having curled into the coarse material of his tunic. He wanted to show you just how perfect you really were.

Suddenly, your gown felt much too tight and constricting, as if you would drown within it. You alleviated such sensations by loosening the bodice, tugging on the ivory strings. The fur became unraveled as Cregan gently draped the garment over the back of a chair.

Left in the thin, humble trappings of your smallclothes, nothing more than a corset hugging a linen slip, he silently appraised you with the hunger of a wolf. You appeared to be shy, somewhat coy in his presence as he looked you over, large palms settling against the swell of your hips.

“Why do you shy away?” Cregan murmured, chestnut brows furrowing together, tone one of genuine concern. You were the prettiest creature he’d ever seen — most Targaryens were known for their beauty, but you possessed it both ways, inner and outer, and that only made you more incomparable in his eyes.

Swallowing your nerves, you chewed at the inside of your cheek, hands fidgeting together. “I suppose I worry about what you’ll think,” A sore insecurity, to be sure, but something most young maidens possessed. Cregan’s gray hues softened, one hand stroking along the length of your spine. “That I won’t be suitable.”

A huff escaped him, a threadbare chuckle as he shook his head, pressing a kiss against your forehead. “You worry too much, princess.” That deep, thunderous timbre of his, husky with his Northern accent, shook you right to your core. “You are my wife — and you are perfect.” He assured, kissing along your jaw.

You exhaled, hands reaching for his tunic, wanting to see him without his clothing. There was a rush of warmth that crawled across your flesh, surging through your blood as Cregan pressed endless kisses against your skin. He trailed from jaw to collarbone, hands loosening your corset.

With a brusque tug, your gruff husband tore it from you altogether, tossing the bodice aside. “I will show you how perfect you are.” He rumbled, voice a low, heavy caress near the shell of your ear. You shivered, gaze half-lidded as you tugged insistently at his tunic.

The message was unspoken, but conveyed nonetheless as your mountain of a husband let his hands drop from you, only to tug the coarse, dark linen over his head. He was burly, broad-shouldered and thick with muscle, wisps of chestnut tresses framing his face.

Amusingly enough, Cregan possessed more of a cherubic, youthful face than you expected, yet his nose was slightly crooked from having it broken, faint scars upon his face. His eyes seemed wisened, old beyond his years. He reached for your slip, gathering the material within his hands as he looked to you for consent.

With your confidence rejuvenated, you nodded, breathless and wanton as you assisted him in maneuvering out of your thin smallclothes. The brief lick of chilled air dragged across your bare flesh, causing your nipples to harden, pebbling with the chill.

Fire danced across your physique, tantalizing and gorgeous, beautiful beyond compare. Even Cregan seemed speechless for a beat, throat reverberating with a low grunt as he motioned toward your shared bed.

You half-expected him to pounce on you, grab your hips and stake his claim, but he simply resorted to watching you slide onto the bed, covered in furs of all varieties. The frame rustled slightly, and you laid down, a picture of true perfection. Your crown of pale tresses seemed to stick out amidst the darker pallor of the furs.

Anticipation churned violently within your gut, arousal slick and mounting between your thighs as Cregan stalked closer, removing clothing in the process. You watched with bated breath as he loosened the ties of his breeches, removing them altogether.

It was to be expected — a man of his indomitable stature likely had the assets to accompany it. You nearly choked at the sight of him, terrified that it really would hurt, even if he was gentle. You sucked in a sharp breath, bewildered when he had reclined beside you instead.

“I won’t bite, my Lady.” Cregan rumbled, soothingly patting his lap as you crawled closer. He effortlessly picked you up, letting you straddle his hips as he admired you from below. “Hm.” With a hum of approval, he caressed along your form, stroking from your thigh to your breasts.

It was agonizingly deliberate, made to explore and study instead of acting upon salacious impulses. Cregan observed you closely, palm gently cupping your breast, thumb swiping over your nipple. You gasped, careening into his sensual embrace.

A flurry of desire bubbled within him when you planted your smaller hand atop his, as if encouraging him to knead and grope at his leisure. He seemed pleased, and so did you, a low hum escaping you as he caressed your silky flesh.

He made sure to show that same amount of attention to your unattended breast, slowly kneading into you. Those tempestuous gray hues never tore themselves away from you, boring into you with a searing intensity.

Warm slick coalesced between your thighs, only mounting and growing when he continued to touch you, hand lifting to cup your chin. You absentmindedly leaned into his touch, eyes becoming half-lidded as you rocked forward within his lap.

The sensations you felt were new and exhilarating, goosebumps dancing across your spine, heat pooling between your legs. “May I touch you?” You asked, tone delicate and sweet, a display of your piety and innocence. He quite enjoyed your desire to explore alongside him, and he gave a nod of his head.

“You don’t need to ask, princess.” He soothed, jaw tensing as your soft palms settled against his chest. Cregan’s stormy eyes didn’t leave you, carefully tracing each plane of your curves, the downy texture of your skin, the lilac glint of your eyes.

Your fingertips dragged across his musculature, committing each scar to memory, features becoming hot beneath his incendiary stare. He was your husband now — you imagined that scenarios like these would become commonplace. “You are so handsome,” You whispered incredulously, lips curling into a gentle smile. “Perfect.”

Cregan appeared perplexed, a soft huff escaping him as he trailed his calloused palm across the small of your back. He couldn’t recall the last time someone had called him perfect and meant it — and he knew that you did. He neglected to act, allowing you to explore as much as you pleased.

Awestruck, he watched with silent hunger as you leaned down, lips pressing against his own. A soft grunt escaped Cregan as he caged you in, mouth passionate as it tangled with yours. He enjoyed the feeling of your body snug atop his, your skin resplendent, like velvet against the grating bite of stone.

Dragging a hand from the swell of your hips to the nape of your neck, he gripped the base of your skull, gingerly kneading into your pale tresses. He kissed you again, oozing with desire as he stole every wisp of air from your lungs.

He pulled one leg up into a v-shape, supporting your back to keep you upright atop his lap. You could feel the thick girth of his cock nudge against your backside, causing you to shiver at the foreign sensation. “Do you trust me?” Cregan murmured, roughened fingertips dragging over the pliant flesh of your thigh.

There was an indiscernible look within his eyes, chestnut brows drawing together slightly. Your breath hitched as you nodded, and Cregan settled against the furs, strewn on his back. Those strong hands of his continued to nudge you forward, bringing you from his warm lap to his chest, and then a touch closer.

“What are you …” Uncertain yet filled with exhilaration, you had no idea what Cregan was planning. Your slick cunt neared his mouth, and your Northern paramour did little to slow the process, bumping you forward until you hovered above him. “C—Cregan, C —” Your voice tapered off into a whine.

His tongue raked hot embers across your cunt, a sensation that immediately made your knees buckle. You used the headboard to brace yourself, mouth tearing open as a strangled gasp escaped you. Part of you feared sitting down entirely, but Cregan coaxed you down, hands digging into your haunches.

Your reaction was beyond worthwhile, body trembling and coiled, hand scrambling to brace yourself as the other fervently dug into his chestnut tresses. You never imagined that such pleasure was even possible, filling you with an excitable ecstasy that sank into your bones.

Splitting past your folds, Cregan tasted every inch of you, tongue seeking your cunt with a fervor. He was vigorous in his ministrations, not shying away from consuming every drop of your arousal. His nose brushed against your mound, hands kneading into your thighs to reassure you, let you know that he had you.

Even when he rested beneath you, he still seemed indomitable, perhaps a touch intimidating. You didn’t look down, body involuntarily trembling and rocking forward, back beginning to arch. “Gods, a—ah!” You stammered, thighs twitching and quivering as his tongue gently flicked over your clit.

Visibly flustered, you felt so strange and smitten, riding your husband’s face as you would your dragon. It filled your belly with a rousing fire, one bright enough to consume the rest of your body, licking along the length of your spine.

A low rumble emerged from Cregan’s chest, a vibration that rattled you to your core. He wanted you to have your fill, take as much as you could and drown within pleasure. Your maidenhead was still intact, a virtue that he did not treat lightly. He didn’t feel the need to breathe, lapping at your cunt with a wolfish gluttony.

You were undeniably soaked, like a fine stout upon his tongue as he devoured you. Cregan was passionate, each stroke of his tongue ensuring that you felt it all, bliss erupting throughout your stomach.

Chasing after what you imagined to be your release, you happened to peer down for a moment, finding the contented face of your husband, whose face was lodged between your legs. His brows were creased in concentration, tongue prodding against your entrance before languidly flicking back to your clit.

It was only when he pursed his lips around that sensitive clutch of nerves, that you nearly collapsed around him. Even your draconic blood could melt, tempered by the hardened ice of your Northern paramour. You gasped, hips stuttering as your thighs squeezed at either side of his head — fortunately, he didn’t seem to care.

The only thing you wanted was this, forever — your husband’s tongue between your legs, a sanctuary in the North with a potential family, a life in which you could finally find your solace. You continued to squirm and writhe, moaning his praises into the warmth of your chambers.

As you approached your peak, you grappled with Cregan’s tresses, tugging at the root as you rocked forward, again and again. “Cregan,” You moaned, countenance contorting into a look of sheer pleasure, bones crawling with an insatiable heat. “Cregan, Cregan, please!” It was a siren’s song of desire.

He did not stop, but he didn’t change course, either. Instead, he simply continued on, suckling at your clit as he intermingled it with timed laps of his tongue. Your release slammed into you, white-hot and blistering, gnawing away at your stomach as that coil of heat effectively snapped.

A whine emerged from you, one that was nearly breathless as you rocked forward again, legs shaking from ecstasy as you rode out your peak. Cregan, ever the dutiful husband, lapped at your nectar, savoring the taste, the scent of a pleasurable aftermath.

“What —” You had to catch your breath again, attempting to recuperate as you sat back on his chest instead, thick, burly muscle plentiful enough to cushion you. “Where did you learn how to do that?” It was an innocuous question, one so sweetly-spoken that it nearly caused Cregan to chuckle.

He did, however, smile — a rare, sentimental gesture reserved only for you. It was threadbare, and if it weren’t for the nature of your relationship, one might’ve thought him to be rugged and indifferent. “You need only ask, princess, and I will oblige.” His voice was a deep rumble that warmed your insides.

You thoroughly enjoyed the nickname of princess — a term of endearment given your status, but you were a princess no longer. “I am a lady of the North now, aren’t I? A princess no longer,” You proclaimed, skin shimmering with perspiration. “What will you call me, now?” You asked.

“Hm,” Cregan contemplated, pressing a kiss against your leg before he sat up enough to have a good look at you, chin still glistening with your slick. The sight was lewd, enough to make you unbelievably flustered as he grew closer, nearly chest-to-chest with you. “Lady Stark would suffice.” He murmured.

Something amorous burned within you, a smolder that soon turned to ignited sparks. “It would please me greatly.” You hummed, running your hands over his biceps before Cregan gently changed places with you, moving you beneath his bulk, comfortable upon your back.

Soft was a mere understatement — he could feel himself melt. It was not your dragon’s blood or heat that made him crumble, but your heart. He could imagine you as the mother of his children, belly round with his heirs, the Lady of Winterfell, a Hightower no longer.

He settled between your legs, and you gasped when his cock gently glided against your slick core. Cregan knew to temper himself, to be as gentle as he could with it being your wedding night, but his resolve was steadily diminished in your presence. He steeled himself, pressing a string of kisses along your body.

Without thinking, you unconsciously goaded Cregan into a point of near-frenzy. Your hands found the taut, trunk-like muscle of his biceps, visage filled with a sense of awe and adoration. “A child would please me greatly.” You confessed, having no clue what it would do to your husband.

Cregan stopped, digits curling into the thick furs on either side of your head. It took every fiber of his being not to fuck you then and there — and he wouldn’t, it wasn’t right for him to take your maidenhead with such roughness. His fantasy became reality, a visceral, beautiful vision that made him grunt, jaw unnaturally tense.

His rough palm soothingly stroked along your thigh, lust swelling within him like a blizzard, a violent storm of need that transcended all bonds of propriety. “Does Lady Stark want me to put a pup in her belly?” Cregan rumbled, tempestuous hues ignited with a fire that demanded to be extinguished, sending shockwaves right to your core.

You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, shuddering at the sound of his voice — an edged husk, like the rumbling of thunder before a deluge or the shaking of a mountain. “Yes,” You exhaled, searching his countenance, only to find desire. “I would.”

The Gods were testing him, aiming to see if he would break beneath the pressure, but he refused. Cregan lowered himself over you, lips molding themselves against yours in a hot kiss. Your hands remained poised atop his biceps, barely able to wrap themselves around the thick, corded muscle.

He wasn’t much of a talker, and it quickly dwindled into deep grunts and heavier sighs as he aligned his cock with your entrance. He made sure to part your legs, keeping them spread as he began to push inside of you. The sudden intrusion made you gasp, startled at the twinge of pain, the discomfort of it all.

Cregan despised the mere thought of causing you harm, and even he was willing to end it all then and there. “We don’t have to continue, beloved.” He rumbled, pressing a soothing string of kisses along your face. The endearing nickname made you preen, nails digging into his arms.

“No, I — I’m well enough,” You breathed, insistent on continuing. Cregan deliberated, but when you let out a low whine, he obeyed your command. “Gods, I need you, Cregan.” Pitched with a wanton resonance, you urged him to keep going.

Your neediness made his blood run hot, and he nodded, sluggishly resuming his pace. He continued to tilt his hips forward, cock feeding into you, inch by agonizing inch. Cregan felt the desperate bite of your nails clutching into muscle, leaving behind angry crescents.

You were never fully warned of the pain, the discomfort that accompanied pleasure. It was always sold as some fantasy, particularly for men — nights of heavenly passion resulting in bliss. For you, it was simply a marital duty to provide your husband with an heir, but this transcended that. Passion and affection sparked between the both of you, and it felt right.

As Cregan finally bottomed out inside of you, he allowed you time to fully adjust, rocking into you at a lackadaisical pace. He continued to shower you in kisses, wherever his lips could reach, giving particular affection to the crook of your neck.

Whatever discontent you felt, you hastily pushed it aside, tossing it into the recesses of your mind. Instead, you focused on him — on how incredible he made you feel, the warmth you experienced in his presence. One of your hands slipped to thread within his chestnut tresses, mouth agape.

You took him so well — better than expected, and it filled him with a sense of pride and ardor. Cregan pressed hungry kisses along your throat, nose buried into the hollow of it, right beneath your jugular. He continued to go slow, afraid of causing you further pain.

Cregan repositioned his hand, leaving one lodged beside your head, the other sinking into your haunch, digits tenderly kneading into your thigh. It was an offer of reassurance, and he watched your countenance shift from discontented to relaxed.

“Move,” The sharpness of your command brought him to heel, and he very nearly smiled — it was there, the ghost of it toying at his lips. Bringing his hips back and then forward, you moaned, knowing that the sting of pain would soon blossom into pleasure. “Please.”

Molten heat swirled within the pit of your stomach, arousal thick between your legs as Cregan began to find his pace, a rhythm that shook you to your core. He was so very gentle, even for a man of his herculean mass and muscle. He took care of you, soothingly caressing your thigh as he thrusted into you.

His cock filled you completely, a stretch that would take you more than just one night to adjust to. Your maidenhead was gone, your cunt tight around his length, pulling him in again and again.

Cregan’s breathing became heavier, somewhat labored as he consummated your union. Each snap of his hips held meaning, beyond the creation of an heir. It was tenuous with feelings, a burning sentiment he felt for you, ardor that had grown into a fire.

Admittedly, his mind was hazy, fueled by desire and the mere thought of you wanting a child — you had asked it of him, demanded, and he was at your mercy. Cregan couldn’t have gotten any luckier with you, the most resplendent woman he’d ever seen.

Imagining you full and round, still as lovely as the day he set his eyes upon you, a mother and a dragon — it was nothing short of true perfection. He chased after it, evident by the growing vigor and passion in each thrust of his hips, cock nearly tearing you into two.

No matter how gentle and careful Cregan was with you, it was to no avail, but you no longer cared. “Cregan,” You moaned, lifting one leg to hitch it around his waist, and that only seemed to further spur him on, allowing him to hit new depths. His throbbing length nearly kissed your womb, filling you to the brim. “Cregan!” You cried.

For a moment, you feared being split in-half by your mountain of a husband, but he slowed enough to let you recuperate, throat reverberating with carnal grunts. The rumbling of his chest, the heat that radiated from him in waves — it was all perfect.

It was driving him mad, the way your cunt constricted around his cock, the way in which your back arched from the furs, chest brushing against his. Cregan grunted, jaw set and brows furrowed in concentration as he kneaded into your thigh, something to alleviate his tension.

His thrusts deepened, became passionate and invigorated with love, and each snap of his hips made your head spin with delirium. You were drunk on desire, clinging to him as if you were a drowning maiden, hand splayed against his shoulder.

Whenever he happened to become a touch too vigorous, he felt your nails dig deep into his flesh, leaving behind the reddened marks of your consummation. Cregan was getting close, chest erupting with labored pants as he pressed his forehead against yours.

You moaned, body bending beneath his passion, malleable within his hands. His cock throbbed within you as he sought to spill his seed, face against yours, lips occasionally connecting in a series of sloppy, warm kisses. Everything felt incredible, in ways that you couldn’t comprehend.

He was so burly, a thick wall of impenetrable muscle that seemed to envelop you entirely, shield you from everything else, from all harm. Strands of chestnut stuck to his temples, flesh glittering with perspiration from the exertion of lovemaking, coupled with the heat in your chambers.

With another brusque thrust of his hips, he settled inside of you, reaching his peak with a subtle groan. His seed filled your cunt in hot ropes, more than enough to take, if the Gods were good. Cregan exhaled, feverishly hot as he began to recuperate, neglecting to remove himself from you for a few moments.

“Are you alright?” Cregan murmured, ensuring your wellbeing first, above all else. A stinging soreness settled into your thighs and your core, but you would survive. He didn’t completely obliterate you, thankfully — you wondered what he would be like, unrestrained.

“Yes,” You smiled, visibly flustered beneath the intensity of his stare. “That was incredible.” Your confession made him huff, likely one of amusement as he pressed a kiss against your forehead. Even you glittered with sweat, but that was to be expected.

You already wanted more — and you nearly asked it of him.

Lascivious fantasies took root within your mind, and the mere idea of him being rough and completely domineering made your cunt throb. You could not do it now, given how exhausted you were, but he had certainly unlocked a new side to you, a side that you were unfamiliar with.

Cregan pulled himself from you, propping your hips up beneath a feathered pillow to ensure that his seed would take. He rested beside you, drawing you into the bulk of his muscled arms, allowing you to rest your head against the expanse of his chest. “You were perfect.” He rumbled, roughened digits stroking along your spine.

It pleased you to know that your husband was satisfied with you, much to your delight. “I am glad,” Relief rippled through you as you inched closer, perfectly slotted against his frame. “So were you.” Your pleasant accolades made him smile, fracturing his stony exterior.

“There will be plenty of time for this, that I can promise you,” Cregan was more concerned with getting to know you, his beautiful lady-wife, Lady Stark. “I would like to start with you.” He murmured, savoring the sensation of your fingers tracing across his abdomen.

You blinked, seemingly surprised by Cregan’s genuine interest in you. It made you happy — perhaps you could have both. Moments of learning and moments like these, where you could indulge in pleasure.

“Would it offend you if I asked you to do both?” You questioned, warmth crawling along your body as Cregan squeezed the swell of your hip, gray hues sparkling with a semblance of mirth.

“It wouldn’t,” Cregan mused, timbre dropping to a lull, a husky octave that seemed to envelop you in its stoicism and warmth. “It pleases me to know that Lady Stark possesses the appetite of a dragon.” His teasing made you squirm, but he simply caressed you and held you closer.

With a coy smile, you lifted your head, pressing your lips against his, asserting your still-lingering desire for your husband. “Not a dragon,” Your tone softened with a sweeter resonance. “A wolf.”

copyright @ swordgrace ; please do not steal my work and claim it as your own or translate it onto other platforms.

[rafey-baby]

trinket

rafe thinks his maid is just the sweetest little thing...  

prince!rafe x maid!reader 

c/w: rafe being a menace, him flirting (?) w her, some royal cameron family angst ig, brief descriptions of him having sex w another woman, 18+ mdni!

wc: 2.3k

also this is by no means historically accurate which is why i’m not gonna name any specific era for this xx

moodboard & introduction

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Every mid-December, the palace comes alive in an entirely novel way with the bustling preparations for the annual winter ball that the king and queen host to celebrate ‘another wonderful year’.

The once quiet and calm castle transforms into something colorful and vivid with the mouthwatering smell of cakes and pastries cooking in the ovens of the royal kitchen, along with maids and other servants whirling around the long hallways as they place intricate decorations and shiny ribbons all over the broad staircases and windows. 

She’s grateful she doesn’t have to partake in the hustle and bustle all that much since her primary duties include taking care of the prince and ensuring he has everything and anything he could possibly need.  

Although right now, she sort of wishes she could be stringing up polished ornaments or garnishing elegant baked goods because apparently, being the prince’s personal maid sometimes means sitting quietly in his bedchambers (as per his request to keep him company while he’s reading) with her own thoughts and the sounds outside the door her only source of entertainment.  

Therefore, she’s elated when he suddenly turns to face her in his armchair— flitting his eyes over to her from the hefty book that seems to have made him exasperated rather than enthralled.  

“Will you join me for a walk? All this noise is makin’ m’head hurt.”

There’s enthusiasm in the nod of her head; a yearning to see the fresh layer of snow covering the trees and painting the entire kingdom with its powdery whiteness— the aftermath of last night’s blizzard. She doesn’t think there’s anything more beautiful than the crystalline snowfall glittering under the touch of the afternoon sun— or maybe a certain pair of aquamarine eyes, but that’s beside the point.  

“That would be my pleasure, Your Highness,” she easily agrees. 

“How many times do I have to tell you how much I despise that name? There’s no need to use it when s’just me,” he scolds her before he’s straightening up and stretching out his arms over his head. 

“My apologies, it’s a habit,” she rises to her feet as well; trying her hardest not to let her eyes linger on the sliver of his stomach peeking out from underneath the silky fabric of his shirt. 

“I don’t want your apologies, want you to use my name,” he says before stepping closer— standing tall before her and forcing her to blink up at him in order to meet his eyes. “Go on, sweetheart, say it,” he practically orders; eager eyes fixed on her face.  

She hesitates under the sudden attention. He’s always seemed so fascinated by her and she doesn’t know why.  

“Um…Rafe.”  

He lets out a hum of approval. “That’s good. You ready to leave?” 

“Y— yes, uh, Rafe.”  

“Good job. Not so difficult, is it?” he coos at her almost mockingly— fingertips grazing the skin of her cheek when he tucks a loose tendril of hair back behind her ear. 

She merely shakes her head— a warmth dusting over the apples of her cheeks when his touch lingers on the side of her face afterwards. And for a moment, she thinks she’s going to drown in the lagoons of his eyes, but then he clears his throat and offers the palm of his hand for her to take.  

And it’s rather unusual for someone of his status to do; a prince who’s bound to wear the crown one day holding his maid’s hand isn’t exactly something that’s written in any book regarding the royal etiquette. However, he’s never been one to allow for dreadful rules and traditions to dictate his behavior, especially not towards her.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -  

“Are you looking forward to the winter ball?” she asks when they stop by the stables to check up on his horse, Jupiter.  

“You know I hate dancin’,” he mutters out as he watches its teeth grind on the carrot he brought with him.  

She smiles because she does know, before letting out a wistful sigh. “I wish I could attend.”

“You do? Why?” he’s perplexed by her enthusiasm towards something he considers as more tedious than anything— having to plaster on a smile for an entire night and socialize with people he doesn’t necessarily care for in order to humor his father never being something he’s particularly taken delight in.  

Especially when Sarah is going to be the one receiving all of their father’s attention anyway. Not that he cares (he does) but he would appreciate it, if for once in his life, his old man would show him even an ounce of the care he seems to so easily shower his sisters in.  

“Well, I’d love to wear a ball gown, but mostly for the food,” her feather-light voice brings him back to the moment.  

“I’ll make sure to bring you a plate ‘n you can eat it in my room then, yeah?” he promises as he runs his fingers through Jupiter’s black main.  

“You would do that?”  

“If you promise not to tell the other maids or they’re gonna accuse you of gettin’ special treatment,” his tone is playful. 

“They already do that,” she points out. “They think we spend too much time together.” 

“And what do you think?” he asks, genuinely curious. 

“I don’t mind. I quite enjoy your company,” she answers truthfully. After all, she has grown quite fond of Rafe throughout the years. Sometimes she just wishes he wasn’t so overwhelming, in every sense of the word. 

“Yeah?” a smirk pulls at the side of his mouth, seemingly pleased with her answer. 

She’s certain he’s well aware of the effect he has on her— the effect he has on everyone. And she thinks that he enjoys it; relishes in toying with her for his own amusement simply because he can. He can practically do anything he wants since his father is oftentimes gone for long periods of time; fulfilling his duties for the kingdom and whatnot.  

And she knows Rafe doesn’t particularly mind the fact that his father is rarely home because he’s always been hard on him, much harder than on his sisters because whether he likes it or not, he’s set off to be the new king one day. And his reputation of having female guests over more often than not whenever his father is away doesn’t necessarily help with gaining his approval.

After all, rumor travels fast around the palace.  

Rafe once admitted to her that he often felt like a disappointment, and that the pressure of everyone’s expectations sometimes made him wish he was nothing more than a stableman. After all, he does get along with horses better than he ever has with his family— it’s not exactly a secret amongst the royal court.  

“Would you wanna go for a ride with me? Think Jupiter’s gettin’ bored,” he suddenly asks.  

“Oh, I would love to but I’ve never, um, ridden a horse before,” she timidly admits. 

“No? You wanna know how it feels? You could jus’ sit behind me, don’t need to do anythin’, yeah?” he coaxes her to say yes with a seemingly sincere smile; already walking Jupiter out of its stable and leaving her no choice but to follow them outside.   

“Really?” the frosty air causes a shiver to crawl up her spine when she eyes him, hesitant.  

“Mhm. Promise nothing’s gonna happen, I’ll take care of you. ‘N I know you’ll like it, s’very freeing,” he assures her as he’s already saddling up the horse, seemingly aware that she could never refuse him of anything.  

“Okay...if you insist,” she tentatively agrees with a nod that he rewards with a beaming grin; the icy snowflakes sticking to his hair making him look like something straight out of a fairy tale.  

Then, he’s lifting her up to straddle the entirely too big of an animal that sort of still scares her— strong hands gripping onto her hips and leaving her momentarily starstruck at how effortlessly he does it; as if she weighs nothing more than the carrot Jupiter was just chewing on.  

He follows soon after, settling down in front of her with ease before looking at her over his shoulder. “Need you to hold onto me unless you wanna fall,” he instructs, seemingly reveling in the fact that he gets to be the one teaching her something new.  

“Oh, yeah, of course,” she says, gingerly setting her hands on his waist, movements uncertain.  

“Gonna need you to hold on tighter, promise I won’t bite,” he huffs out a laugh before he’s grabbing her arms and wrapping them around his middle more firmly— forcing her to fully lean against his back when the sudden clip-clopping of Jupiter’s hooves against the snow-covered cobblestone causes her to let out a surprised shriek.   

“Good?” he asks, seemingly amused at the way she’s practically clutching onto him as the cottony snow prances around them. 

She manages out a hum, wondering if he can hear her poor heart loudly thumping in her ribcage when he decides to pick up the speed some more, as if she wasn’t already terrified.  

“Rafe! Can you slow down?” she squeaks out when Jupiter seems to only accelerate further underneath them.  

“Where’s the fun in that?” he lets out a hearty chuckle in response, apparently finding amusement in her utterly frightened state while she wonders why she let herself think for even one second that he had pure intentions.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“Y/N? Will you go look for my son? I fear he’s once again escaped his responsibilities to God knows where,” the king requests with an exasperated sigh while she’s crouching down and helping a servant clean up the sharp pieces of a shattered wine glass— the sound of laughter and dancing flourishing around them. 

And she could swear she saw Rafe conversing with a guest only a few short moments ago. However, as she looks around in an attempt to locate the missing prince, he’s nowhere to be found.  

“Right away, Your Majesty,” she’s quick to answer with a polite smile.  

“Thank you,” he nods gratefully, seemingly fed up with his son already.  

She ensures that the poor girl who accidentally cut her finger on the broken shards is not going to faint before tiptoeing up the broad flight of stairs in order to reach the higher levels of the palace— the loud music and blooming celebrations echoing around the halls. 

“Your Highness? Are you in there?” she knocks softly on the mahogany door leading to his bedroom.  

However, she isn’t granted a response. 

“Rafe?” she tries once more before pressing her ear against the wood separating her from the muffled sounds she can now hear from the other side— brows furrowing when something akin to a whimper reaches her ears.

It sounds nothing like Rafe; it has a higher pitch, something more feminine than his usual drawl. And as she stands there, contemplating whether something is wrong or if she should just leave, the volume only amplifies.

And in a moment of cloudy judgement, she finds herself pushing down on the handle.

However, she curses her curiosity the moment the door cracks open and she’s faced with the view of some woman’s naked back. Her long, beautiful hair reminds her of lady Lydia (a daughter of one of the dukes invited to the ball) with none other than the prince himself underneath her sweaty form.  

The sheets that she changed this morning are crumpled and creased around them and without the barrier of the door, she can now hear Rafe’s low grunts as well— can see how his big hands guide her movements. And they’re both panting heavily, seemingly lost in some haze— maybe the same one that forces her to stay rooted to her spot in the doorway.  

With her eyes as wide as saucers and mouth parted, she’s not entirely sure how long she stands there for. Until out of the blue, she notices Rafe’s eyes flickering over to her— a smirk tugging at his mouth when he catches her staring. 

She tries to move her legs but they won’t listen; making his lazy grin only grow in tandem with his strained groans that seem to only increase in volume as he locks his eyes with her.  

And she can’t breathe; the air clogging her lungs instead of flowing through as her dazed mind tries to get her to do something, anything to get her to leave the room but his heady gaze seems to have hypnotized her— compelled her to stay right where she is.  

All at once, a gravelly noise rumbles from his chest— his head dropping against the cushion of his fluffy pillows, seemingly reaching some sort of a peak in his search for pleasure as the woman above him begins to slow down her movements. And that’s when she’s finally able to step away; shutting the door behind her before scurrying down the stairs with bated breaths and heart pounding in her ears.

When she reaches the bottom, she accidentally stumbles into someone holding a golden serving tray— causing it to topple over to the floor with a loud clatter. 

“I’m so sorry,” she apologizes before her wobbly legs are scrambling off in an attempt to locate the nearest escape route to the garden.  

And once she’s managed to make it outdoors, she feels like she can finally breathe— the crisp December wind granting her heated skin an opportunity to cool down as she sits down on one of the wooden benches with a sigh.

[alyslittlehaven]

In What We Keep Chapter 1 - A Fires Warmth.

DragonBorne!Reader X Azriel Shadowsinger.

One fateful night after a mission, the three bat brothers need to seek refuge from the cruel winds past the mountains of Illyria, after a little debating, Azriel decides to take his brothers to the slice of life he took for himself

Warnings: Self Made Fae Race, swearing, talks of sex/sexual interactions, lewd jokes and or conversations, Pregnancy, Pre-established Relationship, mates, fated, Soft Azriel, secret relationships and more ACOTAR IS NOT MY BOOK, NEITHER ARE THE CHARACTERS

(This is short due to my writer's block hitting hard, also- ignore my horrible writing in this I don't have the greatest imagination right now lol.)

“This storm isn’t going anywhere, Az.”

Cassian’s voice strained as he squinted through the heavy snowfall. Their footsteps behind them quickly being covered up as they continued on through the cold. Cassian groaned, his body shivering harshly.

 Azriel grunted as he tightened the fur that hung around his body. The black dire wolf pelt kept out the wind just for a little longer as the snow picked up around them all. Azriel looked over his shoulder, his hair swaying lightly in the wind as his brothers stopped behind him. There was no way they could continue on like this. Flying in this weather would be a death wish and the creatures that they were hunting were extremely sensitive to magic. Their noses picked up the slightest bit of arcane and followed it like it was food. 

The snow continued to whip around them. Azriels wings shifting as the wind blew in between the membrane and his back. The cold slowly seeps into his bones as the three of them pick up the pace once again. Rhysand let out a huff, looking around slowly and yelling over the blizzard. “There is no way we can get to RoseHall like this, let alone the camps! We need to find shelter!” Cassian nodded, looking at Azriel with a pleading look. Rhysand was right, there was no way the storm was going to let up, and if anything was just getting worse the longer they walked. Rosehall was nowhere on the other side of the mountain and the winds of Illyria were unforgiving to travellers during the summer months. What would happen to the three of them if they continued to trudge through the snow?

Cassian crossed his arms, his lips turning blue as they stood still huddled together. His wings spanned out and fluttered to get the snow off of them. The weight on his shoulders now dispersed as her shook himself off. Azriel looked around, looking for any kind of landmark that could tell him where they stood on the mountain. His eyes locked into a bundle of lights in the distance. A relieved breath left him as he saw the small, broken sign with a carved dragon egg on it. 

His brows furrowed as he thought, his arms wrapping around himself as he took a couple of steps. Dread slowly made its way to his stomach as he realized where they were heading.

He could bring them into his home. The small cabin he had built with his own hands inside of the heart of the hearth. The home that his mate was in while he stood out in the cold with his brothers. Her body probably curled up on the couch with that ugly knitted blanket she made draped over her as a book remained under her nose. The fire probably roaring in the fireplace and leaving the room in a nice orange glow.

Azriel sighed, quickly pulling up his hood before beginning to move in the direction of the light,. His voice hoarse as he spoke. "I have somewhere we can stay. if you don't mind walking for a bit more, that is." Cassian rolled his eyes, his feet moving without him having to think about saying yes or no as he followed his brothers closely. 

“Azriel…where are we going?” Rhysands teeth chatters, his breaths coming out as fog due to the cold. His whole body nearly froze at the question. He had worked so hard to keep this part of his life a secret from his family. The relaxing life he came to every night and woke up the day after next to. The happy cabin he filled with love and work that he made sure he separated his work life from his mate. His wonderful, beautiful mate pressed kisses to his hand when he came home from work and tried out new Illyrian recipes so he would feel at home in the hearth. The best woman he had met, and the calmest. They had spoken about it a few times, introducing her to his family and the inner circle, and despite her wanting to meet them he just didn’t want to yet. Wanting to keep her to himself just for a little longer.

“To…a friend's house. She lives right up here in this cabin.”

Rhysand and Cassian looked at each other, a small shrug was all Cassian responded with as they walked up the stairs of the porch. Azriel quickly opened the door, the wood creaking under his weight as he ushered the two in. A frown on his face as he shut the door behind them. “Y/n?” Azriels voice carried through the small cabin, some shuffling in the distance going dead silent.

“I’ll be there in a second love!” A couple of pans knocked together before she walked into the hallway, a small pep in her step now that she saw who was in her home. Cassian, ever the gossip, repeatedly hit Rhysands arm like a teenage girl. A smirk on his face as he raised an eyebrow at Azriel.

Rhysands jaw dropped as she untied her apron, the large and evident bump now on full display as she put down the fabric and pressed a hand to her stomach. Her eyes raked over the two unfamiliar men with a gentle smile. "You must be Azriels brothers...welcome to the Hearth. Come- Sit down, please."

[adragonprinceswhore]

You’re Nothing But A Beast

Osferth x Reader

Summary: After falling into a river in the middle of winter, Osferth needs to warm up his lady companion.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, depictions of hypothermia, temperature play, water being too hot for comfort, yearning, religious guilt, fingering, praise

A/N: I dug this one up and re-read it today, feeling festive so thought I’d share it 🩵

Word count: 2600

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

It happened too quickly for Osferth to react.

Under his lord's request, he had been trusted with the important task of delivering a noble lady to her betrothed only two days' journey away.

But the sudden snowfall that met them after a mere half day's travel left the ground slippery, causing his companion's horse to panic and throw her off and into the river lining their path.

Osferth hadn’t hesitated when he jumped off his horse and reached into the river to aid her, swiftly dragging her to land as she coughed up the water she’d swallowed in shock.

He’d pulled the furs adorning his saddle loose and wrapped her in them in a futile attempt at keeping her warm, but to little avail. Shivers continuously erupted from her body so aggressively she could hardly stand still.

Now, dread makes Osferths chest tighten as he considers their situation.

Only half-way to the inn where they’re set to spend the night, one horse short and snow falling onto their cold bodies, freezing them further.

He glances at the Lady he’s meant to protect as he ponders their next move.

Her shaking form leaves him on high alert. She looks like prey; ready to be captured by any ravenous predator lurking behind the trees.

He knows how quickly the chill can claim a person.

I have failed her.

“My lady, we need to find heat”, he speaks rapidly, eyes blown wide in panic as one of his hands tenderly rests on her arm. She only shivers in response, mouth unable to utter words as her teeth chatter loudly together.

Lord Uthred had tasked him with this, a simple delivery, and he is failing him.

I have failed my lord.

Osferth tries to chase the defeatist thoughts rattling in his brain away. He cannot let this blunder best him, this might be one of God’s trials; a chance for him to prove to the Lord that he is still a good man, despite the depraved acts he’s indulged in as of late.

He places her in the saddle of his horse, continuing their tracking as he leads them on the narrow path lined with snowclad trees. He cannot help it when his eyes flicker to her. In the corner of his eye, he sees the strange shade her lips have shifted into; the drain of colour on her face.

When Lord Uthred had informed his men that one of them needed to escort a noble lady on a short trip, he hadn’t even bothered to look Osferths way. Fighting alongside them, offering his loyalty and by consequence, his life, to their cause still did not reflect on how they viewed him; always just a Baby Monk.

Osferth’s insistent advocating had finally worn his lord down. Uthred’s tone was laced with irritation when he reluctantly agreed to grant the young man his first expedition unaccompanied.

Looking around the sparse trees next to the path they were trailing, Osferth felt shame consume him like never before. He shouldn’t have been trusted with this; it was as they thought.

Still just a Baby Monk.

He sighs in resignation, moving to walk infront of where the lady’s shiver form is sitting so she won’t be able to see his face as the corners of his lips pull down.

Walking with his head cast down, shoulders tensing up with each step, he suddenly realises that he’s trailed this path before.

In summer, which could explain why he hadn’t recognised the scenery quicker, as it’s now coated in a layer of snow.

The Lord must be on my side.

“My lady, I know a place nearby that will warm you”, he speaks over his shoulder before he steers his horse towards where he is sure they discovered a natural spring spewing out hot water from the underground last time he walked this wood.

From the saddle of his horse, she let out a weak hum in reply.

Osferth’s estimations were correct. There is a source of hot water here; a blessing that God himself had carved out of the side of a rocky hill. Despite the harsh winter chill, it is still warm, judging by the steam oozing from it.

Could this be witchcraft?

They come to a halt before the water. “Lady, the spring here will warm you”, he explains, turning around to face her.

She’s stopped shivering, her body now seems stuck in rigidity. Osferth swallows thickly before reaching out to grab her waist to help her down from the horse. His fingers sink into the material of her coat with an unpleasant squelch; her clothes are soaked and freezing cold.

“You’ll need to remove this before entering”, he mumbles without looking into her eyes. The redness on his cheeks and ears are no longer solely from the harsh cold biting at his skin.

Before he joined Uthred, Finan and Sithric, he was a god-fearing monk devoted to a life in the service of God.

But his time with them had led him down a path of deviance; a life filled with swords, fighting and women.

The latter happened to be Osferth’s favourite of his new-found interests.

If he did not know of the pleasures of the flesh, he might not have found the lady he’s guarding so enchanting. He’d had eyes for her since he first saw her, admiring her soft skin and sparkling eyes. But only from afar.

Always from a distance.

A pious lady like her should not be sullied by my impurity, even in thought.

She moves unsteadily, hands stiff and rigid as she unsuccessfully tries to undo the buckles of her winter coat.

“Allow me”, Osferth offers as he quickly helps her get the coat off. Her thick wool dress underneath is just as soaked as her outer layer and Osferth helps her shed that too.

Soon, she is left in nothing but her undergarments; a thin, crem-coloured smock. It sticks to her curves like a second skin, giving Osferth a clear view of her perky nipples and the soft curls nestled between her thighs.

He does not know what to say, afraid his voice will betray his tainted intentions, and chooses to remain silent when he grabs her hand to lead her towards the heated water. He’s determined to help her get in, make sure she does not slip on any icy rocks, and then leave her to bathe herself warm.

Her cold hand holds on to him tightly as she steps into the water, a cry escapes her lips at the contact.

“I-, I cannot enter. It’s too hot”, she whines, stepping back. Osferth moves his hands to hold on to her elbows as he searches for her eyes.

“You must warm up, my lady. The chill could kill you”, he speaks softly. She nods in understanding, again moving her feet back into the scorching water. She hisses at the sting as she brings her second foot in, eyes growing glassy at the sensation.

“Osferth, it burns”, she meekly complains.

“Please, try to relax”, he instructs her. He cannot help but take pity on her, she still looks so weak, the familiar glint in her eyes no longer there.

She takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself before experimentally lowering her body a bit further. The hot water feels like a thousand needles piercing her skin and she quickly stands to her full height again.

The grip she has on Osferths coat tightens as she stiffly stands in the warm spring, “I cannot-, i- it’s too painful”, she says in a defeated tone.

Osferth feels how cold her body is through her thin smock. He sees the odd colouring of her face. She needs to warm her body, even if it’s painful.

The brief but instructive experience with the women he’d indulged in had earned him some new skills. Perhaps he could utilise that to make her more pliable?

“If I help you overcome the sting, will you stay in the water?”, he inquires with uncertainty, already ashamed of his lewd proposal.

She looks up at him curiously, nodding in response.

“I know of a way to relax you, if you trust me?”

“I trust you with my life, Osferth”, she gently replies, giving him the courage he needs to show her his debauchery.

He smiles nervously, allowing his hand to move from her elbow down to her hip. He cannot find the words to explain what he’ll do to her, and decides that it would be better to simply show her.

His palm travels from her hip, to her thigh, and then towards her centre. She shivers slightly under his touch, but does not stop him, eyes watching him in peculiarity.

He moves to gently cup her mound, long fingers reaching down to stroke her core over her garment.

The fabric will shield her from my impurity, if only slightly.

His face feels hot, his eyes flicker from her face to the snowy setting surrounding them. He tries his best to remain indifferent, but the sweet gasp she releases as he carefully strokes her stirs something awake within him.

“Focus on the pleasure, my lady”, he instructs her as he moves his fingers to circle her pearl through the wet fabric of her smock. He wonders if she’s ever done this to herself; ever allowed herself to engage in sinful pleasure.

Her fists are still holding onto the fabric of his coat, her breath heavy as she tries to forget the burning water her feets are submerged in.

Osferth grows bolder, pressing down a bit harder as his fingers work in steady circles. Her body squirms before him.

He instantly stops the movements of his hand, eyes filled with worry as he asks, “Am I hurting you?”

“No”, she says with a slight shake of her head.

“Then let me”, he pleads, picking up the pace of his hand once more, “Please”

She closes her eyes, tiny gasps leaving her stiff mouth.

“I-, If you.. also touch..”, he cannot finish the sentence, still ashamed of his depravity; the depravity he’s inflicting upon her.

She must know that he does not mean to besmirch her, his only wish is to help her.

She surely knows how sullied I am by now. Will she still allow me to guard her as our journey continues for another day?

“Osferth?”, her voice, close to a moan, brings his thoughts to a halt.

“Yes, my lady?”

“Is it a sin to kiss?”

Her inquiry leaves his mouth dry, yet he swallows and answers, “I-, I do not know”

“Oh”, she sighs, not in pleasure but more akin to disappointment.

“I-, I cannot imagine it is!”, he blurts out when he sees her eyes cast down, “Simply an expression of affection. Like between a mother and her babe”, he reasons, voice slightly breathless at the implication.

“Do you feel affection for me?”, she asks, gaze trailing up to meet his.

How could he resist her now, when she’s looking at him like that? When the shimmer in her eye has returned? When he can think of nothing else but to swallow the sweet moans that leave her lips?

He ducks his head down to kiss her in reply, the hand not between her thighs coming up to engulf the entirety of her cheek.

She moans into his mouth when his thumb circles her pearl, and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth. Her face and lips are so cold, but her kiss is just as sweet as he’d imagined.

He comes up for air, still revelling in the feeling of her, “Does it feel more bearable?”

“Yes”, she moans again, the colour now back on her cheeks.

Despite the depraved method, Osferth takes pride in knowing that he’s helping her; warming her up again.

“Kneel”, he instructs, allowing her to grab onto him as he lowers himself with her, standing on his knees in the snow as she sinks further into the scorching water.

She hisses at the stinging sensation and Osferth soothes her with another kiss, quietly murmuring, “I’ll make you comfortable, my lady”.

He can feel how cold the smock is against her skin, and without pondering upon it for too long, he moves to rid her of the garment. A voice inside of him tells him it’s to allow the steam from the water to reach her skin. Another voice tells him it’s for his own pleasure, so he may admire her fully.

Has the devil consumed my senses?

She is still shivering; from the cold air, the heat of the water, or Osferth’s touch, she does not know.

He brings one of his hands down into the water, large palm gently scooping up some of the scorching water and letting it slide down the side of her arm.

“You’re doing so well”, Osferth compliments her, eyes kind and inviting as they seem unable to stray away from hers.

His hand comes up to cradle the side of her face. She leans into his touch and closes her eyes, focusing on the pleasure, not her stinging flesh.

His other hand moves between her thighs again, but this time he makes contact with her pearl without hindrance and she whimpers at his touch, eyebrows scrunched together in bliss.

Divine.

His fingers travel down further. Feeling the wetness he created with his touch has his head spinning.

As he slips a finger inside her tight heat, she grabs onto his shoulders, rocking her hips in tandem with his movements, throwing her head back. He searches for that spot inside her that he knows will make her collapse into his embrace, and when he finds it she rewards his pursuit with another pleasure-thick cry.

“Use me, my lady. Find your pleasure”, Osferth urges as he places his hand so that the finger inside of her tightness presses at her sweet spot while the heel of his palm pushes down on her pearl.

Her fists hold onto his shoulders tightly as she rides his hand, mouth gasping as it searches for his to indulge in another sin. He lets her use him; he knows he’s the one responsible for her wanton ways.

I’ll pray to the Lord for her salvation later.

Another finger slips inside her, and he feels her tighten harshly as she peaks, falling forward into his embrace. He carefully moves his hand away from her warmth, allowing her a moment to steady her breathing as she rests her head against his chest.

Though she has found peace and comfort, Osferths body is still on high alert, painfully aware of the closeness between him and her naked form.

He’s been able to keep his gaze away from her, to offer her the slightest decency, but when she leans back his eyes unabashedly flicker down to watch the steady rise and fall of her breasts.

She finally sinks into the water, breathing heavily from the intense peak he drew from her. Osferth’s panting as well; cheeks tinted pink and eyes dark with lust. His mouth appears to be salivating as his gaze stays on her.

She lets out a breathless giggle as she allows the hot water to graze over her skin.

“You’re nothing but a beast, Osferth”

Her words wound him, but the playful smile on her face leaves him intrigued.

“Has the devil got his claws in you?”, she continues to taunt him, though he senses that her intent is not malicious.

“Consume me too. Show me the depths of your depravity”

[tbyfandoms]

I Smell Snow | Joe Burrow x Reader

Pairing: joe burrow x f!reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: the first cincinnati snowfall of the season leads to a night full of magic and love

Warnings: literally a single swear word if you can even call it that

Masterlist/Request Form | Ask/Tell/Request

A/N: my first ever published joe fic! this is literally such a self indulgent fic, I won’t lie. it spawned after I was standing outside and it started snowing and then the next day I watched ‘love actually’. plus couple that with my love for ‘gilmore girls’ quotes and needless to say, this is a big ball of fluff. even if it’s not the best fic, I love it, and I hope you all do as well :) <3

When you step outside into the crisp air, a smile breaks out across your face. The sky is a soft grey, a color you'd otherwise dread if not for the time of year, and the sight alone causes excitement to stir within you.

You've been waiting for this since the moment the temperatures started dropping. The weather is of course unpredictable and you can never truly trust what the weatherman says on the news, but you're sure of it this time. You'd swear up and down you could feel it coming.

It's going to snow.

The click of the handle turning on the patio door tears your eyes away from the sky, and instead of soft grey, your eyes are now met with a soft blue color. The color of your boyfriend's eyes. A color you could get lost in if given the opportunity.

"Hey," you say softly as Joe steps outside and tries to piece together in his head what it is that has your undivided attention out here. He got the pool covered months ago and all the furniture is tucked away into different corners of the patio. He doesn't see any deer or other animals out in the yard either. There's nothing of interest and yet Joe understands that knowing you, it's gotta be something, and the thought alone has him amused.

"Hey, baby. Whatcha doin' out here?" You shrug your shoulders a bit, a tinge of pink coating your cheeks due to something else entirely than the cold.

"I smell snow," you whisper. A phrase you've come to love and use religiously when it is that time of year. You know it might seem stupid to some people, but you genuinely feel like you can always tell when it's going to snow. Weather reporting it or not. It's s silly thing between you and your friends, but somehow you're never wrong.

When you first started dating Joe it was during the spring. The snow had long since melted and the chill in the air was long gone. You've mentioned in passing before your little inside joke, but never once have you said it to him before. Saying it out loud to him has you feeling a little silly, but the look on his face quickly extinguishes it.

Joe's eyes are crinkled at the corners, his smile taking up half his face, and his perfect white teeth are on full display as a deep chuckle escapes him.

"Do you now?" The Bengals quarterback teases as he takes a few more steps towards you. As he does so, you bask in the sight of him. Your boyfriend looks so cute and cosy in his hoodie, sweatpants, and beanie. All Bengals branded, of course. Joe Burrow is nothing if not proud of his city and his team. You feel the same about him and all he's accomplished.

"I do, Burrow. And the minute that first snowflake hits the ground, I'll be telling you I told you so." You nod your head in finality before lightly giggling and turning your head back up to the sky.

Joe gazes fondly at you as he takes in every inch of your body. There you are, this beautiful girl standing before him, not having a care in the world besides knowing whether or not it's going to snow. He thinks you're ridiculous in the most loving way possible, and that's when it hits him. That's what this is; love.

The two of you have only been dating for just under a year, but the Cincinnati resident has never been more sure about anything else in his life (besides maybe football) than he is about how he feels for you. About how seriously he cares for you and wants you in his life for years to come.

Joe Burrow is completely and utterly in love with you.

A sharp intake of breath leaves the man's lips, but it's mixed in with yours as you gasp up at the sky and watch as a single snowflake drifts slowly towards your face. At first it's just one and then suddenly it's dozens of little flakes flurrying around you.

A bemused laugh shakes your body and you nearly squeal at the sight. There's always been something so magical about snow to you. You don't know whether it's the nostalgic child-like wonder and excitement of it all or if it's something else entirely, but you've never quite been able to shake it. You're not sure you'd ever want to, really.

"Joe," you start, awe completely evident in your tone as you lightly flit your eyes to your boyfriend and then back to the sky. "Look at this! It's so pretty, I can't believe I was—"

"I love you." The blonde's confession slices through the air and suddenly it feels like nothing else matters in this moment, not even the snow you were so desperate to see because—

"What?" You question, wondering if you just imagined what Joe had said. Surely you misheard him, but part of you hopes to God you didn't.

"I love the way you care so deeply for everyone. I love the way you support me and my career completely and yet still keep that fierce independence and confidence in yourself and your own career. I love that you don't let anyone or anything get in the way of your dreams, but yet you still stay kind through it all. I love the way you've accepted me and all my stubbornness no matter how irritating it may be at times. I love how smart, funny, beautiful, and a million other adjectives I could continue to list, you are." A laugh slips past your lips and it's in this moment you realize tears have begun to trickle down your cheeks, mingling with the soft snowflakes that have landed there. "But most importantly, I love you, Y/N. Completely and unconditionally, I am in love with you. And I know we haven't been together for that long, but I'm hoping that just maybe you feel the same."

Wasting no time, you practically jump the few feet it takes you to reach your boyfriend and immediately wrap your arms around his neck, his warmth engulfing you instantly as he holds onto you.

"I love you too, Joey," you smile as you pull back and lock eyes with those pale blues from earlier. As the sky begins to darken, you revel in the way his eyes shine as they reflect the patio lights. You'd debate with anyone that Joe's eyes rival the stars themselves. He'd definitely say the same about yours.

A beat passes, the two of you so wrapped in each other's presence and revelations that most definitely have now altered the courses of your lives. The thought of falling so deeply in love with someone the way you have with Joe both terrifies and excites you, and all you know for sure is that you're in this for as long as he'll have you. Something tells you though that that's going to be a very long time, and you wouldn't want it any other way.

Joe reaches up and cups your cheek in his palm, his thumb swiping over your cheekbone and brushing away a few snowflakes that have settled there. It doesn't take long for him to lean in. Dying to connect his lips with yours and craving the way you taste.

His lips mold perfectly with yours, the way they have for all these months and the way you're sure they will for months to come. As the first Cincinnati snow of the season continues to fall, you smile into Joe's mouth as you feel the flakes begin to melt between you. The warmth of your lips fighting off any of the cold trying to reach you.

You're sure you'll feel the effects of ice cold water seeping into your skin later, but right now all you can focus on is the man before you and how happy you are to have found him.

Joe pulls back and you nearly giggle at the sight of him. The tip of his nose and his cheeks are a bright pink, and you're sure if he wasn't wearing his hat that his ears would appear the same. Even though he looks like the happiest man alive right now, you can tell he's cold. Although you can admire the snow for how it looks and how it makes you feel inside, it doesn't always make you feel the greatest on the outside, especially after a long period of time.

You decide now is a good a time as any to head back inside. You're confident the first fall of snow lived up to all the hype and then some.

"C'mon, let's go inside and warm up. I think I've had enough of the snow...for now," you chuckle.

"Thank God," Joe breathes out before bringing his hands up and rubbing them together, trying to create some warmth between them. "I know you love this stuff, but I won't lie, I'm freezing my ass off."

The two of you laugh as Joe leads you back inside through the patio door. The familiar click of the door handle echoes behind you and you hum in satisfaction as the cold gets shut out and the warmth of Joe's house welcomes you with open arms.

"Hey, freezing or not, you have to admit the snow is pretty magical." Joe watches as you begin to take off your jacket, a bit of snow that clung to you falling to the ground. Some of it is still in your hair, slowly melting away, but the sight of it makes his heart swell. The snow glistens, almost sparkles, and all it does is add to your beauty in his eyes. You're so blissfully unaware of it all too, and it only makes Joe fall for you that much more.

"I think I'm gonna have to agree with you on that one, sweetheart," he replies, genuinely believing it.

Magic snow powers or not, Joe adored seeing you in awe like that tonight. He can't wait for many more instances like it, and who knows? Maybe during next year's first snowfall, he might be on one knee, confessing his love for you in a different way.

[sl-ut]

you should probably leave

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

description: joel is enamoured by his new neighbour, but old patterns will always be his downfall.

warnings: UNEDITED, slight age gap, slight smut, implied unprotected piv, protected piv, swearing, alcohol consumption, insecurity, angst, reader is given a birthday (she's a sag like me)

words: 10.8K (my longest fic to date)

date posted: 14/03/23

part two

(inspired by you should probably leave by chris stapleton)

OCTOBER 12, 1998

The weather was something that she was unsure if she could ever get used to. For her entire life, she had spent the entirety of the late autumn months dreading the first snowfall of the season before lugging out her extensive collection of knitted sweaters and fur-lined boots. Instead, her little archive of winter clothing was left in a cardboard box in her childhood bedroom, along with the majority of her other belongings that she had not brought with her on her grand adventure–if you could even call it that. 

The University of Texas at Austin had not been her first choice of school, or her second, or third; she actually had never even imagined going to school any further than a few hours from her hometown in Pennsylvania, and yet there she was, standing in front of her brand-new home, sweltering under the harsh Texan sun as she struggled to unload her packed car all on her own. Well, to call it her home would be a pretty tight stretch, as well as to label it as “brand-new.” 

The small bungalow-style house had caught her eye on a flyer in the grocery store, a listing for one female roommate in a cul-de-sac not too far from the city. It wasn’t exactly her dream home by any means, with an ugly yellow exterior and a kitchen that could certainly use an updating, but it she had recently been forced out of her own apartment due to her previous roommate preferring her boyfriend to live their with her instead and it was the nicest of the few places within her price range that would also accommodate the mutt she’d rescued during her first year. All things considered, it was quite literally perfect for her situation–plus her new roommate seemed to have been at least more considerate of her boundaries than the last, which gave her some hope that things might actually work out. 

Y/n grunted at the weight of the box, cursing herself internally for enrolling in school and owning so many textbooks as she lugged it up the front steps, dropping it just inside the door. She couldn’t help but grimace as she glanced up, meeting the watchful gaze of Manny, his furry little head tilting curiously–likely wondering why she was making so much ruckus and interrupting his nap. 

“Lazy ass,” she muttered under her breath at him, kicking the box to the side before trudging back out the door.

The next few boxes were filled with clothes and shoes, fortunately for her spine. She hauled several out, dropping each of them to the pavement of the driveway carelessly as she wiped at her sweaty forehead, apparently too enthralled in the work to notice the beat up truck as it turned into the neighbouring driveway.

“Hey there,” she turned to find a young man, his hair combed back to expose his effortlessly charming face to her, “You need a hand?”

She glanced down at the boxes at her feet, “I wouldn’t wanna bother you.”

A young girl appeared at his side, wide eyes peering over at the older female curiously. The man shrugged, puffing out his broad chest as he moved. Y/n almost laughed at how obvious he was being, only seconds after meeting her. The man gave off the impression that he had always thought fairly highly of himself, probably the quarterback of the high school football team, maybe even involved in the armed forces–the navy, she was betting. He crossed the barrier between the two driveways in two long strides, extending his hand out to her as he came closer. 

“I’m Tommy,” he flashed her a grin, his accent coming out thicker than it probably would have normally. He glanced over his shoulder, motioning for the young girl to follow him into the neighbouring yard, “This is my niece Sarah.”

Y/n smiled politely, shaking his hand lightly, “Hi, I’m Y/n. I guess it’s nice to meet some of my new neighbours.”

“Well, Sarah, here, is your neighbour. Me, I live–”

“What happened to Stephanie?” Sarah interrupted, “I didn’t know she was moving.”

Y/n turned her attention to the young girl, “She isn’t, we’re just living together now.”

Sarah’s mouth formed an ‘o’, the gears visibly turning in her head as she formulated her next question, “Are you guys dating?”

“Sarah!” Tommy choked on his spit, “I’m sorry–”

“It’s okay,” Y/n chuckled at his response before turning back to the young girl, “No, we’re not. I guess she just didn’t wanna be living here all on her own anymore.”

Tommy’s shoulders relaxed, the mortified expression leaving his features in favour of one that she might have even considered relief. He shook his head at his niece, giving her a hard stare, “I’m sorry about her. I figured that she would have some better manners by now–my mistake.”

Sarah swatted at him, a pout appearing on her lips as her brows furrowed. The girl didn’t quite understand how the question may have been taken with offence by some, and was quite miffed by her uncle’s insult. 

“No, no, it’s okay,” Y/n affirmed, “I think it’s actually a good thing that she knows about that kinda stuff.”

Tommy glanced down at the boxes, clear discomfort appearing on his features, “Alrighty then, how about these boxes?”

Y/n gave in, offering Tommy one of the heavier of the three boxes, while shifting the smallest and lightest to the young girl, who had been adamant in helping out. She instructed them to just drop the boxes to the floor by the door, not looking to take up much more of their time. 

A loud gasp escaped Sarah, her wide eyes falling on the mutt, who had appeared to have been equally as excited to see her as he rushed over, tongue lolling out of his mouth and tail flapping wildly. Sarah squealed when he barrelled into her, a fit of giggles leaving her mouth as he brought her to the ground and began to cover her face in slobbery kisses.

“Manny!” Y/n groaned, grasping the dog’s collar and pulling away enough for Sarah to sit up off of the floor, “Sorry, he’s just convinced that everyone wants to be his friend.”

“I’ll be his friend!” Sarah beamed, reaching out and squishing the dog’s face in between her palms, “I mean… Can I?”

Y/n shrugged, “As long as it’s okay with your…” She glanced at Tommy for help, unsure about Sarah’s parentage situation. He’d already made it clear that he did not live next door, but had never explicitly stated who did.

“You’ll have to ask your dad, Sarah,” He chastised her, “Anyway, we should get out of your hair now, let you settle in.”

Y/n nodded, “Yeah, thank you for the help, though.”

“No problem, ma’am,” He winked, southern charm on full display as he stepped out onto the front step, “Anytime for a pretty girl like you. C’mon, Sar.”

Sarah begrudgingly offered the needy pup one more affectionate squeeze before following after her uncle, leaping off of the step and bounding across to her own front yard. Tommy paused, hand resting on the railing of the step and giving it a firm shake. His lips pursed into a line as he let out a small huh as the bannister shifted out of its place, then back in under the pressure. 

“Yeah, Steph said there were all kinds of little things wrong with the place,” Y/n noted, “But hey, if it’s got four walls and a roof, it’s good enough for me.”

He chuckled at her, shaking his head, “You know, my brother and I are contractors, we could come over and help you fix things up if you guys wanted.”

She hummed, “I’ll mention it to Steph. Wouldn’t wanna just start making changes to her house while she’s not here, would I?”

Tommy hummed, “‘Spose that’s true. Anyway, I should go see where she ran off to, but I sure hope I’ll be seeing you around.” He shot her a cheeky wink before jogging back over to the neighbouring yard, leaving her and Manny among the mess of boxes in the entryway. 

Y/n huffed, glancing around at the mess, then at the furry little beast at her feet, who waited patiently for her to begin offering him her love and attention. She rested her hands on her hips, shaking her head softly, “Well, let’s just get this done, boy.”

– – –

Joel grunted as he clambered in through the side door of his home, sighing in relief as he slipped out of his heavy work boots and dropped the armload of groceries onto the kitchen counter. He could hear the TV on in the living room, drowned out by Sarah’s yell of a greeting. He rushed to put away the groceries, sticking the brown paper bags in the recycling before stepping into the dimly lit sitting area. 

Tommy was reclined on the couch, slumped into the worn leather like a pile of mashed potatoes as he balanced his can of Budweiser on his bent knee. He nodded to his brother briefly as he lifted the beer to his lips, hardly taking his eyes off of the football game on the screen as Joel plopped down next to him. The older brother leaned forward, pressing a small kiss to Sarah’s head so as to not disturb her as she worked on her homework on the coffee table in front of the couch before finally copying his brother’s position.

“The hell took you so long? You left the site the same time I did, and I had to go pick this shithead up from school,” he playfully kicked at Sarah’s leg, “plus I helped your new neighbour move in.”

“Supermarket was a zoo,” Joel moaned as he ran his palm flat over his face, then furrowed his brow, “What new neighbour?”

Tommy nodded his head back in the direction of the mustard yellow house, “Chick next door got a new roommate.”

“Uncle Tommy was flirting with her,” Sarah chimed in, not taking her eyes off of the math textbook in front of her.

Joel rolled his eyes, “Now tell me why I’m not surprised.”

Tommy shook his head, taking another large gulp of beer, “I know what you’re thinking, but this girl’s different. She’s not from ‘round here. Not sure where, but she’s got an accent. Canada, maybe.”

“You know what a Canadian accent sounds like?” Joel scoffed, knowing that his brother was prone to drawing his own conclusions. 

“Well, no,” Tommy frowned, “But I imagine it might sound like that. Doesn’t matter, I think I’m gonna ask her out.”

Joel grunted in response, turning his eyes to the game on the screen.

“She wasn’t flirting back,” Sarah grinned up at the two men, her eyes lighting up at the sight of her father’s growing smirk and giggling as his own laughter came tumbling out. Tommy kicked her again, only this time with a little more force, “What? You invited yourself over there and were all,” She puffed her chest out and deepened her voice, “Anything for a pretty girl like you.”

Joel rested a palm on his belly as he shook with laughter, his other hand landing on the top of his daughter’s head affectionately as Tommy crossed his arms, sulking. 

“I think she was flirting back,” he argued.

“She wasn’t,” Sarah reaffirmed.

Tommy leaned forward, “Now how the hell would you know anything about flirting, huh? You been doin’ a lot of it at school?”

Her face burned in embarrassment, sputtering for a response, “No, that’s gross!”

Joel frowned at her, shaking his head in feign sternness, “You better not be. Otherwise I might need to break out grandpa’s old hunting rifle.”

She didn’t utter another word, simply gathering her things in her arms and rushing off to her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her as the laughter of her father and uncle followed her every step.

OCTOBER 17, 1998

Just under a week had passed since he’d first caught wind of his new neighbour, and Joel had yet to even see this woman. He’d noticed the new car in the driveway, and he’d picked up on the presence of the dog fairly quickly, especially after he’d caught Sarah tossing some of the vegetables from her dinner over the fence for him. Joel hadn’t paid it much mind, he was far too busy to be concerned with some young girl who didn’t seem to be causing much issues. 

He’d had words with Stephanie several times in the past; once for blatantly smoking pot on 

her front step when they were heading out for the day, then for leaving her garbage bin too close to his driveway, causing him to back into it and scratch the paint on his truck, and then once more when she’d had a little get together that ended up lasting until 4am, when the police arrived. He would normally have called himself a narc for having the party shut down, but it was keeping Sarah awake and the door had been shut in his face when he went over to ask politely. 

The day had been long, and normally he would have refused Tommy’s invitation to head over to one of the local dive bars, but after dealing with the shit-show that had gone on at the job site that day, he really needed a drink. Sarah was out of the house, anyway, having slept over at a friend’s house, so there was quite literally nothing keeping him away.

“Brother’s night, my ass,” Joel grumbled into his glass, glancing over to the corner booth, where his brother had joined a pretty brunette, leaving Joel to himself at the barside. He waved at the bartender, motioning for another top-up of his whiskey. 

A figure appeared at his side, leaning onto the bartop to call out to the bartender. Joel glanced over, his eyes raking over her radiant side profile in awe. He shot his gaze back to the glass of amber liquid in front of him, then briefly over to the girl once more. His eyes narrowed in on her pursed lips, noting how her brows furrowed in frustration as the bartender migrated to the other side of the bar. She turned to him suddenly, and Joel whipped his head back around to ensure that he wouldn’t appear to be some creep–though he was positive he certainly had been.

“Is it always like this here?” She asked him, tilting her head. “I swear, I’ve gone to three different spots along this bar, and buddy keeps looking in the other direction.”

He cleared his throat, “You not from around here?”

She smiled sheepishly, “Is it that obvious?”

Joel chuckled, “Just a little. You gotta get his attention, be firm. Here,” he tucked his index finger and thumb into his mouth and let out a loud whistle, nodding at the bartender as he rushed over. 

“Two vodka crans, please,” The girl smiled prettily at the bartender, then scoffed as he turned to begin pouring the drinks, “Shit, I guess I could stand to learn a thing or two.”

“It comes with time,” He frowned, realising that he may have implied that he was at the bar every other night, “I mean, not that I’m–”

She touched his arm softly, electricity running through her fingertips and into his bicep, “Hey, I’m not here to judge you if you’re not here to judge me, heh?”

He nodded, opening his mouth to speak once more when another figure appeared at her side. His smile dropped, taking in the sight of his next door neighbour, probably one of the last people he wanted to see on his night off.

“What the fuck is taking you so long–oh,” Stephanie narrowed her eyes at the older man, who simply turned and took another long swig of his whiskey, “Hello, Joel.”

“Stephanie,” he drawled, “How you doin’ tonight?”

She smirked at him maliciously, “Fine. Y/n, this is the guy I was telling you about.”

Oh, this is Y/n, he thought to himself, suddenly understanding Tommy’s instant interest in the girl. 

“All good things, I hope,” he sighed into his glass.

She shook her head, “Oh, just that you’re the neighbour from hell, and that you’re a narc.”

Y/n tucked her bottom lip in between her teeth, visibly uncomfortable at the confrontation. His eyes fell to her mouth at the movement, wondering what it might feel like to take that same lip in between his own teeth. 

“You keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night, Steph,” he huffed, praying to any god that would listen that she hadn’t completely turned Y/n against him.

Stephanie sneered at him, grasping one of the drinks from the bartop and stomping off, leaving a thick tension over the remaining two. Joel met Y/n’s gaze once again, noting the visible embarrassment on her face as she began to laugh slowly.

“Sorry about her,” She laughed nervously, “For the record, I know that she’s a little dramatic.”

“‘T’s fine,” Joel grumbled, swallowing the last gulp of whiskey, “You ain’t gotta apologise for her, she can feel however she wants about me.”

Y/n chuckled, a genuine one this time and Joel couldn’t help but carve the melodious sound into his memory, “I’m Y/n, by the way.”

He nodded, accepting the soft handshake that she offered, “So I’ve heard.” He noticed the slight furrow of her brow before he clarified, “I’m Sarah’s dad.”

Realisation crossed her face, “Oh, Sarah! She’s a real sweetheart.”

“Yeah, she is,” he smiled softly at the complement, “She sure likes you, and I’m assuming that it’s your pup that I’ve caught her feeding her broccoli to?”

Y/n giggled at him, “Huh, I’d noticed that he was especially gassy lately. Here I was thinking it was something in the water.”

Joel let out a loud laugh, then realised that he had not actually introduced himself, “Shit. Sorry, I just–” he coughed, “I’m Joel.”

“So I’ve heard.” She repeated to him, clearing her throat before turning to gaze at him through her lashes with a soft smile, “So Joel, is this seat taken?”

– – –

Y/n had not expected to have enjoyed herself quite so much when Stephanie forced her to go to the grubby little saloon, feeling incredibly out of place among all of the southerners. She had been hesitant to leave Manny on his own so soon after moving in, but the last thing that she had wanted to do was get on Stephanie’s bad side so early on. Then, she’d stumbled upon the devastatingly handsome man sitting all on his own at the bar, and her tune changed drastically. 

She sat on that stool for the better part of two hours after Stephanie had fucked off, leaving them to become acquainted with one another. Joel had offered her another drink, which she accepted under the terms that she would buy the next round, and against his better judgement, he found himself doing a shot of tequila with her as well. She smirked to herself when she took note of the flush that had crawled into his cheeks, and how cheerful his dark chocolate eyes looked under the dim lighting of the bar. 

Y/n had noticed Tommy in the corner booth, and how he had been blatantly pressing his southern charm onto the brunette under his arm in the very same way that he had to her, which made her feel much better knowing that he couldn’t possibly be that upset about her doing the exact same to his brother. 

Her hand had come to rest on his knee, leaning across to invade his personal space animatedly as she spoke, her own cheeks flushing each time that he grinned or laughed at her words, and she had lost count of the amount of times that she had rubbed her thighs together or considered smashing her lips to his. 

Tommy appeared at his side, clutching his shoulder in his firm grasp, “Hey Joel, you think you’re ready–oh, hey, Y/n.” His cheeks had turned red, one hand self-consciously rising to rub at his cheek, where the stark red lipstick stain had once acted as a trophy and was now an admission of guilt. Tommy pursed his lips, “Wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight.”

She shrugged, “Steph forced me out.”

He nodded awkwardly, unsure of how to save himself in this situation. 

Y/n turned her head, catching sight of her roommate’s drunken attempt to seduce the bouncer before turning her attention back to the older of the two brothers, squeezing his knee once before sliding off of the stool, “Speaking of, I should probably leave, she’s gonna get us banned from here any minute now. It’s been nice, talking to you, Joel. See you, Tommy.”

Both men watched as she disappeared into the crowd, eyes trailing after her figure longingly.

Tommy huffed, “You think I still got a chance?”

Joel’s shoulders shook in a drunken fit of giggles, lifting his own hand to proudly show off the nine digits that had been marked into his skin, “Nope.”

Tommy’s jaw dropped, clear disappointment on his features before it was quickly replaced by pride, “Well fuck, brother. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

OCTOBER 31, 1998

Y/n wiped at the sweat on her brow, breathing picking up in delight as she turned the corner and the blinding yellow house came into sight. The sun had already begun to set by the time that she and Manny had set out on their evening walk, now settling low on the horizon and casting a golden hue to the world below it as Manny tugged on his leash, obviously also desperate to escape the heat. 

A loud honk sounded from behind her, muffled slightly by the music playing over her bulky headphones, drawing her attention to the dark pickup truck as it sped past, Sarah hanging out the back window with a grin on her face as she waved dramatically. Y/n chuckled at the young girl, allowing Manny to lead her into a faster pace as they grew closer to their house.

She slid the headphones down to rest around her neck, pressing pause on her walkman as Sarah rushed towards them. The girl paid very little mind to the woman holding the leash, instead dropping to her knees and reaching out for the excited dog’s face, laughing as he began to lick enthusiastically at her cheek. 

“Hi,” her gaze rose to find Joel as he rounded the bed of the truck, hand resting on the top of the tailgate as he tried his best to look casual, “sorry, this one never shuts up about that dog.”

Y/n smiled at him, warmth flooding through her cheeks. She’d only actually spoken to Joel a handful of times since that night at the bar, mostly simple greetings while Sarah occupied herself with Manny. Joel was too awkward of a person to try anything with Sarah present, and Y/n was too compassionate to question him about why he hadn’t bothered to call yet in front of his daughter. 

Y/n shrugged, “To be fair, he never shuts up about her, either.”

“Oh did he tell you that?” The man asked, brows raised playfully, “I didn’t know you spoke dog.”

“There are many things you don’t know about me yet, Joel,” She smirked at him, “Oh, happy Halloween, by the way.”

“Right,” Joel raised one hand to stroke his hairy chin, “Yeah, you too.”

Sarah glanced up from Manny’s pleading brown eyes, “Dad forgot.

Joel sent a sharp glare to his daughter, then smiled sheepishly at her, “Not too concerned about a holiday that’s got nothing to do with me, anyway–this one decided she’s too cool for trick-or-treating with dad this year.”

“Oh don’t feel too discouraged, I gave my dad the boot when I was even younger.”

“See?” Sarah pressed, glancing back at her father, “You don’t even like Halloween, I don’t get why you’re mad.”

Y/n widened her eyes and clutched her chest dramatically, “What do you mean, you don’t like Halloween? It’s like, one of the best holidays!”

Joel rolled his eyes, “Oh don’t tell me you’re one of those people.”

She pursed her lips, “And just when I was starting to like you, Miller.”

His eyes met hers, curiosity pooling into the dark mocha irises as he considered her words. He almost appeared apologetic; could he feel guilty about not calling her? Y/n did her best to not appear too shaken by his lack of contact–she hadn’t expected anything from him the next day, but after two weeks and still no call? She’d taken that as a sign that he’d been a tad too drunk when he had been so shamelessly flirting with her, and that he had no intentions of ever pursuing anything. 

Y/n was thankful when Sarah interrupted the pair, preventing her from spiralling into a nervous breakdown from her own inner monologue, “What are you dressing up as?”

The woman shook her head with a mischievous smirk on her lips, “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see when you come knocking at my door, huh?”

“No big plans?” Joel tilted his head, “I figured that roommate of yours would have you out on the town.”

She shrugged, “Steph’s out of town. Something about the drinks and the guys being stronger. Looks like it’s just gonna be me and my little guy here,” she gently clapped a hand against Manny’s side, “Well, us and a selection of horror movies.”

Sarah stood up, leaning into her dad’s side with her elbow, “How convenient, my dad will also be home alone tonight.”

Joel dropped his head in embarrassment–just leave it to Sarah to blatantly play the role of her father’s wingwoman. He refused to meet Y/n’s amused gaze, ears burning as Sarah continued.

“And he totally loves horror movies. He watches them all the time.”

“Oh really?” Y/n did her best not to burst out laughing, enjoying the sight of both Joel’s embarrassment and how confidently Sarah was trying to talk up her own father. She crossed her arms over her chest, doing her best to not make it too obvious how much she actually wanted to invite him to join her, but she didn’t want to display too much interest in him if he genuinely had none in her, “Well then maybe he should head to Blockbuster before all of the good ones are rented.” 

She raised her brow at him, signalling to him that it was his turn to make a move, as she would not be making any more. He nodded at her, red flooding his cheeks as he tried to muster up the courage to discuss the clear tension between them. 

Y/n smiled politely at them both, then glanced down at the heavily panting dog at her feet, “Well, I better get this guy out of this heat. See you guys in a bit, then?” She led the dog past them, glancing back over her shoulder, her lips pursed as she watched Sarah poke at her father’s side sharply. 

The young girl smirked at her dad knowingly, remaining silent, though the expression on her face made her thoughts very clear to the man. She scowled at him, crossing her arms over her chest, “Christina’s sister is so right; all boys are stupid.”

The man scowled at his daughter, watching in silence as she moved around him without another word, disappearing through the front door without so much as another glance. Joel scoffed, shaking his head at her, and wondering how the hell his nine year old could be so goddamn right about the situation. 

– – –

Joel wiped his hands anxiously across the expanse of his thighs, attempting to rid himself of the nervous sweat that had collected in his palms as he stood on Y/n’s front step, mustering up the courage to finally knock. 

“The fuck am I doing,” He cursed to himself, shaking his head as he ran a hand over his face. 

Y/n was younger than him; not by a lot, but they were still in very different stages of their lives. He wasn’t willing to admit that he genuinely did like her, and considering that she was still a young woman and still in college, he wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking for with him. Was it just some quick fuck that she wanted? Joel wouldn’t be opposed–hell, he was ashamed that he’d imagined such a thing more than a few times since meeting her–but he wasn’t sure if he could jump into bed with her and then move on with his life, nor could he expect her to be willing to just pick up the role of step-mother to his little girl. 

Joel had woken up on October 17, hungover as hell and struggling to recall any of his memories from the night before. He’d forced himself out of bed much earlier than he would have liked, needing to pick Sarah up before her soccer game. The man had stumbled his way into the shower, blindly going through the motions of bathing himself as the warm water slowly began to remove the fog from his mind. It was then, as he had reached out for his bottle of body wash that he noticed the smudge of blue ink on his skin, and then jumping in surprise at the memory of the beautiful woman who had given him her phone number–the woman who had him laughing like he hadn’t in so long and blushing harder than he thought possible–the woman who he hoped was now lying peacefully in her bed next door, preferably all on her own. 

The few times that he had seen her since then, he had thought about apologising for not calling and telling her the truth of what had happened, despite his embarrassment. He wanted to ask for it again, but every time, Sarah was there, making a fuss over the little pooch that never seemed to leave Y/n’s side. He wished that he were more confident in himself, more willing to speak to other women even if his daughter was there, but he simply would never be able to look at the young girl again if Y/n were to reject him. 

“Shit,” He swore loudly as he turned to rush off of the step, instead booting one of the carefully carved jack-o-lanterns onto the pavement of the driveway and watching in horror as it shattered on impact. 

“Joel?” He froze at the sound of the door creaking open behind him, smiling bashfully at the young woman as he did his best to not appear too guilty. Her eyes fell from his flushed face to the mess of orange at his feet, a surprised chuckle leaving her lips, “Damn, you really do hate Halloween, huh? Enough to come over here and start destroying my decorations, anyway.”

He sputtered for an answer, “I–it was an accident, I just knocked it off by accident on my way out–”

“Your way out?” She questioned, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the doorframe, “So what, you were just loitering on my front step?”

He scoffed at her, “I was actually on my way to apologise, but if you’d rather I just get lost…”

Y/n raised a brow inquisitively, “I’m listening.”

“I just–I’m sorry for not calling,” Joel admitted with a sigh, debating whether or not it would be best to explain exactly why, “For what it’s worth, I would have if I hadn’t washed it off by accident.”

An amused expression crossed her features as she mulled over his explanation, “You…washed it off?”

He shrugged and scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, “I did.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, as if she were trying to decipher whether or not he was being truthful, “Okay.”

His gaze shifted from side to side, uncertain as to what she meant, “Okay?”

“Okay,” She affirmed, “So what time did you wanna come over tonight?”

Joel swallowed the lump in his throat, “Tonight?”

Y/n shrugged nonchalantly, ignoring the butterflies that slammed at the lining of her stomach and threatened to erupt, “Tonight. You said it yourself, Sarah’s gonna be gone all night, so would  you rather be home alone or come over? Otherwise, I’ll just be here by myself, scared and in need of a devastatingly handsome cowboy to protect me from Michael Myers.”

Blush spread across his cheeks, his hands coming up to rest on his hips, “I don’t know about ‘devastatingly handsome’, but I think I could handle some asshole in a mask.”

She grinned at him wickedly, “That’s what everyone thinks, but I guess we’ll see tonight, around eight?”

“Eight.” He confirmed, then glanced down at the mess at his feet, “And sorry about your pumpkin.”

“It’s alright,” Y/n smirked, “You’ll just have to work extra hard to make it up to me.”

– – –

Joel anxiously adjusted his shirt, frowning at himself in the window of her front door. Despite dismissing Sarah’s teasing by claiming that this was in fact, not a date, he’d taken her advice in showering the moment that he had gotten into the house. 

He was aware that she was flirting with him, but until he had gotten out of the shower, towel sitting low around his waist as he wiped the steam away from the mirror and took in his shaggy appearance, he had not been at all concerned about what activities the night might lead to. Staring at his own reflection, nervousness quickly began to settle into his bones.

He had made quick work with the clipper, shortening the length of his facial hair after several weeks of negligence and leaving his lower face to be covered by a light stubble. He put a little more effort into his hair than usual, running a thin layer of gel through it while noting to himself that it was probably time for a haircut. He even took things a step further, dabbing a few drops of some woodsy cologne onto his skin; the bottle had gone untouched for two years, having been a Christmas present from his mother.

“Are you wearing cologne?” Sarah asked as she appeared at his side, face painted to resemble a circus clown, “I knew this was a date.”

“It’s not a date,” He argued, doing his best not to jump in fright at her appearance, “Shouldn’t you be out on the town by now, Ronald McDonald?”

“You showered, put on cologne, and you’re bringing candy? It’s a date.” Sarah listed, “And I’m Pennywise, by the way. Christina’s sister is coming to pick me up soon. She says that guys always dress up when she goes out with them because they want her–”

Joel grunted, glaring at his daughter, “I want you to stop hanging around Christina’s sister.”

Sarah ignored his comment, “Is that what you’re wearing?”

Joel glanced down at his outfit–a clean pair of jeans and an old t-shirt that he’d probably gotten out of a beer box or something, “What’s wrong with this?”

“What’s right with it?” 

Joel considered his parenting style for a moment, wondering if he would be free of this headache if he had spanked his daughter once or twice in her life. Sometimes he forgot that the girl was only nine years old with how intelligent she was and how much more mature she seemed in comparison to other kids her age. 

“It’s not a date, Sarah.”

She rolled her eyes, “It could be. Come on.”

Sarah rushed past him, leading him into his own bedroom as she began to dig through his closet. She frowned with almost every piece that she picked out, tossing them behind her recklessly and ignoring her father’s scolding for the mess that she had quickly created. 

“Hah!” The girl pulled out an egg-plant button down and shoved it into his grasp, “I knew you had to have something that wasn’t that ugly.”

He grunted at her, but didn’t reply out of respect for her brutal honesty as he quickly shed himself of the worn t-shirt he’d previously been wearing in favour of the one that Sarah had chosen. Now, as he stood at her front door and internally decided for himself that this was a date, he couldn’t help but thank God for his daughter’s awareness.

Finally, after tugging at the hem of his shirt, he raised a fist and knocked heavily on the door. Joel choked on his own saliva when she appeared in the window, smiling sweetly at him when she pulled the door open. She had already changed into a pair of black yoga pants and a sky blue shirt that exposed just a tasteful amount of her midriff. 

“Hi, again,” she breathed, a smile forming on her face, “You look nice, purple is definitely your colour.”

Joel burned, “I–thank you. Sarah picked it out.”

Y/n turned to the girl, who had already ushered the dog up onto the sofa with her, “Well she has a clear eye for style.”

“She definitely thinks so, that girl damn near harrasses me about my clothes everyday.” Y/n laughed out loud, Joel’s ears tingling at the melodious sound, “You look great, too.”

Y/n beamed down at her outfit, shrugging to herself, “Thanks, I thought about keeping my costume on but I wasn’t entirely sure how much you would be into Strawberry Shortcake.”

Joel chuckled at her, glancing down at the object in his hand, “I brought beer, by the way. Wasn’t sure if I should bring anything, or if you even like–”

Y/n reached out, snatching the six pack from his grasp, “Ever the gentleman, cowboy. So, you coming in?”

– – –

The house was filled with laughter, both having nearly finished their first beer as they shared stories freely. Halloween played quietly in the background, though neither of them paid too much attention. Y/n did her best not to physically melt when she felt Joel’s arm drape across the back of the sofa behind her, resisting the urge to tease him for attempting to cover it up by faking a dramatic yawn. 

She brushed her fingers along the top of his thigh, smirking to herself as she watched his leg slowly shift closer to her, though he didn’t address the affectionate touch. He spoke to her softly, and made an effort to hold eye contact with her as he did to–she was starting to feel some guilt about the conclusion that he’d drawn about him after he’d failed to call her. Her own gaze continuously fell to his lips as he spoke, and she was sure that he had noticed by the way that his lips began to curl confidently. Her heart hammered in her chest, wondering how much longer she would need to wait before he finally made a move.

Joel, however, was wondering exactly how he possibly could make a move. While feeling confident around her, there was no way to escape the fact that he hadn’t been on a date in at least a year, and he could count the amount of women he’d slept with since Sarah’s mother on one hand. At various points throughout the night, he had considered leaning in to kiss her, but had successfully siked himself out each time. The first time, he’d been interrupted by the pooch who had been jealous of his owner’s attention being focused elsewhere, though he could only blame every other time on his own insecurity.

“Do you want another beer?” Y/n asked as he swallowed the last gulp out of his can, “Or I have wine and pop?”

“Pop,” he scoffed, chest rumbling with quiet laughter.

She raised her hand and slapped his pec as she stood up from the couch, “Fine, you don’t get anything.”

He laughed, watching as she disappeared into the kitchen and shamelessly admiring the shape of her backside in the darkness of the dimly lit living room. He sat there for a few moments, staring at the movie in discontent, sighing as he ran his hand over his face and murmured a nearly silent fuck it, and following after her. 

“Is it too late to apologise and get that beer?” 

She glanced over her shoulder at him, smirking as she shrugged coyly as she turned and leaned her back against the front of the refrigerator and holding the perspiring can out in front of her, “You’ll have to come get it yourself.”

Joel crossed the small room in two long strides, stopping as the can met his chest, though he paid it little mind as she stepped away from the fridge, pressing a fleeting kiss to his lips. He froze for a second, stomach clenching at the soft touch. 

“Sorry,” Y/n whispered, though her tone betrayed how unapologetic she truly was, “Was that okay?”

He didn’t respond, quickly taking the beer out of her grasp and tossing it onto the counter as he cupped her face, capturing her lips with his and pressing her back against the fridge once more. She smiled against his lips, fingers bunching in the material of his plum coloured shirt and tugging him even closer. 

His lips were chapped against her own, the telltale sign of a busy man who hadn’t been too concerned with his physical appearance up until now, though she could not picture another kiss that she had received in the last several years that would even compare to Joel’s. 

One of his hands fell, fingers splaying around her waist as he pressed even closer, parting his lips as he felt the tip of her tongue prod at the seam and allowing her to seek out his own. He moaned at her taste, fingers wandering to her hip and hesitating, almost as if he had been asking for her permission to move even lower. She grasped his hand, guiding it around to cup her bottom.

Pulling away for air, she giggled softly and fluttered her eyelids open to find him already staring at her with blown pupils. One of her hands slid up his chest, tugging at the collar of his shirt before her fingers trailed over his patchy beard affectionately, “I don’t know if this is too soon, but do you wanna move to my bedroom?”

Joel chuckled at her, squeezing her cheek through her yoga pants, “Lead the way.”

– – –

Joel worried that he might have gone into cardiac arrest as he struggled to catch his breath, back slouched against the headboard as Y/n slumped flush against his chest. The cotton sheets pooled around her hips as she continued to move softly, working them both through the aftershocks of their climaxes. The man sighed in appreciation as her lips continued to slide against his jawline and leave gentle kisses in their wake, her fingers still lost in his dark curls.

Joel’s own hands squeezed her hips as she finally slowed to a stop, helping her slide off of him and smirking to himself at the whine she let out at the loss of contact. She shifted, moving out of his lap and curling into the cool sheets on the bed next to him.

“How was that?” He panted, “Have I done enough to make up for lost time?”

She grinned at him, her own chest rising and falling with her slowing breaths, “I think I recall doing most of the work, actually.”

“Bein’ on top doesn’t mean you were doing any work, sweetheart, I think we both know that.” His eyes fell on the digital alarm clock on her bedside table, grunting to himself as he took note of the late hour, “Shit–how the hell is it ten-thirty already?”

She glanced over to the clock briefly, then back at him, “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

Staring down at her nude form, guilt began to eat away at him as he began to slide off of the mattress and begin gathering his clothes that had been scattered around the room. 

“Are you leaving?” His back was turned to her as he pulled on his jeans, though he could only imagine the look on her face from the emotion that dripped from her voice; she was disappointed, facing the reality that she would be abandoned after doing something so intimate. 

“I mean…” Joel coughed, “Yeah, I should probably leave. Gotta work early tomorrow, and Sarah’s got soccer practice, and–”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” She sat up, hugging her knees to her chest in an attempt to regain her modesty, “I get it.”

Joel couldn’t help but wonder how many times she’d done this. She seemed disheartened, but not entirely surprised at his decision to head out, as if she was expecting this time to be different from the others–as if she was expecting Joel to be any different from the other shitty guys she’d met since moving to Austin.

“Darlin’,” Joel cooed, coming to sit at the edge of the mattress and cupping her face in his large palms, “It’s not like that. I want nothing more than to stay the night, but I know that I won’t sleep a wink tonight if I do.” His thumb stroked her bottom lip as her mouth slanted into a small, saddened smile. He leaned in, pressing three kisses to her lips, each one longer than the last before pulling back, “Can I get your number? I promise I won’t ask for a third time.”

Y/n smiled at him, kissing him once more before snatching a pen off of the bedside table and scribbling on his hand, “You won’t get it if you ask for a third time, Miller.”

MARCH 12, 1999

Y/n sighed blissfully, gnawing at her lip to prevent any moans of pleasure as Joel worked himself into her over and over, his hips meeting hers with slow, meaningful movements as he did his best to keep both of them quiet. Joel wasn’t normally one for booty calls, though he had hardly seen her in the past few days and couldn’t resist when his mind had wandered while in the shower–and for the first time in what felt like decades, he could rely on the help of soft, feminine touches rather than his own fast and rough tugs. 

Her thighs shook, teeth biting into the pillow beneath her face as she pressed her hips back against him and arched her spine in pleasure. She met his thrusts enthusiastically, fingers winding into the sheets tightly. 

“Shit,” She gasped, “Joel, I’m gonna–”

“I know,” He rasped, “Shhh baby. Let go, I’ve got you.”

She didn’t hold back, allowing the white hot pleasure to run through her veins, muffling her cries in the plushness of the pillow. Her walls clenched around him, gripping him for everything that she could manage as he fucked her through it, head rolled back in pleasure as his own orgasm teetered over the edge. His fingers tightened around her hips, hauling her back against him a few more times before his seed painted the inside of the condom. 

His hands slid up from her hips, one pressing on her back to force her to lay flat against the mattress while the other cupped the soft flesh of her belly to roll her over. Joel took in her figure, eyes scanning her face for any signs of discomfort before dropping to her breasts; the man was absolutely entranced by the shape of her breasts, eagerly pawing at them during makeout sessions and suckling at them with the utmost love and desire as he fucked her. She smiled at him tiredly, hooded eyes admiring his own figure as he slipped out of her, sliding off of the bed and disappearing into the ensuite. 

When he returned, he wore a pair of black boxers and carried a maroon washcloth in his hand, carefully parting her legs and sliding the cloth through her folds, puffy and sore from his touch. He whispered an entirely disingenuous apology as he pressed lightly against her abused clit, chuckling to himself as she jumped. Tossing the cloth aside, he settled into the mattress next to her, sliding an arm around her waist and tugging her into his side, sighing in relief at the physical contact. 

The rising sun had slowly begun to peek through the blinds, filling the room with a soft glow in the aftermath of the third round. Y/n glanced at the clock on the far wall, sighing to herself as reality settled into her bones. She hadn’t intended on staying so long, especially after how eagerly the both of them had initiated the first round, having allowed herself to remain at his side until she felt his member begin to grow against her thigh once more. Now, after taking him inside of her three times over the past six hours, she knew that she would eventually need to get up and leave–a habit that they both had and hated when they were finished. 

She pressed careful kisses into his flesh, lips moulding to the sweaty skin of his shoulder and neck affectionately while her palm rubbed circles into his firm chest. Joel nuzzled his head into her hair, his own lips pressing to the crown of her head as he, too, appreciated the afterglow. 

Y/n’s body and heart screamed at her as she finally pulled herself away from him, hopping out of the bed and collecting her clothing from the floor. Joel watched her with sunken eyes, his attempt to remain stoic as he easily recognised what she was doing proving fruitless.

“You don’t–you don’t gotta go just yet,” he called to her, desperation lacing his voice, “Don’t gotta be at the site till eleven tomorrow–”

“Today,” she corrected, “And that’s in seven hours. Besides, I don’t wanna fall asleep and risk having to run into Sarah. I should probably leave.” 

He nodded slowly, continuing to watch her as she dressed and fixed her appearance, preparing herself mentally and physically for her four A.M. walk of shame. Joel wanted to call her back to bed again, to convince her to stay with him and promise breakfast in the morning, but instead watched helplessly as she disappeared into the dark hallway, and closed his eyes disappointedly at the sound of the front door closing behind her.

JUNE 2, 1999

Golden rays of sun peeked through the blinds, trailing up the length of the bed with each passing moment before finally gracing over the soft skin of the woman next to him. Joel laid in his bed as still as possible, one arm around her shoulders to keep her flush against his chest, savouring the intimate, domestic moment before it would eventually come to an end–it always did.

The alarm clock flashed the time tauntingly at him, as if mocking him for wanting to keep her there for much longer than he knew he could. This was undoubtedly the latest she had stayed in his bed; it was nearing six A.M. and she had yet to stir from her deep slumber. 

His eyes trailed the length of her bare back, his fingers pressing gently at the indent of her spine as he pushed her body impossibly closer to her and bathing himself in the feeling of her nude body against his own. Joel resisted the urge to shake the growing ache out of his leg as pins and needles crawled up the length of his limb, too afraid to move and wake her–he knew what would come once her eyes had opened, as she had done it countless times now. 

It was the twitch of her fingers against the soft flesh of his belly that alerted him to her growing consciousness, nails following the pattern of hair that covered his abdomen softly, drawing a quiet moan of delight from the man beneath her. He felt the curve of her lips against his shoulder, turning his head to meet her eyes as they fluttered open.

“Morning, cowboy,” Her throat was dry and her voice was scratchy, but her words still held the power of causing an eruption of butterflies in his gut. 

“Morning,” He leaned closer, the tips of his nose brushing her own before she swatted him away, covering her mouth self-consciously and mumbling something about morning breath. Joel chuckled at her, moving her hand away and planting a soft, closed-mouth kiss against her lips. 

Her smile grew, hazy vision flickering around the sun-lit bedroom as realisation dawned on her, “What time is it?”

Joel’s own smile faltered as he cleared his throat, glancing over at the alarm clock again, “Five-to-six.”

“Shit,” She groaned, a hand settling on her forehead, “I should probably leave. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” 

Joel shook his head at her, “You ain’t got nothing to apologise for. I like having you here.”

She pecked his lips again, fondness creeping through her at the man’s admission, “I like being here. But I should go before Sarah wakes up.”

Joel caught her arm as she moved to crawl out of the bed, “Stay.”

“What?”

“Sarah knows you’ve been coming around and leaving early in the morning.” He told her, thumb smoothing circles against her wrist, “She says she’s happy for me, but she said that she won’t approve until you start bringing that damn dog of yours over here when you come.”

Y/n chuckled, her eyes growing a thin red rim along her waterline, “What are you saying?”

“I’m asking you to stay. Every damn night you spend here, you go rushing out like this is just a quick fuck, but I think we both know that it’s a lot more than that. Just come back to bed, please.”

Y/n shook her head at him, glancing over at the rising sun through the blinds in contemplation before she finally shrugged, crawling back into the bed and settling against his naked form with a sigh, her hand resting on his chest as she massaged small circles into his sweaty flesh. Both of them relaxed into one another, enjoying the silence of the early morning and dreading the unavoidable fate of the alarm going off in the coming hour.

NOVEMBER 27, 1999

Y/n tapped her nails against the hardwood of the tabletop rhythmically, doing her best not to make her dissociation too clear as her friends and family chattered back and forth. Her mother was busy on her left hand side, sharing dozens of her favourite childhood photographs to Y/n’s friends with a fondness that only a mother could have, while the seat to her left was empty. The watch that she’d received as a gift from her parents sat on her wrist, the time ticking away as grief settled in her stomach, the realisation that he simply wasn’t coming eating away at her pride.

Her birthday was not something that she generally liked to celebrate, but knowing that her parents, siblings, and a few members of her extended family had orchestrated a trip to visit and celebrate with her had her counting down the days, especially after she had convinced her unofficial boyfriend to join them for dinner at one of the nicest wallet-friendly restaurants in Austin. Now, as she sat silently and watched as her friends laughed and cooed over possibly the most embarrassing photos of her while picking at their slices of birthday cake, her mind only wandered to where exactly he was, and how much more fun she would be having if she were warding him off of any of those photographs–especially all of the ones from her junior high years. 

She hadn’t had the chance to speak to him at all that day, having woken up after he had already left for work and dropped Sarah off at school. At the time, Y/n had smiled to herself, thanking him mentally for allowing her to sleep in on her birthday, though she was beginning to wonder if she should have taken the lack of birthday wishes as a sign. 

She actively avoided Stephanie’s gaze, wanting to escape the oncoming I told you so, and made as little eye contact as possible with her mother, who watched her sympathetically, and her father, who silently raged over the presence of the empty chair. Y/n now felt embarrassed over how much she’d actually gushed over the man to her family before dinner, wondering if maybe she was more invested in him than he was in her. After all, he had yet to officially ask her to be his girlfriend, despite the fact that she and Manny had taken up residence in his home at least four nights a week and that she had been included in more recent movie nights with him and Sarah. 

Maybe she was reading into it too much–something must have happened. Something happened to Sarah, or maybe Tommy had been locked up again. There was no way that Joel had forgotten her birthday, there was simply no way.

– – –

Joel’s feet ached, crying out in pain with every step and sighing in relief as he finally kicked off his heavy boots. The crew that he’d brought on for his most recent and highest paying job to date had given him hell that day, leaving him aching for nothing more than a hot shower and a peaceful night at home with his best girls. He hated having to tack on extra hours to his day, but not arriving home until after ten was something that he would have to deal with in order to finish the job, and he was hoping to save up to take Y/n and Sarah on a little getaway for a weekend in the near future. 

The kitchen was dim when he stepped in, and he was somewhat surprised when he discovered no plate of food left for him in the microwave, nor was there a pan of leftovers in the fridge. Instead, there was a single empty carton of a microwavable dinner on the counter along with an empty can of Pepsi. Not wanting to seem ungrateful, he shrugged it off, though he had grown accustomed to Y/n bringing dinner over and making sure that it was ready for him on days that he worked late. 

Soft footsteps rushed down the stairs, Sarah rounding the corner with a wide grin on her face as she held a small piece of paper in her hands. 

“Hey babygirl,” Joel kissed her head softly as he moved into the living room, even more confused when he did not find Y/n curled up on the couch with a stack of her textbooks, as she so often did while waiting for him to return. 

“Hi dad,” Sarah’s smile dropped, glancing back into the entryway in confusion, “Where’s Y/n? I made this card at school today but I figured I’d wait until after you guys came back to give it to her.”

The blood in Joel’s veins ran cold, his heart skipping a beat at the sudden realisation of why his house appeared to be so void of his girlfriend, “Fuck.”

“Dad?” Sarah’s wide eyes narrowed, all too used to her father’s undiagnosed case of short-term memory loss, though he had never ever forgotten something like this before.

“Shit,” He swore again, snatching his keys off of the counter and rushing to jam his feet back into his uncomfortable boots, “Sarah, go to bed. I’ll be back later tonight.”

The girl watched helplessly as her father raced out the door, tears welling in her eyes as she stared down at the happy picture she had pasted into the card and frowning as she feared the worst.

– – –

Joel arrived at the restaurant just before eleven. He knew it was a long shot, as the reservation was for seven-thirty, which he had purposefully written down and stuck to the fridge so that he would not forget. The few remaining staff inside shook their heads in pity at the man, quickly coming to understand his situation as he rushed inside, asking about the reservation with a bouquet of flowers in his grasp. 

His shoulders slumped as he parked in his driveway, trudging across the lawn into the neighbouring yard and knocking firmly on the door. He waited a few moments, cursing quietly as he got no response and knocking again. 

His frown deepened when the door swung open, a fuming Stephanie standing in his way. Her face burned scarlet, fists clenched at her side as she took in Joel’s pitiful appearance. She took a step forward, joining Joel on the front step and closing the door behind her. 

“The fuck do you want?” 

“Where’s Y/n?” He asked, ignoring her bluntness.

“She doesn’t wanna talk to you,” the girl sneered at him. “It’s one thing to stand someone up, even to forget their birthday, but to embarrass her like that in front of her family?” She scoffed, “you know, I warned her about you, but I took no pleasure in being right. You should have seen her tonight, barely spoke at all.”

The metaphorical knife in Joel’s gut twisted at her words, the fist clenching the bouquet tightening even further around the stems. He could picture her; all dolled up, chatting with her family as she eagerly awaited his arrival, her pretty smile dampening as time passed and eventual tears in her eyes as she realised the truth–he had forgotten about her. 

“Just let me talk to her,” he begged, “Please.”

Stephanie shook her head, “I think it’s best if you never show your face on my property again, Miller.”

“Joel?” Both of their eyes turned at the sound of Y/n’s voice, finding her peeking around the door curiously. “Steph, can you give us a minute?”

The woman sent Joel one final glare, patting her roommate on the shoulder before slipping back into the house. 

If the knowledge of what he’d done hadn’t been enough, Y/n’s appearance was the final blow to his gut. Her eyes were bloodshot, cheeks swollen and marked with visible remnants of tears. She wrung her fingers together anxiously, keeping her gaze lowered in shame as she closed the door behind her and turned to face him.

“Baby–” 

“Don’t.” Y/n interrupted, “Just explain.”

He sniffled, “I can’t explain it, or excuse it. We got held up at work, and I really need this job to be done and over with already. I’m so sorry, baby.”

She shook her head, lifting her sleeve to wipe at the underside of her nose, “You didn’t even say goodbye before you left this morning. Did you even remember at all?”

Joel bit his lip, “I’m sorry. Let me–”

“Joel,” Her voice cracked, “I love you.” His heart soared as she spoke those words for the first time, then shattered as she continued, “I understand that I’m not your first priority–that’ll always be Sarah and I can’t blame you for that. But, fuck, you suggested the restaurant, Joel. You spoke to my mom over the phone and promised her the best steak in town, and she sure seemed to like it, but you weren’t even there. I won’t ever be your first priority, but I can’t be your last, either.”

“Y/n–”

“I think my cousins liked it, you know.” She continued, wiping at her cheeks, “They’re the type to pray for your downfall, and I’m sure they were loving every second of the dinner once everyone realised that you weren’t coming. Hell, all I did all night was talk about how amazing you were, and then–” Y/n cut herself off with a quiet sob.  “You should probably leave.” 

“Don’t do this,” Joel cupped her face, dropping the flowers to the deck recklessly as he wiped the tears away from her cheeks with his thumbs, “Tell me what to do. Hit me, yell at me, do something, but don’t ask me to walk away.”

She looked into his eyes, and for a moment, Joel felt hopeful that she might actually listen to him, though all hope was quickly diminished as he removed herself from his grasp, reaffirming her statement as she stepped back into the house.

“You should probably leave.”

[orimuraa]

⋆⁺₊❅. The first snow - Park Sunghoon

꒰ 𝔖𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ꒱┆when the days got cold, sunghoon was the one to warm your heart ⨾

۶ৎ non idol!park sunghoon x fem!reader ┆angst, hurt/comfort┆crying, reader has family issues, a kiss at the end, petnames┆please dont read this if you are sensitive to toxic parental behavior┆wc 851

⤷ 𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: this if for @cupidhoons winter event! the prompt is “028 standing under falling snow, feeling it melt on your cheeks, but it’s just the tears” happy birthday to our beloved hoonie!

꒰ঌ ℬℴℴ𝓀𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓁𝒻 ໒꒱

the air got crisper and the wind got colder as winter rolled around.

that meant one thing for you. it’ll be a long winter.

your parents never actually cared for you, always leaving you to fend for yourself.

however, you were able to find your escape from the harsh world at home.

his name was park sunghoon.

you and sunghoon had gotten close in elementary school and have been inseparable since.

sunghoon was a shy but very well mannered boy. he looked out for you, making sure you were doing okay.

he knew your relationship with your parents was rough, so he made a promise to you that when the two of you turned 18, he would start a new life for you.

his parents were like the parents you never had. they cared for you, fed you, and even bought you new things.

on the nights you would sleep over, they made sure to contact your parents even though they wouldn’t give a damn about your wellbeing.

when you were at the park’s house, you actually felt like you mattered and you loved it there.

but as the years went on, your parents started arguments with you about stupid things. it was their excuse to just yell at you.

sunghoon knew something had to be done sooner than later. the number of nights he would open his front door, just to be greeted with your red, puffy eyes hurt him immensely.

at first, he thought it was because he has known you since childhood and that it was because he cared so much for you as a friend. but overtime, he couldn’t help but feel the hurt in his heart on nights like these. the urge to wrap you in his arms and protect you from the cruel world.

you were such a sweet girl and you never deserved an ounce of hate that your parents gave you.

₊˚｡ ❆

the first day of snowfall. the seasonal reminder of how lonely and cold your life really was.

the snow for a lot of people was a happy memory. family and friends getting together and playing in the snow.

but for you, you dreaded every snowflake that fell.

the night of the first snowfall, you and your parents got into a big argument. they told you that you were worthless and taking up space in the house. so they kicked you out.

they threw you out with your small amount of belongings and told you to never come back.

you didn’t bother to tell sunghoon, knowing that he would probably lash out and do something stupid.

so here you were, walking in the snow, the lamps illuminating the streets just enough to see.

the snow was falling at and blurring your vision. or maybe that was just the tears.

walking to a stop, you wanted to just give up. what was the point of all this when you didn’t feel loved?

standing under falling snow, feeling it melt on your cheeks, but it’s just the tears. you didn’t even realize you were crying until a sob raked out of your chest.

you don’t really know what happened from after that, but you remember setting down your phone and slumping onto one of the nearby park benches, your knees curling up to your chest protectively.

the next thing you knew, the sound of footsteps rushing towards you were heard and a pair of arms thrown around you, holding you close.

you would’ve been terrified if you didn’t recognize the smell of a familiar cologne. sunghoon.

“y/n? ynnie? are you alright? what happened pretty?” his voice snapping you out of your thoughts.

“hoonie?” your voice was so small and barely over a whisper, and sunghoon felt his heart break for you.

"yeah, i'm here baby, don't worry. i'm right here," he held you close, not caring that his shoulder was getting soaked from your tears.

the two of you stayed like that under the snow for a while. the comforting warmth of sunghoon melted the ice around your heart.

"ynnie? i know this is awful timing but i just need to say it," sunghoon finally breaks the comfortable silence. "i-...i like you, y/n. i didn't realize it but now i do. i want to be able to protect you from the harsh world and i'm so sorry i was too late to protect you from your parents."

it took you a minute to realize what sunghoon had just said to you. he liked you too. he cared so much for you and now it all made sense.

"hoonie...i like you too..i'm just..scarred i guess. i don't wanna feel the way i've felt with my parents but i know you wouldn't do that to me," your eyes brimmed with tears once again.

"can i kiss you?" was all he said, and with a small nod, he leaned in, connecting your lips together.

despite the freezing snow falling around you guys, the kiss felt warm. warm with love and desire. it was sunghoon's promise to you.

a promise that he would always stick with you.

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: @en-diaries, @k-films, @k-nets

⚘. Perm taglist: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip, @jomisu, @nxzz-skz, @ancnymcnzjy

[roanofarcc]

OPPOSITES

pairing: trevor lefkowitz x shy!reader

summary: the tale of you and trevor, opposites who found each other in the afterlife.

warnings: none!

masterlist || Tag list: @youngdumbamericanteen

The idea of opposites attracting had been lost on Trevor during his life. He had once thought that his perfect match would not be too dissimilar from himself. Yet, as he chased and flirted with people during his life with the same outspoken nature and who told him exactly how it was, Trevor never found a match. Granted, he wasn’t given much time to.

Then, he died and hung up the towel on the idea of finding something real. Flirting with ghosts and living alike with no real chance of making a lasting connection romantically seemed like all he’d do until he moved on, or got “sucked off” to whatever waited for them after ghosthood. 

But then he met you. 

You were discovered after Sam and Jay began renovating the mansion, having been awakened in the commotion. Unlike Stephine, you didn’t fall into a pattern of mostly slumber with periods of being awake, but rather you joined them. 

At first, he’d been skeptical, having been the newest ghost himself, he was unsure of you. His skepticism melted mere minutes after meeting you. You were quiet, much quieter than the other ghosts. One would have thought that would have turned Trevor away, but he found your quiet nature drawing him in. Curled into yourself, observing from arm's length, you occupied his mind. 

Slowly, pebble by pebble, he formed his own path into your life, always wondering what you were thinking about at any given moment or asking for your opinion on everything under the sun he could think of to simply strike up a conversation. 

While you remained reserved and shy, Trevor slotted himself into your routine, becoming a welcome companion. You found yourself searching for him when you found some rare alone time, longing for his bright conversation and non-stop flow of questions or comments. Even in the moments of quiet, you enjoyed his presence, silently sitting beside you.

You two grew together, rarely seen without the other. Sometimes Trevor pushed your quiet nature with not so quiet, flirtaous jokes to test the waters. Much to his supirse, and despite you being utterly flustered, you enjoyed that too. 

He knew you wouldn’t be the one to make a move, even if you did like him. Your hints of affection came through in inviting him to join you on walks or in the quiet library after everyone else had fallen asleep but you couldn’t seem to. You’d sit side by side on the couch, limbs pressed against each other with the occasional shared glances and smiles. He knew you rather well, though, and considered that to be a green light for him to be a little more forward without the dreaded fear of rejection. 

When he had confided in the other ghosts of his crush and plans to ask you out, they couldn’t have been more thrilled. You were simply the sweetest thing in Woodstone, pretty and starkly different from Trevor. It made no little sense that it, in turn, made perfect sense. They helped him go through with his plan, which was a bit different than his other romantic endeavors of the past. 

Trevor had once prided himself on being showy or easy. He either asked someone out in a grand, borderline embarrassing gesture, or a simple drunk smile from across the bar that led to making out in the back of a cab. Neither of those were how he wanted to approach you. He wanted to be delicate, more heartfelt but not flashy. 

He had settled on asking you on a walk as the first snowfall of the season blanketed the yard. The wintery scene was beautiful, the sunlight reflecting in your eyes as snowflakes caught in your lashes. Perphas it was cheesy, but to Trevor, it all felt magical before he had even proposed taking your budding friendship a step beyond. 

Once he did, you were elated, wrapping your arms around his neck to envelop him in a hug. The ghosts watched from the window, cheering amongst themselves at the unlikely but perfect pairing of you and Trevor.

[prismatica-the-strange]

Can I get asks for any of these idiots?

I wanna talk about them or write about them or just make incoherent noises and hand motions at them (The order is nothing of importance)

Hayden is for both Ani and Donovan. and Parker is for both Felix and Emmett.

[careyakane]

How does the memory of you find its way into that which you had no part in?

My mind is on winter and Upstate New York as I sit a thousand miles to the west. It must be the smell of coffee and the temperature of my body, which is so similar to that of shedding layers in the mudroom after a long walk through a new snowfall down to where the white pine saplings stand. A hoodie thrown over my bare chest, a jacket over that. The quiet of that crystallized world rests under the mountain I named as a boy, under Turtle Mountain. If my father is with me, we will make a game of the walk. He will give me a five-minute head start before he attempts to track me down. The snow reveals my path, and through the naked trees, cover is scarce. I learned young to find the deer trails, or better, a stream. The running water has not yet frozen over, and I walk through its murmuring vein, past the beaver ponds and musclewood groves as it conceals my steps. If the deer have found cover, so will I.

Another stick placed on the old white pine trunk, my offering to my gods.

Then we are home, and I try to fight away the emptiness that seems to ride sidecar to those great simple moments that make life so rich. Sitting by the woodstove with my hands wrapped around clay, it’s less that she isn’t there and more the thought of the voice that would meet me if I called her—that is, if she even answered. There’s not a single person I would feel that kind of disdain and anger toward if they attempted to speak to me. But I am, to her, a stain and a bitter reminder of something taken. Something lost. It covers the years of love. It covers the memories I keep so close to my heart. That thought eats away at me in my pleasant idle moments, where for a time all is right in my world. I am growing better at noticing and awaiting the departure of these feelings of dread. But see, I’ve done it again. This wasn’t meant to involve you. I was simply reminded of winter and began to write of it, and now somehow the words and thoughts have spilled into you. When did you lay such claim over all that I am? How does the memory of you find its way into that which you had no part in?

[37sommz]

❁ : lookin' 4 . . .

✼. masterlist — taglist — request. ✼. genre: fluff. ✼. wc: 4.1k.

the fia prize giving ceremony is a chance for michaela to let her hair down. between the awards and the champagne, michaela is feeling particularly light. a tailored tuxedo and those haunting blue eyes enter at precisely the right moment.

✼. warnings: none i can think of :)

✼. notes: the jenson arc is here! this one is sweeter than usual, very very romantic.

000.⠀⠀JANUARY 27, 2021    ›    Geneva, Switzerland.

A glittering array of luxury cars lined up outside the Hotel President Wilson in Geneva. The cool breeze whispered through the alleyways, hinting at the snowfall that had painted the city white just the day before. Michaela tightened her fur-lined jacket around her, feeling a shiver run down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold. It had been a whirlwind year, and tonight was the cherry on top.

The FIA Prize Giving Ceremony was in full swing. She could feel the excitement buzzing through her veins as she stepped into the grand hall, her heels echoing off the marble floor. The room was a collage of black tie, with teams dressed in their finest and the smell of champagne and anticipation filling the air. She spotted her new McLaren crew across the room, raising their glasses in a silent toast to her impending arrival.

Michaela managed to mingle through the sea of congratulatory handshakes and kisses on the cheek, all the while keeping an eye out for the one person she hoped she wouldn't see: Jenson Button. His wide, dimpled grin and piercing blue eyes had haunted her thoughts since that unforgettable night in Tuscany. She knew he would be here; after all, the racing world was a small one, and they had both left their marks on it.

The moment she had been dreading finally came. She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around to see Jenson standing there, looking as dashing as ever in his tailored tuxedo. "Michaela," he said, his voice low and warm, "Congrats on the award. That was one hell of a move you pulled off." His words brought a flush to her cheeks as she recalled the daring maneuver that had earned her the Action of the Year award.

"Thank you, Jenson," she replied, trying to keep her cool. "It's great to see you again." They exchanged small talk, the tension between them palpable. The air was thick with unspoken words, and she felt her heart racing as his gaze held hers for a beat too long. He leaned in closer, his cologne a heady mix of leather and sandalwood, and whispered, "Dance with me?" She glanced around the room, looking for an escape, but her eyes met those of her manager, Guido, who gave her a drunkenly encouraging nod.

On the dance floor, the lights flickered and the music swelled, a symphony of strings and bass that seemed to echo her tumultuous emotions. Jenson's hand was firm yet gentle on her waist, guiding her through the steps, his other hand holding hers. She felt the warmth of his skin against hers, sending a thrill up her arm. The room seemed to spin around them as they danced, a blur of glitter and smiles. Their conversation grew more intimate, the laughter and chatter of the party fading into the background.

Michaela felt a strange mix of excitement and anxiety. She had spent the last month pushing thoughts of Jenson to the back of her mind, focusing on her training and preparing for the upcoming season. But now, with him so close, it was impossible not to remember the heat of his touch, the taste of his lips. 

"So," he began, his voice a caress in her ear, "How long have you been single?"

Michaela's eyes widened, and she took a step back, the music seeming to come back into her attention at the sudden shock. "What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Jenson's grin grew, and he pulled her back closer.

"Oh, come on, I've been watching you all night," he said, his breath tickling her ear. "You're a hard woman to miss in this world, and a harder one to forget." 

His words were like a sucker punch, and she felt the air leave her lungs. It had been a month and a half since she had told Olivier it was over, a month and a half of focusing solely on her career, and now here she was, face-to-face with the man who had been the catalyst for her breakup. A month and a half was far too soon for Jenson Button to be making her fall under his spell once again.

Her cheeks flushed, and she tried to regain her composure. "It's been over a month," she admitted, feeling the weight of the secret she had been carrying around since that fateful night. "But that doesn't mean..."

Jenson raised an eyebrow, interrupting her. "Doesn't mean what?"

Michaela took a deep breath. "It doesn't mean I'm ready for anything serious."

Jenson chuckled. "Who said anything about serious?" He leaned closer, his gaze holding hers. "How about we start with a date, just the two of us? No strings attached."

Before Michaela could muster up a response he added, "Just one date where I don't have to pretend I don't want to hide you away from the rest of the world and make you mine alone." The words were low with a heated anticipation that sent a shiver down Michaela's spine. He spoke casually as if the thought was perfectly appropriate for the black-tie ceremony, his blue eyes sweeping over her figure and sending her into a dizzying spell.

Michaela's eyes snapped up to his, and she found a hint of the same hunger she felt. "What are you doing to me, Jenson Button?" she murmured, half in jest, half in seriousness.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against her neck. "What I've wanted to do since we met," he replied, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill through her body. "But I can wait, for now." His smile was mischievous, and she knew he wasn't just talking about the dance.

Michaela felt her resolve wavering. A date with Jenson? The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating. But she had her priorities; the season was starting in less than two months, and she had to focus on her new team.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," she started. "I've got a lot on my plate with the upcoming season."

Jenson's grip on her waist tightened slightly, his eyes searching hers. "One date," he repeated, his voice smooth as silk. "It's not going to change the world, but it might just change your mind." He paused, then whispered, "And if not, well, we'll both have had a good time."

Michaela's heart skipped a beat. She had spent the last six months convincing herself that what happened in Tuscany was a one-off, a moment of loneliness fueled by adrenaline and success. But the way Jenson looked at her, the way he made her feel, was something she hadn't felt in a long time. She took a deep breath and met his gaze, his blue eyes sweeping over the features of her face as if committing them to memory.

"Okay," she conceded, "One date. But that's all."

Jenson's smile grew, and he leaned in to whisper in her ear, "I'll take what I can get." 

The music swelled again, and they continued to dance, their bodies moving in perfect harmony as if they had done it a thousand times before. She figured that was the allure of the magnetic pull she felt with Jenson. Every word, every breath, every thought came as if written in destiny when she was near him. He made every moment feel natural as if they had met in a hundred lives before.

As the night grew later, and the party started to wind down, Jenson offered to walk her to her hotel just down the street. She accepted, relishing the quiet after the blaring noise of the night. Max and Daniel had attempted to drag her to a nearby club, Charles and Pierre tried to convince her to fly back with them to party some more in Monaco, but Jenson demanded nothing of her, simply patiently waiting at the edge of the room with that dazzling glimmer in his eyes. 

They stepped out into the chilly Geneva air, the stars winking down at them as if approving the match. The moon cast a soft glow over the city, lighting their path as they strolled through the empty streets. The silence between them was filled with unspoken words and anticipation.

Michaela felt a flutter in her stomach with every step they took closer to her hotel. She knew that once they reached her room, she would have to make a decision. Would she invite him in and potentially risk everything she had worked so hard for? Or would she say goodbye and cling to the professional facade she had built around herself? The crunch of their shoes on the freshly fallen snow was the only sound breaking the silence. Jenson had charmingly poached a pair of spa sandals from the first desk, silencing the glimpses of discomfort that flashed across Michaela’s features for a brief moment. He offered a hand to balance on as she switched her heels for the sandals, wordlessly taking the shoes from her hands without as much as a hint of reservation.

When they reached the hotel lobby, Jenson didn't hesitate. He took her hand in his and led her to the elevator, his touch sending electric currents through her body. The ride up was agonizingly slow, the memory of the last time they were stuck in an elevator together stifling any decent thoughts. 

When they were a few moments from her floor, she turned to him, her voice barely above a whisper, "I don't know if this is a good idea."

He stepped closer, his eyes searching hers. "Why not?"

Michaela swallowed hard, her hand resting on the cool metal railing of the elevator. "For one, Grosjean and Ericsson are staying here and you know they can't resist getting involved in everyone else’s drama."

Jenson chuckled, his eyes never leaving hers. "They're not the only ones who know how to keep secrets, are they?" He leaned in, his breath a gentle whisper against her cheek. "I'm not looking for a scandal, just a chance to have you all to myself."

Michaela's heart hammered in her chest as the elevator doors slid open. She took a step out, still unsure of what she wanted. "I'm not looking for anything serious," she reiterated, her voice a little shakier than she would have liked.

Jenson's smile softened, and he nodded. "Understood. Just one date. No expectations." He leaned in and kissed her cheek, the brush of his lips sending a shiver down her spine. "But I promise it'll be a date to remember."

Michaela couldn't help but feel a thrill at his words. She had spent so much time focusing on her career that the prospect of a simple, carefree evening with someone like Jenson was tantalizing. "Fine," she said with a small smile, "But only because you're so charming."

Jenson's laugh was low and warm, and she felt it resonate through her chest. "You have no idea," he replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He pulled her closer for a proper kiss, one that was soft and lingering, hinting at the passion that lay just beneath the surface. It was the kind of kiss that made her knees feel like they might give out and sent her heart racing.

Michaela stepped back, her breathing shallow. "I'd better get some rest," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's been a long night."

Jenson nodded, his smile never wavering. "I'll see you in the morning, then." He leaned in and kissed her cheek once more before turning to walk away. She watched him go, her heart racing as she stepped into her hotel room and closed the door.

The next morning dawned bright and crisp, the sun shining through the windows of her suite and casting a warm glow over the plush hotel bed. She took a deep breath and pushed aside the curtains, taking in the breathtaking view of Lake Geneva. It was a contrast to the turmoil in her thoughts. The date with Jenson loomed ahead, a mix of excitement and nerves fluttering in her stomach.

Michaela had barely slept, replaying their encounter in her mind over and over again. She knew the risks, the potential for drama in their tight-knit world. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something undeniable between them, a spark that had been ignited that night in Tuscany four months ago and had been slowly burning ever since.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. It was a text from Jenson. "Ready for our hike?" He had suggested it the night before, a casual outing to get to know the city she was in for the first time while simultaneously getting in her mandatory cardio for the day. She took a deep breath and typed back, "Give me twenty."

Michaela threw on her workout gear and met Jenson in the lobby. He was dressed similarly, his casual attire doing little to hide the athletic physique that had carried him to victory so many times on the track. They greeted each other with a smile that felt more like a promise than a simple hello.

The hike was steep but beautiful, the snow-capped Alps standing tall in the distance. They talked easily as they climbed, sharing stories of their careers, their passions, and the moments that had defined them as individuals. The conversation was punctuated by bursts of laughter, the kind that left her stomach feeling light and her eyes shining.

Michaela found herself opening up to Jenson in a way she rarely did with others. His genuine interest in her life and his easy-going nature made her feel at ease, despite the underlying tension that hummed between them like a live wire.

As they reached the summit, the wind whipped around them, carrying the scent of pine and the distant sound of the city below. The view was breathtaking, a canvas of blues and whites that stretched on forever. Jenson turned to her, his eyes shimmering with excitement. "This is my favorite part of Geneva," he said, "So distant from all the noise."

Michaela nodded, her eyes scanning the horizon. "It's beautiful," she murmured, her breath misting in the cold air. She felt him step closer, the heat of his body a stark contrast to the chill surrounding them. He reached out and tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek for a moment before dropping away.

"Michaela," he began, his voice serious. "I know we agreed on one date, but I have to be honest with you."

Her heart skipped a beat. "What is it?"

"I've wanted to do this since the moment I saw you at the ceremony," Jenson said, his voice dropping to a whisper. He leaned in, and before she could react, his lips were on hers. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and filled with a passion that was impossible to ignore. For a moment, the world around them disappeared, and all that mattered was the warmth of his mouth and the strength of his arms around her.

Michaela felt a rush of heat flood through her body, and she found herself responding, her hands reaching up to tangle in his hair. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as if they had been apart for an eternity instead of just a few months. When they finally broke apart, they were both breathless, their cheeks flushed with cold and desire.

A brief moment of stunned silence floated between the two of them, leaving only the howl of the wind between them. Suddenly, Michaela began to laugh. The sound a deep, genuine exclamation of the shared moment. Jensen's eyes crinkled at the corners with his own laughter. "What's so funny?" He asked, a playful glint in his eye.

Michaela leaned into him, her eyes sparkling with happiness. "I'm in Geneva for the first time, on top of this gorgeous mountain," her voice broke with another laugh before she could continue, "And all I can think about is how much I want to kiss you."

Jenson chuckled, his eyes never leaving hers. "Well, we should do something about that, shouldn't we?" He leaned in again, capturing her mouth with his in another kiss that seemed to speak of the joy they could share.

They hiked back down the mountain, hand in hand, the tension between them now charged with new electricity. The city looked like a miniature wonderland from their viewpoint, but all Michaela could focus on was the feel of Jenson's palm against hers, the calloused skin a reminder of his years behind the wheel.

As they descended, Jenson pointed out various landmarks and told her stories of his own adventures in Geneva, making her feel like she was discovering the city through the eyes of a local. They laughed, they joked, and every now and then, their eyes would lock and the air would thicken, reminding them of the unspoken promise of more dates made at the summit.

After the hike, they decided to grab a quick bite at a cozy cafe near the lake, a place where they might be seen but could leave without being remembered. The warmth inside was a welcome contrast to the chilly air outside, and as they sat sipping on hot cocoa, the conversation turned more personal.

Michaela found herself opening up to Jenson about her fears and ambitions, her voice coated with passion as she spoke about her hopes for the upcoming season. He listened intently, his eyes never leaving hers, nodding in all the right places, offering words of encouragement and understanding that seemed to resonate deep within her.

"You know, you're different than I thought you'd be," she said, taking a sip of her cocoa. "When we first met, I was completely starstruck." She giggled, remembering her short, tight-lipped answers to his pre-race interview questions during her championship-winning F2 season.

"Really?" Jenson raised an eyebrow, his smile teasing. "What did you think of me?"

Michaela felt a blush creep up her cheeks. "I thought you were... I don't know, a bit of a distant teenage fantasy. But now," she paused, her voice dropping to a whisper, "I see there's so much more to you."

Jenson leaned closer, his eyes searching hers. "And what is that?"

Michaela took a moment to gather her thoughts, the warmth of his gaze making it difficult to think straight. "I see a man who's honest about his past and vocal about his desires for the future." She took a deep breath. "And I see someone who might just be worth taking a risk for."

Jenson reached across the table, his thumb gently brushing against the back of her hand. "You won't regret it, I promise."

Michaela felt a warmth spread through her, a warmth she hadn't felt since that night in Tuscany. She knew she was taking a risk, but something about Jenson made her feel alive, made her want to throw caution to the wind. She nodded, her eyes never leaving his.

"Good," he said, his voice firm and filled with a new kind of excitement. "Because I've been waiting to hear that since the moment I saw you that night at the bar in the tiniest dress I've ever seen."

Michaela rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help the smile that played on her lips. "It wasn't that short," she said, but there was a tease in her voice.

Jenson laughed. "It was so short it nearly gave me heart palpitations!" 

Michaela threw her head back in laughter at his dramatics. His hand reached out and took hers, his thumb tracing lazy circles on her skin, as he watched her shoulders shake in amusement. The moment grew quieter as their smiles faded, and their eyes locked again, the chemistry between them undeniable.

They finished their drinks in companionable silence, the crackling fireplace in the cafe adding a romantic ambiance to their afternoon. The warmth from the fire and Jenson's passing touches to her warm skin made her feel safe, a stark contrast to the solitary life she'd been leading for the past month.

As they stepped out into the cold, the sun was beginning to set, casting a golden hue over the city. "Thank you," she murmured, her eyes searching his. "For the hike, the conversation, everything."

Jenson's smile grew as he pulled her closer. "No, thank you for saying yes to the date," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "It's been a long time since I've felt this... alive." He reached for her hand, his touch sending a shiver down her spine.

They walked along the lake, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the cobblestone streets. The lights from the city began to reflect on the water's surface, creating a shimmering mirage of colors. It was a perfect moment, one that seemed too good to be true.

Michaela felt a flutter in her stomach as they approached her hotel. She knew what was coming and was surprised to find she wasn't as nervous as she had thought she would be. "So, this is where we say goodbye," she said, her voice a soft murmur.

Jenson stopped and turned to face her, his expression serious. "Or it's where we say 'see you soon.'" He leaned in, his hands fidgeting at his side, suddenly wary of reaching out to hold her. "I want to take you out again, properly next time. Dinner, a show, the works." The words were spoken with a good-natured hum.

Michaela searched his eyes, feeling the weight of their shared secret. "I'll be in England in February," she said, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. "For the McLaren launch."

Jenson's smile grew. "It's a date, then," he said, his voice filled with a confidence that was contagious. "We'll make it work, I promise." The end of his sentence dipped into a whisper as Michaela made a move towards him, her brown eyes almost staring into his bare soul.

Michaela nodded, her heart racing as she felt the anticipation of the next time she'd see him. "I'll hold you to that," she said, her voice a little shakier than she would have liked.

Jenson stepped closer, his hand brushing against her cheek. "I'll be counting the days," he murmured, his eyes dark with desire. Before she could respond, he leaned in and kissed her, the passion from earlier on the mountain now a gentle, lingering promise. The kiss was sweet and tender, leaving her breathless as she pulled away.

Michaela felt a warmth spread through her, a warmth that didn't come from the setting sun. "February can't come soon enough," she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut.

Jenson chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through her. "I can’t wait." He leaned in and placed a final kiss on her forehead before letting her go. "Get some rest, sweetheart. We'll talk in the morning?"

Michaela nodded, watching him walk away. The cold air was a stark contrast to the heat he left behind, and she took a deep breath to steady herself before turning back towards the hotel. Her mind was racing with the implications of their kiss, the thrill of more to come.

The evening was spent in a whirlwind of preparation for the flight back home. She couldn't help but replay the hike and their kiss over and over again in her mind. Every time she thought of Jenson, her stomach did a little flip. The thought of seeing him again in England was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking.

The flight was short but her thoughts were occupied by the Englishman and the flutter she felt whenever he was near. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was opening Pandora's box, but she was curious to see what was inside. As the plane descended into Turin Michaela couldn't help the schoolgirl's butterflies that bubbled in her stomach. The winter sunset painted the sky a deep orange, the perfect backdrop to the start of a new chapter in her life.

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[alyslittlehaven]

In What We Keep

DragonBorne!Reader X Azriel.

One fateful night after a mission, the three bat brothers need to seek refuge from the cruel winds past the mountains of Illyria, after a little debating, Azriel decides to take his brothers to the slice of life he took for himself

Warnings: Self Made Fae Race, swearing, talks of sex/sexual interactions, lewd jokes and or conversations, Pregnancy, Pre-established Relationship, mates, fated, Soft Azriel, secret relationships and more ACOTAR IS NOT MY BOOK, NEITHER ARE THE CHARACTERS

(Due to my motivation being messed up and me not knowing how to genuinely continue this story, I have made it into a singular shot story. Both parts are still available separately on my profile. If you want more on this series please, put in requests and help me love this story as much as you lol)

“This storm isn’t going anywhere, Az.”

Cassian’s voice strained as he squinted through the heavy snowfall. Their footsteps behind them quickly being covered up as they continued on through the cold. Cassian groaned, his body shivering harshly.

 Azriel grunted as he tightened the fur that hung around his body. The black dire wolf pelt kept out the wind just for a little longer as the snow picked up around them all. Azriel looked over his shoulder, his hair swaying lightly in the wind as his brothers stopped behind him. There was no way they could continue on like this. Flying in this weather would be a death wish and the creatures that they were hunting were extremely sensitive to magic. Their noses picked up the slightest bit of arcane and followed it like it was food. 

The snow continued to whip around them. Azriels wings shifting as the wind blew in between the membrane and his back. The cold slowly seeps into his bones as the three of them pick up the pace once again. Rhysand let out a huff, looking around slowly and yelling over the blizzard. “There is no way we can get to RoseHall like this, let alone the camps! We need to find shelter!” Cassian nodded, looking at Azriel with a pleading look. Rhysand was right, there was no way the storm was going to let up, and if anything was just getting worse the longer they walked. Rosehall was nowhere on the other side of the mountain and the winds of Illyria were unforgiving to travellers during the summer months. What would happen to the three of them if they continued to trudge through the snow?

Cassian crossed his arms, his lips turning blue as they stood still huddled together. His wings spanned out and fluttered to get the snow off of them. The weight on his shoulders now dispersed as her shook himself off. Azriel looked around, looking for any kind of landmark that could tell him where they stood on the mountain. His eyes locked into a bundle of lights in the distance. A relieved breath left him as he saw the small, broken sign with a carved dragon egg on it. 

His brows furrowed as he thought, his arms wrapping around himself as he took a couple of steps. Dread slowly made its way to his stomach as he realized where they were heading.

He could bring them into his home. The small cabin he had built with his own hands inside of the heart of the hearth. The home that his mate was in while he stood out in the cold with his brothers. Her body probably curled up on the couch with that ugly knitted blanket she made draped over her as a book remained under her nose. The fire probably roaring in the fireplace and leaving the room in a nice orange glow.

Azriel sighed, quickly pulling up his hood before beginning to move in the direction of the light,. His voice hoarse as he spoke. "I have somewhere we can stay. if you don't mind walking for a bit more, that is." Cassian rolled his eyes, his feet moving without him having to think about saying yes or no as he followed his brothers closely. 

“Azriel…where are we going?” Rhysands teeth chatters, his breaths coming out as fog due to the cold. His whole body nearly froze at the question. He had worked so hard to keep this part of his life a secret from his family. The relaxing life he came to every night and woke up the day after next to. The happy cabin he filled with love and work that he made sure he separated his work life from his mate. His wonderful, beautiful mate pressed kisses to his hand when he came home from work and tried out new Illyrian recipes so he would feel at home in the hearth. The best woman he had met, and the calmest. They had spoken about it a few times, introducing her to his family and the inner circle, and despite her wanting to meet them he just didn’t want to yet. Wanting to keep her to himself just for a little longer.

“To…a friend's house. She lives right up here in this cabin.”

Rhysand and Cassian looked at each other, a small shrug was all Cassian responded with as they walked up the stairs of the porch. Azriel quickly opened the door, the wood creaking under his weight as he ushered the two in. A frown on his face as he shut the door behind them. “Y/n?” Azriels voice carried through the small cabin, some shuffling in the distance going dead silent.

“I’ll be there in a second love!” A couple of pans knocked together before she walked into the hallway, a small pep in her step now that she saw who was in her home. Cassian, ever the gossip, repeatedly hit Rhysands arm like a teenage girl. A smirk on his face as he raised an eyebrow at Azriel.

Rhysands jaw dropped as she untied her apron, the large and evident bump now on full display as she put down the fabric and pressed a hand to her stomach. Her eyes raked over the two unfamiliar men with a gentle smile. "You must be Azriels brothers...welcome to the Hearth. Come- Sit down, please."

If there was one thing they weren't expecting, it was exactly this.

Cassian and Rhysand expected their brother to bring them to a rundown shack he retreated to occasionally, holes in the couch, a dusty old couch, and maybe even a fireplace; but not this.

The cabin was cozy, with three dragons crawling around the floors of the abode like it was theirs as well. Dragons had been long unheard of, their presence in the world no longer scaring children but creating more theories of what was before. The fireplace blazed as the woman gently escorted them to the main area. The couch was littered with pillows and blankets of what seemed to be all kinds. Cassian chuckled, gently running a hand along the fluffiest blanket he saw. A satisfied smile on his face at the feeling.

"Make yourselves at home. Any friend of Az's is a friend of mine, I just finished soup too." Azriel smiled at the woman before beginning to try and undo his leathers. The heat getting to him now that the wind was no longer harsh on his skin. His wings - thankfully- thawing out by now, basically icicles on his back previously. The woman slowly left through a doorway, somewhere that seemed to relate to a kitchen in the room off to the side. Cassian turned to Azriel, a smirk on his face as he spoke. "A lady friend of yours?" Azriel huffed, rolling his eyes with a small smile. A small groan left him as he pulled his hand away, the small knick on his thumb irritated already from the leathers.

"I've known her for a bit, sweet lady." Cassian nodded, mumbling some remark under his breath as he sat down on the couch. A sigh left his large form as he melted into the cushions.

"She seems wonderful." Rhysand shook his head, sitting down on a chair next to the fireplace. The two others not even bothering to try and take off their soaked leathers.

They cared about the warmth tho.

"Azriel, let me help you with that." Azriel jumped slightly as the voice cut through the air, his frame quickly softening as she placed down some soup for all of them on the coffee table. Giggling as Rhysand and Cassian jumped to get the food. The woman waddled over to Azriel, a huff of laughter leaving her as she managed to get one side of the leathers off. The two of them sat in a comfortable silence for a moment before Azriel spoke up.

"How are you?" She looked up, smiling.

"Could be better, the dragons have been very insistent in feeding me rats they found." Azriel chuckled, nodding slowly as she managed to get the other clasp. His leathers fall to the floor. "There, that's better." Azriel looked down at her bump. Tilting his head slightly as a finger brushed up against her stomach. "'Been giving you trouble lately?" Samantha laughed lightly, nodding as she gently grabbed his hand and put his palm on her swollen belly.

"Movin' a lot, the healers say that they are excited to come out. I think I'm nearly cooking the poor thing with how hot the house is nowadays." She smiled up at him, a small sigh leaving her as she hugged him.

"That's good at least- not the boiling the baby part though." He pressed a chaste kiss to her head. Pulling away to help her to the couch.

"So, Rhysand and Cassian. It's nice to meet you." She gently picked the bowl up with her two hands, the heat not affecting her like it did them. The two of them finally looked at the two of them, now getting comfortable on the couch. Azriel was tucked into the corner of the furniture, his wings gently stretched out behind him as his arm rested on the back of the board. The woman was neatly tucked into his side, her legs up and folded to get her comfortable.

Not that much was comfortable nowadays.

Cassian raised a brow, quickly swallowing his food. "It's nice to meet you..uh.-"

"Samantha, my name is Samantha." Cassian nodded, picking up another spoonful of soup as Rhysand spoke up. His violet eyes no longer scanning around the house they sat in. Now staring straight at her and Azriel. "This is your home? What's with the dragons?" As if they heard him, the purplish-colored dragon in the fireplace screeched, its wings flaring behind it as it got comfortable, now lying down on the burning wood like it was nothing. Rhysand flinched lightly, his eyes remaining on the odd creature next to him with a weary feeling building in his gut.

"Think of them as my babies, I've raised them since they were in their eggs. " Rhysand nodded, smiling at the little thing before adjusting himself in the chair. "Do you only have three?" Samantha shook her head quickly, swallowing her food before speaking.

"These were just the youngest, they couldn't fly when winter came so me and the village thought it would be best if I kept them for the cold season. Their mother and brothers are out in daycourt somewhere" Rhysand nodded, a small oh left his mouth as he took a bite of the warm food. A hum leaving him. "It took a while for Azriel to get used to them, I don't expect them to come flocking to you now since you're new." Azriel leaned back, his eyes closing for a moment as he basked in the orange light the fire sprayed on him and Samantha. The fire seemingly calling to her now that she relaxed.

"Samantha has a way with wayward beasts." Samantha gently smacked azriels arm, a smile on her face as she let out a huff. Cassian's eyes darted over to the two. "So you two are...Friends?" Samantha perked up, a hand on her stomach as she thought for a moment. Thinking about whether or not Azriel would be okay with them even knowing. "I mean we are, but the official term is mates if you didn't know." Azriel looked at the two of them. No guilt swirling in those hazel eyes of his. Rhysands eyes widened, nearly spitting out his food out the information with Cassian choked on his own words.

"Mates?" Azriel nodded. His wings shifted behind him as one of the dragons swayed under them. Attempting to get warm.

"Been mated for a year, that a problem?" Cassian quickly shook his head no. His eyes still widened compared to his usual look. His wings tense behind him. "-mates? As in True mates? You're his pregnant mate?" Samantha nodded, tilting her head at Cassian. "Have been for about 7 months. Afraid I'm stuck with the pregnant title for a couple more weeks." Rhysand laughed, putting his empty bowl of soup down before speaking.

"Azriel- how have you hidden this from us?" Azriel shrugged, his hand moving to gently rub against his mate's shoulder. "Not too sure, Maybe I'm good at keeping secrets." Cassian leaned back, Eyes furrowed as he pouted over the implications of missing out on so much of his brother's mating.

"Did you have a ceremony?" Cassian's voice broke through the cackling from the fire, Samantha's eyebrows shooting up before answering. Thinking back to the day and attempting to get as much information as she could. "We did, it was my village present- I don't think anyone was there from azriels side though." Azriel shook his head no.

"Well...I guess we have a lot to catch up on then?" Rhysand spoke once more, his eyes filled with a bit of betrayal as he looked at everyone in the room. Cassian nodded, putting his own bowl down.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Desperate Fool - Part 2

written for @steddiemicrofic

Prompt: 'top' | wc: 510 | rated: T | cw: hurt/no comfort (comfort is coming I promise!), mentions of child abandonment, breakup fic, AU-Modern Rockstar!Eddie

Part 1

~~~

“Hey, Teddy Bear!”

Eddie quickly scans for the voice piercing the buzzing swarm of paparazzi outside his home. It’s a cold winter night, yet after his public outburst with Robin a week ago and the ensuing onslaught of viral videos, they never seem to leave. Attention that used to have him feeling on top of the world now only leaves him feeling like the scum of the earth.

The overtly personal nickname rings through his memories, filling him with hope and dread in equal measure.

If I’m your baby, Eds, then you’re my Teddy Bear.

A swath of red hair and a high fade catch his gaze against the light snowfall. The boy’s usual charming smile’s been replaced with a cold stare, while she’s actively scowling. Eddie rushes through the crowd, excited to see them after so long despite the circumstances. He pulls them into the safety of his home, slamming the door behind them.

“Did you honestly think Steve was the only person you abandoned?” Max asks, before Eddie can even say hello.

Abandoned. A low blow, throwing Eddie’s childhood in his face, at least before he was adopted in all but name by the Wheeler’s. But coming from Max, he thinks maybe it’s fair play. She’s always been more Harrington than Mayfield, Lucas too. Out of the bunch, they’ve always been Steve’s kids.

“Mike had to go back to therapy! Nancy actually cried,” she spits, pacing the foyer while Lucas stands stoic by the door. 

“I didn’t think they’d-” Eddie starts before he’s interrupted.

“What? That your family wouldn’t be upset, feel as betrayed as Steve?” Lucas finally speaks up. “So when you bragged about outgrowing your roots, that wasn’t supposed to mean us too?”

Eddie shrinks in on himself. He’s being admonished in his own home, and he knows he deserves it. He knows, truly. He just can’t handle the overwhelming aches of guilt and regret, which pang louder with each disappointed loved one. Another reminder he’d surrounded himself with people who only care about Metal Munson. 

He’s foolishly desperate to win back his family, people who loved him for himself. He wants to be Eddie again. His baby’s Teddy Bear.

“What-” he tries again, forcing words around the growing knot in his throat and watery eyes. He’s cried so much lately. “Why are you here?”

Max eyes him skeptically, glancing at Lucas and sharing a look Eddie can’t decipher. They make a silent decision, and she moves to stand by her husband at the door.

“Steve’s getting married this summer,” she states, like it’s nothing. Like it’s not the end of Eddie’s world.

The tears fall, then. He loses control of a sob before he gets his voice back. “To who?” he pitifully asks, pretending he actually wants to know.

“You don’t know her,” Lucas replies.

Her. Her. Herherherher.

“Oh,” Eddie says softly. He can’t stop shaking, or is the earth quaking beneath him.

Max sighs, sympathetic, and rips his world open further still.

“Steve wants to talk, but you’ll have to get through Nancy first.”

Part Three

~~~

I SWEAR it's gonna get better!!! Some solid Eddie and Nancy comfort coming up next. Think I might keep adding on to this fic via prompts only but we'll see.