#like you’re just sitting out there keeping warm in the cold mountain air and you get up for a drink | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

prokaryotics · 4 months ago

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warmth of doorways | joel miller x reader

pairing: no outbreak!contractor!joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel spends another late night at work. you pay him a visit.

warnings: MDNI. plot and porn. allusions to joel's unsavory youth. oral (fem receiving). mentions of violence, past arguments, and money insecurity. joel smokes one (1) cigarette. alcohol. fingering. unprotected p in v. no mention of reader characteristics other than wardrobe. overuse of commas and hyphens. proofread once. 5.8k

mildly inspired by it will come back / i'm on fire

The office clock ticks rhythmically with every second that passes, broken up by the muted whirling of the ceiling fans as they turn almost imperceptibly counterclockwise on the ceiling.

Austin is quiet. Outside, orange streetlights glow in narrow cones on the sidewalks, humming, straining with electricity as the bulbs fight to keep the pavement lit. If he really listens, he can hear the faint footsteps of heels against the concrete, the soft sounds of giggling and the low baritone of the voice that follows. Somewhere further down the block, someone is closing their car door, almost swallowed by a dog barking. A breeze pushes against the building and flows through a draft near the window's ledge, pushes through the double-paned glass, and brings with it the smell of damp earth and wet asphalt, leftovers of an afternoon storm. The air is cool and calm as if waiting to be born again tomorrow morning into something more alive, more chaotic, as it simmers in the heat of the Texas sun.

The other contractors have gone home, back to their wives or families or one bedroom apartments, leaving the office silent save for these sounds of a city reminding him that the hour is late, that the night will not wait for him.

His chair creaks beneath his weight as he shifts, the leather uncomfortably warm from his body heat.

Joel stares down at his work. Its contents blur together into a massive, nondescript monstrosity of a shape, small lines of scribbled pencil spilling over one another and morphing into a clump of meaningless letters. He tries to spread them out again into something he can read until a film gathers over his eyes. He’s forced to rub them with the heels of his hands, but even then they are still irritated, his tired gaze struggling to focus on anything other than the sting that radiates through his corneas from the strain of keeping them open and concentrated for so long. The paperwork never ends. It just seems to grow and grow in a pile of meeting briefings and documents requiring his signature, clipboards, a backlog of voicemails from clients to listen to, and notes to take. His palm and the space between his fingers are beginning to cramp with the pressure of the pen he’s holding, having gone through almost everything in one sitting, desperate to put even a tiny dent into the mountain that rests before him.

The fluorescent lighting isn’t helping, blanketing his work space in a coat of sterile white, making everything around him feel sharp and cold and like he’d hurt himself on it, even the half-filled plastic water bottle sitting at the edge of the desk.

He sighs, leans back, drags his carton of cigarettes against the wood then taps the bottom against its surface a few times, forcibly packing the tobacco tighter. You’ve been trying to get him to relax on his smoking, or at least cut back, but with shit storm after shit storm constantly coasting towards him with no remorse, the nicotine is the only thing keeping him from going entirely AWOL. He does his best not to feel guilty about it. It would be sad, and ironic, that if he managed to make something successful out of the fucking mess of building a business, his downfall would be lung cancer, and he knows you know that, too, but you never push. You’re never like that and he’s grateful for it.

He lets his mind drift to you and what you must be doing as he lifts his lighter, a small, stainless steel zippo engraved with his initials, a gift from his parents when he graduated high school, and lights his cigarette before bringing his wristwatch to his face, squinting to read the time.

Almost midnight.

Hours spent studying schematic designs, imagining rooms, and the lives that might be led within them, has made him lose track of his own. The days blend together, hours passing as easily and fluidly as water does lapping up against sand, every one of his thoughts curtailed by installation fees and HVAC subcontractors, schedule conflicts and site plans.

You’ve been good about that, too. Gentle. Guiding him back into his own existence. Making it easier for him to remember that although overseeing is his job, he doesn’t have to be invariably vigilant, that not every waking second has to be dedicated to worrying, that he’s going to burn himself out if he keeps going on like this.

So he isn’t surprised when he spots your shadow first, cast long against the polished tiled floors, followed by your appearance in the doorway.

He instantly relaxes.

“What are you doin’ here? You should be sleepin,’” Joel chastises, although he’s smiling just a little, flicking his cigarette against the clay ash-tray sitting at the center of his desk, surrounded by notepads and coffee mugs and drafting pencils.

“You should be at home,” you counter, smiling back.

He pauses, brings the bud back to his lips and takes a drag. The air goes thick and heavy.

“There’s a lot of things I should be doing," he answers, stress and worry coupled in his voice as he sits forward and exhales, one elbow on the desk, pushing his fingers through his hair, the other dangling with his cigarette, billowing with gray smoke.

You look at him for what feels like a long time, following the tense line of muscle in his shoulders as they stretch and roll beneath the cotton of his dress shirt, see his eyes close as he rubs a hand over his face, his breath leaving his body in a reticent, exhausted exhale.

Then he’s watching as you push off the door frame and walk over to him, plucking the bud from between his middle and pointer fingers and quietly extinguishing it, your lips pursed. You lean against the wood of his desk, between his legs.

Neither of you have forgotten about the plate you’d dropped. It was only some cheap ceramic thing you had picked up while out shopping when you first moved into your house, one of the ones with the grooves on the bottom to keep it from being knocked over as easily, dipped in bright yellow pottery glaze and dotted around its edges by bright blue flowers, the texture of the sponge used to make the design adding a sort of authentic, homey feel. A pretty thing that came in a set of six, the other five still sitting in your cabinets. It wasn’t difficult to clean up, broken into three solid pieces with only some of the powdery dust from its impact really needing to be swept up, but it wasn’t so much about the plate breaking itself than what it meant. What it symbolized.

Your shattering frustrations.

His fracturing exhaustion.

“They can’t wait?”

Joel leans back.

“Not most of ‘em, no.”

“So you’re killing yourself here? Instead of lying in bed with your wife?” You eye the half empty amber bottle of scotch and the glass filled with melting ice next to it, glance at his accolades hung on the wall, certifications he worked tirelessly to achieve.

He sighs, hollow, empty sounding. “It’s ain’t that simple. I told you they can’t wait.”

You go to sit in his lap, bringing your palm up to cup his cheek. “It could be. Divide the work. You’re just one man.”

He grabs your hand. It’s not your fault you don’t know he can’t bring himself to when so much hinges on the success of this enterprise. Your future. Sarah's future.

“I’m just one man in charge of everythin’ else. It isn’t.”

There’s another pause, filled by your heavy gazes as you look at one another, waiting for the other to yield. It’s been like this before, instances where you’re stuck within pregnant hesitations, expecting the other to give in, too stubborn to realize it shouldn’t be about who breaks first.

You’re learning that, though, no matter how frustrating it is.

“I miss my husband,” you confess, although it’s not really a confession more than an admittance to what you both already knew, what you’ve both already felt, everything about this feeling delicate and intimate in a way that makes your lungs constrict.

Joel frowns, turns his head and kisses the inside of your wrist. His gaze is soft upon you, as gentle as the quiet moon.

“I know. ‘M sorry,” he murmurs against the delicate skin.

“You could have called,” you whisper, breathy and painfully soft, not sure you’d be able to say it any louder and still maintain the fragile, stunned atmosphere existing in the space between your bodies.

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

You almost roll your eyes. No, better to be up and left worrying.

“I wouldn’t have minded.”

Joel glides his hand up your forearm, his calloused palm warm and heavy, the pad of his thumb brushing soothingly across the bend of your elbow.

“I would have.”

Your chest swells up and suddenly you’re choking on bittersweet nostalgia, on memories of when your husband wasn’t being stripped away from you bit by bit by a business he’s trying hard to keep afloat. And you’re choking on sadness, too, on the overwhelming feeling of active loss, so you’re tempted to let yourself lean into it, to just drop the conversation even though you know that you need to have it because sometimes it's easier to let your problems fall asleep quietly rather than wake them by pushing too hard. It’s easier to let yourself rest.

Still, you persist.

“You can’t keep going on like this. It isn’t just that I miss you, Joel.”

He knows you won’t repeat yourself. He knows what you mean, anyway. It isn’t about clarity. He’s been doing what he can, suffering what he must.

“Please, I don’t want to have this argument, honey.”

The beginnings of a headache are settling somewhere just behind temples, spreading quickly across his forehead, behind his eyes. There’s nothing more he wants than to be able to do what you’re asking, but he chose this profession, and you chose him. He doesn’t have the energy or the will to fight with you right now.

You reach up and trace the curve of his brow with your thumb, hoping to ease away the wrinkle that lives between them, and maybe mute the thought that has manifested it, the friction and stress of the situation rising until it’s nearly palpable.

“I’m not trying to argue with you. I’m trying to talk to you, something I seem to be able to do less and less," you explain, palm dropping to mold against the curve of his jaw.

Joel looks away, at the folders and blue and white floor plans in front of him, at the doorway, half-expecting to see someone standing in it, ready to give him another piece of information that will set construction back weeks and cost him more money than he has.

“You think I enjoy this any more than you do?” The sharpness in his tone is immediately countered by the look of frustrated remorse that softens his expression, a sort of tug on his eyebrows until that damn furrow is finally gone.

“No, I don’t,” you say gently. “And I know that you’ve got a job to do, but I’d like it if it didn’t tear you away from me completely.”

You twist the hair at the nape of his neck between your fingers as you lean forward, resting your forehead against his own and closing your eyes.

“I love you, Joel. I miss you. I don’t like sleeping alone in our bed.”

He won’t apologize again, and he’s sure you wouldn’t want to hear it anyway, but not for any spiteful reason. You’ve both got your hands tied, but he’s sorry for a lot of things - for keeping you awake, for worrying you, for stressing you out, but mostly he’s sorry he’s given you a marriage like this. A marriage filled with nights spent alone in a house he had picked out because it was the safest, because that’s what he needs to think about instead of whether you like the view, or what the outside looks like. He’s got to think about whether the locks will hold, whether the windows won’t shatter completely, whether - god forbid - you can have neighbors to rely on if something were to happen because he’s away all the time now, gone, trying to build a life.

He’s got to think of these things and you’ve got to make the sacrifices.

“I don’t like it either.” There’s an unspoken end of his sentence, an ellipse, a part that he leaves out that neither of you wants to say. I don’t like it either, but...

But this is my job.

But this is our life.

But you’ll have to get used to it.

So he masks it with an exhale, an empty and low sound, as if he’s been waiting for too long with too much, not relieved but resigned.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve been alone.” He changes the subject, sitting back in his seat as you open your eyes.

“Yeah,” you agree, trying not to feel bad about it. “Too long. It feels like we’re dating again.”

Joel chuckles, low and warm and light, like smelling laundry through an open window when the wind carries it through the house, cool and placid. He still looks at you that way, the same way he had when your relationship was just starting, with honey-dewed eyes and a sort of crooked, half-smile, like he wasn’t doing it on purpose, just couldn’t help himself. The same way he’s looking at you now.

“Except this time your father isn’t here watchin’ us, lookin’ like he wants to kill me.”

Your groan is superseded by your laughter as you shake your head, glad for it but also feeling like time is moving too quickly, too fast for you to really keep up with it. Where had that time gone? Where is it now?

“Thank God that he isn’t. And he likes you now, it just took him a while.”

Joel rolls his eyes, scoffing. He’s sat through too many tense dinners and awkward conversations to believe that, even coming from you.

“Uh-huh. You keep tellin’ yourself that, honey.” Your father is a hardass, but he’s well-intentioned, their every interaction peppered with warnings about providing for you like Joel doesn’t feel guilty enough about dragging you down with him.

He looks at you, still grinning.

“Yeah, I know,” you sigh, the remnants of laughter still in your voice. “But I still married you.”

“For reasons I’ve still yet to understand.”

“For reasons I’ll remind you of until the day I die.”

Joel quiets and shifts his gaze to some point of interest on his desk, where one of the edges is chipping, maybe, or maybe he’s looking at a stained ring discoloring the wood because a drink had been left to sweat without a coaster. Nothing important, nothing that warrants catching his attention, the movement secondary to the thoughts in his head to retreat. You both are aware of the alternative to that sentence.

You guide him back to you.

“I mean it, Joel. I don’t regret marrying you.”

“I know you don’t.” Joel rubs his mouth with his hand. He finally meets your gaze as he continues. “But sometimes I wonder what your life could have been like, if it could’ve been better.”

“It would have been nothing,” you correct fiercely.

“You would have been comfortable, provided for-.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know that I put you through hell every day that you’re with me.”

“Stop it.”

You don’t even know half of it, he thinks, through no fault of your own. He’s shielded you from what he can, has kept things to himself, given you half-answers when you’d ask why he’s adding overtime dates to the calendar on the fridge, checking to see if Sarah’s lunch is packed before making his own, tossing change into an old paint can on a shelf in his closet.

‘Things with work,’ he says.

‘Issues with the client,’ he says.

‘I need to stay a little later,’ he says.

‘This company might fail,’ he doesn’t. ‘And it scares the shit out of me.’

“I’m sorry, honey. How can I make it up to you?”

It isn’t about making anything up to anybody. This is far too complex for that, but he can at least give a little. You sacrifice so much for him, for a life you didn’t really ask to be living, so whatever he can give he knows it won’t even begin to replace what you’ve lost. Your sleep and sanity and security. And it probably won’t ever, but he can try to return the comfort that you give him, the peace of mind, the love.

The kind that has to be fought for, torn from your chests in hissing, passive aggressive outbursts in the middle of your kitchen that burn like acid with each word that crawls up your throats, or falling easily after being pulled gently from your hands in moments like this, when you’re trying to convince one another that your biggest concerns shouldn’t be each other because you both can’t stand the feeling of being a burden, unable to handle the lurches of guilt and the helplessness that accompanies it.

“Coming home at a normal hour would be nice.” You aren’t looking to make this conversation any more serious, to be stuck spending a night convincing him that he hadn’t damned you to some sort of anxiety-ridden, fearful existence by proposing to you because for all the bad, all the heartache and stress and worry, there are the good moments too. The early mornings, subdued afternoons spent sitting in the sunshine reading, evenings spent dancing on your patio bathed in warm light from paper lanterns he had hung up the summer before. Moments that are perfect, beautiful, and real and everything you hang on to when the bad ones come.

Joel senses this and wants to protest, and while he gives you a searching look he refrains from saying anything that might carry the conversation backward.

“It won’t always be like this,” he says instead, moving one hand to rest at your lower back, his thumb rubbing the soft skin beneath your shirt. “But I like these visits.”

“I’m sure you do. None of this looks at all exciting.” You turn to the desk, at the documents scattered everywhere, at unfinished contract drafts, at illustrations of building models that are far from perfect, with stairs and doors leading nowhere like they lead to some ghost elevator, at the crumbled-up balls of paper.

“Unfortunately even the borin’ parts are still my job.”

“Good thing I’m here then, huh?” You shift in his lap, draping your arms around his neck.

“Yes,” he agrees, both palms now molded against your waist, digging slightly into your hips. “It’s a very good thing you’re here.”

It feels nice to have these instances, tediums between bigger periods in time like the one you just had, insignificant and maybe not that meaningful but sweet nonetheless, where you can be happy, flirt with your husband while trying your best to speak in hushed, shy voices so the nighttime janitor doesn’t come skirting down the hallway, wondering why he’s hearing a woman’s voice so late at night coming from the contractor’s office.

So you take his face in your hands feeling like a lovesick teenager, his cheeks flushed warm with affection, a little scratchy from a day’s worth of stubble, his eyes soft, and for the first time since you got here, free from the burdens that normally cloud them, and you kiss him, saccharine and slow and easy.

He tastes faintly like the scotch, and his lips are little bit chapped but they’re amiable in their movements, as if he’d be content to just go on like this kissing you, not worried about where it will lead, or if it’ll lead to anything at all, making you feel slow yet hyper aware from his gentle caresses, and his hands when they climb higher, having moved beneath your shirt, are rough and hot and careful - always so careful with you - and you don’t like to think about why even though you’ve got a pretty good guess. Careful hands that have a history you know only in bits and pieces. Careful hands that have curled into fists, become bloodied and bruised and scabbed. Careful hands that sweat around the grip of a saw, or a hammer, nowadays, the scabs of his youth long gone, but hinted at in the fading white scars that litter his knuckles.

Careful hands that don’t want to risk letting that seep into you, as if you’re something he’d be able to taint, convolute.

You lean away, then move even further back when he follows, quickly speaking before he’s on you again. “Touch me like you mean it, Joel. Please.”

“Anythin’ you want, honey.”

You card your fingers through Joel’s hair, tug slightly at the roots and try not to get too lost in his answering rumble as his kisses slowly grow in intensity until it becomes nearly desperate, finally indulging in the need for closeness he’s stifled to keep himself from cracking beneath the pressure of work completely.

Joel pulls you closer with a shallow groan, shifts his seat so that you’re right up against the desk, the lip of it digging into your back, but his warmth is seeping into you and through your clothes, so you really don’t care how the wood bites a little into your muscles, coupled with the way his cock is already straining through his jeans, hard and thick and it makes you feel like this entire thing is sort of scandalous. It is dangerous, and even though you know he wouldn’t be doing this if he wasn’t sure the building was empty, the possibility of being caught does thrill you; makes you grin against his lips, lets him pull you apart piece by piece, his kisses loving and devoted and his hands roaming across your rib-cage and breasts like he isn’t sure where he wants to keep them, wanting to touch all of you at once.

He rises to his feet, takes a step forward and places you onto the desk, his focus so far away from the papers and other shit that decorates it he doesn’t notice or even really care how they’re being pushed or crumpled or ripped by your movements, desire curling and slivering throughout his body, pooling in his belly, settling itself in his lower abdomen and pressing itself against you, his hips between your legs, the thin fabric of your work skirt doing little to fight the hard outline of his cock against your thigh.

Joel keeps kissing you, fingers pressed against the space between your shoulder blades, the other flat against the surface of his desk, pausing only once to check the doorway again as he kisses your cheeks, then your jaw, before descending down the gentle curve of your neck, trailing his mouth down and across your collarbone before sucking a bruise into the skin at the base of your throat, right next to your fluttering heartbeat.

You say his name, syrupy thick and mellow, inhaling sharply when he rolls his hips in response and hums a pleased, vibrating sound that makes you pull him closer and wrap your arm around the broad expanse of his shoulder while the other goes to his belt, untucking his shirt with a shaking, hurried hand, feeling like it's unfair that you’ve got two layers to go through while he only has one, his lips slanting against yours again making it even more difficult to focus on getting him undressed especially now that the palm that isn’t on you is suddenly sliding across your thigh and he’s - God - he’s -

He’s making you feel worshiped. Murmurs of his supplication whispered against your mouth, swallowed by your answering, pitiful moans.

He has to help you with his belt, lightly pushing your hands away to do it himself, tugging the leather through the buckle and then out of the loops, tossing it haphazardly onto the chair behind him, turning back to you without saying a word, looking so in love with you that it makes your chest ache.

“Joel-” His name gets caught in your throat, but it doesn’t matter because he’s talking and he knows. He knows exactly how you’re feeling because it’s the same for him too - this longing, this incredible, suffocating, twinge of remorse and grief all jumbled up and twisted somewhere beneath your breastplates for things left unsaid yet still acknowledged, the terrifying things, the things that bring you here when it's midnight and you should be asleep but you aren’t because they’re the same things that keep him away and keep you awake.

“I’m right here,” he murmurs and it’s like you’re drowning in how much he wants you, his eyes raking over you in a way that makes your entire body feel warm, taking in every inch of you with a reverence that makes your thighs tense up and your cunt squeeze around nothing.

He urges you to lay back, heavy-lidded and following as you do what he says, your skirt bunched around your waist, waiting for him to do something, anything at all that’ll relieve the restless thrumming that’s settled just below your belly button, spreading like an opening fan throughout your abdomen, converting with every second that passes into a dull pounding that makes everything you’re wearing feel insufferably uncomfortable, hyper aware of the way your panties stick to your cunt, and you’re about to say something again, plead with him to move faster, but he’s leaning down and kissing you - placating you - earnest and cloying and you’re just relaxing into it when he leans away, traveling down and down and down your body until his shoulders are between your legs and he’s -

You open your mouth to say something but you don’t know what. You can hardly think with the way he inches lower and lower, hooking your already spread legs over his shoulders with so much ease it makes you blush. His arms are positioned on either side of your legs and his breath is hot and swirling over the insides of your thighs and the realization of what he intends to do and the seriousness of where and why and the fact that you’re on his fucking desk of all things makes you tremble and your chest bloom in flustered warmth and your fingers curl into the pliable material of your skirt, waiting for him - always waiting - to do something.

He starts at your knee, with kisses gentle and sweet, works his way up to the inside of your thigh, humming against the delicate tissue nonsensical praise and muses before giving your other leg the same treatment, the same pattern, sucking bruises and nipping at them pinprick sharp before soothing it with his tongue, making you squirm and gasp with every press of his lips, unsure what to do with the overwhelming affection you hold for him growing exponentially in your chest.

This continues for a long time, hazy and drunkard slow, calloused palms sliding up and down until it feels like you might explode from the tension and you whisper his name, deferential and restive and it nearly makes him grimace in anguish at all the things he can’t do for you, his heart feeling as if it’s been filled with cement and splintered, then shattered completely - the fragile, desperate whine in your voice splitting it in incomplete halves and you think, unsurely, that if he keeps going on like this you’re going to burn up - catch fire and asphyxiate on the smoke.

But then his thumbs are hooking beneath the lines of fabric that curves across your hips, and he begins to pull them down, tells you to bend your knees and you listen without a second thought, allowing him to strip you of the garment and then they, too, join his belt on the chair and you’re left with nothing really at all protecting you aside from your skirt but its bunched up around your waist like it has been since he laid you down and not doing a damn thing to stop the shiver that makes you shudder against the desk, your heated skin erupting into goosebumps.

Joel settles himself and brings his hands to your cunt, reaching out to spread you open. There isn’t time to formulate any sort of thoughts about it or what he’s doing because you can hardly breathe let alone think, Joel’s mouth hot against your pussy, his tongue dragging over your clit and you’ve been so worked up that it hurts, almost, and you’re left trying to push him away and pull him closer in equal measures.

Your lungs stutter, muscles tensing, all the while panting and keening and rocking your hips with no real sense of direction as he brushes a spot that makes you moan and when you twist your fingers in his hair he makes a sound that’s nearly a growl, then he has one finger inside you then another, fucking you slowly with his fingers, taking his time, curling them up and flexing his wrist, his watch digging uncomfortably into the juncture of your leg where it meets your thigh but its okay because all of its mingling together and he’s suddenly yanking you closer as if he wants to fucking devour you, looking up at you with hungry eyes and the next few seconds seem to last for entire years, everything so intense already that you flutter around him, helplessly keening.

He sucks gently, looks up again in time to see your eyes screw shut, your eyelashes fluttering as he puts his whole mouth on you, rumbling rich and low at the taste of it, your brows creased tightly in coiled pleasure. Joel groans at the sight from somewhere deep within his chest, his cock twitching, his belly feeling like it's been filled with magma as you dig your nails into his hair, fracturing into little pieces.

The words he drags from you are babbling, halfway to a cry or sob, something equally as frenzied in its neediness, syllables of his name and something that might be please catching against the rounding of your teeth.

“I’ll give you what you need, baby. Relax,” Joel appeases against your already oversensitive cunt, the pleasure too much and so much that it makes your toes curl until they hurt, like he’s injected gasoline into your bloodstream and made you swallow a match, ready to snap and burst into a fucking supernova, so close to cumming it feels as if every nerve has been stripped to its bear components.

The pressure against your clit intensifies, becomes sharp and fierce, his tongue circling over and over again, so acute that your hips twitch and he keeps you pinned - holds you down, keeps going and going and going until the world turns white-hot and bright and you’re choking, every breath drawn in fighting against some invisible leaded anchor and fuck - it’s too much all at once, too much after what feels like so long, too much that life can’t always be like this.

He eases away from you, presses his lips to your shuddering thighs wet and shiny with your cum, deliberate in his motions as he crawls back up your body, soft and pliant and slightly sore, guiding your legs carefully - tenderly - around his waist.

“I love you.”

God you love him too. So much that it physically hurts.

But arousal, harsh and blinding, eclipses your every sense, keeps you from saying anything at all other than his name, moaned pitifully when you glance down and see him undoing his pants and taking his cock in his hand, hard and thick in his fist and you clutch at his back, feeling spun out and delirious as he pushes in gradually, gently, turning your body into a liquid quiver.

Joel gasps as if the sound was wrenched from him against his will, and your eyes flicker over him, at the muscles tensing beneath his shirt, the sweat darkening his collar, at his lips, red and raw and plump from kissing you beneath his beard glistening with you, his shoulders broad and his arms are sturdy, and his eyes, when you finally meet his gaze, are blown with affection and desire and love.

And then it’s broken.

His hips snap forward and you shift a little up the desk, one of his hands moving to cup the back of your head while the other finds your own, lacing your fingers together and you let out a shaky, short, involuntary whimper as he starts to move, getting pleasantly lost in the feeling of being so stretched and full.

He trails open-mouthed kisses along your neck, curled over you, and the picture of it in your head, of him so big and broad and draped over you like a second skin, makes your cunt clench and rips a groan from his throat that sounds just as wrecked as you feel, his lips dragging along the underside of your jaw, his fingers squeezing your palm.

Neither of you are going to last much longer. You’ve already been made too taut, too tight and stretched out and resting on the precipice of something, like fingertips pulling back a bowstring, fiery bright pleasure cementing you to his ministrations when his thumb catches your clit, swiping once, your body singing, then over and over again until your shoulder blades are folding against one another as you rock off the desk and into him, his arm encircling your waist, never stopping, working you through every roiling wave and every filthy noise you make until you collapse - falling away from him whimpering.

“You’re perfect. So good for me, sweetness. So fuckin’ good.”

His rhythm falters, his breathing hard and burning and shuddering as he holds you against his chest, leaving you to wail against his shoulder, puffing against his neck, clinging onto him like he’s the only thing keeping your grounded and then he shatters too, fingers suddenly in your hair, whispering sentences that you can’t quite make out, adoring among a slew of curses.

His office comes back in pieces, blurry splinters and slightly out of focus.

His head tips against your shoulder and you both stay like that for a long while, resting against each other, breathing. You sigh, shuddering and low and content, and he leans back to look at you, his expression open and sincere and it’s the most vulnerable you’ve seen him in awhile.

“I’ll try to come home earlier.”

You know that he’ll try. You also know that it doesn’t matter.

You’re not going to dwell on it.

“I don’t know if you should. This visit was fun.” You grin, exhausted but happy and glad to be near him, glad that’s happy, and if anything at least he’s here - in this building where he’s less likely to get hurt, less likely to do anything other than listen to conversations and go through paperwork.

‘Yeah, until we get caught,” he agrees before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You hum in agreement, then start to giggle. You’ll go home with him tonight in one piece. That’s all you can ask.

“Then it’ll really be like when we were dating.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us #tlou hbo #joel miller x you #the last of us 2

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the-unexplained-council · 1 month ago

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Frostbitten Stars; Morning Frost

Legends of Avantris; Once Upon A Witchlight

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

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

Word Count: 13.2k

-~-~-~-

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

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

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

But no one was there.

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

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

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

Green.. that was Frost’s robe.

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

Now you were here.

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

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

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

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

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

Make it to the treeline.

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

Fire..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Frost nodded, looking back towards the tree line.

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

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

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

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

“Not that I noticed, no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Frost?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you go through the door?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded, looking at the fire. “Hm.”

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

Frost fed the fire, encouraging it to grow larger.

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

“What?”

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

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

“That’s good, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

Nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

You felt your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was warm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled and nuzzled his chest.

And he said tigers couldn’t purr.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God he’s so hot right now.

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s all you wanted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were alone.

~~~

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

He didn’t like being wet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was water on top of the ice.

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

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

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

Then he saw red.

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

“Frost!”

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

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

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

It was like an escape room.

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This.. wasn’t Frost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Run. It was all you could think. Run.

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

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

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

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

Were you going to die here?

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

You couldn’t.

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

“Frost!!!” You screamed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

What an anticlimactic way to die.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ugk-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Umf!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

God. You thought. I’m so tired.

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You loved him.

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

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

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

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

“Frost,” you tried. “What is it?”

The crackling of the fire filled the silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God was this anticlimactic.

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me show you.”

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

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

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rodolfoparras · 1 year ago

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its all fun and games thinking about price until you start thinking about Dragon!Price. What id let that dragon man do to me is horrifying. He'd be so warm and cozy! But also so so so possessive of you! Someone flirts, say goodbye to your ability to walk and say hello to a bunch of marks 👍

Thinking about Price being known as the mean old dragon living in the mountains and all the villagers fear him, have tried to defeat him only to end up dead and those who’ve managed to survive haven’t been able to tell the tale from the sheer shock of surviving the event. One day someone as adventurous or rather someone as foolish as you sets out to meet this dragon only to discover him tucked away in some corner of his cave while baring his claws at you, in an attempt to defend himself.

However you don’t take out your sword to hurt him, matter of fact you sit down on the cold concrete floor, pushing a small offering his way without coming any closer.

You read in one of the ancient books hidden away in the library that if you want to build a connection with a dragon you should try handing it an offer.

Although he’s in his dragon form you can see the confused look on his face, the slight tilt to his head and how his whiskers sway in the air before he approaches closer.

The smell of smoke becomes much prominent, dust raising from the ground as he moves his large body before he swiftly takes the offering in his mouth and quickly returns to his original spot .

He turns to meet your gaze only to see the soft smile on your face as you continue to sit in place.

This goes on for days, weeks, months, you’ll walk all the way to the mountain where the mean old dragon resides bring him offering before leaving for the night.

Despite taking up a dragon form he’s more human than you thought. You see the way his eyes light up when you bring him the fruit he likes, you see the curl of his lip, the smoke coming out his nostrils as if huffing when you reprimand him for eating so quick (you’re just trying to make sure he doesn’t get sick from the way he’s basically inhaling his offerings)

You even see the way he’s grown accustomed to you, sure he won’t try to approach but at least he no longer bares his claws at you.

It’s safe to say that you’ve formed some type of bond with the mean old dragon.

You don’t mention this routine to anyone, keeping it all under wraps while continuously visiting the him so it comes as a surprise when you arrive one day with offerings in your hand only to be met with the sight of the dragon bleeding out.

You drop the basket in hand, red apples falling to the floor and the loud thudding sound catches the dragons attention.

Before you know of it the dragon is lunging at you, only to narrowly miss when you roll away in the last second.

“Hey hey it’s me it’s me” you try to explain but the dragon doesn’t seem to care as it launches another attack your way. This time he manages to get in a scratch but even then you keep your sword tucked away, still trying to talk some sense into the dragon.

“Hey hey look,” you say as you take the sword out of its holder and slide it over to where he stands.

At first you can’t see his reaction, face obscured by the cloud of smoke coming from his nose but when you do you see his head tilted just the same as when you first met him in this cave.

“See? I won’t hurt you” you say with a soft smile on your face even going as far as raising your hands in the air.

The dragon's gaze drops from your face down to the ground and when you follow his eyes you see your own blood dripping down.

“Oh” you say gaze glued back to the dragon again “just a minor scratch dont worry about it” minor was an understatement but despite your blury eyes and the nasoua bubbling up in your gut you make your way over to him.

“You’re hurt too” you say as if the dragon could understand you “let me check on it?”

The dragon doesn’t respond but doesn’t move away either as you steadily approach.

You continue to keep your hands up in the air, soft smile still glued to your face doing your best to be as reassuring as possible as you approach him on shaky legs.

When you go to take a closer look, you see the many scales on his underbelly ripped away and a foreign object jammed into it.

“What happened?” You say to yourself before looking up at the dragon again. “I’m going to try to take it out alright? You say pointing to the wound in hopes of making yourself understood.

Once again the dragon doesn’t respond but doesn’t move away either when you approach.

“Good boy” you whisper to yourself and for the first time since you’ve been visiting this dragon you get a proper look at the many scale that decorate his skin. Although most of them are soaked in blood you can see the gold color that coats them and hues of orange and red scattered about on them. You careful reach a hand out ,neck uncomfortably cranking up to meet the dragons gaze, so far he hasn’t moved away yet and you take it as a positive sign as you grab ahold of the sword and slowly but surely start pulling it out of his underbelly.

The dragon roars not out of fear but out of pain as you continue to pull the sword out of him.

“I know I know just give me a second” you say under a shaky breath using all your strength to finally pull it out of him

Immediately he slumps down, wings protectively covering his lower half as he lets out a sound that is something like a mix of pain and relief. Behind him you see the skeletal remains of what must’ve been a person tempting fate and with the dragons blood on your hands, it’s hard to feel bad for the dead man.

You carefully sit down too and make quick work of ripping a piece of your shirt to use as gauze all while the dragon continues to watch you.

Once you’re all cleaned and wrapped up you smile up at him, and once again he just stares at you without giving much of a response.

“We’re okay”

The two of you continue to be okay days weeks and months after that event.

You even seem to grow closer, and at some point the dragon allows you to touch him. Sure it may be to only attended to minor injuries but progress is still progress.

However it all takes a turn when you go to visit him like you usually do, with a basket of apples in hand and a soft smile on your face that quickly drops along with the basket as you take in the sight of the dragon charging towards you.

You don’t even have time to react before the dragon is just a hair away from your face and you close your eyes out of instinct , as a frightful sound tumbles past your lips.

However the frightened look quickly turns into one of confusion when you notice that the dragon hasn’t attacked you yet and when you open your eyes you don’t see the mean old dragon standing in front of you but instead it’s a man, completely nude and staring at you with the most beautiful pair of cerulean eyes you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Why do you smell like someone else?”

Spitball w/ me?

#I wanted to post this yesterday but my brain and hands WRE exhausted from work 😭#scribbles #alec answers #john price #call of duty #john price x reader #john price x male reader #captain john price #captain john price x male reader #captain john price x reader

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rs-hawk · 1 year ago

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Gender irrelevant, an enthused archaeologist encounters a creature which would change the known history of the entire area, and sets out to track it to its lair for further (actual) research.

Instead, what awaits them is an education in why this thing was worshipped, and why they should start worshipping it too.

This just broke me out of my slump/writer’s block 😍 TW: the Raven Mocker. Light horror smut

You have been studying the development of civilization and population growth in the Appalachian Mountains. It was always your “special interest” as a kid, and now in your early 30s, you’re finally able to devote yourself to it properly. After years of studying everything in books, charts, even occasionally going to Indigenous Cultural Centers to discuss what they knew about their ancestors who lived there, you finally get to get into the field. Yet, there’s one creature that keeps popping up that you can’t get out of your head for some reason is the Raven Mocker. It makes you hesitant, but you push through.

Of course, even as a child your mother told you about them. You always sort of brushed it off because you always thought that it was just stories that your mom picked up from her mom. It’s not like you really grew up in the culture anyway. However, in the mountains, setting up your camp as night falls around you, a shiver creeps down your spine. There’s something watching you. You know it. The primal part of your brain is on sending out high alert signals to every part of your body.

You tell yourself you’re being silly. At worst there’s some predators, but you have a gun, and a fire going. You just want to make your way to a spot where your colleague said he saw some fragmented pottery and what he thought might be evidence of a small band who used to worship something they thought lived in these woods. From what he could gather from the shards, it seemed to be some kind of deity of death. This thrilled you. Against hope, you hoped that you might be able to discover a small, lost village or band that had vanished with time.

With that hope warming your heart and pushing away the anxiety creeping up your spine, you crawled into your tent, finally able to get some sleep. Although it was against the regulations of the park you where in, you left the fire going to ward off animals. You just set an alarm for every 90 minutes to check in and tend to it. That night, you are lucky. Nothing happened. But your recklessness has caught the eye of the very creature who lives in the back of your head.

Every branch you stumble over. Every time a twig scratches your face. Every time you cross a stream or go off trail because of something blocking your path. It’s there. Watching you with a curiosity that it hasn’t felt since it had its own body. How long ago has it been now? It looks down at its rotting limbs, twisting them this way and that. Flexing its wings. Centuries. It’s been scavenging for new body parts for centuries.

The sound of your voice filling the air as you curse a rock you had stubbed your toe on brings its attention back to you. The creature decides to scavenge new parts before approaching you. Just in case you can see it, it doesn’t want to look a mess.

You make your way to another spot you think is safe to camp. That might, you decide not to leave the fire going. You feel safer. More secure. And you’re worried about what might happen if you sleep through an alarm. The thought of being why a giant forest fire sweeps through the mountains makes your mouth run dry. No. It’s not worth it. You shouldn’t have even risked it last night.

Tonight, you curl up in your sleeping bag again, dozing off quickly despite your skittishness about your surroundings. However, you’re woken up by the sound of what at first you thought was a wild hog. Your blood runs cold as you sit frozen, knowing that you’ll be killed. You have no way to properly protect yourself from one, but you were in an area not known for them. After a few minutes of listening, you see a shadow cast onto your tent walls by the moonlight. It’s a bear.

You’re not sure what happens next, but before you know it, you’re laying on the shredded floor of your tent as the bear wanders away after not being able to find the food you’d tied high above the ground. The attack leaves you weak, but you manage to call 9-1-1 and tell them in a gurgled voice where you are. They promise to send park rangers as soon as possible. The woman asks you to keep talking, but your reception is spotty at best. After mere moments, the connection is lost. All you can do now is hope that they get here in time.

The Raven Mocker finds you easily. Even more so than it would have thanks to the delicious scent of your death. It flies over to you, inhaling the sweet scent of your life force. Through blurred vision, and a trembling voice, you ask it for help.

“Please. Just, make it quick,” you ask, knowing what it is as its wings fold behind its back. Those beady eyes peering down at you. “It’s not like they’re going to find me in time.”

It looks at you curiously. Do you really want to die? It can’t decide. Instead, it walks around you before straddling your weak body. It leans close to you, slowly drinking in your life and it leaves your body. You wince, but it doesn’t hurt. Not really. In fact, how gentle its being, the way its holding you as it slowly steals your life, is almost kind. Maybe its the blood loss. Maybe its because you’ve always been scared, and its not that scary. Not really. But you lean up to meet its deformed lips.

The Raven Mocker is caught off guard, even pausing its drinking of you. However, it soon returns the kiss. Its foul tasting tongue invades your mouth, making you let out a tiny sound of approval. The creature hasn’t felt like this in a long time. So long. It had been a long time even when it was a human. Its hands wander, exploring your slowly dying body, but you respond to every touch. Your cunt starts to get wet as it slips a hand between the two of you, palming and teasing it over what little cloth still covers it.

It tears the rest of it off with ease, quickly sinking two of its decaying fingers inside of you. A soft moan escapes your lips as it pumps in and out of you, spreading its fingers to stretch you out. You’re arching as much as you can in this weak state. You’re starting to feel cold, but this distraction is helping.

Before you know it, the creature pulls out its fingers and replaces it with something so large that you can’t help but cry out as it’s crammed inside of you. You can’t even look to see if the cock now jackhammering inside of your wet cunt is human or not. Not that you suppose it really matters. The creature’s wings shield you from the drops of rain that have started to trickle down onto the two of you. It was making you even colder until it shields you.

Its withered hands hold your upper body closer to it as it hunches over you, slamming its cock in and out of you. It bullies your poor cervix and stretches you more than you ever have been stretched. You can feel your life starting to slip more and more away as its talons scratch down your back, though not unkindly.

Precum coats your womb as it crams itself inside of you. To your surprise, you feel something else pushing into you. You try to shift slightly, the pleasure now becoming more of a pain, but it doesn’t let you. Instead, it pushes you to the ground and uses its full weight to pin you there. Before you realize what’s happening, there’s a popping noise, and you’re fuller than you’ve ever been. You grimace and try to move, but the decaying creature on top of you holds you still, decaying and cracked lips finding every soft spot of exposed skin as its wings shield you from the now onslaught of rain.

The cum feels hot. Too hot. Inside of you as it pumps rope after rope into you. All you can do is lay there, slowly slipping into unconscious as your blood pools under you. Just as it pulls out, you hear park rangers. The creature caws as it straights and bursts into a run before taking flight. From a distance, it really does just look like a raven.

The rangers manage to save your life, and the Raven Mocker leaves you alone. Even when you try to call it back, worshipping it for its power. All you can do now is wait for Death.

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suniix · 1 year ago

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Lol rain again while thinking of link taking care of u while you’re sick… bc this raindrop over here is super sick [sob]

But it’s okay cuz it means I can sleep

sick | (BOTW) link x reader

word count | 1k+

note | this is so late but HI RAIN HOPE YOU'RE FEELING BETTER!! wrote you a little something 🫶 ALSO SORRY I TOOK FOREVER TO WRITE THIS 😭😭

Your body ached and you were beginning to feel a headache coming on but you willed your legs to keep going. You knew how important this journey was to Link and you refused to be the one to hold him back. The weather was nice and despite being far away from Hebra Mountains you couldn’t help but feel a chill in the air, maybe fall was approaching? That would explain your runny nose. The thought alone made you want to sniffle but you resisted the urge to, already feeling Link’s eyes on your back.

Almost as if he knew you were trying to avoid his gaze he walked right up next to you and placed a hand on your shoulder, forcing you to slow your pace. He shot you a concerned look and you already knew what he was going to say. “I’m fine.” You winced hearing your own raspy voice knowing well enough you weren’t going to fool Link like this. “I’m just a little cold.”

He furrowed his eyes, gently placing the back of his hand against your head. It was comforting, normally his hands were always warm but right now they were oddly cool.

“You’re warm.” He mumbled.

You ignored the worried look he gave you, closing your eyes and continuing to rest your forehead against his hand. “That’s ‘cause I’m alive.” You joked, but you knew what he was implying.

He pulled his hand away and brought out his sheikah slate, zoning in on what you assumed was the map. “There’s a town nearby, we can stop and rest there for a couple of days.”

“Link, I’m—”

“Sick, you’re sick.”

You don’t deny it because you know it’s true, but it still sucks hearing it out loud. Link unclasps his hood, removing it from his shoulders and placing it over yours. “Are you tired? I can carry you if you are.”

The thought is tempting but you shake your head knowing he’s just as exhausted as you are. “I can walk.”

A hint of a smile graces his lips and he wraps his hand in yours. “Tell me if you get tired ok? I don’t mind stopping.”

The headache you were beginning to feel earlier had finally formed into a pounding feeling in your skull the moment your head hit the pillow.

Link was right about the town being close by. At some point the road split into the forest which quickly revealed a small town. It was a small detour, you’d be back on the road in no time. You allowed Link to do all the talking awhile at the inn, not trusting your own voice.

You felt a dip in the mattress along with a cold hand on your forehead. “I think your fevers gotten worse.” He mumbled. You simply hummed in response, not able to focus on anything else beside your headache.

You feel him pull his hand away and hear the soft robotic sound of the sheikah slate as Link looks through the contents. You’re tempted to ask him what he’s looking for, but you’re now oddly aware of how soft the bed is and how heavy your eyelids feel.

It isn’t until Link gently shakes you awake that you realize you had fallen asleep. The first thing you notice is how your forehead feels cold and wet. You raise your hand and feel a damp towel. The next thing you notice is how your headache is almost gone. It’s still there, but it’s now only a dull ache.

“How’re you feeling?” Link sits on the edge of the bed and removes the towel before placing his hand on your forehead.

You lean into his hand and realize it’s not as cold as before. “I feel a bit better, my headache is almost gone.”

Link smiles and lets his hand linger for a few more seconds before pulling away and handing you a drink. “Drink this, it should keep your fever down and hopefully get rid of your headache.”

You sit up with Link’s help and hesitantly sniff the drink. “..Do I even wanna know what’s in this?”

He rolls his eyes dramatically. “I promise there’s no monster parts in there.”

You only hum in response and take a sip. Despite the drink being warm it leaves you feeling refreshed, almost like waking up in the middle of the night and chugging down water you didn’t know you needed. “Mmm, it tastes good. Thank you Link.”

Link watches as you continue to take sips of the drink before leaning his head on your shoulder. “I hate seeing you like this.” He mumbled and you could already imagine his kicked puppy expression.

“I hate feeling like this.” You laugh, feeling the drowsiness begin to return. You place the empty cup on the table beside your bed and yawn. “I think I’m gonna sleep some more.”

Link sits up and nods. “Good idea, you need rest.” He gets up and begins pulling the covers over your form. You take a quick look around the room and notice you’re occupying the only bed. “Where are you gonna sleep?”

He’s quick to drag a chair and place it right next to your bed. “Right here next to you.”

You’re silent for a minute, wondering when he’s going to say he’s just joking, only to realize he’s not. “..Yeah no, get in here.” You say and lift the covers, gesturing for him to lay down next to you.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable—”

“Seeing your posture in that chair makes me uncomfortable, now hurry up and get in here it’s cold.”

Link complies and lays in bed with you. You’re quick to snuggle up to him, savoring the warmth he radiates. “Aren’t you worried that I’ll get sick?” Link whispers, but despite his words he’s quick to pull you closer.

“With everything you eat I’m sure your immune system can withstand anything.” You mumble, already drifting off to sleep when you feel Link squeeze you in retaliation for your comment. After a moment of silence Link whispers your name and you hum in response.

“Please promise me you won’t push yourself like that again. We can take breaks, I don't mind. I want you to be healthy.” His voice is gentle, just like his words.

“..Okay, I promise.” You manage to respond before feeling his lips press against your temple as he wishes you a goodnight.

thank you for reading till the end! reblogs are greatly appreciated :D

masterlist

#link x reader #link x y/n #link x you #botw link x reader #lu wild x reader #botw x reader #loz x reader #link imagine #link fluff #lu wild #botw #botw link #breath of the wild #[📝 sunni writes]

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kyushiblast · 1 year ago

Text

⤷ 〝 don’t fret. 〞

➞ pairing : grusha x gn! reader

➞ summary : you’re a pro electric guitar player and grusha just so happens to catch you playing one of your songs to his cetoddle.

➞ genre : fluff

➞ cw / other : nothing

➞ a/n : small idea

you’d beat your last gym with flying colors, the snow in the air flurrying around as if makeshift confetti for your win.

grusha was a little cold with his words. but that didn’t stop you from befriending him and inviting him to hangouts even before you’d decided to battle him.

“feel free to stop by again …if you don’t mind the cold, that is.” grusha had offered before walking away, his cetoddle in tow. or so you both thought.

once you’d finished waving goodbye and had calmed down a bit, you went over to the pokemon center close by. the warm aura of the lights and healing presence felt enveloping in the frigid air of the glaseado mountain.

you set down your guitar case, the weight making you stretch as it was lifted off.

a noise caught you off guard from behind you. when you turned around, you came to realize that a stray cetoddle had followed you, reminding you of the one that grusha owned as his companion.

actually, it was his. but neither you nor him knew that yet.

you collected your pokeballs from the attendant, tucking them into the inside pockets of your jacket. you’d noticed the pokemon in front of you hopping around, seemingly interested in your instrument case being hefted back onto your back.

“curious, are we?” you chuckled. “eh, guess i’ll let you come with us, at least for a bit …” the cetoddle chirped back in reply, trodding behind you.

you got an idea as you headed down the small downhill back near the gym battle grounds. “you know, i’ve got an amp, wanna hear me play something?” you asked the pokemon, even if it did seem a little silly. it seemed to say yes, so you went to go look for a place to sit and set up a picnic.

you found a perfect spot, a plain of white and the gym still in sight, but far enough so that you wouldn’t disturb anyone.

sending out your pokemon, you attached the amp and started checking the tuning as they rolled and rampaged on the snow with the cetoddle as a visiting playmate.

strumming a short tune, the wild pokemon around started turning towards your starting performance. the cetoddle sat down with your other pokemon who were busy making sure the other outsiders didn’t threaten to be a possible attacker.

playing the first few lengthened out notes, you gave into the performance and started delivering some sweet music. your audience started dancing along to it, just like how people would bob their heads to a good rhythm.

and when you picked your final chord, you looked up and saw amongst the crowd of pokemon the one and only gym leader you’d just beat. grusha.

“hey, long time no see.” he stated. you smiled a bit at his words.

the cetoddle ran up to him, happily cheering. “there you are! i should really start putting a tracking device on you or something …” grusha looked over at you. “ …it followed you here, eh? figured. it seemed interested in you when you arrived.”

“yeah. thought it was a wild pokemon.” you started to put away your guitar, the pokemon around you cheering once more before playing with your own.

grusha lifted up his scarf. “nice performance, by the way.”

“oh, thanks! when did you arrive?”

“about halfway through. you know …if you keep your dream up, you’ll probably be able to play abroad …not just here in paldea.” grusha turned around. “anyways, it’s a bit of a long journey back down. my home’s pretty close, you can stop by if you’d like.”

“ … oh, really? sure, i’ll take the offer,” you smiled. grusha could feel his face heat up a bit. “as long as you have a heater in there. it is freezing out here.”

“of course i do, now come on, before it starts snowing.”

you collected your pokemon and followed behind, thinking that it was sweet that he cared.

work of kyushiblast , please do not translate , copy , or repost here or on any other platform !!

#grusha x reader #pokemon grusha x reader #pokemon scarvi #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon #pokémon #pokemon imagines #pokemon x reader #grusha #grusha pokemon #paldea #fluff

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vennilavee · 6 months ago

Text

vii. fallen rose

blood&pearls mlist

wc: 2.6k

summary: you are a curious creature, trying to explore the depths below and the lands above. your curiosity may get you in trouble with a world that you do not understand.

warnings: none really

a/n: we're so back babeyyyy

The first winter of your time above sea is frigid and empty. The barren treeline looks the way that you feel.

You’d only heard stories of the pearly snow that descended from bright skies. Your sisters had told you of the warmth that snow could bring. That winter could bring.

Instead, you feel a deep rooted chill with the change of the seasons.

You stay in the lake to keep warm while the self-proclaimed god-like man does not leave the shrine in the mountains. Can he feel your stare towards him, with all four of his eyes? Does he miss your warmth in his sheets, or does he prefer the iciness of his own stubbornness?

You are patiently waiting for a reason to enjoy the winter. You have yet to find one.

All of your favorite fruits are rotten during the winter and nobody comes to visit you anymore, as it is difficult to trek through the mountains to get to the lake. You lay by your everlasting lemon tree in an attempt to soak up the pale moon, but now it has become too frigid to do so.

The smoke puffing out from the shrine just beyond your lake tempts you. But just like the man who inhabits it, you are stubborn.

And so you shiver.

The thought of returning back to the depths of the ocean does strike you on more than one occasion. Something holds you back from leaving into the abyss that has not called out your name in what feels like years.

You have not come up from the floor of the lake in several days. Instead, you have been sulking, even the fish know to keep away from you because of your sullen attitude. The fairies have called for you from the trees, but you have ignored them in favor of solitude.

You feel like a banished princess again, this time being told to leave by your lover instead of your father. Pretending like you’re not breaking into pieces at the revelation, you wonder how the great lord Sukuna’s heart would beat in your hands.

The shrine is always kept warm in the winters, with the wood fires prickling inside to stave away the cold. This winter is especially frigid, due to the unexpected high number of snowstorms and blizzards that have passed on this side of the mountain in recent weeks.

Even for Sukuna, it has proven to be somewhat difficult to travel through the snowy peaks and valleys that he resides in. It has been even more difficult to travel while making it a point to avoid the lake right behind the shrine altogether. Why should he care about the lake and any creature that inhabits it, anyway?

Despite the near painful iciness that coats the air in unwelcome shards, Sukuna still finds his way down the mountains and into the nearby villages. He has fees to collect, after all.

The village in the far east of the valley has welcomed him with open albeit anxious arms. He is showered in precious gemstones, in gold, in paintings, in the finest silks and thin, freshly cut slices of cartilage and hearts, only for his thoughts to stray to you. He hopes violently that you fall ill from the cold and die there, in the center of his lake. Then he’ll finally get a taste of your delicate little mermaid heart from your still warm corpse.

Sukuna ignores the ire that stirs at the thought of your bloated corpse floating in the abyss near the shrine. Instead, he imagines your bright eyes, seemingly glowing in the dark. Blinking at him annoyingly, curiously- asking him why, why have you wronged me so?

He scoffs at sheer absurdity, that your visage could evoke such reluctance in him.

Even as he sits upon his throne to bask in the flames of the latest virginal sacrifice that the village has promised to him, he absently rubs his jaw with a calloused hand. Sukuna wonders idly where he should go next. After all, he’s grown quite comfortable in his shrine in the mountains.

He wonders if you would look at him in wonder or in disgust as he forced you to watch him eat the warm hearts of his subjects. Perhaps you would join him, instead.

You are told by the fairies that this winter has lasted longer than previous winters. The everlasting, enchanting, winter, they call it.

It doesn’t feel very enchanting to you. You rarely come out of the lake these days, burdened by misery and the perception that despite all of your freedom, you are unwanted. Undesired. Perhaps even unworthy of the freedom that you desperately chased. You have condemned yourself to this prison of your own making.

You wail in the frozen lake as the sounds echo harshly. The fairies look at you with sympathy. Or with pity, you are uncertain.

What is stopping you, anyway? What have you become- a shell of the nymph that you were when you first found this meadow.

Your sisters always said that you were destined for the land. It doesn’t feel that way as you lose track of the sun rising and setting in the distance. You have not come up for air in days, weeks, nearly months. Staring at the unwavering solitude in front of you feels hauntingly comforting.

The fairies have informed you that the nearby civilians in the valley are reporting an increase in the number of deaths. They suspect that the water supply has been poisoned.

Your mother was right. You were venomous to the sea, and now you are venomous to the land.

The taste of flesh is rotten on his tongue and he cannot savor the richness of blood when knows that you have sunken to the bottom of the lake. In such a pitiful state, wrapped around yourself as if you were some frail human.

The fairies whisper. Mostly to Uraume, but Sukuna still knows.

No matter, it’s not his problem, he thinks idly. He sits on his throne, barely listening to the unlucky soul thrown in front of him. It’s no fault of his that you are weak-minded to your affections of him. You should not seek his approval or reciprocity, and he would tell you that if you had the gall to show your face in his throne room.

Everything tastes utterly decayed, like the soft, fleshy pulp of a peach that has sat in the sun for too long. These people bore him maddeningly, incessant droning fills his ears and echoes across the ruby red pillars of the throne room.

He doesn’t think about you, not once. Not how you most likely are freezing at the bottom of the lake, since you’re accustomed to warmer waters. Not how you haven’t come up for air in weeks.

You haven’t enjoyed the snow, despite how enthused you were to see it before the turn of the season.

Sukuna sighs and twirls his fingers, cutting off the poor man mid sentence as his blood and guts explode all over the pristinely cleared floor. Uraume doesn’t even bat an eye.

“What was he referring to in his drivel, Uraume?”

“Well, my lord, it seems that the water supply in the village has become… tainted. People are falling ill and dying within days.”

If the foolish, brutish man who lives in his balmy shrine with his devotees wants to see you, then he shall come fetch you himself rather than sending the message along with the fairies. How dare he use your friends so that he could continue to avoid you?

You would shake with fury, if you had the means to. Instead, you remain at the bottom of the lake, curled in on yourself.

Rays from the pale moonlight pierce the surface of the water. Usually, you would bask in its light, enjoying the way it feels on your tail. But not tonight. You turn your head the other way with closed eyes, refusing to look up and remaining in your pitiful bout of self-wallowing.

The water shifts around you in billowing waves, swirling against your tail but you pay it no mind. It pushes at you, as if to coax you to get up and come out of your bout of gloom. You woefully peel an eye open to stop the water from tickling your tail, only for the moonlight to be completely blocked out by a looming figure with menacing eyes.

Well. He tries to be menacing.

You look pathetic, laying in the darkness with sorrow rolling off of you in waves. No wonder the fairies have avoided you and the lake. It does not suit you. All of your favorite fruits that Uraume meticulously prepared and left at the corner of the lake have either rotted or been eaten by animals.

Ungrateful. Sukuna shakes his head and wraps his arms around you. Your grip is strong enough that you could fight him if you wanted to. If you had the energy to. Instead, he feels the warmth of your tail loosely around his legs as he swims up to the surface of the lake.

Your eyes are barely open, with no fight left in them. It’s hardly recognizable on you- how could you let yourself devolve into this state?

He ignores your shivering in his arms as he marches back into the shrine with heavy steps.

A warm glow caresses your face as your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the lack of darkness that you have become accustomed to over the course of many moons.

Two pairs of ruby red eyes stare back at you when you sit up in a comfortable, familiar bed. Your body feels stiff as you try to get up from Sukuna’s bed, and you nearly fall once your feet land on the floor. But he catches you before you can, chiding you for being foolish.

“You have been asleep for about seven hours and you have not used your legs in weeks,” he scoffs, “Your body is weak.”

You expect to see the same ire that shone clearly in his eyes like obsidian pools the last time you had spoken to him in this very room, but none of it is there.

“Why have you brought me here?” you ask hoarsely. You try again to rise from the bed on shaky legs, but your entire body aches terribly. So you don’t fight him as he nestles you tightly under the covers. He shields you from the gaze of the moon with his broad back and his touch is gentle, fleeting as he heals your sore muscles.

“I believe you have a death wish and I cannot determine why. You are a danger to yourself-”

“Why do you care?” you interrupt petulantly. He raises an eyebrow but you glare at him regardless. You are behaving like an infant, pouting and raising your voice and he will not stand for it.

“I will not have you drown yourself to death on my land.”

“Oh, my apologies, my lord, perhaps it would be acceptable for me to go to the ocean to die instead.”

He would have beheaded anyone else if they spoke to him with the same sardonic acidity dripping from your tongue.

He pinches your thigh lightly, but enough for it to sting. You swat his hand away but he captures your wrist in his.

“You vex me,” Sukuna hisses his face only inches away from yours, “Your cavalier attitude, your self-pity, it disgusts me. Why have you chosen to live and die here? You are a nuisance, one that should cease to exist if you would allow me a taste of your bleeding heart!”

And still, none of the former vexation burns in his eyes.

“Then you should be the one to kill me! I would rather die by your hand than live in a cage that all the foolish men of this world, land and sea, have created!”

He drops your wrist from his grip, snaking his hand to your neck and pressing lightly. Your chest heaves, rising and falling, rising and falling in harmony with his breaths.

“I have only one weakness in this entire universe,” he says, ignoring the racing of your feathery heart against his touch, “I wish death upon you for this.”

Your eyebrows furrow, intent on arguing with him but Sukuna closes the space between easily, hastily capturing your tongue with his. There is no room to question him, or his place unless you will yourself to pull away and ignore the heat unfurling in your belly.

“You demanded that I go,” you mumble into his lips, “You said there was no place for me here…”

“And yet, here you still are,” he replies, coaxing you into another searing kiss. But, to his chagrin, you do not allow him to.

“I can protect myself,” you say with your heart lurching in your throat, “I am not some weak human who requires their beloved deity for protection.”

“Am I your deity?” His tone is serious but his eyes soften.

“Am I yours?” you murmur, giving him not a breath to reply before surging your lips to his. You missed the feel of his body on yours, the heat of his hands and the sharpness of his muscles. The place where his heart should beat. The tenderness that lines the padding of his fingertips as his touch sears your skin, a punishment fit for damning yourself in the depths of the water.

“Gods have no deities,” he replies.

“Kings do.”

You have not left Sukuna’s bedchambers in several days, alternating between basking in the warmth of his bed and the warmth contained in his arms. You have also taken to perching on his windowsill to watch the snowfall in the early morning, dressed in his robes.

It seems he has returned to your good graces.

You remain silent, eyes drifting across the barren treeline, landing on his unlocked treasure chest and back. The chest that contains the still heart of the white haired man who threatened you in your lake in the previous season.

“I want to go outside.”

You do not wait for him to join you as you slip out of his robes and through the window of his bedroom to step into the frigid air. He does not make an attempt to stop you, knowing that it would be futile.

Your laugh is infectious, ringing in his ears as it lights up the shrine from the outside in. Despite the snow falling on your bare skin for some time, you continue to be in awe of it. You ignore the goosebumps rising on your arm in favor of twirling around in the snow.

The fairies were right. It is enchanting, and warm, next to the well-lit lamps that surround the outside of the shrine where you stand. The cold, bright sunshine does not feel bitter on your face, not the way the fairies told you it would be. Instead, you feel hope bloom in your chest.

The way a flower blooms in a field of decay.

Naivete rolls off of you in waves. Sukuna shakes his head at your mirth as he leans against the window. It would be so easy for him, for even one of those white-haired bastards, to take advantage of you. Cut you, bleed you dry, desecrate your soul until nothing is left but a bawling onyro haunting the forest, mistaking revenge for love.

He does not tell you how the water was poisoned for the last several weeks, when you were decaying at the bottom of the lake. He keeps that information tucked away, so as to not see your face fall and your shoulders slump. Perhaps your onryo form would be better than your crestfallen form.

Sukuna places a wool robe around your shoulders to keep your body heated in the icy air, quickly dispeling thoughts of your demonic eyes.

Blood pools on the horizon, a promise of the days to come.

tags: @kentobean @misslovingpearl @aeanya @threadbaresweater @aboveasphodel

#jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you

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rascal-xo · 2 years ago

Note

Tactical Cuddling during a a blizzard with ghost to keep warm and alive that turns into romantic cuddling and words of affection? If that's too soft maybe add some reader being half frozen to death?

Stone Cold | Simon Riley x Reader |

Chapter summary: After being split up during a mission, the hopes of finding each other again begin to fade with each passing hour…

Warnings: fluff, kinda angst, just pure :((

Tags: @glitteryeggalmondherring @fiveshelmet @madamemelancholysstuff @myguiltypleasure @pukbadger

A/N: I hope you enjoy!! Lmk what you think :)

You huddle in the desolate corners of a long abandoned cabin, the bitter cold seeping through the cracks in the wooden walls. The howling wind outside whips the snow into a frenzy, blurring your vision as it dances in the air.

Shivering uncontrollably, you cling to the flickering hope that the Lieutenant will find you soon.

The mission had taken an unexpected turn, separating you and Ghost amidst the treacherous snowy mountains. The communication devices had failed, leaving you stranded without any means of contact. With each passing hour, your body grows weaker, and frostbite threatens to claim your extremities.

The makeshift fire in the hearth casts feeble shadows on the walls, providing minimal warmth. Your breath forms icy puffs in the frigid air, a constant reminder of the unknown dangers lurking outside. You wrap your arms around yourself, desperately trying to conserve what little heat remains.

You clutch your chest, feeling the steady thump of your heartbeat against your weak and frozen fingertips. The sound is a lifeline, a reminder that you're still alive, but it's growing fainter, weaker.

You suddenly hear shot outside. Your ears stand up at the piercing sound. With sheer willpower, you rise from the floor, limbs heavy and uncooperative. Every step is a battle against the biting cold, but you press on. You stumble towards the door, feeling the gust of wind slice through your clothes. The icy touch pierces your skin, but you trudge forward, leaving the shelter behind.

Through the swirling snowflakes, you catch a glimpse of movement. A figure emerges from the blizzard, their silhouette becoming clearer with each step. “Gho- GHOST!” Your voice is like corse sandpaper against the walls of your throat, as you finally make out the skull mask in the distance.

“Y/N!” He quickly catches up to you. You collapse into his arms, and he holds you up easily as ever. “Thought I’d lost ya for good, Sergeant.” Ghost holds you up, his deep voice filled with relief and concern.

You cling to Simon, feeling his sturdy presence enveloping you, grounding you amidst the chaos. The sound of his voice resonates keeps you from slipping into the dark, a lifeline that pulls you back from the brink. “We need to get you inside now, you’ll freeze to death.”

He moves you back into the small cabin, throwing his gear down. Ghost makes sure you’re steady before sitting you onto the tattered cushion you had been collapsed on moments before.

He kneels beside you, his gaze fixed on your pale face. Ghost's hands cup your chilled cheeks, his touch sending shivers of both cold and comfort through your body. "Y/N, keep your eyes open," he says, his voice firm yet laced with concern. "Stay with me."

You fight against the heaviness threatening to pull you into unconsciousness. He looks around, his eyes finally landing on his pack. He rushes over pulling the sleeping bag off of it.

Before you’re able to comprehend he’s already lifting you into the insulated pad. Every movement feels rigid on your fragile muscles and sore bones. You almost wished you were unconscious, atleast you wouldn’t have to feel the cold.

Without a second thought, he carefully maneuvers himself into the sleeping bag beside you, his body heat radiating through the thin barrier between you.

The sudden presence of Ghost beside you sends a jolt of warmth coursing through your veins. His strong, solid frame acts as a shield against the frigid air, his body heat seeping into your chilled skin.

His arm slides gently beneath your head, cradling you close as he presses his body against yours. The sleeping bag becomes a shared refuge, a sanctuary from the biting cold that threatens to consume you.

After a few beats of silence, you rasp, your voice barely audible above the wind outside. "You have to go on without me.”

Your body is beginning to shut down on you. Even the smallest of breaths feel like mountains on your lungs.

“Don’t be stupid. I’m not leaving you up here.”

“You’re losing time. We both know i’m not gonna make it” You wince at the straining in your throat with every word.

His jaw clenches, the muscles in his face taut with conflicting emotions. Ghost's gaze never wavers from yours, his eyes filled with a fierce resolve. "Fucks sake, No mission is worth losing you," he declares, his voice steady and unwavering. "I’m not leaving."

You reach up, your trembling hand brushing against the frosted fabric of his balaclava. Maybe it’s the impending doom or maybe it’s the proximity to him, but your lips form into a weak smile.

You take a shuddering breath, “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when the Captain said our careers would only go up from here.” A small chuckle follows but you immediately double down with pain in your ribs.

He watches you intently, unbeknownst to you a smile of his own forms under his mask. You take a steadying breath, mustering your strength despite the agony that courses through your body.

“Thank you.” You whisper, unwelcome tears now seeping into your eyes. Your hands now cupping the sides of his face. You feel yourself slipping away but still holding on barely to him. He moves his hand up to yours, pulling the balaclava over his head.

His skin is touched by the cold, but his eyes burn with intensity. You manage a weak smile, your fingertips tracing the contours of his cheek. The tears that well in your eyes mirror the pain and acceptance that reside within your heart.

“Stay with me, Love. Please” He says, just above a whisper. The tears that well in your eyes mirror the pain and acceptance that reside within your heart.

As you slip further into the grasp of unconsciousness, your grip on Ghost weakens. The slow beats of your heart thump against his other hand, so slow that it’s agonizing for him to bare.

And soon the world fades away from you, consumed by the relentless cold.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #fanfic #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley imagine #ghost x female reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you

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r0-boat · 11 months ago

Note

Heyy, may I request just a grusha x female (or gender neutral if you’d like) reader smut fic? You can do whatever you want with it, creative freedom’s all yours!

🥺🥺 bestie

Creative freedom?! For me??

Don't mind if do!

Warm me please

Cw: cock warming, temperature play ish, Yandere behavior, toxic behavior, stalking, horror

Yuki-onna!Grusha x Gn!reader

Blankets of snow cover the ground, trees covered in frost, twinkling spears of ice dangle from its delicate branches. Beautiful yet harsh; a silent killer for those who do not know the dangers among the seeming pure white.

The wind carries the snowflakes pelting you in the face. You raise your arm in hopes it would stop the onslaught to no avail. Your body screams for warmth but you will yourself to keep going. With each breath you take, the snowfall laced with deadly cold air chokes you. But you had to keep going.

For the thing that lurks in the snow and the blizzard is coming.

Having just escaped your icy prison, you’re on the run. And your captor is chasing you.

And this winterland is his hunting ground. He knows the snowy mountains like the back of his hand.

Your heart stops as the snow fall begins to pick up into a blizzard. The wind whips the snow so hard it’s very difficult to keep moving.

In the howling wind, you hear a crunch, the sound of snow falling onto the ground.

Don't look behind you.

Don't look behind you!

Your curiosity gets the better of you as you slowly turn your head, taking just a glance behind you.

A figure, a silhouette coming for you.

Your heart jumps in your stomach turning fast. The snow is thick and you’re freezing but you force your legs to move hoping that the adrenaline of being caught is enough strength.

However the silhouette is far faster. At first glance it appears so far away but in no time you feel a hand grabbing the back of your throat. Enough strength stopping you dead in your tracks. His voice, his breath, his hand snakes around the front of your throat, you feel as hot breath against your neck. Well it's called fingers dig into your flesh.

"You didn't think I'd catch you did you?"

You try to stifle your crying but it only makes the hand around you tighten.

"Answer me." He whispers in a threatening tone. All you could do is shake your head.

Your answer satisfies him.

"Do you know how dangerous it is out here? You aren't wearing anything you would have froze to death if I hadn't found you." His grip tightens once again. It’s getting harder to breathe. But he doesn't care, lifting you up in his arms. You see his warm smile, his icy blue eyes and his blue hair.

"Let's go home," with no more oxygen you black out.

Only to wake up wrapped in a black blanket on a rug warm fire in the same cabin you tried to escape from. Your head is killing you and your body feels numb as you try to sit up, gazing ideally into the fire. Your body shakes, not because you are cold, but because you notice the metal chain attached to your leg, bolted against a metal plate screwed into the floor. A pair of arms wrap around you.

"I had to. You disobeyed me and escaped, I did this for your own safety."

His fingertips, ice cold, move underneath the yard blanket, caressing your naked skin. You haven't even realize you were naked.

"Stealing my coat and scarf too? I have to admit it looked cute on you, but not when you are 10 ft away from me. You won't be needing them anymore or any clothes for that matter…" The ice demon purrs before grabbing your blanket and ripping it off you. Grusha lifts you with ease, placing you in his lap. It's cold body against your warm one.

"Mmh. Your warm body feels so good. You gave me quite a scare. You felt so cold, as though you were going to die." His breath quickens.

"Don't. Ever do that to me again."

"I'm sorry.” You could only murmur. His eyes widen until he busts out into laughter, a crazed laugh.

"Your pathetic apology isn't enough, my dear. As priceless as it was, I have to punish you." Grusha pulls you closer to him; your back pressing against his bare chest

You feel his cock press against you, naked, it’s the only realization that you aren’t the only one without clothes.

His fingers play with your heated core, cold clashing with warmth, making you squirm, but he holds you in place firmly. He won't let you escape not this time. Not ever.

Besides his inflamed hot cock, his entire body chilling you.

"So warm" Grusha mumbles. Your warm body is intoxicating but it wasn't enough; Grusha needed more. Obsessed with how warm and soft humans are. He craves the heat between your legs. To be inside you and envelop himself in your hot body. To burn himself up in your wet warm walls and fill you with his own warmth.

The ice spirit rocks himself against you, his fingers digging into your thighs. He wraps an arm around your legs, lifting you up, his other hand stroking is cock, maneuvering it underneath you, his tip now prodding you open.

"Fuck…" He mutters, his breath tickling your ear, as his cock finally pushes inside you.

Grusha's breath hitches, his cock is twitching inside you, feeling you squirm in his lap.

"Stop, don’t move…this is supposed to be a punishment. Sit here and keep me warm."

You obey, staying still, his rigid cold body against your soft skin, aching cock deep inside you. Pressing so tightly against you. You could feel every ripple of his muscles.

Your eyes try not to focus on his dick stretching you out and instead focus on the huge scar on his pale skin. Trying not to focus on how close he is to you, his chin resting on your shoulder, his hands all over your chest rubbing your sides, cold fingers tracing over your nipples. His teeth and tongue occasionally nipping and tasting the shell of your ear.

"Your heartbeat… I can feel it; I can hear it.

So alive, so warm. Been so long since I've had one so comforting. Never leave me again."

"Never leave me cold again."

#smut #pokemon x reader #pokemon grusha #grusha x reader #gym leader grusha #pokemon fanfiction #pokemon imagines #pokemen

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kathlare · 16 days ago

Note

Can you write something for Lando and Amelie in the present. Maybe about them just having a cute date at a park and thinking about the future. Please add whatever you want to if you don't like the idea

Thank you so much for sending in this request! I had so much fun bringing your idea to life, and I truly hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Your support and engagement mean the world to me, and I’m so grateful you’re part of this journey.

As always, thank you for reading—I hope you love this chapter! 💕

chasing sunsets

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie and Lando embark on a chilly hiking date in Monaco, where Amelie grumbles about the cold but slowly warms to the adventure. Along the way, they share playful banter and deep conversations, reflecting on their relationship and the year ahead.

Wordcount: 1.8 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

January 12th, 2025 Monte Carlo, Monaco

The chilly breeze rolled off the Mediterranean and danced through the streets of Monaco. The January air was crisp, and the sun hung low in the sky, its warmth doing little to cut through the winter cold. Amelie tugged her jacket tighter around her, glaring at Lando as they made their way up the winding hiking trail overlooking the glittering principality.

—This is your idea of a fun date? Dragging me up a mountain when it’s freezing?— Amelie grumbled, her breath fogging in front of her.

Lando glanced over at her, a smirk playing on his lips. His cheeks were pink from the cold, his curls tucked under a beanie, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. —Oh, come on, Ames. It’s not that cold. You’re just being dramatic.—

She shot him a look, one that could freeze even the warmest summer day. —I’m from Mexico, Lan. This is basically the Arctic for me. My ass is frozen, and we’re not even halfway up.—

Lando laughed, reaching out to grab her hand. —You’ll survive. Besides, I promised you hot chocolate and snacks at the top, didn’t I?—

—You’re lucky I love you, you know that?— she muttered, but her fingers laced through his anyway, her small hand warm against his.

They continued the climb, Lando leading the way with a determined stride while Amelie followed, occasionally huffing and muttering curses in Spanish under her breath. The trail wound through pine trees and rocky outcrops, offering stunning views of Monaco below, the city’s iconic white buildings glowing in the afternoon light.

—Okay, I’ll admit, it’s kind of pretty,— Amelie said begrudgingly, pausing to take in the view.

Lando stopped beside her, his hand still holding hers. —Kind of? You’re impossible. Look at that, Ames. It’s stunning.—

She glanced at him, her lips curling into a soft smile. —It is. But you know what’s even better? Being inside where it’s warm.—

He rolled his eyes but leaned down to press a quick kiss to her forehead. —You’re such a baby.—

—And yet you love me anyway,— she quipped, nudging him playfully.

—Yeah, I do,— he said, his voice softer now, his eyes meeting hers. For a moment, the world seemed to pause, the wind stilling and the noise of the city below fading into the background.

—Come on, lover boy, let’s keep moving before I turn into an icicle,— Amelie said, breaking the spell with a teasing grin.

They finally reached the top of the trail, a small clearing with a bench overlooking the sparkling Mediterranean. Lando set down his backpack and pulled out a thermos and a couple of cups, pouring steaming hot chocolate and handing one to Amelie.

—Okay, you’re forgiven for the whole ‘dragging me into the cold’ thing,— she said, wrapping her hands around the cup and taking a sip.

Lando grinned, pulling out a small bag of snacks and sitting beside her. —I told you it’d be worth it.—

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds the rustling of the trees and the distant hum of the city. Amelie leaned into Lando, her head resting on his shoulder, her dark curls brushing against his cheek.

—You know, this is nice,— Amelie admitted after a moment, her voice soft. —Even if my fingers are still kind of frozen.—

Lando chuckled, slipping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. —I told you, Ames. You just need a little adventure in your life. Fresh air, good views, and me. What more could you want?—

She tilted her head up to look at him, her expression fond but playful. —A heater. A blanket. Maybe a beach in Cabo. But you’re right, this isn’t bad.—

Lando pressed a kiss to her temple, lingering for a second longer than usual. —You’re such a sunshine girl. I should’ve guessed you wouldn’t be thrilled about this, but thanks for humoring me.—

Amelie smiled into her cup, her cheeks pink, not just from the cold. —Well, someone had to make sure you didn’t wander off a cliff. You’ve got a terrible sense of direction.—

—Rude,— Lando shot back, nudging her lightly with his shoulder. —But true.—

They both laughed, the sound warm and easy between them. The tension of the climb melted away as they relaxed into each other, the quiet intimacy of the moment settling over them.

After a while, Amelie set her empty cup aside and glanced up at him. —So, is this what you had in mind for the new year? Dragging me out on random hikes and freezing my ass off?—

Lando looked down at her, his expression softening. —Not exactly. I mean, yeah, I want us to do more stuff like this. Spend time together, explore a bit, make memories. But… I don’t know. I feel like this year could be big, you know? For both of us.—

Amelie tilted her head, studying him. —Big how?—

He hesitated for a moment, running a hand through his curls before settling it back around her. —Well, for starters, I’ve got a pretty big year ahead in racing. There’s a lot riding on it, and I want to prove myself again after last year. And with you… I mean, you’ve got your career, and you’re killing it. But I also want us to keep growing, Ames. Together.—

Her brows furrowed slightly, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. —You think we’ll have time for that? With everything going on?—

Lando nodded, his expression earnest. —Yeah, I do. It’s not going to be easy, but I’m all in. And I know we’ve both got a lot on our plates, but… I don’t want to lose what we have. I don’t want to lose you.—

Amelie’s heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. She reached up to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing over his skin. —You won’t, Lan. I promise. We’ll figure it out, like we always do.—

Lando leaned into her touch, closing his eyes for a moment as if to savor the warmth and reassurance in her words. When he opened them, they were soft but brimming with determination. —You mean that?—

Amelie smiled, her dark eyes glinting in the golden light of the setting sun. —Of course I do. You’re stuck with me, Lan. Frozen ass and all.—

He laughed, his whole body shaking as he pulled her into a tight hug, practically lifting her off the bench. —God, Ames, what did I do to deserve you?—

She smirked, her cheek pressed against his chest. —Well, for starters, you’ve got a cute smile, decent cooking skills, and apparently a thing for dragging me into the wilderness.—

—Hey, I’m the full package,— Lando teased, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. —Don’t sell me short.—

Amelie reached up to tug playfully on the edge of his beanie. —Fine. You’re all right, I guess.—

He gave her a mock-offended look, his lips twitching with the effort to keep from grinning. —Wow. Just ‘all right’? Remind me to work harder on impressing you this year.—

Amelie laughed, the sound light and warm against the cool air. —Don’t try too hard, Norris. You’ll strain yourself. And besides, I’m already impressed. Even if you did have the world’s most embarrassing crush on me back in the day.—

Lando groaned, leaning back dramatically against the bench. —Oh, here we go. I knew this was coming.—

—You knew I was going to bring it up,— she teased, turning to face him with an impish grin. —But honestly, it was cute. You being all shy and awkward every time we were on a video call with Charles and the others. And then trying to act cool like I wouldn’t notice.—

—In my defense, you’re very intimidating when you want to be,— Lando said, shaking his head. —You were this big deal, a proper movie star, and I was just some guy who drove cars fast for a living. I didn’t think I stood a chance.—

Amelie tilted her head, her smile softening. —You’re not just some guy, Lando. You never were. Even back then, when you were a blushing mess around me, I could tell you were special.—

He looked at her, his blue-green eyes glinting with a mix of gratitude and disbelief. —You mean that?—

She nodded, her voice gentle. —Of course I do. And, for the record, I kind of liked that you had a crush on me. It was endearing. Even if it took you ages to actually do something about it.—

Lando let out a dramatic sigh, running a hand through his curls before meeting her gaze with a smirk. —Yeah, well, I got there eventually, didn’t I? And look at us now. Who would’ve thought?—

—Not me, that’s for sure,— Amelie quipped, her grin widening. —But I’m glad we’re here. Even if you’re still a little bit of a dork.—

—A dork?— Lando repeated, feigning offense. —I’ll have you know I’m extremely cool. Ask anyone.—

—Oh, I will,— Amelie teased, leaning in closer, her breath warm against his cheek. —But even if you’re not as cool as you think, you’re still my dork.—

Lando’s teasing expression softened, his hand coming up to cup her face. —And you’re my sunshine girl. Frozen ass and all.—

She laughed, the sound light and musical, before leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. The kiss was slow and sweet, the kind that made the world around them blur into nothing. Lando’s hand slid to the back of her neck, holding her gently as if afraid she might vanish.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, their breaths mingling in the chilly air.

—You know, Ames, I’ve been thinking about this year, about us,— Lando began, his voice low and steady. And I know it’s only been a little over a year since we gave this another shot, but… I can’t imagine my life without you anymore. It’s like everything makes more sense with you in it.—

Amelie’s heart swelled at his words, her fingers brushing lightly over his jaw. —Lando…—

—No, let me finish,— he said, his voice firm but kind. —I don’t know what the future holds. With racing, with your career, with everything. But I do know one thing... I want you in it. No matter what. I want us to keep building this, keep making it work. Because I’m obsessed with you, Ames. I love you more than I thought I could ever love anyone.—

Her eyes welled with tears, and she let out a soft laugh. —God, Lan, you’re going to make me cry. And I didn’t even bring waterproof mascara.—

He smiled, his thumb brushing away a tear that slipped down her cheek. —Then don’t cry. Just say you feel the same.—

Amelie took a deep breath, her smile trembling but full of emotion. —I do. I feel the same. I love you so much, Lando. And I’m all in too. Whatever the future looks like, I want it with you.—

Lando’s smile lit up his entire face, and he pulled her into a tight embrace, burying his face in her hair. —You have no idea how happy that makes me.—

Amelie’s arms wrapped around him, holding him just as tightly. —Probably as happy as I am right now.—

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other and the quiet serenity of the moment. When they finally pulled back, Lando’s grin turned mischievous.

—So, about that embarrassing crush I had on you…—

—Don’t even start,— Amelie warned, poking him in the ribs.

—Oh, come on! It’s a good story,— he said, laughing as he tried to dodge her playful jabs. —Remember that time I tried to flirt with you in Spanish and completely butchered it?—

Amelie laughed so hard she had to clutch her stomach. —Oh my God, yes! You called me “muy guapo” instead of “muy guapa.” You literally called me handsome.—

Lando groaned, covering his face with his hands. —I was so nervous, okay? Cut me some slack.—

—Nope, never letting you live that down,— she teased, leaning into him with a wide grin.

Lando sighed dramatically but couldn’t help smiling. —Fine. But at least admit that you thought it was cute.—

Amelie tilted her head, pretending to think. —Hmm… maybe a little. But only because you looked like you were about to pass out from embarrassment.—

He laughed, shaking his head. —You’re mean, you know that?—

—And yet you love me anyway,— she shot back, echoing her earlier words.

—Damn right I do,— Lando said, leaning in to steal another kiss.

As the sun began to set, casting the sky in hues of pink and orange, they sat side by side on the bench, their fingers intertwined. They talked about everything and nothing—plans for the year, dreams for the future, and all the little moments that had led them to this one.

Lando glanced at her as she gazed out at the horizon, her face glowing in the golden light. —You know, Ames, I think this might be my favorite date ever.—

She looked back at him, her smile soft and genuine. —Even though I complained the whole way up?—

—Especially because of that,— he said with a chuckle. —It’s just… us. No cameras, no distractions. Just you and me.—

Amelie leaned her head on his shoulder, her voice barely above a whisper. —Just you and me. I like the sound of that.—

And as the first stars began to twinkle in the sky, they sat there together, dreaming of a future as bright as the city lights below.

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skyloftian-nutcase · 3 months ago

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IT'S FLUFFVEMBER TIME LOVELIES

Day 1 - Snow

Ganondorf shivered a little, huddled over by the fire with an extra shawl over his shoulders, a mug of hot tea keeping his hands warm. The cold of the desert night was far more agreeable than this abysmal, moist frigid air that clung to the skin and sank into one’s bones. Winters in Hyrule were not his favorite, especially in drafty stone castles. He recalled, many years ago, when he’d first visited Hyrule, and it had been the tail end of winter. Everything had seemed so lifeless that he’d wondered why anyone would live in such a place. But he’d stayed a few weeks, investigating the land, and when spring had blossomed into life, he’d known then and there.

Hyrule held fruitfulness and resources and beauty and power he had never seen in his eighteen years of life at the time. And he’d wanted it.

Things had changed greatly in the twenty-five years that had passed since then. Hyrule still held power that he desired, but it wasn’t the land so much as its divine relic – the Gerudo had resources and cities of their own, though the landscape was far less varied. He supposed he still did love the greens and blues of Hyrule. He found he’d actually missed it once he’d come here with his children.

Smiling, he imagined that when he took over this land, he’d perhaps make this castle a vacation home of sorts. And he’d only come here in the spring and summer. Winter was far too blasted cold.

A strange breeze blew through the room, alongside near silent footfalls sprinting across the way, coinciding with doors opening and closing. Ganondorf blinked, stiffening, wondering what had just happened, when he realized what it likely was.

What in the name of—did he actually just—

Merovar stretched and yawned as he entered, layered in three blankets and barely visible in them. “Why is it so freaking cold here? Also, did you see that?”

Ganondorf sighed heavily, placing his mug forcefully on the table and walking towards Hemisi’s room. The door was already open, but he knew for a fact that she wasn’t up yet – his girl liked to sleep in.

As predicted, once he entered he saw Orik in the room, though the boy was far less quiet than usual, excitedly shoving Hemisi back and forth in the bed. “Get up, get up, it’s snowing!!”

Hemisi growled from under the mountain of covers, fist popping out to bap her boyfriend on the nose, but Orik dodged it easily. “The hell is snow and why are you bothering me?”

“It’s—I wanted you to see it for the first time with me—come on!” Orik insisted, still filled with eager energy but seeming a little more hesitant.

The boy was clearly far too excited to notice he was being glared at, and so Ganondorf marched towards him and picked him off the ground by the back of his tunic like some stray cat he’d found in an alley. Orik went three shades paler, startled and immediately realizing what had just happened.

“G-good morning, Lord Ganondorf,” Orik said quietly in a shaky voice.

“I don’t recall ever giving you permission to come into my daughter’s room,” Ganondorf ground out.

Honestly, by now the Gerudo king knew the boy was essentially harmless. But he was still a teenager, and there were protocols that had to remain in place. The young warrior had been invited to the Gerudo quarters so many times Ganondorf was half convinced he lived here by now, but that didn’t mean he could go anywhere he pleased. He wasn’t Ganondorf’s own child. Yet.

“No, sir,” Orik agreed quietly. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Hemisi growled even louder, finally sitting up, looking like a disheveled, cranky mess. “What’s so important that you’re risking my father murdering you, anyway? Dad, can you put him down?”

Ganondorf was tempted to say no, but he plopped the boy on the ground instead. He had sufficiently scared him, he supposed.

Orik was silent a moment, taking a shaky breath, before saying in a calmer voice, “I wanted you to see the snow with me. If that’s agreeable to your father.”

The fact that the boy had risked infuriating Ganondorf out of sheer excitement over something as abysmal as snow was irritating, but… well. Perhaps exasperating was the better word.

“Okay, but what’s snow?” Hemisi asked, getting up.

Orik smiled brightly. “It’s—”

“Too cold,” Ganondorf interrupted, crossing his arms.

Hemisi rolled her eyes. “I’m not five years old anymore, Dad. I’ll be fine. What is snow?”

Orik glanced at Ganondorf, waiting for permission to actually speak now, and the Gerudo king almost sighed. This child. Honestly. He waved a hand, and Orik eagerly blurted out, “It’s kind of like frozen rain, except it’s tiny, tiny crystals all falling slowly from the sky and you can make shapes with it and throw it and—”

“I can throw it?” Hemisi interrupted, eyebrow raised and a smile on her lips. “Okay, let’s check this stuff out.”

“And it makes the world so quiet too, it’s great,” Orik continued, taking her by the wrist and nearly dragging her out of the room.

“Not so fast,” Ganondorf said firmly as he put his hands on either teenager’s shoulder. Orik felt stiff under his grip, shoulders rising and eyes widening before trying to take an apologetic stance, while Hemisi just glared in mild annoyance at her father. “You two are underdressed for this weather. Put something warmer on.”

He wasn’t having his daughter getting sick, and Orik had already gotten ill once. Ganondorf was not playing nurse to anyone. They had a mission to accomplish.

“Why does this snow sound even colder than it already is?” Merovar grumbled, pulling one of his three blankets over his head as he huddled by the fire.

Hemisi grumbled under her breath about being babied while throwing on a heavier shirt and a cloak while Orik departed to bundle up some more. The boy returned far faster than what should have been physically possible, pausing in front of Ganondorf as if waiting to be inspected. The Gerudo king did indeed look him over before nodding in approval, and Orik’s smile lit up the room as he led Hemisi outside. The way the boy’s red eyes sparkled when he looked at Ganondorf was…

Ganondorf sighed. Fine. The kid was sweet. He could admit that much. Just not out loud.

Although the Gerudo king would not join the children outside, he did watch them from the window as Hemisi carefully stepped into the snow. She was clearly shivering a little, caught off guard, but also looking absolutely fascinated by the snow. Whatever the two were saying was lost to him, but the way they smiled did manage to warm the man far more than the fire he’d abandoned. Perhaps… he could appreciate Hyrule’s winters, after all.

#writing #imprisoning war #ganondorf #hemisi #hero of power #fluffvember #fluffvember 2024 #legend of zelda

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coltermorning · 1 year ago

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Of Love and Loss Ch. 8 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: After further revealed details about your past, Arthur realizes you’re not quite as knowledgeable as he thought.

Author’s Notes: Chapter eight of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

Of Love and Loss

Eight: A Lack of Expertise

Word count: 3268

The land is finally flattening, the trees thinning, taking us east into land I hardly know. Every step away from the mountains seems to make my traveling companion quieter still, if that is even possible, but we are making progress at least. A few weeks yet and we will hit Nebraska. I just hope all this promise of safe haven and wide open turns out to be true. For both our sakes.

The snow had turned back to rain, the sting of it like ice on your exposed skin despite the fact that it was too warm to freeze. That plus enough travel warranted the return of the grayed landscape of approaching winter, dull in color and twice as lifeless. You already missed the mountains.

“Well, forgive me, but that don’t make much sense.”

You were simultaneously arguing with Arthur and trying to speak as little as possible. You gave up thinking he would get the hint to stop badgering you miles ago. The way he riled you kept out the worst of the cold at least.

“To you it doesn’t,” you shot back at him, rubbing your hands together to get the warmth back in them. Riding in the rain was always misery, but at least it wasn’t falling hard enough to stop your progress yet again.

Arthur laughed. “True enough.”

After a second’s peace, you thought he would finally give it up until he said, “But we both know alone wouldn’t have cut it. Hell, it’s why you got me riding with you now.”

You sighed, not granting him a response. You had told him a little about your past in Montana, working alongside your parents ever since you were old enough to ride. You sincerely wished you hadn’t now that he was picking apart every piece of it.

He pushed again, his relentless words making you grit your teeth. “I mean, you could have easily found someone to marry up there, someone to help you with the ranch. It ain’t like a man would have turned you down-”

“There was no one, Arthur,” you interrupted, shooting him a look. This was all hypothetical anyway. A life long behind you. You faced forward again when he finally fell quiet. Then, because it left bitterness sitting heavy on your tongue, “We were the only people for miles around. The closest men were all twice my age, older than my father. I was the only child. My parents were the only ones foolish enough to have one in such harsh country.”

“You seemed to like it well enough.”

True. Your love of your home had been how this argument began—the explanation of your parents wanting a better life for you, why you had wanted to stay behind. Arthur was siding with them, the aggravating bastard.

“Who says you can’t have the same life in Nebraska anyhow?” he went on. “Hell, you may prefer it a year from now, and all your qualms about your old life will be long behind you.”

“It isn’t that. It’s…”

It wasn’t the loss of Montana. It was the life that would be forced upon you in Nebraska. The threat was still there, worrying you every step you took toward your new home. But you didn’t have anywhere else to go.

“What?” he pushed.

You could feel his eyes on you. You stared straight ahead, keeping your horse pointed down the path as you said, “I know why they wanted me on this trip. And it wasn’t for any reason I was interested in.”

“Which was?”

You almost couldn’t admit it. You never had. And it tarnished their memory somehow, like they didn’t know their daughter well enough to know it was wrong for her. But you bit it out anyway, needing to clear the air. Needing the sharp cold of the rain to stave off the resentment you held so close.

“They wanted me married off.”

Arthur was silent a moment. Then, like he couldn’t believe it, “They told you that?”

No. They had tiptoed around it, never quite admitting it. But all their talk of how happy they had been together was enough to clue you in. You weren’t them though. You were raised wild, meant for the mountains and the land and no man on earth. Couldn’t they see that?

“No,” you finally managed, your voice small and wavering.

“Maybe they didn’t-”

“Arthur,” you warned. You were dangerously close to letting tears spill. “Enough.”

He seemed to finally sense the conversation had crossed into forbidden territory. He sighed long and loud. “Fine. But don’t go moping over something you don’t know to be true.”

He had a point, yet it only served to make you feel guiltier. Why were you assuming the worst of them? Maybe because you had wanted a reason to hate Nebraska. Maybe you had wanted a reason to hate them. But now they were gone. You wished more than anything you had been kinder during their last days.

You were thankful for the rain when tears finally spilled over, warming your face at the memory of your bitterness, your stubbornness. At least you wouldn’t have to explain yourself, as it seemed everything but the rain had gone quiet. For once, that included Arthur.

The rain grew harder and harder until Arthur finally called it. The pair of you stopped for what had to be the fifth time due to weather, building a camp once more.

Arthur had asked you to drive the tent stakes in while he gathered firewood in case the rain turned to snow. Sitting there utterly confused, you wished you had asked him to switch jobs. For he had handed you his revolver without explanation, and you sat there staring at the thing like it would turn and shoot you of its own volition. You’d only ever used rifles, repeaters, shotguns, bows. Longarms. You never had need for something so close-range and deadly—a man-killing gun. You could do that just fine with the others if the need arose. But Arthur was an outlaw, as you were so begrudgingly reminded when he handed it over. You thought about using its grip like a hammer, banging the stakes in, but you hadn’t a clue if it was loaded and didn’t know how to unload it if it was. So you sat there, half-drenched in the rain, waiting for his return. Knowing what his reaction would be when he did. The thought spurred you to action.

You approached your horse and got your gun out instead, knowing how to unload it. You did so before bringing it back over to the tent, working the first stake into the ground with your boot. Then you reared back with the gun, just high enough to aim true, and brought it down butt-first. The stake sunk a satisfying few inches into the soggy ground. You made a few more hits and got it deep enough before moving on to the next one. You had the second nearly done when Arthur returned.

“What the hell are you doing?”

You stopped and looked at him. “What you asked.”

“What, my gun ain’t good enough for you?”

You felt your face heat and returned to your work, sparing yourself the embarrassment of knowing next to nothing about sidearms.

He stormed over, forcing the gun from your hands. “Stop before you break it. Here.” He picked his gun up off the ground, holding it out to you. You wouldn’t take it. Too prideful to admit your shortcoming.

He scoffed, a bitter sound. “Figures.”

You didn’t understand. You didn’t know him well enough to know what riled him.

Before you could rush to fix whatever had gone wrong, he handed you back your gun, spinning his in his grip. “Move then.”

You did as he asked but said, “I can help,” thinking maybe that was why he was annoyed.

“I’m sure you can.” The sarcasm in those words made your anger rear its head in turn.

“What’s your problem?” you asked, watching him start on the stake much gentler than you had.

“I thought we were past this,” he said, not stopping, not even looking at you.

“Past what?”

He shook his head, moving to the next stake. You followed him and grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to look at you. “Past what?”

“Past you, shying away from my gun. Past who I am and what I’ve done. You didn’t want an outlaw leading you, you should have asked me to get lost the minute you found out.”

Oh. A complete misunderstanding. “Arthur, I-”

“Save it. I don’t wanna hear it.”

“No, you don’t understand. I don’t…” The reason behind not using his gun suddenly seemed a bit juvenile.

Your hesitation made him speak, bitterness lining his words. “I don’t want to hear whatever bullshit excuse you have for keeping me around,” he spat.

“I want you around.”

He stopped nailing the stake in. Just froze.

“I do. I just…didn’t know how to use the gun. And I was embarrassed. But I do want you here.”

He looked at you. Didn’t say a word before turning back to his work. You were a second away from getting onto him for jumping on your case when he spun back around. “You don’t know how to shoot this?” He held his gun up, the way he had twirled it in his grip unnaturally fast slightly unnerving.

“No. But-”

“Well we’re about to change that right now.” He stood, making for his horse in the still-pounding rain. “I ain’t letting you die for ignorance neither.”

“Arthur,” you chided, grabbing his shoulder again. He finally stopped and looked at you, all anger gone. “You can’t keep doing that,” you said quietly.

“Doing what?” Either he was a damn good liar, or he really was clueless.

“Wanting me to be upset with you over your…lifestyle.” His eyes clouded with thought, but he didn’t respond. You continued. “Whatever qualms you have with yourself don’t extend to me. I’ve only ever known you to be helpful. Kind.”

He forced a grin, a non-genuine one. “Yeah, well, you don’t know me very well.”

Maybe not. But you were tired of him wielding his insecurity like a weapon. “So be it. But stop getting upset with me over it. I’ve moved past it. So should you.”

He wouldn’t meet your eye then, his hat hiding his expression. Then he sidestepped you with a low, “Sure,” like you had asked the simplest of favors. “Come on then,” he said, his boyish ways returning. “This gun ain’t gonna shoot itself.” You swore you caught him grinning. Like a damn child, he was.

You and Arthur worked on your shooting for the better part of an hour. Truth be told, you weren’t very good at it. At least, you had expected better considering you were a dead shot with a rifle. This was close range. It should have been easier. But using one hand was harder, especially since that hand was a bit shaky and slicked with rain. Shooting a rifle required your entire upper body—a very steadying frame. But this was pure, blind faith that your eyesight saw true. Usually, it was close, but no dice. Other times it had Arthur damn near laughing at you.

“One more crack out of you and I’m quitting,” you told him, missing wide left of the tree trunk you were aiming at.

“I’m sorry,” he said on a laugh, most certainly not sorry. “I just didn’t expect this after seeing you hunt.”

You hadn’t really either. And it was beyond frustrating.

You took one more shot that hit the trunk at least, not nearly dead center, and called it good enough. “Here,” you said, holding out the gun to him like it was poisonous.

“Awe, come on, nameless. It ain’t that bad.”

You shoved it at his chest at the nickname with a sharp look before spinning on your heel and leaving him standing there.

“Relax, would you?” he called out after you. “Ain’t like it matters much, what with you and that rifle of yours.” At least he was right about that.

Darkness fell when the rain finally ceased, though the pair of you were content in staying camped for the night anyway. Arthur lit a fire, and you both sat around it like you had for the past month, the feeling becoming oddly familiar. This was usually the most peace you got, as he normally preferred to talk on the trail. When he sat by the fire, he ate, and it granted you a few moments of respite.

Tonight, you sat there watching the fire, thinking of Nebraska. Of the life that awaited you there. Could it really be just as good as your old life? Like Arthur had said? That was a fool’s hope and you knew it. It was out of reach the moment you lost the two people you wanted to spend it with most. But maybe it would be different enough, distracting enough, to give you a chance. That was all you had left anyway—a chance to live again. A very different life, almost like part of you had died back on that rocky hill. You knew you had, and yet here you were. You were torn between feeling guilty and proud over it.

“So you’re telling me,” Arthur said, mouth full of food and mannerless as ever. “There weren’t nobody even close to your age around. You didn’t even have any friends?”

Gee, what a lovely interruption. “No,” you spat, not in the mood to have this conversation again.

“No lovers?”

If the discontent in the look you leveled him with didn’t make him shut up, nothing would. And unfortunately, he opened his mouth to say something else. You couldn’t bear to hear it.

“Shut up. Just please, shut up.”

He smiled. “Touchy subject?”

“No,” you said with too much venom. It only widened his smile.

You rolled your eyes, thoughts of the very subject you didn’t care to ever think on pushing through. The only reason you even knew what sex was was because of a life spent hunting and watching animals. That, and the romance book of your mothers you had gotten your hands on in your younger teenage years. You read that thing cover to cover, read until your eyes felt like they would fall out of your skull, too stubborn to put it down because you wanted to know more. Now you cringed at the memory, attributing it to puberty and the impulsiveness that came with it.

“I can’t imagine that life,” Arthur said, drawing you away from those embarrassing thoughts. “I didn’t have many friends around neither growing up, but there was always people around. Always someone to…get to know.” The suggestion in those last words made you look at him, and the smile under his eyes confirmed their meaning.

“Congratulations,” you said flatly, standing. “I’m going to bed.” You would most certainly not be having this conversation with him.

He laughed. “You’re no fun, you know that?”

“And you could talk the bark off a tree.”

“I bet you could too, get you talking about the right thing,” he teased.

“And you think sex is what’ll get me talking?” You crossed your arms, needing him to see how stupid that was.

He shrugged. “Maybe. How was I supposed to know unless I asked?”

“Common sense,” you answered. “I told you I was alone up there. It isn’t that difficult to put two and two together.”

“I guess not.”

The gleam in his eye was boyish again, like when he discovered you didn’t know how to shoot his gun. Proving he was an idiot was futile, that much was obvious. You threw your hands up in defeat. “Forget it. Good night.” You stormed over to the tent, bundled up his bedroll, and threw it outside. “Enjoy the weather!” you shouted at him, not even looking to see if he would protest before you were back in the tent, yanking the flaps closed to block him out.

Arthur was starting to realize two things about you—the woman who existed before that nasty fall was mean. Not in a bad way but in an amusing one, almost like a rabbit baring its teeth. The second thing was that you had been raised by two adults, never around any siblings or friends, and the result was someone who didn’t know how to have any fun. He was going to have to break you of that. He would start later though when you weren’t so fired up. Maybe when you came across a town somewhere. No, in the meantime he would let you wallow in your self-righteousness, even if it landed him on the cold, soggy ground without a tent for cover for the remainder of the night.

He did draw his gun, cleaning it from your sorry attempts at firing it straight earlier. He’d have to find more ammunition to buy somewhere along the way. Definitely would if your skill didn’t improve, because he wasn’t letting you get away with being such a terrible shot. Not when he knew how good you were with that longarm. In fact, that gave him an idea. He waited long enough to know you were asleep before silently stepping into the tent and laying his revolver down, switching it with the rifle that stayed at your side while you slept. You’d have to practice somehow. He liked to think that was why he was doing this, not because of your earlier conversation. Certainly not because he still felt guilty and undeserving somehow, and that seeing you hold his gun eased that feeling.

Arthur shook that thought off as idiocy, walking to your horse. He stowed your gun for you, not wanting to give you an easier chance at protesting using his. Because if one thing was for certain, you liked to protest. Nearly anything he said. He thought you were just doing it out of spite at this point—your new state of existing. He didn’t care. He could take that, and he much preferred it over the sadness that used to haunt your eyes when you first met. As he said, mean. But in a way he almost enjoyed. It reminded him of Hosea.

Arthur laid out on his bedroll, glad for his coat since the wind couldn’t be kept away in the open air. He thought of his gang miles and miles behind, what trouble they were likely getting into without him. He usually kept the stragglers in line. Always the degenerates. He wondered who was doing it for him, since he knew hell would freeze over before Hosea did it. Or John. Maybe Dutch was finally falling into his old role of reluctant caretaker. Arthur smiled at the thought. The man had certainly done a number on him and John.

Arthur drifted off to thoughts of that past life, when the hardest decisions had lain in where they would go next. Not where to run, how to keep their heads down, how to survive. Things were simpler then. And in a way, you reminded him of those times. This whole trip had.

Arthur began to dream of Dutch and Hosea, you and him. The strangest mix of lives he could ever imagine. And when he awoke suddenly, he found himself in a nightmare. Eyes. There were eyes everywhere, low and stalking. Wolves. And like a fool, he had clean forgotten to get another gun from his horse. He was a sitting duck.

_________

Chapter nine is here.

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