#snowfall: all of you are fired

[themadnerdbirb]

I give you Snowfall about to throttle Permafrost and Tundra and Lynx eating ice cubes( ice popcorn).

[swordgrace]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍.

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

SYNOPSIS: a blissful marriage to an honorable man — it is more than you could’ve asked for. with the heir on the way, you make a request of your husband.

anonymous request. unofficial sequel to wolfsblood, dragonsblood.

{ FORMAT: one-shot — requested by anonymous.

{ WORD COUNT: 6.1K.

{ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), overprotective cregan, reader is pretty horny for cregan (valid), pregnancy, reader is pregnant, sexual activities while pregnant, cregan is a father in his mind, oral sex (fem!rec), cunnilingus, cregan loves munching, vaginal fingering, teasing, biting, hair-pulling kink, obvious size difference + size kink, slight face-riding, lots of cregan admiring in this one-shot, very soft ending + aftercare

{ AUTHOR’S NOTE: I love writing for Cregan so much, y’all don’t understand the depths of my adoration for him. I churned this out pretty quickly, but I loved writing it, Father Cregan is the best! I hope that you all enjoy, & thank you for your support! ❤️

𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐩, 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬.

It was easier to breathe, you’d realized — King’s Landing had always been so stifling and pungent, the population too thick, the air acrid. Here, in the North, it was sprawling with open spaces, regions of untouched forest and unsettled countryside.

The bite of the harsh, Northern chill was not an easy adjustment to make after a lengthy life spent in Southern regions — the gnawing wind often seared your extremities, and it was not any easier on Silverwing. Fire ran through your veins, tempered by your tender heart and kindly disposition.

Your beloved husband would not have it any other way.

What had started as an unsteady, tumultuous betrothal marked by obvious bitterness from your family and wariness from his own House, had blossomed into a fruitful union. You couldn’t have asked for a better partner, and it made you realize how fortunate you were.

Snow was uncommon in most of the South, yet it remained constant in the North, mountains blanketed in endless horizons of white. It was a particularly icy day, winter winds stinging your cheeks, prickling your flesh with its pinpricks.

Mounds of pale, grayish fur swaddled your form, lined in the finest fleece, downy and plush against your skin. The trodden path to the Godswood was marked by frozen dirt, dusted over with a fresh layer of snowfall. Sprinkles of crystalline drops fell from the cloudy skies, and your breath emerged in hot wisps of air.

Lilac hues drifted toward the mountainous form of your husband, whose back was turned to you, swathed in the dappled pelt of a direwolf. Ice hung from his shoulder, a massive longsword of Valyrian Steel, an heirloom passed down through generations of House Stark.

Someday soon, it will pass to your firstborn son.

You recalled the night that you were wed, beneath the crimson leaves of the Weirwood Tree. It was serene, a moonlit dusk that struck the snow with an ethereal glow, your hands bound as you recanted your vows. It had been some moons now since that day, and you had only felt joy since then.

Cregan listened to the light crunch of snow beneath your footfalls as they reverberated throughout the Godswood, the pond frozen-over with a layer of ice. Pale bark marked with a foreign face peered back at him — this was a place that he and Rickon visited many times.

Before his little brother had passed, they pretended to fight wars here, forge their weapons, sticks found from the forest floor, and envision themselves as Knights. He could still feel his brother sometimes, his presence a whisper in the blood-red leaves, somewhere within the forest’s song.

Religion was a complicated thing for you. Your mother wielded the Faith of the Seven like a crudely-worn shortsword, letting it strike to her advantage even when it was rusty, at best. You had little interest in it, and Cregan seemed to respect your growing distance from your old roots. The Old Gods were his — you had nothing.

Inklings of snow drifted from the pale skies, growing darker as evening approached. The North became unyieldingly harsh after the sun began to wane, the sting of biting wind swirling around you, seeping into your bones. You were rather cold, but persisted for Cregan.

“Ser Rodrick said that I might find you here,” Silence dissipated, filled with the sound of your voice, as soft as feathers, a soothing balm. You stepped closer, beneath the boughs of the great tree, the canopy thick with vermillion leaves. “How are you faring?”

With Winter approaching, spreading its cold, brittle tendrils across the North, Cregan’s duties had increased tenfold. Preparing his people for winter, ensuring that food was plentiful, that they were safe — it was the burden of leadership, but there was no one better suited for it in your eyes.

“Well enough,” Cregan murmured, storm-colored hues drifting over the Weirwood tree before they turned to you, completely and utterly transfixed. You stole every wisp of air from his lungs with your beauty, clad in the trappings of his people. “I apologize for running off.”

An amiable smile crossed your features as you reached for your husband, slipping a gloved palm against the crook of his arm. “You needn’t apologize, husband. You are owed your solitude, and I wouldn’t dare tell you otherwise.” You have his bicep a gentle squeeze.

Cregan’s gaze softened, sparkling with a warmth reserved only for you, his beloved. Your presence always seemed to melt away his hardened exterior, but he much preferred it that way. He stepped closer, towering above you in all of his indomitable glory, craning down to press a kiss against your brow.

The gloved leather of his hand moved to cup your abdomen, and the growing life within. The joyous news of your pregnancy had been the talk of the North, the new Lady Stark, preparing to birth an heir of Winterfell. Those thick furs you wore obscured your belly quite well.

“I should be asking you how you fare, carrying our child,” Cregan insisted, gingerly caressing around your stomach with the pride of a doting husband. “Here you are, walking all this way to the Godswood, when it is I who should be by your side.” If there was one word to describe Cregan, it was overprotective.

Gods, he was attentive — if he did leave your side, he ensured that you were well looked-after, under the watchful protection of his guardsmen. You couldn’t fault your husband for his safeguarding nature, given that it was to be your firstborn.

Sometimes he forgot that you were a dragon-rider.

“Being beneath the open sky has done me a world of good, husband,” You mused, canting your head to one side. You were not completely round and waddling just yet — halfway through, as the Maester stated. “I cannot stand to look at that dreadful cobblestone for days on-end.”

Cregan did not protest, nor invalidate your claims. He was not the one carrying a child — he did not have a right to speak on behalf of you. A shiver rolled down your spine, due to the bitter chill of the wind, coupled with the encroaching snowfall.

Instead, he reached for your jaw, cupping your face within the roughened texture of his leather-clad palm, presenting you with a kiss. It was kept brief, yet the ardor lingered, as strong as a burning flame. “You are shivering, beloved. Let us return to the Keep.” He rumbled, shielding you beneath his cloak.

A respite from the cold would be welcome. Even if you possessed the blood of the Dragon, you did not fare well in such blisteringly glacial conditions. The thick cover of your husband’s cloak brought a sense of comfort, coupled with the natural heat that radiated from him.

Snow crunched beneath his heavy footfalls, your own masked by his boots. Cregan made sure to guide you every step of the way, hovering with his impressive shadow. “I have been contemplating a name for our child.” You spoke softly, a smile toying upon your lips.

“Have you?” Cregan appeared appeased, a stoic smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You don’t know if we are to have a son or a daughter.” He remarked, letting your hand wrap around the bulk of his forearm, guiding you through the Godswood.

“Perhaps not, but I wanted you to hear,” Such ideas had been stirring around within your mind for weeks, and with Cregan so preoccupied, you hadn’t broached the topic of conversation. “Gilliane, after your mother, should we have a daughter, and … Rickon.” You hesitated. “Should we have a son.”

Cregan’s steps began to slow, and he looked upon you with such love and devotion that it was nearly overwhelming. He couldn’t have loved you anymore if he tried — and he had tried. Towering over you, he pressed a kiss against the top of your head, one that blossomed with fondness.

You gave him the greatest honor of all — that of fatherhood, and now, you had bestowed upon him sentimental names, those of his family. Love flourished within his storm-colored hues, and he seemed to soften at your words. “You would honor me beyond words, wife. Do you not wish to pay tribute to your own family?”

Placing a hand over the growing swell of your stomach, you seemed somewhat indifferent to talk of your family. Helaena and Daeron were the exceptions in this, but it did not pain you any less. “I pay tribute by carrying our child,” You replied, your smile threadbare. “That is enough.”

Solemn, Cregan simply nodded, understanding your strained relationship with the family you had left behind in King’s Landing. From what you told him and from what he discerned, you seemed much happier here, liberated and free of such poisonous clutches. “Of course.” A soft rumble reverberated throughout his chest.

Winterfell’s snow-laden gates were now within reach, as guards in Stark tabards harkened the return of its Lord and Lady. He thoroughly enjoyed watching you interact with the denizens underneath his protection — you often greeted them with smiles and laughter.

He watched you grow into your station as Lady Stark, a growth that showed such promise. You had been shy around Northerners at first, but you now walked as if you had been in Winterfell your whole life. Cregan kept you close, his stance that of a protective husband, hovering above you with his hulking stature.

The Keep was close, and you could feel the crackling warmth of the hearth lick across your skin in the forefront of your mind. Cregan was characteristically stalwart, keeping you wedged against his side, swaddled in the thick furs of the direwolf.

Once inside, you welcomed the gust of warmer air. The Keep burned many fires and braziers when winter became sharp and bitter, your cheeks stinging from the cold. “Shall we retire this evening, or are you lacking in nourishment?” Cregan inquired, knowing that your penchant for foodstuffs had increased while pregnant.

“Could something be brought to our chambers? Perhaps a stew or a broth, that sounds rather warming.” As if on-queue, your stomach lurched with inklings of famish, as if your child also demanded something to eat.

“It will be done,” With his stoic assurance, your husband bent down to press a kiss against your temple, smoothing a palm across your back. “I will join you shortly, wife.” Cregan had a tendency to walk the Keep before retiring — spare a word to the guards, those in the kitchens, and anyone underneath his care.

“Do not keep me waiting for too long.” You mused, lips curving into a warm smile that could melt even the hardiest of ice — including that of your husband. The vulnerability that seemed to come to him in your presence was a comforting thing.

With a soft huff, Cregan cupped your chin, looking upon you with tempestuous hues, as gray as a winter’s storm. “I wouldn’t dare.” He assured, presenting you with a tender kiss. Gods, you had sorely missed his mouth in many ways, and you were swift to reciprocate.

After you had become with-child, fuller and round with the heir to Winterfell, you had not engaged Cregan as much in terms of intimacy. He wanted you to relax, to not have to lift a finger. You missed your husband in more ways than one, giving way to your own basic desires and carnal instincts.

The kiss possessed a charged edge, tension looming above, the fringes of it seeping into your lips. You held onto his forearm, an audible sigh slipping past your mouth when Cregan withdrew. He could detect your yearning — the sentiment was a mutual one, but he feared hurting you, as any man would.

With a gentle hum, you allowed your husband to leave you, watching as his impressive form encapsulated all space within the corridor he walked in. You let him tend to his duties, and you made for the spiraling stairwell, making your way to your chambers without a hitch.

Thick, wooden doors gave way to the sanctuary within, the hearth being stoked and tended-to by one of the servants. “I thought you might want it warm, m’lady.” She mused, having laid out a series of new wardrobes for you across the foot of your bed.

“Thank you, Tanea.” The new gowns and dresses seemed to be made with your new specifications in-mind, accommodating for your growing belly. Part of you felt self-conscious when it came to your pregnancy — you no longer seemed to fit into your own skin.

“You must be excited, with the babe on the way,” Tanea was easy to speak with, an exuberant young woman with cherubic features. “Your Lord-Husband certainly is.” She chimed, finishing with the hearth as she moved about.

“Is he?” Cregan was sometimes difficult to read, countenance permanently etched with that stoic Northern scowl of his, but you knew how happy he was. Knowing that your servants could see it filled you with delight. “I may need your assistance, Tanea.”

“Very much so, m’lady. He speaks as if he is a father already,” She fluttered to your side, assisting you in relinquishing the weight of your fur cloak and overcoat you wore. Tanea arranged the garments back into the large, wooden wardrobe. “Do you need anything else?”

“I do not,” You smiled, moving to sit atop the fur-laden footlocker at the end of your shared bed. “You have my gratitude, Tanea.” The girl curtsied, a proper gesture, before making her way from your chambers.

Intrigued, you happened to admire the new gowns strewn across your bed, many of them styled in the Northern way of dress, save for your evening shifts. One in particular caught your eye, made of sage-hued silk, translucent and frilly, the sleeves billowing.

Pinching the fabric between your fingers, you decided on wearing it to bed, pushing yourself up right as you organized the rest elsewhere, into the space of your wardrobe. Heavy footfalls resonated outside of your door, with it creaking open to give way to Cregan.

Your mountain of a husband carried two bowls of steaming stew, placing them down along the small, rounded table. The intricate carving of a wolf rested along the table’s edge, made of wood from the Wolfswood. “Are you tired?” He inquired, removing Ice from his shoulders, scabbard and all, placing it near his bedside.

After you had become with-child, he kept it close, in case of any unsightly, dire circumstances. He would not ever allow himself to be defenseless in your presence. You had thought it to be somewhat overly cautious, but you did not dissuade him otherwise.

“Not really,” You hummed, reaching for the many pins keeping your braids in-place. You removed them one by one, placing the ruby-studded needles upon your vanity. It felt better to let your hair down, pale tresses cascading across your shoulders in soft waves. “I am perfectly awake.”

Cregan’s visage was one of clear appreciation and adoration as he stepped closer, admiring the way you looked. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” He insisted, hands moving to assist you in unlacing your dress. This was a common practice with each passing night — you enjoyed it.

Warmth crept along your features as you stood still, allowing him to untie your bodice with his calloused fingers, until the garment loosened. “You are much too kind, husband.” Stepping from your gown, you were left in a white slip, one that had grown somewhat uncomfortable with its tightness.

“It is not a kindness, but the plain truth.” Cregan replied, pressing a kiss against the pale crown of your head, inhaling a gust of your saccharine scent. “You are my beautiful wife.” He affirmed with a grunt, and moved away to change into his own smallclothes. Abandoning his leather and armor always felt unusual for him.

There was no debating your husband, whose stubbornness was sometimes renowned. Instead, you smiled, abandoning the snug, ivory fabric for your field of sage, hastily pulling it on over the swell of your stomach.

It gave you ample time to observe Cregan, whose musculature ensnared you time and time again. He was impressively thick, broad-shouldered and built like the Wall itself. Seeing him standing there in just his trousers made something hot stir between your legs.

You crept forward, shamelessly wrapping your arms around him from behind, and you could feel a tremor throughout his body when he huffed. “I have a handsome husband, a perfect husband — and that is the plain truth.” You hummed, cold cheek burying itself against the warmth of his skin.

Wordlessly, you peppered soft kisses against his spine, and to any scars and bruises that you could see. You listened to the sharp exhale from your husband, who did not protest your actions. Your lips felt like the kiss of snow, still cold from the chilly outdoors.

Cregan let you stay that way, and in-truth, he enjoyed it thoroughly. Those large, calloused hands placed themselves atop yours, lifting both to his lips as he kissed your knuckles. He let them drop, and you caressed him wherever you could. The gesture was soft, but he couldn’t deny the growing sensuality present between you both.

“For the blood of the dragon, your hands run cold, wife.” Cregan rumbled, soothingly tracing his fingers across your wrist, feeling your physique against his back, including the swell of your belly. You pressed your palms against his abdomen, able to feel the taut, subtle muscle there.

“It is a good thing that I have you to warm them,” The silky, soft resonance of your voice brought him comfort. You sounded so relaxed and blissful, feeling him sluggishly turn around within your hold. Cregan cupped your cheek, rough pad of his thumb tracing across your lips. You kissed his thumb. “Kiss me.”

Cregan’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smile, and he instead gestured to the meal he’d brought with him. “Once you eat and have proper sustenance, I might indulge you then, beloved.” He mused, noticing the twinge of disappointment on your face.

“Might?” There was an upward inflection within your tone, as if the mere suggestion of might had offended you to some degree. Your burly husband then caged you within his embrace, palms soothingly caressing along your hips. “Must you insist on tormenting me?” You teased.

With a low grunt, Cregan reached for his tunic, eyes twinkling with mirth. “For now.” Tugging on the dark blue linen of his nightshirt, he gestured for you to eat, sitting beside you at the table. His own chair groaned in protest, and before he knew it, you were devouring your stew.

A mouthful of warm, seasoned broth filled your maw, accompanied with hearty chunks of venison and stewed vegetables. The cuisine in the North differed greatly from the South, not that you minded. You often felt more fulfilled after meals than you used to.

“Gods, that was wonderful,” You groaned, the stew satisfying your cravings. It warmed you to the bone, causing a shudder to roll down your spine as you finished, nudging the bowl aside. “I could eat several servings of that.” Your confession prompted Cregan to smirk.

“Famished, were you?” Cregan mused, watching as you moved out of your chair, cradling your stomach with one hand. He very nearly rushed to assist you, but he knew you would’ve swatted him aside.

“Quite, but I am eating for two. Your child needs it as much as I do,” You remarked, wandering toward the hearth as you extended one palm toward the fire. The comforting heat licked across your flesh, the orange light dancing over your features. “Much better.”

Cregan joined you not long after, guiding you to sit atop the large footlocker at the end of your marital bed, closest to the open flames. His rough fingertips glided over the plane of sage-hued silks, as he admired your womanly form through the fabric. “This suits you.” He rumbled, gently tugging on the silk to accentuate his point.

“Tanea had the seamstress craft me new clothing, given that I’ve grown quite a bit,” Admittedly, you felt some insecurity in your current state, afraid that your husband may not enjoy you as he once had. “I am glad that you like it, husband. I was worried that you wouldn’t.”

Perplexed, chestnut brows furrowed together, his countenance one of clear concern. Slipping an arm behind you, he calmly stroked your side, silently beseeching you to tell him of your worries. He knew what it pertained to, even if it was left unspoken. “Your worries are misplaced. I love you.” He assured.

“It isn’t just that, I — I suppose I feared that you wouldn’t still enjoy me this way. Most husbands in the capital seemed so disinterested when their wives began to show.” This wasn’t the South, and Cregan was as far from a disinterested husband as one could get. He kissed your jaw, letting you rest against him.

“You are carrying our child, the heir to Winterfell — I would continue to love you regardless of what your body might look like. Damn the Southerners,” Cregan murmured, planting a hand atop your belly. “I look at you and I see my wife — I see perfection. My heart calls your name.” For a man so rugged and rough, his words made your blood surge with exhilaration.

Joining his hand, you placed your palm atop his, the one firmly perched against your belly. If Cregan were being truthful with himself, he found you to be painfully beautiful like this, swollen with his child, knowing that he put a pup in you. Those lascivious fantasies had now become reality.

“Ñuha dōna zokla,” My sweet wolf — your High Valyrian often brought him to heel, bringing out the siren’s lull within your voice. Cregan had made a valiant effort to learn some of the language for you, but it never sounded as pleasant on his Northern tongue. “I am yours.” You beamed, lilac hues glistening with ardor.

Bringing a calloused palm to your face, he traced the fine plane of your cheekbone, reveling in the velveteen texture of your flesh. A wolf, brought to heel at his dragon’s side. Cregan studied your Valyrian features, basking in your beauty, coaxing you in for a kiss.

Your mouth was disarmingly soft, catching him off-guard, stealing away all of his coherency. He felt you turn inward, palm planting itself against the thick, corded muscle of his thigh, gripping him tightly as he deepened your kiss.

Something warm stirred within him, a longing to feel your body against his, able to detect the hitch within your breath as he drew you closer. Your wanton need radiated from you in thick, permeating waves, enough to bring him into the intricate web of your desire.

“Easy, wife.” Cregan rumbled, wanting to temper your carnality before it raged into that of a dragon’s flame. Your pleading gaze suggested otherwise, prompting him to caress along the length of your spine. “I do not wish to hurt you.”

A begrudging sigh escaped your lips as you incessantly tugged at his tunic, staring at your husband with furrowed brows. “You wouldn’t,” You uttered, tracing your fingers over his heart. “We do not have to commit the entire act. I simply want to enjoy you in other ways — I miss it.”

Subtlety wasn’t your strongest suit, and Cregan knew this. Arousal stirred within him, cock twitching at your lascivious insinuations. “Hm,” A soft growl left him, one that seemed to share your sentiments. “Is that what my lady commands of me?” He murmured, holding you close.

“She does,” You hummed, treating him to a playful smile as you reached for his chestnut tresses. One of your hands slithered beneath his tunic, feeling along the solid, thick muscle of his abdomen. He stroked at your belly, a stern hum reverberating within his throat. “Gods, I need you.” You exhaled.

With your need laid bare, Cregan heeded you with a fire swirling within his gut. His hand dipped down to the apex of your thighs, pushing beneath your silken shift until he found your cunt. Gods, you were wet already, a tantalizing thing, one that he found delight in.

“You are warm already, beloved.” Cregan’s thunderous timbre raked down your spine, effortlessly gaining your subservience with ease. You shivered, feeling his thick fingers deftly caress across your slit, teasing and toying with you, gathering your slick.

Feather-light touches would have to suffice as Cregan lazily pressed one digit against your clit. His mouth found the slender expanse of your neck, delivering hot, passionate kisses against your throat.

A simpering whine tore past your parted lips, one filled with such urgency as you shifted closer, writhing against the sensation of his hand. Any lick of friction would do, consuming your body with its amatory heat. He grunted into the hollow of your throat, kissing you wherever you could.

Your own mouth found the impressive bulk of his shoulder, seeking to bring your teeth into his flesh. A sonorous, rumbling grunt left your husband when you bit him, leaving behind the crescent marks of your teeth. If it weren’t for your pregnancy, he would’ve marked you in this way, too.

Seeking the softness of your mouth, Cregan’s mouth twitched into a threadbare smirk as he kissed you hard, letting it linger as his hand withdrew from your skirts. A groan of disappointment left you, but he intended on making up for it fully.

He moved off of the footlocker, planting a lasting kiss against your brow. Towering over you, Cregan’s shadow eclipsed most flickers of firelight, gray hues swirling with warmth as he bent the knee to you, his beloved. It was a mesmerizing sight, one that you reveled in.

His massive musculature bullied its way between your thighs, warm palms shifting to caress along your legs, from ankle to calf. He had never seen someone as resplendent as you, breathtakingly beautiful, the blood of the dragon, his wife.

Gathering your skirts within your hands, you fisted the silks, dragging them up until they pooled around your hips. Warm lips embraced the crook of your knee, peppering kisses across your leg, until he reached the velvet flesh of your inner thighs.

Your hips began to tilt forward, seeking the pleasant heat of his mouth, a heat that he gladly granted you time and time again. Cregan kissed his way to the slick warmth between your legs, a thunderous exhale escaping him, chest vibrating with a grunt.

Cregan gingerly adjusted your position, letting your legs rest against his broad shoulders, your back sloped against the furs and footboard of your bed. He pressed a kiss against your mound, nose buried near your pelvis before he made his descent.

A warm lap of his tongue dragged itself over your core, like hot embers raking across your cunt. You sighed, blissfully succumbing to wanton desire, reaching for his crown of chestnut tresses, gripping at the back of his skull. “Cregan.” You whined, head rolling forward just a bit.

Pale waves framed your face, countenance contorted into an expression of sheer and utter bliss, brows furrowing together. Your husband happily found his solace between your legs, mouth pressing hot kisses across your cunt. His hand gripped at your haunch, the other trailing against your leg.

It was ambrosial, your taste; a finest stout, sweetest of nectars that stained his lips with your perfection. Cregan lapped at your cunt, dutiful and attentive, ensuring to find every spot that made you gasp for air.

Nimble digits fisted into the furs at your side, mouth agape as a myriad of throaty moans escaped you. Your hand roamed through his tresses, tugging and pulling whenever his tongue graced the pearl of your cunt.

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

Any inkling of roughness had dissipated from him in the wake of your pregnancy, replaced with a passionate devotion, a rapture reserved only for you. His strong hands held you close, caressing you wherever he could.

You tasted sweet upon his tongue, honey-thick and a feast to sate his appetite. If he would choose his fate, it would be in between your legs, listening to the myriad of moans and throaty whimpers leave you. It was satisfying to know how much you enjoyed this; derived pleasure from it.

A tremor gripped your legs, little spasms of delight making their way throughout your body. Cregan’s mouth forged a blazing path from the hood of your cunt to your entrance, tongue greedy and hot, before he went back up again, seeking your sensitive pearl.

“Cregan!” Gods, he brought you such pleasure, a pleasure that seemed to seep into your very bones, sate your endless yearning, for now. Your legs curled inward, tight atop his shoulders as you rocked yourself into his mouth, doing little to suppress the volume of your moans.

He pressed closer with a wolf’s appetite, throat burning with carnal hunger as he continued to lap at your slick cunt. Your arousal felt honey-thick upon his tongue, something reserved only for him, chin glistening with your nectar. Your legs squeezed at his head, and he knew that he pleasured you well.

Molten heat churned within the pit of your stomach, a sensation that you had been longing to feel again. Cregan did not relent, yet he happened to slow just enough to savor you, dragging his tongue toward that clutch of nerves at the hood of your cunt.

As soon as he pursed his lips around your clit, you nearly forgot your own name, thoughts completely derailed, scattered into a blissful abyss. Your body reacted with shivers and tremors, hand gripping at the nape of his neck with a reckless abandon.

Your back arched slightly, collarbone glittering with perspiration through the thick, warm haze of your chambers. The hearth had brought about a feverish heat, coupled with the throes of your intimate entanglement. Cregan derived satisfaction from your pleasure, delighted to please his wife.

Pliant flesh filled his palm as he cupped your derrière, bringing you closer, letting you grind yourself against his mouth, use him and take whatever you needed. A grunt stirred within his chest, reverberating within his throat as he went about seeking your clit, suckling on the pearl of your cunt.

“Oh Gods,” You moaned, nearly clasping a hand over your mouth to hide the salaciousness of your voice. Surely, the servants had heard you by now — you would be fortunate if all of Winterfell didn’t hear you. “I — I’m close!” Rocking forward again, you let out a whimper.

With a strangled whine, you desperately chased after your release, one that you had sorely needed. Cregan’s cock twitched at the sound of your delicious moans, a shudder rolling down his spine whenever you whimpered his name. “That’s it,” He rumbled, hot breath fanning over your core. “Go on.” His encouragement was softly spoken through his Northern timbre.

He wanted to stay there, rooted between your legs, mouth consuming your cunt as if it were his last meal; a man wrought with starvation.

Cregan favored it, thoroughly reveling in the way your body reacted to him, visceral and ecstatic. He gingerly suckled on your clit, feeling your fingers tighten within his chestnut locks, gripping him tight. He wanted you to have your release, built upon this pent-up feeling.

He could feel your encroaching release, feel the tension in your grasp, the way you let your hips continue to lurch forward. Without relenting, Cregan continued to suck at your clit, letting it intermingle with hot laps of his tongue, dutiful and fervent between your legs.

A comfortable silence filled the gap between you, intermingled with the sounds of your pleasured cries and Cregan’s sonorous grunts. That heated coil within your stomach began to unfurl, bringing an onslaught of arousal with it as you bucked into his mouth.

At last, your peak consumed you in a white-hot oblivion, and you very nearly saw the stars themselves. With a strangled gasp, your legs tightened on either side of his head, followed by a blissful rush of liquid heat. Your grip began to slack upon his tresses, chest heaving from exertion.

Cregan lingered there for a few moments more, tongue caressing your cunt, cleaning up any last drop of your nectar. His mouth glistened with it when he did inevitably withdraw, lashing across his lips before he kissed your thighs, showering you in affection.

“Do you feel better?” He mused, kissing the crook of your knee before standing to his feet. You were positively hot, feeling a feverish warmth crawl across your skin, thighs shaking in the aftermath. You hastily adjusted your slip, regarding him with a gracious expression.

“Very much,” Your confession made him smirk as he helped you into bed, abandoning his tunic at the iron-wrought foot. As he settled down, you joined him, curled within the space at his side. “Would you like me to return the favor?”

Cregan never expected you to do anything that you didn’t want to — never feel obligated, either. He would survive without a night of release. “Tomorrow, perhaps.” He murmured, moving to rest a hand against the swell of your stomach, caressing your growing bump.

“Thank you, husband — for everything.” A gentle hum left you as you placed your hand over his, allowing him to protectively cradle your stomach. You let your head rest against his shoulder, his arm holding you at his side.

A bemused huff escaped him as he peered at you with mirthful hues, gray eyes that resembled a thunderstorm. “You needn’t thank me,” He assured, briefly pressing a kiss to your temple. “You needn’t ask for it, either.” Cregan enjoyed the taste of your cunt more than anything else.

You couldn’t help but smile, sheepishly moving to press a kiss against his jaw. “I love you,” You sighed, letting your ardor for him be known as you felt your eyes grow heavy. “Tomorrow, I would like for us to see Silverwing. She grows lonely in my absence.”

Cregan knew how much the creature meant to you. He had met Silverwing before, but he dared not climb upon her back — you’d asked it of him several times before. “Of course, beloved.” He murmured, basking in the heat of the firelight.

A sharp, fluttering sensation blossomed throughout your abdomen, prompting you to gasp. It was sudden and unexpected, but not painful. It was foreign, and had been happening on rare occasions.

“What is it?” Cregan questioned, visibly concerned before you dismissed it with a bright, delighted smile. You gently guided his hand elsewhere atop your stomach, pale brows furrowing together as you searched for the source.

“There,” You mused, joyous laughter escaping you as another kick fluttered against your joined hands. “Do you feel it?” It was heartwarming to watch the happiness glisten within his eyes, the way in which he adjusted his position to truly feel. Cregan’s true smiles were a rarity, and you saw it now.

The blood of the wolf and the dragon stirred within, prompting you to smile appreciatively at your husband. This was something the both of you had made with your love, the heir to Winterfell. “They seem strong,” Cregan remarked, leaning over to plant a kiss against your brow. “Perfect, just like their mother.”

His hand never left your belly, even as he maneuvered the furs over the both of you, letting you move to lay against the warm expanse of his chest. Cregan exhaled, staring into the dying embers of the heart, tracing his digits along the swell of your stomach.

“Strong, just like their father.” You whispered, pressing a kiss against his jaw before you settled down for slumber, shielded by the protective grasp of your Lord-husband.

[thewidowsledger]

Winter Solstice

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairings: Hunter!Natasha Romanoff x Witch!Female Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Beware of: SMALL GRIZZLY BABY FLUFFY CLINGY WHINY SNOTTY STINKY TASHA BEAR ��⁠´⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠`⁠ʔ

Author's Note: I am a huge fluff girlie and I have been dying to publish this one🥹 and yippieee! I was listening Birds of a Feather while writing this...

Navigation | Masterlist

⧗

"Natasha…" you read, your breath showing in the cold air as you read it.

She was all paws, at first. Her movements are awkward and uncoordinated, clumsily trying to adjust to her new form. You reasoned that perhaps some time spent as a bear would be beneficial. Humans, after all, seemed so lacking in magic, so terrible—so disconnected from the world and the elements around them.

⧗

During the first snowfall of the season, witches must venture into the forest. This is a sacred tradition, a time for the witches to connect with nature and harness its powers. The trees stand tall, their branches coated in a pristine layer of snow, their tips adorned with shimmering icicles. The forest is silent, the snowfall and wind muffling the usual sounds of wildlife.

You continue your walk through the blizzard-filled forest, the snow falling in a flurry around you. The path is slippery underfoot, the icy terrain making each step precarious.

As you try to maintain your balance, your foot suddenly slips on an unseen sheet of ice, sending you to the ground with a jarring thump. In an instant, you reach out for support, your hand finding a nearby tree trunk. But in that moment, a rush of adrenaline-fueled magic surges out of your fingertips.

The sudden slip sent you sprawling onto the icy ground, knocking the air out of your lungs. As you struggled to recover, a shout echoed through the snowy forest, catching your attention. The sound seemed to come from nearby, and you strained your ears to pinpoint its direction.

As you walked towards where you heard the echoed scream, you saw nothing but some fabrics and some boots on the ground. Who would try to go out during a snowstorm? You asked yourself as you approached the clothes and boots lying on the snowy ground, curiosity piqued, you knelt down to take a closer look. But as your hand is mere inches away from the fabric, something beneath it moves. Your breath hitches and you freeze, watching as a small bear emerges from underneath the discarded attire. Its black eyes regard you with cautious curiosity, its body tense but unthreatening.

You observed the bear with a growing sense of dread, you noticed something peculiar…

For the love of Mephisto, it was your sign, perfectly etched onto its arm.

"Fuck…"

It was a mark, a subtle reminder of the magic you had inadvertently released. This bear, this poor creature, was the result of your magic gone awry because of the stupid slip.

Your first instinct was to run and you did, without hesitation, you sprinted away from the bear, leaving it behind in the midst of the raging snowstorm—you ran away from the consequences of your actions. The sound of your own footsteps and labored breathing filled your ears, drowning out any sense of conscience or remorse.

However, the bear was determined and persistent so it followed you, whining and growling in its attempts to catch up. At first, you had no mercy, slamming the door shut in its face. But as the cold of the night settled in, so did your guilt. You had only planned to allow the bear to warm itself by your fire for the night. You promised yourself that come morning, you would find it a new place to stay.

But the bear quickly made itself comfortable, indulging in your supply of honey and curiously pawing through your spellbooks. It even went so far as to find its way into your bed, seeking to cuddle close. Your initial annoyance nearly compelled you to turn it into a mealworm, but then you found yourself gazing into its pitiful face.

"Just for tonight…" you muttered to yourself.

Many nights had passed, you decided to head back to the place where you had found the bear, and there you found its abandoned clothes and shoes. You examined the belongings, you noticed a set of bows and arrows, not so far behind along with a collection of knives. This was a hunter, you realized. No ordinary one, judging by the various types of knives at its disposal. And that's when you knew the bear's name, carved in on one of the knives.

"Natasha…" you read, your breath showing in the cold air as you read it.

She was all paws, at first. Her movements are awkward and uncoordinated, clumsily trying to adjust to her new form. You reasoned that perhaps some time spent as a bear would be beneficial. Humans, after all, seemed so lacking in magic, so terrible—so disconnected from the world and the elements around them.

But a number of new moons had passed. Despite your efforts, you were unable to undo the enchantment. The bear, formerly a human who was stuck in the form of a bear cub, now grew into a midsize bear, you cannot carry her around like a baby anymore. She had adapted to her new form, displaying a surprising level of intelligence and cooperation as you continued your attempts to unravel the magic you had inadvertently invoked.

Today, you had decided to enlist the assistance of another witch who might be able to help you reverse the magic you had inflicted upon Natasha.

"Stinky! Come here!" you called out, beckoning for the bear to come closer. To your surprise, she actually started walking towards you, moving with a grace that didn't exactly scream "clumsy bear."

You leaned down to level her, "We're going to Asgard and I want you to behave, alright?" you instructed the bear, who simply tilted its head to the side in a cute manner. You couldn't help but roll your eyes, finding her antics endearing despite the situation.

"No swimming in the puddle, no biting anyone's shoe or cloak," you said sternly, listing off your rules for Natasha's behavior while visiting your friend. However, as you started listing her next instruction, you stopped when she dashed towards the window, growling at something outside.

When you followed her gaze, you noticed an owl perched outside the window, watching the two of you with its piercing eyes. You couldn't help but smile recognizing the owl, then in a blink of an eye the owl transformed into a human, revealing Loki himself.

"Loki, what are you doing here? I was supposed to come to your realm..."

Before you could even approach Loki for a hug, Natasha had already lunged forward and clamped her jaws onto the hem of your friend's cloak.

"Stinky! Hey! What did I tell you about biting!" you scolded, trying to get Natasha to release Loki's cloak. Your friend just simply laughed and gently dislodged the bear's jaw from the fabric. "It's alright, my cloak can handle a little tug," he assured you, a smile playing on her lips.

"You've got some territorial thing right there, huh?"

But your friend grew impatient, he smirked as he observed the bear's unwavering bite to her cloak before channeling his magic. With a flick of his wrist, he casted a spell that sent Natasha flying away to the side of the room. Your eyes widened in surprise as you watched Natasha land on the wooden floor with a loud thud. However, before you could rush to her aid, Loki stepped in and enveloped you in a warm embrace.

"It's been so long since I saw you little one."

Natasha who was still dazed from being thrown onto the ground, began to whine in pain. She attempted to move towards you, but before she could take a single step, Loki casted another spell. In a fraction of a second, Natasha's eyes drooped shut, and she succumbed to sleep, leaving you somewhat dumbfounded.

"Wow, that's uhm…" your voice was trailing off awkwardly as you stared at Natasha's knocked out form while Loki was still so busy embracing you.

"So what you need me for, little one?" Your friend asked as he finally, finally pulled away.

You breathed, smoothing your dress. You finally eyed your friend who was looking at you questioningly and patiently.

"This…" you pointed at the bear, "this is what I need you for?" You smiled at her awkwardly before scratching the back of your head.

"That thing?" Loki asked, laughing out loud that for sure made the birds and small animals nearby your cottage scurried away.

"W-well, yes…I mean she's not a thing Loki, she…she was a human," your head was low and you looked at him, his arms crossing as he listened. Your fingers fidgeted with the laces of the corset, trying to discreetly adjust the garment that felt oddly constricting—you feel suffocated.

"You...a witch...has a human in yo—"

"I slipped during the first moon of winter and I accidentally turned her into…that." You bit your lip in embarrassment, not letting him finish his words, you know he will scold you. "Please help me?"

You knew Loki was far more experienced and knowledgeable than you when it came to magic, having lived for centuries. Compared to her, you were just a fledgling, "the little one" they call you. The thought made you feel somewhat inadequate, but you knew he was your best chance at reversing the enchantment you had cast upon Natasha.

"Sure, little one."

A thorn was picked out of your heart when Loki agreed to help. In your eagerness to get started, you quickly knelt down beside the sleeping bear, gently guiding its head onto your lap, its soil colored soft fur against your skin.

"Alright, let's get to work," he said, "First, I need to understand exactly what happened. Can you walk me through the spell you used that led to this...situation?"

Your shoulders slumped slightly as you tried to recall the exact details of the event.

"I honestly don't know," you confessed, a note of helplessness in your voice. "It was an accident, truly. I slipped on some snow, and...it just happened. A spell slipped out, and the next thing I knew, there was a bear where a human was supposed to be."

Loki listened intently and nodded to your explanation. Then, with a determined look in her eyes, he stepped closer to the bear and knelt in front of you both, he raised his hands in a gesture of summoning her magic. Then a green glow enveloped Natasha's sleeping form.

However, as he attempted to cast the spell to reverse the enchantment, it didn't work at first. A frown crossed his face as he tried again, his frustration growing as the spell remained unsuccessful.

As each enchantment failed, Natasha continued to writhe in pain, you could no longer bear the sight and shut your eyes tightly, trying to block out the scene. But you couldn't block out the sound of Natasha's whimpers, the soft, pitiful noises that tore at your heart and filled the room with a sense of helplessness.

"I might have to take her heart."

But yours dropped at what he just said.

"What? No!" You protested pulling the bear's unconscious body who's still whimpering in pain.

"That's the only way littl—"

"No…" you insisted, looking at Natasha who was curled like a ball on your lap, you gently caressed her fur—no magic, hoping that it would lessen the pain that she's feeling.

"If that's the only way then no, it could kill her Loki."

"Little one, no it won't—"

"But it will hurt her." Your voice almost cracked as you said it. "Goodbye, Loki. I'm sorry for wasting your time." You said with a finality, you will not have her take Natasha's heart.

Your friend's face softened as she realized that you were adamant in your decision and he respected it. He now stood and patted your head.

"I'll see you, little one." With that, he transformed back into being an owl. Her wings fluttered as he took flight and disappeared out the open window, leaving you alone with a bear that was supposed to be back to its human form now.

"I'm so sorry Stinky, I promise I won't stop until we get you back. Alright?"

⧗

You decided it was time to venture into town. The supplies in the cottage were running low, and a fresh batch of ingredients would allow you to continue concocting more potent potions in your pursuit to restore your companion to her human form. Also, for some food restocking especially that you had ten human stomachs living in your place.

As a bear, Natasha was a bit less picky with her food. She pretty much devoured whatever she could find, and one evening, you nearly panicked when she bit into a bird she had found pecking at some berries.

You had to quickly and harshly open her mouth to spit the poor bird out, and she did so, albeit reluctantly, looking at you defiantly with bird feathers stuck in her teeth. And there was another afternoon, when you had been out gathering firewood, you burst into the cottage with an armful of it. And there she was, standing in your living room particularly proud of herself as she held up the snake in her grotesque teeth, waiting for your reaction. But you dropped the firewoods and let out a shrill scream as you saw the large snake still moving from her mouth.

She looked at you with all innocence and confusion in her eyes, tilting her head as if to ask, why were you freaking out? You swear you had to remove the thought of having her in a cage because being trapped in a bear's body is too much already.

As you strolled through town ready to go back to the forest after picking some things, you noticed some papers scattered on the plaza. You frowned and reached one.

"Missing…" you whispered to yourself, you examined the drawing of the missing person with great care. It was a woman, you studied her appearance described within. The image was black and white but conveyed the distinctive attributes; she had her hair in braids, and she boasted massive arms, pointed eyes, and a prominent nose.

"Natasha Romanoff?" The name felt like a curse in your mouth as you read the ink printed on the paper and you almost choked.

"A witch hunter…"

You immediately crumpled it and put it in your basket before walking away from the town, not even daring to turn back.

As you walked the trail on your way home with unease, you noticed footprints marking the ground. You reached the ground touching the dirt. Horses.

You also smelled a faint smell of fresh tobacco lingering in the air. Someone had been here recently, and they must be nearby.

And your cottage is nearby.

You immediately run and as you approach your secluded cottage, nestled in the hills, and the sight of two horses grazing in the meadow sets your heart racing. They stand abandoned, their saddles empty, and there's no sign of their riders. The silence of the hills suddenly feels oppressive, and you can't help but wonder who has been here, and what they could want with your humble home.

You were so startled by the sudden voice that you dropped everything you had just bought from the town—a fresh loaf of bread, a jar of honey for Natasha, and a few ingredients for the next potion you're going to work on with her as well as the crumpled paper you picked from the plaza. You whirled around to see a man with an eye patch approaching you.

"Do you live here?" he asked, his one good eye locking onto yours.

"Y-Yes," you stammered, your mouth going dry as you took in the sight of the man. "I live here. Can I help you with something?" You tried to steady your voice as you spoke, hoping the stranger didn't notice your nerves. He seemed to be assessing you, his one eye scanning you up and down. He stopped when he saw the scar burn in your arm and you instinctively pulled down your sleeves to cover it.

It was a burn you got from one of the items Natasha left, a cold iron. And it is one of your weaknesses—witches' weaknesses.

He continued his questions, his eye narrowed. "You live here, alone, in this forest?" He paused for a moment. You remained silent, not wanting to reveal too much, especially not your secret as a witch.

He seemed to take your silence as an answer, and continued. "Aren't you afraid?"

You shook your head side by side.

As the stranger spoke, he began to explain that he and his friend were nearby looking for someone—a woman who had gone missing months ago. He described her with the same features you saw on the paper you found in a plaza that is now crumpled in the dirt in front of you. You simply stepped at the paper wishing he wouldn't see it.

"She was last seen around here. Have you seen anyone here in the past weeks? Months?" You felt your throat go dry, the words getting caught in your throat.

Well, you didn't. All you have seen around in the past months was a small brown bear.

Then all of a sudden a shout emitted in the air, and the bear as you speak, charging after a man. Instinctively, you reacted and kneeled down, stopping the bear in its tracks. You carried her in a hip hold, feeling her fur and her trembling body as she tried to catch her breath. The stranger stood there in shock.

"Stinky? What did I tell you? Hm?" You groaned, adjusting her from your hip, she's becoming a little too heavy now.

"That's a monster!" He shouted, making the one-eyed man palm his face.

"She's just a bear." You hissed that made the wonky man shake even more.

They had absolutely no idea that this bear could be the same woman they were looking for. Even though you knew that they could be her family, and you were the one who caused her to be in this bear form, you couldn't help but feel selfish. You felt a fierce desire to keep her with you. You knew it was wrong, but the feeling of possessiveness was getting the best of you.

"We're going to leave you now," the one-eyed man spoke, his friend beside him still shaking as they walked to their horses.

As you put the bear on the ground, the man called again.

"Young lady, be careful."

It should bring you comfort as they were intended to offer, but the tone of his voice made it feel like a threat, as if he knew more than you wanted him to know.

⧗

You huffed as a nose nudged your elbow. "What?"

Natasha, despite her animalistic state, still exhibited human-like behaviors. She grabbed a hold of your cloak with her teeth, whining softly at you.

You sighed heavily, accepting the cloak from her. Even though Natasha's actions were those of a bear, you could sense the familiar gesture, and your heart ached at the thought.

"Thank you," you whispered, wrapping the cloak around your shoulders, the fabric feeling both comforting and melancholic.

The bear moaned before lumbering across the fire from you. She sat patiently, knowing how this worked by now.

You continued to rack your brain, trying to think of any possible solution to the enchantment. This was far from being the first attempt you had made to turn her back into a human, yet all your efforts seemed fruitless.

Despite your growing frustration, you refused to give up. You were determined to find a way to restore Natasha's human form, even if it meant exhausting all possible avenues and risking failure again.

You knew that the situation wasn't as simple as casting a basic spell, because spells could easily wear off or become dependent on the subject's current condition. And it wasn't a curse either, because you hadn't experienced any negative effects yourself. Nothing tethered your life to hers.

But she is your responsibility, it was your fault she's being like this—you were the reason why she's suffering. Even as she had grown much larger, no longer able to fit comfortably on your bed, she still loyally slept on the hearth beside you every night. You continued to share your meals with her and worked on spells and potions together, despite knowing that each attempt was a gamble and could potentially fail.

"This might be it," you whispered, watching as the steam from the potion began to recede. The potion's color shifted, and when you looked at the viscous liquid, you could almost see your reflection.

With a shaky hand, you carefully picked up a ladleful of the potion and offered the bowl to Natasha.

The bear wrinkled her nose at the smell of the potion, sticking out her tongue in distaste.

"Come on, it can't be that bad," you said, holding the bowl out persistently.

After a moment's hesitation, Natasha accepted the bowl in her oversized paws. She sniffed at the potion once more, her nose twitching as she took in the scent. Then, after a brief moment, she dared to take a small lick of the liquid.

You couldn't help but smile at the bear's reaction to the steaming hot potion.

"You silly stinky, it's a bit hot," you warned, chuckling lightly as you watched her expression.

She let out a series of sounds, and you couldn't help but wonder what her human voice would sound like. She went to fetch a mouthful of snow to cool her mouth and then ate the remaining potion with her sharp, bear-like teeth.

You held your breath, your knuckles turning white as you clenched the edges of your cloak tightly. The cold mountain breeze swept around you, but you barely felt it as you waited anxiously for a reaction from the bear.

It was no longer feasible to conduct experiments with Natasha inside the cottage; her size had become too large to contain within the four walls—almost thrice the size of you. After the messy fiasco that resulted from the previous indoor spell, you had decided to avoid any further incidents inside your dwelling. The memory of the hours spent cleaning the aftermath was still fresh in your mind.

It was clear that the spell had no effect, not a bit, causing her to deflate and slump down in the snow.

You studied the bear as she looked around her surroundings and then down at her paws.

It didn't work.

You averted your gaze to your own feet, your boots sinking into the snow. Disappointment coursed through you, the familiar sense of failure settling in your chest. You had hoped that this time, the spell might have been the solution, but once again, you were met with another dead end. It wasn't just the failed potion that weighed heavily on your mind, but the profound sadness evident on Natasha. Perhaps she missed her old life, or maybe there was a significant event coming up in her human existence. You also hadn't had the chance to inquire if she had family or friends waiting for her. How could you? You literally turned her into a bear?

Natasha, still in her bear form sat up again despite her weary demeanor, her ears drooping sadly. She let out a faint moan, her breath visible as it left her muzzle in the cold air.

Your heart ached as you watched her reaction. Every failed attempt weighed heavily on your soul, but this one felt particularly disheartening. Your hopes had been soaring high, and you truly believed that you had concocted the correct formula this time.

You had even gotten her hopes up about this latest attempt. You had scrutinized the spell book together, acquired the necessary ingredients and confidently told her that maybe this time, the spell would work for sure. The potion was meant to reverse the development of cells, typically used on vegetables to undo being pickled. However, you had delved deeper into research and believed that it could potentially work on a living subject.

In preparation, you had even tested the spell on fish, which you had generously offered to Natasha as a tasty reward. Indeed, the spell had functioned perfectly.

"I'm so sorry."

With a mournful expression, the bear raised its head, looking directly at you. Even while seated, she stood tall enough to meet your gaze.

"I thought—" your voice caught in your throat as tears threatened to escape and you swiftly pressed your lips shut. You didn't have the right to weep; it was her life who had endured the more profound suffering.

Your hand reached out to gently caress her head, your fingers threading through the soft, brown fur. Your thoughts drifted to those moments when she would sneak into your bed for warmth and you would idly toy with her ears while she slept.

The bear emitted a soft bellow, leaning forward to tenderly nuzzle her snout against your tear-streaked cheek. She then placed her head on your shoulder and encircled you with her embrace, her large paw draped around you carefully so as not to harm you with her sharp claws.

Bears possessed remarkably warm bodies, and when she pulled you so close, her heat enveloped your body, a comforting presence amidst the disappointment and yet another failure.

You pressed your nose against the fur of her neck and took a deep breath, appreciating the improvement in her scent compared to the days when she was smaller and clumsier. She had grown out of her messy phase, no longer getting her food everywhere, which meant fewer baths.

You gave her chest a firm pat, "Come on," you said gently, signaling her to follow as you led her back towards the safety and warmth of the cottage.

In solemn silence, the bear followed behind you, her large paws kicking up plumes of snow to smother the lingering flames of disappointment from the failed spell.

It was a disheartening moment, and you both knew that the abandoned cauldron would remain behind, its contents and the memories of your hopes extinguished by the snow's cold embrace.

You did your best to restrain your tears as you stepped inside the cottage, hanging up your cloak beside the door. Your bear companion waddled straight to the fireplace and collapsed heavily onto the rug you had woven for her, groaning faintly as her weight fell heavily on the woven fibers.

When Natasha felt you against her back, she stirred, and the ache in your heart intensified once again, knowing that the solution still eluded you.

"I'm sorry, Stinky," your voice choked with tears as you pressed your face against her fur, letting the hot liquid from your eyes soak into the thick hairs. She responded with a deep sigh, her muzzle lifting slightly to ruffle your hair. Your heart ached.

"I never meant to alter your life like this," you murmured, the weight of guilt heavy on your conscience.

She didn't exactly have a reply for you.

You leaned heavily on her chest, the weight of disappointment and exhaustion taking its toll. "But I won't stop. I won't give up until I change you back."

The guilt from being partially responsible for her current state continued to gnaw at you. You couldn't help but contemplate the possible scenario of her going back to her human form.

But you will take it, everything.

Even if she harbors resentment towards you, even if she yelled and screamed at you in fury, even if she arrived brandishing a pitchfork with the town's folk with the intent to burn down your cottage.

Or perharps she would torture you herself and bring you to the town where the people would decide how you'll die in their hand.

She was missing, she was declared missing by her people and it was your fault.

You know damn well she will kill you. Oh she will.

A witch hunter, turned into a bear by a witch…supposedly you should've just kicked her out or killed her like any other witches would do the day you found the paper in the town—the day you found out that she's a witch hunter or maybe the same day you saw her.

A witch hunter and a witch, you're dead—not if you kill her first though.

But still you had offered a sanctuary within your cottage and you still couldn't disregard the fact that this was all just temporary respite against the cold for her. She was probably longing for the familiarity of her own home, her own family. What if those old creeps who were looking for her were her family? What if she had a partner who whispered tender words to her in the soft darkness of night? And what if she had children who questioned each twilight about the whereabouts of their mother? Were her children's bedtime tales whispered by a grandmother about wicked witches who abducted huntsmen, ensnaring them as their eternal slaves?

You would give the potion another try, but this time you would be more meticulous in your tests. You would extend your research to include larger specimens, more varied species. As a witch, your life was committed to the magic and pursuit of its limitless knowledge, and this Natasha's transformation back to her human form had become your new mission. Despite knowing that she would likely loathe you and curse your name across the annals of time.

You couldn't fathom how you'd manage to rest with such thoughts haunting your mind. Nevertheless, before you had drifted off to sleep, you reached to kiss Natasha's cheek before burying your face into the comforting softness of her fur, still carrying a hint of the fire's smoke. The alluring warmth radiating from her enveloped you, and you couldn't help but nuzzle your face in her fur once more, your fingers tenderly combing through the silky strands—to the mark you etched in her skin.

You groggily opened your eyes, sensing a different sensation the next morning. The bear's fur didn't feel quite the same as it had the night before, and when you attempted to rouse yourself further, a wince escaped your lips. You knew that crafting a new potion or casting a spell each evening drew heavily on your magical reserves, and you were rapidly approaching your limit.

"You okay?"

"Hm…" You moaned lazily as sunlight touched your slumbering eyes, gradually awakening to your surroundings. It dawned on you that you were still on the floor, gazing up at the now extinguished fireplace. Given the absence of warmth, you anticipated being chilled. However, you noted an unexpected comfort, realizing you weren't in your bed but rather resting upon something solid and warm...a chest, perhaps?

Your head snapped upright, the sudden realization hitting you like a wave. It wasn't your bear with her massive black eyes, nor the damp, cold nose. It is a human, a strong pair of muscular arms wrapping you close, with a body and her auburn hair almost covering half her face but you didn't miss the pleasant smile that graced her lips, and the sound of her deep soft hum reaching your ears.

"S-stinky?"

[kitten4sannie]

pairing: ex! san x fem! reader feat. wingman seonghwa and instigator mingi

genres: omg actual plot ??, exes to lovers, romance, angst with a happy ending, fluff, an attempt at humor, smut finale

summary: during a winter getaway with your friends, you end up having to come face to face with choi san, the man who broke your heart in two just last christmas.

w.c: 8.2k

tags: features the unholy trinity: misunderstandings/miscommunication/messiness, drama (i bring drama-ma-ma-ma~), alcohol use, mutual jealousy, mutual pining, lots of banter, third parties, poor sannie and reader are just two big dummies with even bigger hearts </3,, like 20 flashbacks (okay it’s like 2 but i like being dramatic sue me), too many winter analogies, insecurities, confessions, l bombs, tears, all that jazz

warnings: soft dom! san (literally the softest dom to ever exist IM SICK), subby! reader, pussydrunk san and cockdrunk reader (like these mfs are so desperate for each other it’s actually disgusting), dirty talk, pet names, praise, possessiveness, kissing, a lot of spit (leave me alone!!!), tit play, grinding, body worship, oral (receiving), passionate condomless lovemaking by the fire baybeeeee, breeding kink, bulge kink, creampies

a/n: so i listen to last christmas religiously every year and while i was jamming my hamster brain was like “WRITE WRITE WRITE” so i diddd and yeahh this happened??? lmao but fr this was the most fun i’ve ever had writing since feb filth fest…. like wtf. i gotta write plot forward fics more often this shit’s like a drug man. anyways i hope you enjoy my dear lovelies <33

*shoutout to my sweetheart bunbun @cottoncandy-girl for beta reading and hyping this fic up during the writing process. i would’ve second guessed myself twice as much if not for you. you’re a lifesaver!! mwah mwah ~~

song rec for the general vibe: last christmas by wham obv <3, fool by frankie cosmos, snowfall (slowed and reverb) by oneheart, know me by gemini, easily by bruno major, flowers and chocolate by eyedress

angst: pleaser by the wallows, do me right by gemini, homesick by wave to earth, cherie by hojean

smut: mice city by hotel ugly, between your thighs by jimmy brown, lock me in by hojean, touch by keshi, your love by brb

Masterlist

“Hey, Y/N,” your best friend began, walking around the side of your beat-up car to the trunk where you were busy shoving various suitcases and bags into the small space and trying to make them fit. “So, don’t get mad, but–”

With a case of wine bottles in hand, you slowly set it down on the lip of the trunk, side-eyeing your friend with the intensity of a thousand suns. It was so powerful, it’d probably melt the snow that had been falling around your feet for the past thirty minutes. “Why would I be mad? What’s going on?”

“Just breathe for me, okay?” she sighed, bringing a hand up to play with a few strands of her hair. “So, you know how Seonghwa’s coming up to the cabin with us?”

“Um, yeah…? I don’t care about you bringing your boyfriend with us, you know. Just let me know if you’re gonna fuck so I can put my headphones on,” you replied, lifting the case up and pushing it inside the empty space of the trunk, satisfied that your long game of tetris was finally complete.

She quickly waved her hands, shaking her head. “No, that’s not…” she started, taking in a deep inhale, before letting it out, a wave of condensation hitting the cold air between the two of you. “He invited…someone. Someone you know.”

You bent down into the trunk to move a few items around, making sure they wouldn’t collapse on each other. “Okay? I only know you and a few other people, bestie. Who could it possibly be–”

“It’s San,” she finally blurted out, her face scrunching up in anticipation of your reaction.

Once your ex was spoken into existence again, a flood of memories from the previous year bombarded your defenseless brain and heart, causing you to stand up so quickly, you hit your head on the edge of the trunk lid.

“Oh my god, Y/N, are you okay?” your friend gasped, already at your side, helping you stand up straight and placing her hand on the one you had held against the back of your head.

“Oh, yeah, I’m good. I think that just knocked all the bad memories out of my brain. Ready to head out?” you chimed, giving her a thumbs up with your keys in hand, stumbling a bit in place, your vision fading out slightly.

Sighing, your friend reached for the keys. “Yeah, I’m driving.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Your friend pulled her keys out of the ignition once she parked in a free space near the cabin you’d both be staying at, turning her head to observe the way you were playing with the drawstrings of your joggers with a pout on your sullen face. “Y/N, are you sure you’re okay? You know, we’re visiting everyone else later, so you can always stay at their cabin, if you’d like. It’s much bigger and has wifi, and definitely won’t have S–”

“I’m not a little bitch,” you suddenly whined, your eyebrows furrowed, your pout growing. “I can handle being in the same cabin with my dumbass ex, okay? I don’t even care that he’s here, actually.”

She nodded her head knowingly, giving you a gentle smile. “Just let me know if you’re uncomfortable, please. And if he starts up with one of his…unique personalities, tell me or Seonghwa, alright? He knows how to handle him.”

“I can handle him myself. There’s plenty of snow for me to toss him into, or some flames if our cabin has a fireplace,” you muttered, too stubborn to admit that your heart would most likely explode as soon as you had the displeasure of witnessing his disgustingly handsome face and charming dimpled smile.

Your friend shook her head slightly, unable to keep from smiling in your direction. “There is a fireplace, yeah.”

You sighed contentedly, admiring the expanse of dense snow, the sundry of oversized pine trees, the far away mountains covered in white, and the cluster of cozy-looking cabins beyond the frosted windshield. “Finally, some good news.”

Once you both got to the front steps of the cabin you’d be staying at, your arms full of the items that you could bring from the car, the front door swung open, almost giving you a heart attack on the spot.

“Baby, you’re here!” Seonghwa gasped, pulling your friend into his arms when she set her stuff down on the porch and spinning her around in a small circle, his eyes twinkling with pure adoration.

Once Seonghwa acknowledged your presence with a warm greeting, you stood off to the side while your friend and Seonghwa kissed and giggled with each other, your arms beginning to feel like jelly, wishing someone would just stamp the words “third wheel” on your forehead already.

“That looks heavy,” you heard someone say in a deeply familiar baritone voice, causing you to whip your head towards the origin, your wide eyes meeting San’s concerned coffee brown ones. “Do you want me to carry it in for you?”

“San,” you automatically blurted out, alarm bells going off, the mini versions of you running around in panic inside your head, your fingers clasping tighter around your things.

“Y/N,” he parroted back in the same cadence, already moving closer to you, his arms sliding underneath your belongings and holding them up with ease, his navy sweater doing nothing to conceal the solid mass of his arm muscles. “Is it like, misogynistic for me to carry your things?”

You opened and closed your hands, trying your get rid of the pins and needles. “No, I’d say it’s progressive since it’s a big dumb caveman carrying my things, so women: 1, patriarchy: 0.”

San offered you a dimpled smile, his wide shoulders scrunching up slightly, as a hearty laugh emanated from his throat. “Caveman, I like that. Should I go find a cave to explore?” He tilted his head, his eyes flitting between yours and your pleasing body line. “Maybe try to start a fire?”

Your heart leapt into your throat, forcing you to gulp it down. You sneered, already beginning to push past him to enter the cabin, only turning your head back to tell him, “Start a fire and jump inside, caveman.”

San smiled at you, seeing right past your act, watching you walk away, before turning his head to look at the two lovebirds still hugging on each other. “See that? She already gave me a pet name.”

❆ ❆ ❆

“Fuck,” you groaned, dropping yourself down onto the surprisingly comfy mattress in the cozy guest room you were occupying, finally done with putting your clothes and toiletries away in their respective places, for the most part, also noticing that the violent hammering inside your chest had subsided.

And then your door opened.

“Yo, this cabin is pretty sick, right? It’s got a nice, cabin-ey feeling to it,” San announced, walking into your room and looking around like he owned the place. Typical San behavior. Whistling casually, he eventually headed over to your side of the bed, picking up a few skincare products that were sitting on your bedside table to study them. “Does this retinol shit really work?”

“Excuse me, but are you lost? This is my room,” you combated, not bothering to get up from the bed you were currently sinking into, simply turning on your back and lifting your head up slightly to glare at him.

“Bro.” San clutched his chest like you had just emptied a clip right in between his tits, his eyebrows turning upwards, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “Why do you act like we haven’t been inside each other?” He climbed onto the bed, looking down at you past his black bangs. “Matter of fact, I know you better than your little friend downstairs.”

You stared up at him, cursing yourself for wanting nothing more than to grab him by his stupid face and kiss him — but you wouldn’t, not after what he did. “You’re so gross.”

“Like in a sexy way, right?” he quipped, chuckling when you just shook your head. San slowly laid himself down beside you, looking up at the ceiling, reaching up behind his head and cupping the back of it to get more comfortable. “You didn’t argue against the fact that I know you better than your own self proclaimed ‘bestie’, you know.”

You let out a small sigh, resting your hands down at your sides, gripping the quilted blanket underneath you, your heart pounding inside your chest just like it did last Christmas. Did you ever fall out of love with him? Was that why your heart felt so stuck? Frozen in place? Like it was waiting for San to make it beat again? “Well, for once, you’re not wrong. I…let you in back then, obviously, so yeah, you know me better than she does. You know me better than anyone.”

San began to reach for your hand, hesitating for a second, not even realizing his walls were just as high. If only he could gather the courage to bring them down. “Y/N…”

You turned to look at San just as he turned his whole body towards yours, giving you one of his infamous gazes, his eyes closed ever so slightly, his lips parted, drawing in a breath. He lowered his hand, touching the top of yours, rubbing it with his thumb. “You know what else I know?”

Why did he have to do this to you? Just what the fuck was his problem?

“What, San?” you questioned underneath your breath, seconds away from losing it completely.

His eyes lost their playful twinkle, instead displaying sorrow. “Y/N, I–”

Seonghwa popped his head into the room. “Y/N, have you seen�� Oh,” he deadpanned, displaying an oddly delighted smile for a split second, before his lips evened out. “We’re heading to the hang out now. It’s gonna snow pretty hard in a bit so it’s now or never.”

You both sat up from the bed, your cheeks burning like you had just been caught, well, inside of each other.

Seonghwa was about to say something when your friend walked up behind him and pulled him into whisper something, causing him to whisper back, the both of them nodding at each other.

You and San exchanged glances, before all four of you looked at one another. “Are you hiding things from me, pookie?” you playfully asked your friend, pouting.

“No, I’d never hide anything from you, pookie wookie baby bear!” she cried dramatically, running into the room and tackling you back down onto the bed.

San looked to Seonghwa, making grabby hands at him. “Where’s my hug?”

Seonghwa clicked his tongue, pointing at San’s thin sweater as it rose past his hips. “You better put on some more layers before we go, pookie bear. It’s cold as balls outside.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Instead of hanging out inside your friend’s friends’ cabin where the party was at, you loitered outside in the snow, building yourself a snowman. Maybe he’d stay by your side longer than the last one.

“Hey, what are you doing out here by yourself, ba–” San started, standing with his arm just barely pressing into yours, immediately clearing his throat, sticking his hands into his coat pockets. “Y/N, I mean, heh, sorry I’ve had a few drinks.”

You almost broke the empty beer bottle you were using as the snowman’s nose inside your hands from hearing San almost address you as baby, turning your head to look at the adorably goofy smile he had on his stupidly cute face. You bit your lip, wishing he would just say it, the layers of ice around your heart starting to crack. “I figured. Well, how come you’re out here with me, instead of shotgunning a beer or something with your caveman friends?”

Amused, San nodded his head, impressed by your ability to keep up with your shtick. “They’re too busy hanging around the fireplace, you know. The fire’s so pretty, they got distracted.” He grinned at you, grinning harder when you began to smile back at him, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of the giggle that escaped your lips. “I missed your giggle…missed you…” he murmured absentmindedly, pretending to stay busy by helping you round out the head of the snowman, while you stuck a rock into it where one of the eyes would be.

You dropped the other rock, standing still, feeling your mouth go dry. You racked your brain over his words, wanting to ask him why he didn’t stay with you in the first place if he was just going to miss you so much. You missed him too. You wanted him to know.

By the time you had made up your mind, San had picked up the rock and stuck it into the snow, completing the snowman’s face. “There we go. Mr. Snowman’s looking real nice.” He waited for a second, before turning to look at you with a concerned pout. “He’s not cuter than me, right?” When you didn’t respond, he blinked, leaning in. “Y/N?”

Instead of responding, you found yourself wrapping your arms around San’s neck, pulling him into a hug. You didn’t even say anything — you just focused on feeling his warm body against yours, recalling what it felt like to be his. His baby. If only he would just say it.

“Baby…” he whispered just under his breath, so carefully, like he risked the chance of causing an avalanche if he spoke any louder, gently rubbing your back in circles, automatically resting his head on the top of yours like he did last year. “What’s this about?”

“I don’t know, I just–” you murmured into his chest, your own about to collapse in on itself from hearing what he said, hugging onto him a little tighter than before, wishing things were different. “I…I think I’m drunk…”

“Oh…” San replied, swallowing harshly, only pulling away once you started to. He tucked a bit of hair behind your ear, giving you a concerned look. “You should come back inside and drink some water, then. Seonghwa was right to tell me to check up on you.”

Your face fell slightly, the bottle that was stuck inside the snowman drooping inside the melting snow as if it was mirroring your disappointment. “You…only came out here because Seonghwa told you to?”

“Well, I mean, he was the one that noticed you were gone, so he just thought I should make sure you were okay, yeah…” San explained, rubbing his arm.

You nodded your head, a soft smile returning to your face, not wanting San to see the hurt you felt, not yet, anyway. You were still able to hide it as of late. “That’s nice of him.”

“Yeah, Hwa’s a sweetie,” San mused, noticing the sad snowman, reaching out to fix the position of the beer bottle. “Too bad he’s taken, otherwise I’d be wifing him up and giving him the exclusive Choi San Caveman Experience. There’s a trademark on that, by the way.”He gave you another goofy smile, his smile growing when you offered him a few small giggles.

“I think you need water more than I do,” you mentioned, gently punching his arm.

San chuckled, his smile softening, wanting to say so much more than just, “You might be right.”

After a few seconds of too much silence, and too much yearning for an important conversation to take place, you instead pointed to the lively cabin behind you. “You should go get some. I’ll be back inside soon.”

“Okay, sounds good.” He put his hands back into his pockets, lingering there for a moment, before heading back inside.

You stood there for a while, watching the makeshift nose of the snowman begin to droop again, before you reeled your foot back and kicked into the base of the snowman, watching it topple over and fall apart.

❆ ❆ ❆

You lingered near the spiked punch bowl that sat inside the corner of the cabin’s empty kitchen, drinking down a solo cup’s worth of the fruity beverage and tossing the cup into the sink, not noticing another person’s presence until you turned to the side and bumped your nose into their broad chest. “Oh, shit– I’m sorry,” you apologized, backing up a bit to see that you had ran into no one other than Song Mingi, the man you had trauma dumped and cried to for an hour before having mindless rebound sex with after San dumped you. “Min, hey. Long time, no see.”

“Y/N. It’s nice to see you again. Very nice,” Mingi mused, taking a long sip of his drink, just studying you with his amused, half-closed eyes, pointing upwards with his finger. “What are the odds of this?”

“Hm?” Your eyes followed where he was pointing until your gaze settled on the mistletoe that hung from the doorway above the two of you, a memory of the past immediately lighting up the insides of your brain like the flash of a camera, the snapshot still fresh in your subconscious as though it had never faded in the first place, much like your feelings for San — but who were you to admit that to yourself?

“Jesus, what is with people and mistletoe?” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your itchy christmas sweater, ready to shield your eyes so you didn’t have to look at the two people vigorously making out underneath the red berries that were hung from the ceiling of the crowded cabin.

San hovered near you, running a hand through his hair, his eyes studying your scrunched up, flushed face, wondering how you could be so cute. “The origin of mistletoe is actually really romantic, y’know.” Once you met his gaze, his lips curled into a smile, his dimples making an appearance.

You gripped onto your sweater sleeve, smiling softly back at him, your annoyance fading. “Tell me about it then, Mr. Historian.”

San’s eyes sparkled at your reaction, his shoulder gently pressing into yours as he brought his drink up to his mouth. “Mistletoe has always been able to survive in the harshest of winters. Even when everything’s frozen…” When he lowered his hand, the side of his pinky touched yours, sending warmth into the both of your bodies. “….it still finds a way to bloom.”

You took in a quick breath, having to look down at your feet before your heart burst out of your chest as an unintentional ode to Alien and ruined the annual christmas party. “I didn’t peg you as a hopeless romantic, San.”

“I’m full of surprises, baby.” San hummed, gently taking your chin in his grasp and pressing a kiss to your lips, giggling delightedly as you buried your scorching face into his chest, his heart pounding, wanting nothing more than to show you just how hopelessly in love he was with you, but too afraid to grant you access to the very intense, very full extent of it, let alone himself.

He was full of surprises, so full of them that he was able to show such a meaningful display of love to you and still break up with you on the very same night, with little to no explanation, just a simple ‘I’m sorry.’ Choi San was truly an enigma — one you cursed yourself for still wanting to grasp, to hold, to forgive.

You looked down at Mingi’s drink only for him to motion for you to take it, immediately downing the punch until you were sucking on an ice cube and crunching it between your teeth, satisfied with the buzz coursing through your body, bitterness still seeping its way in your veins. You knew that what you were about to do wouldn’t make you feel any better, but you did it anyway, grabbing Mingi by the collar of his ugly Christmas sweater and smashing your lips against his. What you didn’t know, however, was that San was standing at the end of the hallway, with his hand in his coat pocket, there to witness how Mingi pressed you into the wall.

❆ ❆ ❆

Your friend slowly inched her way towards you from across the brightly lit, festively decorated living room full of your boisterous acquaintances having a battle with each other to determine who could be the loudest, drunkest individual in the room. Currently, it was San, unsurprisingly, who had a beer in one hand while hugging onto the obscenely large Christmas tree in the middle of the room. You couldn’t tell exactly what song he was singing, but you were pretty sure it was a romantic, mostly cheesy pop ballad from the 80s.

“Having fun?” your friend gauged softly, sitting down on the sofa in the corner beside you, clinking her glass beer bottle against yours.

You shrugged, taking a few sips of the chilled beer, crossing one leg over the other. “I made out with Mingi earlier, so that was cool, I guess.”

“You what?” she gasped, pressing closer to you, grabbing your arm and shaking you. “Y/N, oh my god, that’s so —” Her gossipy tone turned into one of concern. “But what about San?”

“What about San?” you grumbled, internally annoyed that all you could think about was San when Mingi’s tongue was down your throat. “He probably already did the same thing, considering how torched he is.”

She sighed, sinking into the couch, very well aware of how San truly felt about you, last Christmas, and how much he wanted to turn things around. Of course she would know. She had to hear it from Seonghwa, who in turn heard it from San off and on for the entire year, but she wasn’t about to speak for him. He would have to do that himself.

“Are you going to play truth, dare, or drink with us?” Mingi suddenly asked you, leaning his hip against the side of the couch, causing you and your friend to look up at him.

“Ehh.” You shrugged your shoulders at him.

He put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it, feeling someone’s eyes burning holes into the back of his head, figuring San was watching the both of you from the tree, who indeed was, his hands tightening around his beer and the scratchy pine needles he was holding onto. “It’ll be more fun if you join in, Y/N. How bout it?”

You sucked on your teeth for a second, your eyes moving past Mingi to gaze at San across the room, who was now talking to a girl who had came up to him, your stomach sinking at the clear appearance of his dimples. Stupid caveman.

You stood up, fingers squeezing around your poor beer bottle. “Fuck it, I’m in.”

“Good, good,” Mingi replied, smiling absentmindedly, bringing his own drink up to his lips, as if he wasn’t aware of the disaster he was about to bring into fruition — and all for the chance that he could recreate the events of last year’s Christmas party. It led to him having a pretty, teary-eyed girl in his bed to take care of, after all.

❆ ❆ ❆

“Yo, I can’t believe — he actually — I can’t breathe,” someone gasped out in between soundless laughs, falling back into their chair along with their other friends, pointing at San as he trudged back into the cabin past the sliding door, clad in only a form-fitting pair of Christmas themed boxers, wiping some snow off of his shoulders, before immediately going for his mixed drink and tossing it back victoriously, one hand on his hip.

“You bitches really thought I wouldn’t do it,” San chuckled self-righteously, taking another sip, before letting out a low ‘aaah’. “Someone owes me 20 bucks. Which one of you was it?” He held up an accusative finger to one of the girls nearby, who giggled and held her hands up defensively. “It was you, wasn’t it? Give it up!”

The rest of the group laughed in response, drunkenly leaning into each other, gleeful smiles plastered on their flushed faces.

“San’s pretty lively tonight,” Seonghwa said near you, nudging you gently with his elbow. “It’s almost kind of cute, huh?” Poor man was out of the loop, but he was trying, bless his heart.

“Cute?” you muttered, raising an eyebrow at him. “He’s butt-ass naked at a Christmas party. He’s a grown man wearing boxers with candy canes on it. What on earth is cute about that?”

Seonghwa pursed his lips, side-eyeing you. “I don’t know, I just thought you’d agree with the way you’ve been staring at him all night.“

You almost choked on your spit, bringing a hand up to your hair to smooth it out. “Well, it’s hard to keep my eyes off of him when he’s being an annoying ass pick-me like that.”

“But you picked…him.”

“I did. Ages ago, Seonghwa,” you corrected him, watching San out of the corner of your eye, unable to believe that he was letting the girl slip a twenty directly into the waistline of his boxers. As soon as you looked down, San’s eyes were on you, his lips turning into a frown, immediately pushing the girl’s hand away when it lingered a bit too long, his eyes filled with bitter determination. “You know what he did to me. He spent all that time getting my hopes up all year long, only to hit me with the ‘i’m bad with commitment’ card before he left the party last year. That’s bullshit and we both know it.”

Seonghwa sighed in defeat, sinking back into his seat, biting at his lip. “I get what you’re saying, Y/N, I really do. It was unbelievably shitty for him to do that to you, but San…I think he really regrets it. All he talks about is you, Y/N.” Seonghwa turned to face you, gently touching your wrist. “He’s always loved you. He just doesn’t know how to verbalize it.”

You started biting at your lip too, simply listening to your friend’s words, wondering if there was any truth to them. It’s not like you were hearing them from San himself. That would be a different story — though you didn’t know if he was even capable of that kind of vulnerability. “I’d like to believe that, Hwa. I just…”

“Oh my god! With tongue? My virgin eyes!” someone gasped loudly at something, covering their eyes, their friends laughing at his dramatic performance.

“At least someone’s getting some,” Mingi chuckled, while eyeing you, currently holding up the same piece of mistletoe you had encountered together earlier, only this time someone else was under it. Someone that made you wish you had never even came up to the cabin in the first place.

“There’s no way…” you whispered to yourself, unable to take your eyes off of San, who was holding that same girl against him, his hands clutching her hips, his tongue halfway into her mouth by the time you got up from the couch and grabbed a water cup from the coffee table, determined to keep your tears inside your body before you stormed out, but you had to answer to your demons first.

“Y/N, he’s just drunk! He’s trying to make you jealous, okay? He’s being an idiot! Y/N, listen–” Seonghwa tried fruitlessly to reason with you, reaching for your wrist, only for it to slip out of his grasp as you made your way up to San and the unsuspecting woman.

Your bitter, frozen heart quelled you to toss the water at San, watching it splash onto the side of his reddened face, the shock of it sobering him up almost instantaneously, causing him to pull away from the woman and look at you, the weight of his faulty decisions hitting him square into the chest when he saw the tears in your eyes. “Y/N…I…I didn’t mean….I just…” Tears began to form inside his own eyes. “I just wanted you to see me.”

“I see you, San,” you whispered, your voice cracking underneath the weight of your emotional turmoil. “I’ve seen enough, actually.”

San froze in place, while what felt like cement sink to the bottom of his stomach, unable to get himself to stop you from grabbing a freshly opened bottle of booze from someone’s hands and walking away from him.

Your friend tried in vain to reason with you, getting hit with a death glare, before you stormed out. She turned to Seonghwa, whispering “Do something,” encouraging him to run over to San, grabbing him by the shoulders and temporarily keeping him upright.

“San, listen to me.”

San sniffled, his nose sporting a pink hue, as hot tears began to drip down his clammy face, sinking down to his knees, watching as Seonghwa sank down with him. “Seonghwa, I fucked up. I just wanted her to want me. I wanted her to get jealous and take what’s hers. I didn’t know how– a-and her, and Mingi– I just thought maybe if I–”

Seonghwa shook San a bit, his nostrils flaring, his fingers squeezing into his friend’s trembling shoulders. “Get a grip and listen to me!” As soon as San took in a shaky breath and let it out, Seonghwa cleared his throat. “You’re going to put some fucking clothes on, nut up, and go after her. It’s now or never.”

San wiped his eyes, trying to control his breathing. “B-but what do I say, Seonghwa? How can I possibly–”

Seonghwa suddenly pulled him into a hug, clutching the back of his head, feeling San slowly begin to relax against him. “You’re going be honest with her, San. Tell her what you’ve always wanted her to know. The world isn’t going to end after you do. She’ll still be there, and you’ll be safe.”

San clutched Seonghwa’s back, blinking away a few remaining tears. “You promise?”

Seonghwa pulled away, curling his pinky finger around his best friend’s, giving him a firm nod. “Promise.” Seeing the trust inside San’s sparkling eyes, Seonghwa reached up to ruffle his hair, smiling softly. “Oh, and give her that Christmas present you’ve been waiting for her to open.”

A small smile slowly apread across his splotchy face, before he gave Seonghwa a stern nod back, reaching his hand inside the pocket of his coat to feel what had been sitting inside and collecting dust for the entire year. It was time. Things weren’t going to end up like last Christmas. It would be different this time. He would make sure of it.

❆ ❆ ❆

With each passing minute, you sank a little further into the abyss of your memories, as well as the freshly fallen layers of snow that surrounded you, splashes of alcohol melting into it whenever you took a lazy swig and dropped the bottle back down at your side. “You dummy…” you mumbled to yourself, sniffling, your warm tears and body doing its best to combat the chilly environment around you.

Once you reached a street lamp, the warm light glowing onto your damp clothes, the memories of last year, that had once been frozen over suddenly flooded into your mind so quickly, you had to lower yourself onto the gravel beneath you, resting your back against the metal of the large buzzing lamp. “Shit…” You brought your wrist to your eyes, smearing a fresh wave of tears into your slightly damp hair, realizing you had been there before, the deja vu hitting you harder than the icy night wind hit your flushed face.

“San, what’s wrong?” You stood next to your boyfriend, watching him simply stare at the Christmas tree in front of him, his hands in his coat pockets.

San clutched onto the present he had spent weeks waiting to be custom-made and even longer just staring at it inside his apartment, wondering if it was enough, if he was enough, for someone like you.

San slowly shook his head, taking his hand out of his pocket to gently grab your wrist, leaning in to ask, “Can we talk?”

“No, we’re not doing this right now,” you told yourself out loud, smacking the side of your head and shaking it back and forth to hopefully send the memory packing, but it persisted, much like the snowfall around you.

“I don’t understand, San, we were fine! We’re okay. Why are you doing this?” you cried, trying and failing to keep San from leaving the cabin, unable to catch the corner of his coat sleeve until you were both under a street lamp, the light blinking occasionally.

San slowly turned around to face you for a moment, shaking his head, keeping his tears at bay. He didn’t know what he was thinking. How would he be enough for someone like you? Poor San simply couldn’t see the beauty he saw in you in his own self. “I just can’t, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I really am.”

“Can’t what? Can you just talk to me, San? I want to understand, San, please, talk to me,” you begged him, your heart sinking further with each step you took towards him as he continued to walk away. You stopped eventually, in the front of his car, your breath caught in your throat. “So, that’s it? You’re just going to leave? Just like that?”

San stroked his hair with a shaky hand in an unconscious act of self-soathing, tears pricking the corners of his eyes, looking off to the side, before gripping the door handle of his car, as well as the felt box inside his pocket with his other hand, only seeing a blurry version of you by the time he looked back up. How could he explain how afraid he was of you and the love you offered him? How his many walls, like ice, were impenetrable, until you melted them away? It frightened him, so much so that all he could say was, “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” before he got into the car and shut the door.

“You…dummy…” you repeated, this time in a whisper, taking another swig from the bottle and choking down the strong liquor, about to force yourself to down it when you heard what sounded like a set of boots quickly shuffling through the snow.

“Y/N,” San gasped, almost completely out of breath from running through the rough winter terrain, bending forward slightly with his hands on his knees to catch his breath, sending puffs of condensation into the air around you. “I have to – tell you something–”

“Oh, now you have something to say? After all this time? That’s rich,” you scoffed, wobbling a bit as you stood up, trying to put up a front like you had done earlier, though your facade had since melted away, your quivering lips and red, teary eyes on full display. “…Go on, San…”

San finally caught his breath, his heart still hammering away inside his chest, reaching up to his head to stroke his somewhat damp raven hair, trying to swallow the growing lump inside his throat. “Y/N, I…I should’ve said this a long time ago, instead of just leaving you the way I did…”

The longer you stared at him, the longer he felt his walls crumbling around him, figuring that he had no choice but to tell you what had always been lingering on his tongue, buzzing in his heart and mind, and swimming inside his thoughts each night when he was alone. He realized it was worth the risk of having to return to a cold, silent heart, a bitter soul, and even higher walls that he could box himself inside of. To him, you were worth anything.

Your anger slowly subsided at the sight of his serious gaze, his warm coffee-brown eyes studying you like nothing else existed besides you. In fact, nothing did, inside his world, except for you. “San…” you murmured, reaching out to touch his hand, but he already beat you to it, interlacing your cold fingers together.

“I love you, Y/N,” he admitted in the softest, most convicting voice you’ve ever heard from him, slowly pulling out the box he kept inside his coat, opening it to reveal a small gold ring with a jewel shaped like mistletoe, gently sliding it onto your finger when you held your hand out. “I love you so much, baby. So much it terrifies me.”

“Oh, San…” you sighed, breathless, bringing your hand to your chest from being so overwhelmed with emotion. After a moment, you reached for his hand, squeezing it, moving closer to him, his confession and gift warming you up more than a raging, crackling fire ever could. “San–”

“If I had just told you how I felt back then, I wouldn’t have hurt you the way I did.” He squeezed your hand back, his chapped, lower lip quivering. “I wish I could take it all back. It’s all I’ve been able to think about– How I wish I could just turn back time and–”

You silenced San’s words with a gentle kiss, letting go of his hand to wrap your arms around his neck, his arms following suit, closing around your waist. You broke the kiss after a moment to whisper, “I love you too, San. Always have.” You caressed his face, making sure he felt the love pouring out of your words when you promised, “Always will.”

San let out a trapped breath of air, hugging you against him, protectively clutching the back of your head, unable to stop everything he had held inside from spilling out of him all at once.

You simply held him in your arms and stroked the back of his head, not noticing when the light above you had flickered once and went out for a split second, only to shine brighter than it did before, the light warming the exposed skin of your flushed cheeks.

❆ ❆ ❆

San sat on his knees beside the crackling fire, adjusting a piece of firewood, watching the flame catch onto it and travel along the cedar, enjoying the warmth on his skin, eventually turning his head back to admire the sight of you bundled up on the couch with a plush blanket on your lap, your hands clasped around a cup of tea, your eyes admiring your twinkling ring, before you noticed his loving gaze.

“Sannie, come here, love,” you spoke softly, taking one finger off of the cup to beckon him to you, sliding the blanket off and putting the cup down after one more sip.

“Coming, baby.” Eyes sparkling, San inched his way over to you, still on his knees, fitting himself in between yours so that he could wrap his arms around your middle, resting his head against your chest. “Mm, you’re so warm.”

You ran your fingers through his soft, still slightly damp hair, waiting till he looked up at you to caress his cheek, a small sigh leaving your lips. “I’m sorry for what I did to you earlier. I really shouldn’t have reacted like that. It was hypocritical of me.” You ran your fingers gently along his jaw, noticing the way he leaned into your touch.

“No, baby, I’m sorry,” he replied, rubbing his hands up and down your sides, pouting. “I did…that to you in front of everyone…It was really shitty…I just couldn’t think straight after I saw you with Mingi.”

Your face fell, your fingers sliding back into San’s hair to play with it. “I’m so sorry. It wasn’t…I want you to know that there was no meaning behind it, love. I was just bitter. And drunk.”

“I know, Y/N. It’s all forgiven, I promise you.” San reassured softly, responding well to your light touches, nuzzling your hand when it came back to his cheek, his fingers sliding underneath your sweater to squeeze into your sides, sending a light shiver up your spine. “But, you know what, baby?”

“What, Sannie?” Your body temperature started to increase as San brought himself up higher so that you were face to face, body to body, his palms settling onto your bare back.

“There’s meaning behind this,” he whispered, bringing his hands up to cup your face, before gently pressing his lips onto yours. You shared a few firm, passionate kisses, your lips moving against one another’s, hearing San whisper something else that sent a wave straight into your core. “Can you feel it, baby? My love?”

“Yeah, show me more, Sannie,” you murmured against his lips, his mouth slotting back onto yours, almost making you forget to breathe when his tongue began to explore the inside of your mouth.

San sucked lightly on your tongue, before moving down to kiss on your neck, his hands moving further up to unclasp your bra from underneath your sweater. “Can I please touch you, baby?” he asked with a desperation that made his deep voice go up an octave higher.

“Yes, please, touch me,” you responded with just as much desperation, arching your back into his touch when he slipped his hands up the front of your sweater, moving your tits in slow, gentle circles, his lips and teeth attacking your neck and collarbone.

“You feel so good in my hands, baby, fuck, I missed you so much,” San exhaled into your neck, squeezing the roundness of your tits in between his fingers, squishing them together, and lifting them up, only to drop them back down into his palms, groaning all the while. He pulled back slightly, rolling the hem of your sweater up a bit, his hooded, dilated eyes focused solely on yours. “Can I take this off?”

A quick nod was all it took for him to lift your sweater up over your head, your bra falling to the floor. Not wanting you to be alone, he reached behind his head and pulled his own sweater off, his sculpted, muscular upper body bathed in glowing, orange light from the fire blazing away behind him. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N…” he sighed, admiring your body like he did the very first time he saw you bare in front of him.

“So are you,” you replied, slowly running your hands up along his abdomen and back down, his muscles flexing slightly underneath your touch, his eyes following your fingers as they unbuckled his belt, pulling his pants down to reveal his cute custom briefs. “My Sannie, so precious.”

San blushed, his goofy smile slowly disappearing as he unbuttoned your pants, biting hard into his bottom lip once he got them off of you. “Baby…” Unable to just sit there and admire you, he reached forward to cup your tits, running his thumbs back and forth over your stiff nipples, lust clearly running rampant in his head and body by the way he was looking at you with such clear hunger in his eyes, his cock hard and stiff against your core. “Can I taste you?”

“Baby, you don’t have to ask, okay? You can have me, in any way–” you started breathily, feeling San’s cock beginning to pulse against you. “–Every way, Sannie. Please, take care of me.”

San suddenly clutched your hips, slowly grinding his clothed cock into your heat, while his mouth closed around one of your nipples to suck on it, his hooded eyes looking up into yours, his tongue darting out to lap at your tit.

“Feels so good, your mouth on me,” you breathed out, running your fingers through his hair, clutching it tight when he swapped your tit for the other, his jaw lowering so that he could fit more of your squishy globe into his mouth, sucking on it desperately. “Sannie…please…”

Knowing what you wanted, San pulled back to spit onto your tits, watching it drip down, before leaning back in to lick it up, his tongue cascading up and down your now slick skin, still guiding your hips against him, your legs already hooked around his slim waist. Your whiny moans were like music to his ears, taking a break from sucking and licking you to say, “You like it messy, don’t you, baby girl? Makes you so wet for me, doesn’t it?”

“Uh-huh, now come here,” you could barely get out, before you grabbed his face and slammed your lips against his, your mouths and tongues working in tandem, strands of spit dripping down your chins, San’s hands squeezing tightly into your hips, grinding against you so quick, so desperately, you were both about to reach your highs just from that.

“Sannie,” you sighed against his lips, caressing his jaw, his cock rubbing against your cunt in just the right way, your body pulsing with the need to be filled.

“Y/N,” he sighed back, pressing his forehead onto yours, the both of you breathing in the same air, the thick, throbbing length of his cock rubbing deliciously along your clothed slit until your lower halves began to jolt, your moans and gasps crescendoing in unison. “Cumming? Are you cumming for me, baby?”

“Y–esss, Sannie, m’ cumming for you,” you cried out, holding onto him as tightly as you could, your nails digging lightly into his back, feeling his muscles contracting. “Cum for me too, please, baby, let me see you.”

San let out a choked, whiny moan, panting heavily, losing his quick, focused thrusts, opting for sloppy, abrupt movements, barely about to get out the word, “B–abyyy…”

You both fell apart in each other’s arms, your eyes never breaking contact, your combined arousal soaking through your respective undergarments.

Once you both caught your breath, San reached down to rub your pussy with two thick fingers, able to see your slit through your shiny, see-through panties, his cum-covered cock already twitching back to life. “Fuck, baby, look at that…you’re completely soaked.”

“Just for you,” you nodded, spreading your thighs open further, pulling the hem of your panties up a bit to emphasize your puffy cunt, your clit pressing into the soft cloth material.

“Oh my god, baby, I need to taste you,” San suddenly whined, squeezing his fingers into the softness of your thighs, lowering himself down to take a deep inhale of your arousal, his head going completely fuzzy, unable to keep himself from drooling onto your cunt.

You slipped your fingers into his soft hair, bringing his face against your heat, sighing at the feeling of his nose bumping against your clit as he took another deep breath, shuddering when he began to tongue your cunt through your panties. “That’s it, Sannie, feels so good,” you moaned, your praise going straight to San’s cock, causing it to strain against his stained briefs.

“Mmmn,” San moaned against your pussy, licking one slow, long strip up your slit to your clit, filled with so much need for you that he couldn’t keep himself from tearing your panties off of you with one quick tug, making you gasp and release more slick, his mouth already on you to lap it right up, his other hand shoving his briefs down so that his cock could spring out against his abdomen, pre-cum smearing across his tan skin. “This pussy is all mine, baby…mine to eat, mine to fuck….mine to fill, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Sannie, all yours, it’s all yours,” you answered, clutching his hair, desperately grinding your cunt against his tongue when he held it out, looking deep into his eyes that never left yours for a second, suddenly gasping out when San spread your hole open, sending a wad of spit inside before his agile tongue slipped inside of you.

San grabbed the undersides of your thighs and lifted your lower half up so that he could tongue fuck you as deep as humanly possible, letting out a pleased moan each time his tongue entered your soaked, pulsing hole. He kept going until you saw stars, going ‘uh-huhhh, uh-huhhh’ as soon as you began to shudder, your arousal squirting out and soaking his flushed face.

“My pretty baby came so hard for me,” San sighed, licking your wetness up from your sensitive cunt and his lips, before he brought you in for another sloppy kiss, letting you taste yourself.

The longer you kissed, the more you wanted him inside you, needed him to fuck his love into you until you couldn’t remember your own name. You needed him so badly, you didnt even realize what you were doing until you had found yourself pushing San down onto the fur carpet below and straddling him, sitting on his lap in a way that showed the both of you exactly where his long, veiny cock would reach inside of you once he filled you up. “Need you, Sannie. Need you now.”

“You can have me, baby.” San’s cock twitched against your abdomen, his hands rubbing your thighs, eventually lifting you up and down onto his cock, groaning at the feeling of your pussy swallowing his length inch by inch. “Fuck, princess, have all of me.”

Instinctively, San began to buck his hips up into you, filling you up so well, you felt a bit dizzy, encouraging you to hold onto his chest, still taking his cock deep inside your cunt like you were made for him.

San must’ve agreed too because he couldn’t keep from groaning out, “Look at you, babygirl, look at the way you’re taking me, taking my cock so deep–” He pressed one hand to your abdomen, feeling the bulge his cock made each time he fucked into you, driving the both of you crazy. “Your pretty pussy was made for me, baby. Made just for me. You’re mine, babygirl.”

“Yours.” You quickly lowered yourself down to kiss him, his hands sliding up and down along your body to feel your warm skin underneath his touch, eventually settling his hands on your cheeks, wiping a few of your tears away when you began to cry from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Cum for me, Y/N…You can do it…Fall apart for me, baby, ” San encouraged in between heavy breaths, slowing the movements of his hips down, instead filling you up in a slow and meticulous manner, drawing your intense orgasm out of you. “Yes, baby, that’s it, that’s it…”

“Sannnn, oh my god, San.” The longer you fell apart, the tighter your pussy constricted around San’s cock, causing him to throw his head back, sweat dripping down along his straining neck, his veins growing more visible when he gripped your thighs tightly. “Fill me up, Sannie. Need your cum inside.”

“Cumminggg, princess, oh my god, baby girl,” San groaned heavily, lifting you up and down on his throbbing length, before fully sheathing himself inside you, coating your walls with white.

Panting, you both gazed at each other’s sweat-covered faces and bodies, knowing internally that it wasn’t enough. Not nearly.

“Again?”

“Again.”

San didn’t waste any time gently pulling you off of him and climbing on top of you instead, spreading you open and filling you back up, sighing at the sight of your mixed arousal forming a ring around the base of his cock each time he pounded himself into you. “You’re so full of my cum, baby…so full of my cock, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

“So full for you, Sannie, don’t stop,” you gasped, hardly able to breathe with the way he had you folded up, your legs over his shoulders, his cock slamming so deep inside you that you swore he was hitting your womb.

“Wasn’t gonna,” San exhaled, chuckling softly, his lips curling up to give you a smile, his eyes creasing with amusement. “Need to show you my love.”

“Show me, baby,” you sighed affectionately, smiling back at him, giggling at the sight of his eyes lighting up, before you pressed a kiss to his lips.

The wet, sloppy sound of your bodies joining together over and over filled up the otherwise quiet cabin, along with your harmonious moans, the remaining pieces of firewood still crackling away beside you. Time seemed to stop completely. It was just you and him, coming undone together for what seemed like a lifetime.

You both ended up back on the couch, your limbs and bodies entangled, snuggling together underneath the cozy blanket, talking with each other about anything and everything until your eyelids grew heavy, leading you to drift off, your fingers clasped together.

Before you could fully fall asleep, you nuzzled your cheek against San’s chest, gently inhaling his comforting scent. He smelled like aftershave, warm cedar wood, and spiced cinnamon. It reminded you of your time there at the cabin, the memories you spent together, both good and bad, swirling together to form a comfortingly bittersweet concoction, one that you would consume in every lifetime.

“San,” you whispered softly into the darkness, the fire beside the both of you now ashes and smoke.

“Yes, Y/N?” he whispered back, his arms closing around you protectively.

You sighed against his skin, your body and heart melting like the snow would begin to do as well, once the sun came up. “I love you so much, San…” You lifted your head up, hovering above him so that you could look down at him, your fingers clutching his jaw, your expression so soft San thought you might cry. “I want to show you how to share some of that love with yourself one day.”

San smiled up at you, his eyes full of so much adoration for you, it threatened to spill out of him, his fingers running through your hair. “You showed me, Y/N. Through it all, behind every word, every action, I still saw it there. That’s why I put myself first and confessed to you.” He smiled softly, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “I’m…not nearly as put together as I seem. I just love you so much, it makes me want to be strong. For you. And…for me.”

You didn’t realize you were crying too until you saw your teardrops land on his face and slide down his cheek, wondering if your icy heart had finally melted, and that was why there were so many tears escaping from your blurry eyes. “Oh, San, my sweet San, I’ll be here to watch you grow, I promise,” you murmured, hugging onto him and laying back down to rest your head on his chest, gently rolling the ring around your finger.

San’s hand came up from underneath the blanket to rest on top of yours. He squeezed your hand and you squeezed right back. “Promise?”

“Promise,” you repeated softly, closing your eyes, your heart at peace. “As long as you promise to watch me too.”

San closed his eyes too, a few more happy tears dripping past his cheeks, squeezing you just a little tighter than before. San felt safe. Whole. “I’d love nothing more, Y/N.”

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© kitten4sannie, 2023.

[punkshort]

i know who you are | 4. the others

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Winter begins to wrap its arms around Jackson, filling the town with snow and a nasty flu. Joel takes you to meet Ben and Lisa, and you finally discover more about your past.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, amnesia, sad!joel, pining, sexual tension, slow burn, jealousy

WC: 9K

Series Masterlist

You looked happy.

Ever since you began working at the infirmary, you seemed happier. Like you were grateful to have a purpose. A way to contribute. To give back to the community that supported you.

You smiled more and you didn't shy away from him as much as you used to and it gave Joel hope. Every time you saw him and greeted him with a smile or said goodbye with a squeeze of his shoulder, it made his heart flutter. It's been weeks. Months, technically. But he was making some progress.

It was the first snowfall of the season and it put you in an even better mood than usual. Your face was pressed up against the window as he tended to the fire behind you, and you watched as the big, fluffy flakes of snow fell from the sky, coating Jackson in a perfect blanket of pure white.

"I didn't get much snow where I'm from," you told him over your shoulder. He knew that already, but he humored you.

"That so?"

"Mhmm. When I was a kid, though, we got hit with this freak storm. No one knew what to do. No one owned shovels or snow blowers or any of that, so we were all stuck inside our houses until the storm ended and everything melted," you said, turning away from the window so you could curl up on the couch, then pausing for a moment before tilting your head to the side. "Did I tell you this already?"

Yes, he thought, but he shook his head, eager for you to continue. He just loved hearing you talk, no matter what you said. Besides, if you were expected to rebuild your relationship, sharing your past would naturally be part of that, so he encouraged you to tell stories, even if he's heard them before.

"So, what happened?" he asked, putting the poker back in the stand and getting up with a groan, his knees cracking a bit before he settled in on the other end of the couch.

"Well, the power went out," you said, and he could hear the excitement in your voice, delighted to be telling him something you thought he didn't already know, and it made his heart swell. "So we didn't have any heat or any way to cook our food. We set up camping tents in the middle of our living room and slept in there with, like, five blankets each. And we lived off pop-tarts and granola bars and peanut butter sandwiches for two days til the power came back on."

"Two days?" Joel repeated, and you nodded.

"Yeah, but it was fun. As a kid, you know? I'm sure my parents were freaking out but me and Matty were excited. We played board games and ate by candlelight and told ghost stories," you said wistfully, your eyes looking miles away. "We talked about that for years," you finished softly, and Joel smiled.

"I didn't get much snow where I'm from, either," he told you, and your eyes met his again.

"Texas, right?" and he nodded. "Did you live there your whole life?"

Something deep inside him sparked with a mix of nerves and excitement. It felt like you were meeting all over again, and while it was under less than ideal circumstances, he couldn't help but feel those butterflies you feel when you first meet someone new.

"Yep, my whole life. Tommy, too, except for when he was in the army."

"Were you in the army?" you asked, but he quickly shook his head.

"Nah. Wasn't my scene. Besides, I had Sarah."

"Oh, right," you said, feeling stupid for asking. You dropped your attention to your hands, which were twisted in your lap, as you thought about your next question.

"How old was she?" you asked quietly, still looking down and avoiding his gaze, but you heard him take a deep breath.

"She was twelve when she died," he told you, his words hanging heavy in the air and he could see the conflict in your face as you tried to figure out a way to learn more about him without reopening old wounds. "It's okay, I don't mind talkin' 'bout her."

"Did we used to talk about her?" you asked him curiously, finally looking up to meet his gaze.

He shrugged. "Sometimes. But not at first. Still hurt too much back then, y'know?"

"Yeah," you breathed, your mind now drifting to thoughts of your own family. Were you together when they died? Did you see it? If so, was it some sort of sick twist of luck that you now couldn't remember?

"What was your favorite thing to do together?" you asked, watching as his eyes found a fixed point on the wall while he considered your question.

"My favorite thing was hiking. Hers was goin' to the movies or the mall, most likely," he said with a soft chuckle. "I didn't mind, though. I was just happy she still wanted to be seen with her old man at that age. Makes me wonder if she felt bad for me or somethin'."

You furrowed your brow, confused. "Why would she feel bad for you?"

He sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "I didn't date much. Had a few poker buddies but I mostly spent my time with Tommy. Just worked so hard back then that I was too tired to do much else."

"And you were a contractor?" you asked, trying to remember the small pieces of information you picked up over the last two months. He nodded.

"Yeah, me and Tommy had our own business. That was a lifetime ago. Can't imagine doin' that kind of work now, not with my back," he said with a smile.

Joel's eyes flicked to the window over your shoulder, watching as the snow continued to come down, the window panes growing foggy in the corners. "Looks like we ain't goin' anywhere for a while," he said, changing the subject. You followed his gaze and nodded.

"What about Ellie? Is she okay back there?"

"Yeah, she'll be alright. She could make it up to the house if she got too cold," he assured you.

So, you were essentially snowed in. All alone.

You could feel his eyes on you as you watched the fire and you wondered if he was thinking about an alternate reality. One where you didn't have an accident. Where you remembered everything. One where you loved him the way he so obviously loved you, and what you might be doing differently in that very moment. You had a feeling your hunch was correct because he stretched his arm across the back of the couch and subtly inched a little closer towards you, the worn cushions dipping from his weight and causing your leg to bob.

Your body stiffened and your heart suddenly felt like it was being crushed in your throat. He was so patient, you had to give him credit. It couldn't be easy for him, and although you could finally admit to yourself that you found him attractive, you still didn't think you trusted him enough to take things any further. Not yet. Not when you still had so many questions. Your eyes drifted up to meet his and as you expected, he was watching you closely. Carefully. Trying to read you the same way you were trying to read him. The problem was, every time he looked at you that way, with his eyes all soft and filled with adoration, you could only think about what he was hiding. What did he lie about? And why was he so hesitant for you to meet Ben and Lisa?

Joel leaned in a fraction and his fingers tightened their hold on the back of the couch. He wanted to kiss you. He's wanted to kiss you ever since that day in the field right before that clicker ruined the moment. And with the soft glow from the fire and the snow falling silently outside, it felt like the perfect moment. He was terrified of making things worse after he finally felt like he made some progress, but it was killing him. He missed having you so fucking much, sometimes it felt like it actually caused him physical pain. Like his chest would explode one day.

He swallowed nervously and inched a little closer and you panicked. Just as he was about to say something, you cut him off.

"Do you wanna play a board game?"

He raised his eyebrows in surprise and you gave him a nervous smile.

"Sure," he replied, watching as you jumped off the couch to look through the games stacked on the bookcase. He groaned inwardly and rubbed his chin when you bent over and he had to force himself to look away before his body reacted, praying you didn't pick Twister.

It took two days but the snow finally stopped. Ellie did eventually make her way to the house by the second day, simply because she was bored, so you helped Joel make a vegetable soup while Ellie set up the Monopoly board in the living room. You didn't have all the pieces, but you had enough, and what you didn't have you supplemented with buttons.

You didn't realize it; too caught up in cooking and the joy it used to bring you, but you and Joel worked together seamlessly in the kitchen. He chopped up zucchini while you diced onion and watched the pot on the stove that was cooking up noodles, slipping past each other to get to the sink and the cupboards and it all just felt so fucking normal that it made his chest ache. He wanted to draw your attention to it. He wanted to take you by the shoulders and say See? See how good we are together? But he didn't. He bit his tongue and bided his time until you came to that conclusion on your own, just like the first time.

But the first time was different. At least back then, you showed him affection. You kissed him and held him and shared your body with him and although you didn't want much more, not at first, eventually you did. And those moments in his bed were enough to hold him over until you opened your eyes and saw what was right in front of you.

He was selfish. He knew it was wrong to want you like that right now, but he wanted all of you, not just physically. He yearned to know what was going on behind your eyes, what you were thinking and feeling. What you thought of him. But if you would maybe just let yourself fall asleep in his arms on the couch while you read in front of the fire, or let him kiss you, just once, then maybe you would see it again. Feel it again.

"What the hell does a purple button mean?" you asked with a giggle, holding up the smooth, round plastic between your fingers.

"It's a hotel, duh!" Ellie said, grinning and rolling her eyes.

"Wait, why am I goin' to jail?"

"You rolled doubles three times in a row!" you told him, and you and Ellie bent over laughing at the confused expression on his face.

He made a disgruntled noise and moved his token to the corner of the board as he watched you and Ellie giggling and wiping tears from your eyes and fuck, it was nice. In another world, he would have made some joke about you being the one in handcuffs and maybe later he would have followed through with it and tied your wrists to the headboard, burying his face between your thighs until you couldn't take it anymore.

But instead, he just watched two of the people he loved most in the world have fun, the orange glow from the fire flickering over your smiling faces while the snow finally came to a stop outside.

Ellie had trekked back to the garage once the game was over. It was late, you looked tired, but he still suggested putting a movie on. He wasn't ready to let you go. He hated going to bed all alone. You seemed to consider his offer for a moment before you shook your head and yawned, and although he knew that would likely be your answer, he still felt his heart sink.

He walked you to your bedroom and as he was about to say goodnight, hoping to minimize the hurt by making it quick, you did something that surprised him. You pulled him into a hug, standing on your tiptoes, your chin resting on his shoulder with your arms wrapped around his neck, body pressed firmly against his and just as quickly as it happened, you pulled away. Joel was so stunned he wasn't sure he hugged you back, even though he stood cemented to the floor well after you went to bed, replaying the hug over and over, all he could remember was how he felt. And he went to bed that night with renewed hope blooming in his chest. Maybe you were finally coming around.

So the next morning when you asked him out of the blue if you could visit Ben and Lisa once the streets cleared of snow, he had a hard time finding a reason to say no. He should have known you wouldn't let it go, but he did hold out hope that maybe you moved on from the idea since it had been a few weeks when you last mentioned them.

He agreed, of course, not wanting to ruin the delicate foundation of your relationship. Besides, he already decided he would go with you and make sure they didn't tell you anything you weren't ready to hear.

The snow had melted enough where the road was visible again, but the snowbanks still piled high around the buildings and houses and you felt strangely nervous as you followed Joel down the street. He had finally agreed to take you to meet Ben and Lisa, and while you were grateful he didn't have the reaction he had the first time you mentioned them, you still wondered what caused that outburst.

You tried to convince yourself that maybe he was just tired and cranky that day, having just gotten back from patrol for the fourth day in a row. But something still felt... off.

"Wow, when Ellie said they lived on the outskirts, she wasn't kidding," you said, realizing you were reaching an edge of Jackson you had yet to explore.

"Yeah, they tend to keep to themselves," he replied without further explanation. He didn't seem agitated, but he definitely wasn't happy about going to see them. He seemed more quiet and subdued than usual.

Finally, you arrived at a quaint looking cottage tucked back from the road a ways. Like Ellie had said, it was small, but it looked cozy. You could see the smoke pluming from the chimney and you couldn't wait to warm up again.

There was no porch. Just a small roof over the front door and a folding chair that looked like it had seen better days. He knocked firmly on the door and after a moment, you heard light shuffling on the other side.

The door cracked open and you were greeted by a short woman around your age with dull, brown hair and bright green eyes. She saw Joel first and, like most people in town, she hesitated. But then she noticed you next to him and her expression changed. A wide smile stretched across her face and she said your name softly, then held her arms out for a hug.

"It's so good to see you," she said in your ear, giving you a tight squeeze before turning around and ushering you both inside. "Come in, come in, it's freezing out there. Ben! You'll never guess who's here!"

You both stepped inside and as you were slipping off your outerwear, you glanced around the small space. It was tight, but it was filled with warmth. The living room had two small, mismatched loveseats on either side of the stone fireplace. Two large bookshelves that were filled with so many books that the shelves were sagging stood on either side of the fire, and curiously you didn't notice a television anywhere in the room.

You heard a man's deep voice behind you say your name and you jumped in surprise. Turning around, you were pulled into another hug by who you could only assume was Ben. He was tall - taller than Joel - and you wondered how on earth such a small house could fit such a large man. He stepped away, his dark eyes glittering with his hands still on your shoulders, taking in your appearance as if you haven't seen them in years.

Maybe you haven't.

You were so focused on absorbing every little detail about the house and its residents that you didn't notice Joel's body stiffen next to you, his eyes glued to Ben's hands. And while Lisa seemed to have the same reaction to Joel that everyone else in town did, Ben, on the other hand, did not seem phased by his presence. In fact, he appeared pleased to see him. Once he dropped his hands from your shoulders, he stretched out a lanky arm and shook Joel's hand, giving him a kind smile which Joel had a hard time returning.

"What a wonderful surprise. Come, let's sit. Do you want coffee or tea?" Ben asked, his eyes drifting between you and Joel. You both shook your heads and Ben smiled warmly at you once again. Even though the living room was just a few feet away from the front door, Ben still rested his hand on your shoulder and guided you to one of the loveseats as if you might lose your way, only dropping his hold on you when he sat down across from you on the other one.

Joel eased himself down on the couch beside you, the space so small that he had no choice but to rest his leg against yours, and Lisa went to join Ben, the crackling fire between both loveseats warming you up right away.

"We heard you had an accident. How are you feeling?" Lisa asked, her voice so small and gentle compared to Ben's booming baritone.

"Better, thanks. But it's kind of why I'm here," you said, glancing over at Joel nervously, but he was staring silently at Ben, who still seemed unaffected.

Lisa tilted her head to the side and wrapped a hand around Ben's forearm, leaning into him a bit as she got more comfortable on the couch. You noticed for the first time a basket on the floor next to her feet filled with different colored yarn and half knitted projects tucked inside. "Oh?" she asked, then it seemed to dawn on her. "Oh! Is it... is it true? Do you really have memory loss?"

When you nodded, you noticed the flicker of pity across both their faces as they exchanged a somber look.

"I can only remember my life before the outbreak. My mom, dad and brother. I don't even remember what happened or how they died or how I managed to survive," you began, feeling yourself growing a little emotional. Joel must have sensed it in your tone because he squeezed your knee reassuringly, and when you glanced over at him, he had finally torn his eyes away from Ben to look at you with concern.

"It's been hard," Joel said, finally speaking up, addressing Ben and Lisa. "Lots of confusion, lots of missin' pieces. But she kept a journal. Turns out, she wrote 'bout you two, so that's why we're here," he finished, narrowing his eyes a bit at them.

"You wrote about us? How sweet," Ben said cheerily, running a hand through his dark blonde curls.

"Yes, but-"

"It wasn't anythin' that detailed," Joel said quickly, and you frowned at him. He sat back into the sofa and glanced over at you. "Right?"

"Yeah," you said slowly, dragging your eyes away from Joel and back to your hosts. "Just that we went fishing and it felt like old times," you continued, and they both smiled at the memory. The only sound in the room was the fire next to you, the wood popping loudly under the flames as you weighed your next question. "So I was hoping you might help tell me about myself before we arrived in Jackson. Is that... okay?"

Lisa shifted in her seat, a small smile still twitching at her lips as she gazed up at Ben, waiting for him to reply. He hesitated a moment and you thought you saw his eyes flicker to Joel before responding.

"Of course," Ben said, slapping the tops of his thighs, jostling loose Lisa's grip on his arm. He quickly picked her hand back up and brought her knuckles to his lips for a quick kiss, but your eyes were drawn to the unfamiliar symbol tattooed on the inside of her wrist, only made visible when Ben picked up her arm and her sleeve hung down.

"Can you tell me about when we first met?" you asked, figuring you should start at the beginning.

"Oh, what was it? Six or eight months after the outbreak, yeah?" Ben wondered aloud, looking to Lisa to confirm. She nodded and scratched her neck.

"Sounds about right."

You allowed yourself to feel a glimmer of excitement. There were two people right in front of you that could help fill in the blanks for the first five years after the outbreak, and you couldn't wait to hear more.

"We met in the Atlanta QZ," he began, but you quickly stopped him.

"QZ?"

"Quarantine Zone. All the major cities had 'em. Was meant to keep people safe from infected but the military ran most of 'em into the ground," Joel explained. "Treated people like cattle. Strict curfews. Barely enough rations to survive."

"It was awful," Lisa added solemnly.

"Was I alone?" you asked them, and Ben nodded. "Did I tell you anything about my family? How they died?"

Their eyes shifted to Joel for a moment before looking at one another.

"I thought you had said the infected got your mom on the first day. But your dad and brother..." Ben trailed off, looking down at his hands sadly. "They got caught out after curfew. It happened before we got there. They... were punished."

You frowned a little, looking to Joel to help shed some light on what Ben meant, but he was staring down at his feet.

"Punished?" you squeaked as your heart began to pound faster in your chest.

"Punishment for bein' out after curfew was death," Joel spoke up softly next to you.

You looked at all three of them, your eyes wide in disbelief. "Death? The military were killing people?"

"It was horrible. It's why we escaped," Lisa replied with tears in her eyes.

"Okay, then what?" you pressed, trying not to dwell too long on the thought of your father and brother being murdered by the very people who were supposed to protect them.

"After we escaped?" Ben clarified, and you nodded. He cleared his throat and averted his gaze. "We survived. Did what we had to do."

There it was again. Did what we had to do. The same thing Joel said when you brought up Lisa and Ben the first time.

You waited for him to elaborate but when it became apparent Ben had finished talking, you pushed him further. "Like what? What does that mean?"

"We laid low. Found some secluded spots in the wilderness and stuck it out for as long as we could," Lisa said, her eyes casually drifting between the two men. You looked at Joel, who was holding a steady glare at Ben and Lisa, but otherwise he was perfectly silent.

"For five years we just laid low? In the woods? The three of us?" you asked, and they could tell you knew they weren't telling you the whole truth. "What aren't you telling me? Did we do something bad? Did something happen?"

Joel shifted in his seat next to you but you kept your eyes pinned on Lisa and Ben, trying to read the expressions on their faces.

Ben was the first to fold. He dragged his eyes up to meet yours and gave you a half smile and shrug. "Yeah. I mean, everyone did bad things one time or another. It's impossible not to-"

"Like what?" you demanded. You could feel your anger building up now. "I'm not a child. Just tell me."

Ben sighed and looked at Joel once again, and this time you had enough.

"Why do you keep looking at him?"

Ben's eyes snapped back to you and he forced out a small chuckle, trying in vain to diffuse the tension in the room.

"You're our guests, so I'm looking at you both."

You weren't going to argue with him when it was clear he was looking at Joel for direction on what to say. It all made sense now. No wonder Joel didn't fight you on coming to visit them. He had planned all along to control the conversation and keep you in the dark and something inside you snapped.

Standing up from the couch suddenly, you looked down at Ben and Lisa, anger brimming in your eyes.

"Thanks," you spat, heading towards the front door. "Sorry to bother you both."

"It's no bother," Lisa said, her voice wavering as she followed you to the door. "Really. Stop by any time, it was nice to see you."

You scoffed and resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you shoved your boots and coat back on, doing your best to finish before Joel so you could get a head start back home.

Flinging open the door without another word, you took a deep breath and stormed down the street, the chilly winter air filling your lungs, trying to cool your anger from the inside out. But then you heard Joel's heavy footsteps crunching in the snow, hurrying to catch up to you, and your rage peaked again.

"You alright?" he asked when he found his place back by your side.

"No, I'm not alright," you seethed, staring straight ahead with your arms wrapped around your middle. "What was that back there?"

"What'dya mean?"

You skidded to a stop and glared at him, his cheeks pink from the cold and his chest rising and falling a little quicker than usual.

"You know what I mean. I'm not stupid, Joel. What don't you want me to know?"

He stared at you, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to figure out how to respond.

"I'm not-"

"Don't bullshit me!" you yelled, and when you remembered you were in the middle of the street, you lowered your voice. "They were clearly scared of you. You didn't want them to tell me something. It was so obvious, Joel! I hit my head but I'm not fucking blind."

"I didn't ask them to say or not say anythin'," he said truthfully.

You stared at one another, both watching as your exhale mixed together, little clouds swirling in between you before rising above your heads and disappearing, each waiting for the other to break first.

"Maybe I should move out," you finally said, voice filled with sadness. His face fell instantly.

"Why?"

"You know why. I don't think I can trust you. How can I, when I can't even get a simple answer out of you?" What did he lie about?

If you had stabbed him in the chest, it would have hurt less. His gaze fell to the ground and he felt his throat begin to constrict. He had to do something. He couldn't lose you. So he told you a half truth.

"You and Ben used to be a thing," he said, and your jaw dropped in surprise.

"What?"

He clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes. "Before you came to Jackson. You and him were a couple."

You looked away from him, taking a minute to wrap your mind around what he just told you. You supposed it would make sense. It would explain why Joel was so weird about bringing you to see them. Maybe you misread the tension in the room. Maybe the tension was about something else entirely.

"That's why you were acting so strange? That's why you were staring him down?" you asked. His answer was still difficult to believe. It explained Joel's behavior, but it didn't explain what bad things you had done and why nobody seemed willing to tell you what they were.

He shrugged and rubbed his hands together. "Can we talk about this at home? I'm freezin'," he said.

The walk afforded you more time to think now that you had this new piece of the puzzle. Ben did seem like your type: he was handsome and kind, but if you and Ben were together in the past, where did that leave Lisa? They were clearly an item now. Wouldn't that have made for a strange relationship between the three of you? Perhaps that's why you didn't see them often.

Joel let you stew in silence for the walk home, fucking praying what he told you would be enough to keep you from following through with your threat. Why did it feel like every time he made some progress with you, something happened that fucked everything up?

Maybe he should have just let them tell you the whole truth.

No, that would have been bad. You didn't trust him enough yet. You said it yourself. And if you were willing to move out over something like this, you certainly would never speak to him again if you knew the whole story.

He needed to earn your trust first but it was so fucking hard when you wouldn't let him in. When you found out the truth the first time, you were already months into a relationship with him. You were already sleeping together, and while it didn't evolve into anything more until later, it still helped build your trust in him when he finally told you the truth.

He didn't have that with you now, and for the first time he began to doubt his ability to make you fall in love with him again.

You huddled in front of the fire after the long walk home, the two of you remaining silent the entire way. Joel was in the kitchen, most likely avoiding you and your questions while you warmed up. You weren't even going to bother bringing up the topic again, but Joel surprised you by doing it himself.

"I'm sorry. 'Bout earlier," he said from the entryway. You turned from the fire to look at him. He looked worried. His eyes were wide and his brow was knit while his hands fidgeted at his sides.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" you asked, and he sighed.

"Dunno. Guess I was hopin' you'd let it go or change your mind," he said, ticking his jaw to the side.

"What would it have even mattered? I don't remember him, I don't remember what we had together. I certainly don't have feelings for him," you told him, sitting down on the couch and tucking your legs underneath you.

He looked around the room nervously as you waited for an answer that wasn't coming.

You sighed and rubbed your eyes. "If this is going to work, you need to be honest with me-"

"I was scared, alright?" he said abruptly. You watched him hang his head between his shoulders and take a deep breath before collapsing into the arm chair next to the couch. "I was scared you'd maybe remember him or..." he trailed off, finding it difficult to put into words what he was thinking. And although it wasn't the whole truth, it still was the truth. He was afraid this version of you would want someone like Ben and not like him.

He was afraid of losing you.

You seemed to understand because you didn't ask him to finish his thought. Instead, since he was opening up, you asked him something else that was bothering you.

"What did I do?"

He looked at you curiously, not following at first until you continued.

"Ben said I did bad things. We all did bad things to survive. What did he mean?"

Joel swallowed and thought about his answer for a moment. You sighed, growing impatient.

"You can't keep the truth from me forever. I'll find out one day, just tell -"

"You killed people," he told you, and you completely lost your train of thought. You searched his face as all of the air rushed out of your lungs, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.

"I killed people?" you repeated, your voice barely a whisper, and he nodded slowly. You felt the tears begin to well up in your eyes but you blinked them away. What kind of monster did you become?

"Innocent people?"

"Depends on who you ask," he said right away, almost as if he expected that question.

"What does that mean?"

He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully as he stared into the fire. "I told you. Everyone did what they had to do in order to survive. I know it's hard for you to understand what it was like, but there were a lot of bad people out there. A lot of bad fuckin' people. The military was outta control. There were revolutions and raiders and slavers." He paused and sniffed a bit, continuing to stare into the flames while you hung on his every word. "When I say you killed people... it ain't black and white. I killed people, too. Alotta people. When the whole goddamn world ends and all you got left is one or two people you care 'bout, you'll do whatever you gotta do to protect 'em. D'you understand?" he asked, finally dragging his eyes up to look at you.

You blinked, thinking about what he said, his words rolling around your head like pinballs.

"I think so," you said quietly.

He nodded, still pinning you with his stare. "We all made decisions. We made choices based on what we knew at the time and we did our best."

You nodded, your voice wavering a bit when you asked "Am I a bad person, Joel?"

His eyebrows pinched together and he leaned forward in his chair, wanting to reach out to you, comfort you and pull you into his arms, but he refrained. "No, baby. You ain't a bad person," he told you softly.

And you weren't sure why, but you believed him.

The streets were quiet as you slowly made your way to the infirmary. You didn't start your shift until late in the morning and you didn't feel like joining Ellie at the dining hall for breakfast, so you stayed home, only getting out of bed when you heard Joel leave for patrol. He had already warned you the night before that he would be back later than usual due to the storm. Trails would likely be difficult to pass and nobody could predict if there would be damage at any of the outposts, but it was highly likely.

You didn't move out like you had threatened to. You didn't even know what you were thinking when you said that. Where would you have gone? The garage with Ellie? You didn't know anybody else. Not really. But even if you had, you saw the look in Joel's face when you said those words and even though you were so fucking angry with him, you still felt terrible for causing him pain.

On one hand, it seemed like he was just looking out for you, but on the other, his actions often came off as selfish. You had every right to know your past and what you did, and you were growing sick of Joel treating you like a child. Like you were too fragile to understand.

But at least you got it out of him. Even though you had to take extreme measures, you finally got him to tell you something truthful, and that was a positive step forward.

Lost in your thoughts, you weren't even paying attention when a man's voice called your name from across the street. You looked up after the third try and were surprised to find Ben waving to you from the tailor. You raised your hand in greeting and made your way over to the building.

"Hey," you said a little sheepishly, "about the other day, I'm sorry for how I acted-"

He shook his head and gave you a reassuring smile. "No need to apologize. All of this has to be so confusing for you. We understand."

You dropped your gaze to the frozen ground and dug your boot into the snow. "Thank you, I appreciate that. It's very frustrating, actually. I'm just trying to learn about myself and what's happened in the past ten years and I guess I took out my anger on you guys."

He waved you off and leaned against the doorframe of the tailor. "Don't worry about it. We were just happy to see you again."

And even though Ben was absolving you of your guilt, you somehow felt even worse. He was being so nice and you hardly felt like you deserved it. "Joel explained it to me, by the way. After we left your house he told me about us," you said, waving your finger back and forth between you.

"Ah," Ben said with a knowing smile as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I wondered as much. It was a very long time ago but Joel can be..." Ben trailed off and scratched his chin, "he can be a little protective, I suppose. He never really understood the nature our relationship."

You tilted your head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"It was just casual. He always thought there was something more," Ben said, meeting your eye. "But I promise you, there wasn't. At the time, we were just lonely and scared and looking for comfort. Neither of us was looking for anything more than that."

You nodded thoughtfully. "He did say we were a couple," you said, and Ben chuckled softly.

"I wouldn't even call it that. Truly. There were no hurt feelings. We just never had a connection past... y'know," he said with a shrug. You felt yourself flush a bit at the words he left unspoken and looked away. "But I'm glad he told you."

"Yeah, me too. I know his heart is in the right place, I just wish he would have told me about us and all the shit we did before I came to see you. Probably would have made the visit a little more pleasant," you said with a laugh, but Ben's face fell.

"He told you about what we did?" he asked, his tone suddenly serious. You sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, he told me I've killed people. It's been really hard to wrap my head around, but I'm trying to come to terms with it. He explained the world we live in now is not like the one I remember."

Ben raised his eyebrows in surprise and unfolded his arms. "Wow. I'm kind of shocked he told you about us and the Fireflies. That must have been really hard for you both."

You frowned and searched his face. "Fireflies?"

His body stiffened and his face paled when he realized his mistake. "Yeah. He told you about the Fireflies, right?"

You shook your head. "What are the Fireflies?"

"Shit," he muttered, pushing himself off the wall abruptly and clearing his throat. "I should get back to work. Just please forget I said anything, okay?"

"Ben, wait," you tried, but he disappeared back inside the tailor, leaving you standing in front of the door while more questions piled up.

There seemed to be a bad flu being spread around town because the infirmary was busier than usual. You were grateful for the distraction, especially after your conversation with Ben. You had spent the better part of the afternoon rushing from exam room to exam room, cleaning up after each patient as quickly as you could so Nick could continue treating the revolving door of people coughing and sneezing in the waiting room. Nick had recommended you wear a bandana around your mouth and nose to hopefully keep you healthy, but you had a feeling it would just be a matter of time before you caught the same bug as everyone else. Still, you kept the bandana tied around your neck as you worked diligently. What you didn't expect, however, was the bit of anonymity the mask afforded you.

You were cleaning up exam room six when you heard a woman's familiar voice in the room across the hall. Nick had left the door cracked open after he ushered her inside, and she apparently had another woman in there waiting with her as you started to pick up on hushed pieces of their conversation.

You didn't intend to eavesdrop, but curiosity got the best of you when you tried to place her voice, and when you realized it was Angie, your hands froze and your body stilled, doing your best to not make any noise so you could listen.

"... going down there almost every night... matter of time... him."

"But what about... freak out."

You frowned, inching closer to the door as you tried to fill in the gaps in their conversation.

Then you heard Angie say your name clear as day and your eyebrows shot up. You pressed your back against the wall and held your breath.

"She doesn't even like him. That relationship is a ticking time bomb."

You silently gasped when you realized they were most certainly talking about you and Joel.

It wasn't even true. You liked Joel. You were attracted to Joel. You were even starting to trust Joel a little more, although you definitely had plans to ask him about the Fireflies. But you were still getting to know him and it was taking time. Was this girl talking about trying to steal Joel away from you? The idea made your stomach turn and anger flare deep in your chest.

You shocked yourself with your reaction. Steal Joel away? Since when did you begin to feel some sense of ownership over him? Were you jealous?

You heard Nick's voice leaving an exam room a few doors down and you quickly made yourself look busy. He sighed tiredly in the hallway as he flipped through some papers before pushing open the door to Angie's room. You were changing the bedding on the mattress when you heard Nick call your name and you quickly dropped the sheets to cross the hall.

When your eyes locked with Angie's, giving her a hardened stare, you swore you saw a flicker of fear before she forced a fake smile and coughed into her fist while her friend, one you recognized from the bathroom at the Tipsy Bison, nervously shifted her weight and looked away. You felt a sick sense of satisfaction when it became clear to the two girls that you had heard everything they said, and you were grateful you had your mask on so they couldn't see the corners of your mouth twitch.

"Would you mind grabbing a bag of cough drops and a jar of menthol from the supply cabinet?" Nick asked, completely oblivious to the shift in the air.

"Sure thing," you told him, turning on your heel to leave and allowing yourself to finally smile.

Joel might scare the rest of the town, but you sure as hell scared the shit out of Angie.

Your shift at the infirmary went longer than expected. By the time you arrived home, you were exhausted and the sun was almost setting. So far you weren't feeling sick, but from what you had overheard all day, the symptoms came on quick, so you had already decided to call it an early night and get some rest. When you swung open the front door and found Joel hunched over the kitchen table, your plans went flying out the window.

He looked like he was on death's door. You had never seen him look so run down and pale. He didn't even open his eyes to look at you, he just kept them shut while he rubbed his temples and tried to stifle a cough, his backpack abandoned at his feet.

"Joel?" you called, toeing off your boots and hurrying over to him. You crouched down on the floor and pressed the back of your hand against his forehead. "You're burning up."

He groaned and cracked open one eye. "Feel like shit. Dunno what happened."

"There's a bad virus spreading around, the infirmary was slammed today," you said, pushing yourself up onto your aching feet to get him a glass of water. "Drink this and I'll heat you up some soup," you told him before heading towards the stove.

"You don't gotta-"

"Drink," you said firmly, cutting him off. He winced before picking up the glass and forcing down the cool liquid. Once you got the gas going on the stove, you grabbed an empty bowl and shoved your boots back on. "I'll be right back," you told him. He sat up a little straighter in his chair, about to ask where you were going but you already disappeared through the front door, returning seconds later with the bowl filled with snow.

"Lean back," you instructed, placing the bowl on the table. He did as he was told and closed his eyes, the lights from the kitchen ceiling making his head ache but when you pressed a handful of packed snow against his forehead, he groaned with relief.

"Oh shit, that feels good," he whispered as you tried to ignore the twinge between your legs at his low tone. He released a shaky breath and you watched as the snow began to melt, little trails of water dripping from his hair and down his scruffy cheeks. When it was nearly melted, you took your hand away and dumped the remnants in the sink, grabbing a towel and drying your hands on the way back. You pinched his stubbly chin delicately in your fingers and tipped his head towards you while slowly and gently wiping away the water from his face. When you finished, your eyes found his already boring into you and you felt a tingle shoot down your spine.

"Better?"

His gaze softened as he continued to stare up at you, searching your face quietly, making your heart begin to beat faster in your chest. You swallowed nervously and forced yourself to look away, and it was then he finally realized you had asked him a question.

"Yes," he murmured, "thank you."

You dragged your eyes back to his and gave him a small smile. "More?"

He didn't trust himself to speak. He just slowly nodded and watched with heavy lidded eyes as you scooped up another handful of snow. With your free hand, you slid your fingers behind his neck and through his hair, cupping the back of his head in your small hand before pressing the snow gently against his forehead once again. And even though he wanted to keep looking at you, he couldn't stop his eyes from fluttering shut at the cooling sensation, earning you another deep groan from his throat and causing your breath to stutter.

He heard it and opened his eyes.

You stared at each other, lips parted as the air began to thicken with tension. His eyes flickered over your face, noticing the way your pupils appeared bigger as you gazed down at him. He took a risk and slowly brought his hand up to rest on your side, watching you carefully for any sign that he should stop. He pressed his fingertips lightly into your hip, the fabric of your shirt bunching up slightly from the pressure.

You dropped your eyes to his hand and blinked rapidly, then opened your mouth to speak when you heard sizzling at the stove. You whipped your head around just as his soup began to boil over the pot.

"Shit!" you yelped, dropping the half melted snow onto the towel and racing over to the range. You twisted the knob off and put the pot on one of the unused burners and the liquid immediately simmered back down. "Sorry," you said, refusing to look at him as you started to gather a bowl and spoon, embarrassment burning your cheeks.

"Don't be," he replied, still leaning back in his chair in the same position you left him. He watched you fumble nervously in the kitchen and he had to suppress a smile.

Maybe he still had a chance, after all.

Joel's temperature was a little high but nothing too concerning, so you pushed the fluids and he ate all of his soup and it helped put your mind at ease. You really didn't want to have to ask for ibuprofen unless it was absolutely necessary, especially considering how the same virus was hitting almost every house at the same time. You made sure to check on Ellie from her doorway, not wanting to risk her catching anything since she appeared to be fine, before helping Joel up to bed.

Once you followed him into the room and he turned on the light next to his bed, you realized you hadn't actually ever entered his bedroom before. Sure, you've walked past it when the door was open and glanced inside, but you never really looked. As he gathered some fresh pajamas and began to unbutton his flannel, you turned your back to him to give him some privacy and examined his bookshelf. Your eyes drifted over the titles on the spines of a handful of books, most of which you hadn't heard of before noticing a framed photograph sharing a shelf with his books. It was faded and a little torn, but you could still make out their faces. It was Joel - a far younger version of Joel - with his arm around a beautiful little girl with dark hair and eyes and a stunning smile. You felt your throat tighten when you realized who it was, and if you had any doubt, Joel's voice piped up behind you.

"That's Sarah."

You heard him shuffling his bedding around so you figured he was dressed.

"She's beautiful, Joel," you said, walking over to his side of the bed and popping the thermometer under his tongue one more time. "It's wonderful that you were able to find a picture of her. I wish I had some pictures of my family," you said sadly, watching the hands of the clock on top of his bookshelf tick, counting down the seconds until you could check the thermometer. "I would have loved for you to at least see them. I think you would have gotten along with my brother really well. Maybe too well," you added with a soft laugh, not realizing he was silently hanging on your every word as you continued to stare at the clock. "He was always looking out for me. Always protecting me, trying to shield me and it drove me nuts when I was younger, but as time went on, I understood it a bit more."

You pulled the thermometer out and checked the number. "Still the same," you told him, resting it on his nightstand.

"How much time?" he asked, and you gave him a confused look. "How much time did it take 'til you started to understand?" he clarified, and you realized what he was really asking.

"I don't know," you replied honestly, sitting on the edge of his bed with a sigh. "But I'm starting to... understand," you said, giving him a sideways glance. You really wanted to ask him about the Fireflies but seeing how sick he was, you decided to bring it up another time. His hand slipped out from underneath the covers and gently squeezed your knee.

"That's good," he said softly before furrowing his brow and turning his head to cough loudly into his pillow. You winced at how bad it sounded and rubbed his upper back. When the coughing fit passed, you handed him his water and he took a grateful sip.

"Do you need anything else before I go to bed?"

"Could you stay here?" he found himself asking before he could even think. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as you struggled to answer. "Just 'til I fall asleep?"

"Oh," you replied, looking awkwardly around his rather sparse room. "Sure, let me just go wash up," you said, standing up from his bed. You were dead on your feet from your shift at work and you knew the next day wouldn't be any better, but you felt bad saying no, so you changed your clothes and grabbed one of the books Joel had found for you before dragging the chair from the corner of his room to the side of his bed.

"You can stretch out over there," he told you, pointing weakly to the other side of the bed before coughing into his closed fist. "I won't bite."

You smiled as you settled into the chair. "I'm alright, thanks," you said, opening your book and leaning back, trying to get comfortable. After a few minutes of reading, you looked up just to find him still watching you. You laughed and said "you need to get some rest if you want to kick this thing," then he grinned and finally closed his eyes.

You may not have been in bed with him, but you were close enough to help him relax and for the first time in months, he fell fast asleep within minutes.

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[syoddeye]

kinktober - day 01 - breast worship

nikolai x f!reader | 1.4k words cw: biting, nipple play, breeding kink, daddy kink summary: you have a surprise for nikolai. banner by @/cafekitsune | kinktober list

“All for me, zolotse?”

Nikolai leers from the doorway, scarlet dusting his cheeks, a byproduct from his drinking and exertions minutes ago. Your neck burns from where he’d buried his face in it, sucking marks into your skin between his demands for more on the cabin’s couch.

“I told you I had a surprise.” You shake your head, eyeing him in the reflection of the mirror. Pulling a silk camisole over your head, you tug at the delicate fabric and adjust your tits. With his impatience, it’s a good thing you already put on the matching panties. “Do you like it?”

Your man strides across the room, muttering something in his native tongue, dark eyes scanning top to bottom and up again. You don’t move a muscle as Nik steps as close as possible, thick arms encircling your middle and drawing you backward to his chest. His chain tickles your skin despite the warmth of his breath.

He murmurs a few more words, kissing your exposed skin and swaying slightly with your hands covering his. 

“What are you saying, love?”

“Thanking whatever put me here for putting me here with you. Fuck, look at your tits.” 

“Nik!” You huff, feigning indignation as he breaks his hold to shove his hands up your camisole.

“It’s my surprise, yes? Let me enjoy it. Them. They look magnificent.”

His worn, scarred palms cup your breasts, gently squeezing and lifting. Heat slowly rolls over you, starting from the crown of your head and descending to meet a second source curling in your stomach. With the heavy snowfall outside, it seems he’s dead set on lighting a fire.

Nik meets your gaze in the mirror, retracting a hand to trace a finger along a strap, hooking under it and pulling it over your shoulder. “My favorite color.”

You lick your lips, shrugging coyly. “You’ve mentioned it once…or a dozen times.”

“Brat.” 

You drape your hands over his forearms and tip your head to the side, offering more of your neck as his mouth travels over it. Your nipples strain against the fabric, clearly outlined and demanding more of his attention. Nik likes to tease, to draw things out—play with his food, he said the first time he laid you down. It takes ages for him to do away with the thin top, and his palms are on you so fast you don’t have time to reconcile the money spent with the minutes it was on you.

“There,” Nikolai murmurs, voice rough. “They’re perfect.” He occupies one hand, pinching and plucking at a nipple. Stares single-mindedly over your shoulder, mouth pressed flush, and panting. “Open your legs.” He instructs, his foot already wedging between yours to nudge them further. “Mm, what’s that little spot? Getting wet from just this?”

His fingers pause, only to lift and tap against your lips. You open to let them slide over your tongue and suck without being told. He groans, rutting into your ass. In turn, your nails sink shallowly into his skin.

When he withdraws his fingers, trailing a path of saliva back down to your nipple, you smirk at him in the mirror to hide the quiver of your lip. “And you’re getting hard from just this.”

In his reflection, his teeth seem razor sharp, especially as he punishes your smart tongue with a restrained bite. The sting goes right to your clit. “Maybe so, but I bet I can make you come like this.” His free hand skims over your body, two fingers repeating the intrusion into your mouth.

You think he might be right.

His fingers are merciless in their assault. He bullies your nipples, the wet and hard peaks, and your thigh muscles start to ache from your efforts at keeping them still. He grunts in response to the whines spilling out of you. Pressure builds between your legs, in need of friction. 

The filth he whispers in your ear doesn’t help. He weaves languages together, using what you don't know against you, letting his tone and insistent grinding impart their meaning.

What you do understand, are his plans. “Darling, you're making a mess. After you come, which you will, I’m going to slide right in. Not going to have to prepare you or take it slow at all, am I? You’re going to soak me with that needy pussy, and take all of me, yeah? Look how you fidget.”

Your chest heaves against his hands, deep breaths stuttering at the thought of him bending you over the bed or pinning you flat on the mattress like the night before. He gives a shallow thrust against your ass and you feel it, how he had played you like a fiddle with his hand snaked under your body, crushed into the mattress as he stroked your clit. Another thrust and your cunt pulses around nothing but a fleeting, phantom sensation.

Fuck. You really could come like this. But you want more.

“Nik, please, touch me.”

“I am touching you.”

You whine, pushing back into him stubbornly. “C’mon, you know where.” 

He hums, feigning deliberation, then looses a chuckle with a sigh. He pinches both nipples, tugging until your back arches. “No, you’ll come from this or not at all. But if you manage it, darling, I’ll give you many more.”

That sends a zap along your nerves, cranking up the electrical current already buzzing through every inch of your body. You know he’s good for it, you just have to be, too. After watching his gaze drill into your chest and his hands teasing and toying, you shut your eyes to focus. He seems to catch on after a minute because his lewd promises continue, his stubbly chin grazing your ear.

“Maybe I should fuck these first. We haven’t done that in a while, have we? Always so soft…”

You think about the last time he had pinned you to the bed, dropping his weight on you and giving you no place to go. You had struggled and swore, especially when he spit on you, right between your tits, before grabbing big handfuls and shoving himself between them. That made you see stars. Mesmerized by the rock of his hips, the slick glide of his cock, and how frustratingly close he was to your mouth.

The memory makes your knees buckle slightly, forcing him to hold you tighter as he kneads and paws at your chest.

“Mm, wait. Imagine I finally knock you up,” he practically growls, rolling your nipples. “It would be so easy. I take the copper from your arm—”

“—like hell I let you be the one to remove it.” You hiss, squeezing your eyelids tight to concentrate on how you’re edging closer and closer.

“Darling, I have pried bullets—”

“Nik.” You groan, slipping some. 

He breathlessly laughs. “But if I did, if I did that—we’d try every day, wouldn’t we? And think of how quick it would take. No time, not with me. I’d keep you that way, keep your belly full,” he nips. “Just so I can keep these swollen. How big do you think they would get?”

Beads of sweat dot your hairline and temples. You and Nik have discussed children before. Always in theory, like a distant point on the horizon. A mirage, even, because neither of you have ever imagined yourselves as parents. It doesn’t stop his words from crossing your wires. The idea he wants to fuck a baby into you for your tits to grow is insane, and yet, it pushes you to a cliff. 

“Kolya, I’m going to—”

Nikolai pants into your shoulder. “Oh? You want to make me a daddy, zolotse?” 

Your orgasm rips through you in a sharp jolt. It feels so good, it hurts, and if it wasn’t for Nik’s hands dropping to hug you close, you’d be on your knees. You see stars behind your eyelids, then phosphenes when they open. Your eyeballs feel loose in their sockets from how suddenly relaxed you feel, meeting his smug gaze in the mirror. He lets you hang in his arms a moment longer before you find your feet like a newborn foal. 

“Don’t tell me you are finished already. Where’s your stamina? We need to practice if we’re going to have a baby, right?”

[aemondwhoresworld]

STRANGER TO LOVERS

pairing: mafia!cregan stark x reader

summary: after eight months of being in an arrange marriage, mafia boss of the city of winterfell finally confessed his true feelings for his wife, y/n

word count: 1,5k

warning: english is not my first language. modern au, arrange marriage (?), angst to fluff, use of y/n.

masterlist | ADD YOURSELFT TO MY TAGLIST

The city of Winterfell was a frigid, unforgiving place, but it was also the heartbeat of Cregan Stark’s empire. A dynasty of power and shadow, the Stark family had ruled the city’s underworld for generations. Cregan was no exception, standing at the helm of the family’s criminal syndicate. Despite the harshness of his world, Cregan ruled with a code—one that valued loyalty above all. He was feared, respected, and rarely challenged.

But within the icy walls of Stark Manor, a different battle raged. It wasn’t over territory or power but something far more complicated—his feelings for you, his wife of eight months.

Their marriage had been an arrangement, forged not from love but from necessity. Cregan needed an alliance to secure his hold on Winterfell, and your family had deep ties in the South. The union had been strategic, coldly calculated like everything else in his life. Or at least, that’s what Cregan had convinced himself.

You are beautiful, intelligent, and fiercely independent. From the moment he’d first laid eyes on you, Cregan had felt something shift inside him—something he’d never felt before. But he was a Stark, and Starks didn’t show weakness, especially not to their wives. He’d kept his distance, playing the role of the detached husband, leaving you to the sprawling mansion while he handled business.

But over time, that cold detachment had begun to melt. He found himself seeking you out more often, stealing glances when you wasn’t looking, lingering in conversations that had nothing to do with the business. Yet, he remained silent, trapped by his pride and the fear that you could never feel the same.

It was a cold winter evening when everything changed.

The night was quiet, too quiet for Winterfell. The snowfall outside had turned the city into a white, silent expanse. Inside Stark Manor, a fire crackled in the grand fireplace, casting long shadows across the walls. You curled up on one of the leather armchairs in the living room, a book resting in your lap. You’d found solace in reading since moving to Winterfell, a way to escape the loneliness that often crept in when Cregan was away.

Tonight, however, you couldn’t focus on the words. Your mind was elsewhere—on your husband.

Cregan Stark was a mystery to you, a man of few words and even fewer emotions. Their marriage had been more of a business transaction than anything else, a way to strengthen ties between their families. But despite his cold exterior, you had seen glimpses of something more—something tender hidden beneath the surface. You just didn’t know how to reach it.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, pulling you from your thoughts. You looked up as Cregan entered the room, his presence commanding as always. He was dressed in a dark suit, the fabric tailored to perfection, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. His icy blue eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“Y/n,” he greeted you, his voice deep and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Cregan,” you replied, closing your book and placing it on the table beside you. “I didn’t expect you to be home so early.”

He walked over to the fireplace, his eyes fixed on the flames. “There’s nothing more to be done tonight,” he said, almost as if he were talking to himself. “And I wanted to see you.”

The admission caught you off guard. He rarely said anything so direct, so… vulnerable. You studied him, trying to read the expression on his face, but as usual, it was a blank slate. You stood up and walked over to him, your heart pounding in your chest. The heat from the fire warmed you as you stood beside him, close enough to feel the tension radiating from his body.

“What’s wrong?” you asked softly, searching his eyes for answers.

He turned to look at you, his gaze intense. “Do you regret it?”

You frowned, confused. “Regret what?”

“This,” he gestured between them. “Our marriage. Do you regret marrying me?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded with emotion. You blinked, taken aback by the sudden vulnerability in his voice. You had never expected him to ask something so personal, so raw.

“No,” you said after a moment, your voice steady. “I don’t regret it.”

Cregan’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but there was still a storm brewing behind his eyes. “Why not?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “Because I’ve come to care for you, Cregan. Despite everything—despite how we started—I care for you more than I ever thought I could.”

His eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of deception, but he found none. You were telling the truth, and it shook him to his core. He had always assumed you was with him out of duty, out of obligation. But to hear that you actually cared for him? That was something he hadn’t been prepared for.

He looked away, his jaw clenched. “You deserve more than what I’ve given you,” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “I’ve kept you at a distance, thinking it was what was best. But the truth is… I don’t know how to be a husband. I don’t know how to love.”

You reached out, placing your hand on his arm. “You do love, Cregan,” you said gently.

“You show it in the way you protect your family, in the way you’ve built this empire to keep us safe. You may not say it, but your actions speak louder than words.”

He looked down at your hand, feeling the warmth of your touch seep through his suit jacket. For so long, he had convinced himself that he was incapable of love, that his heart had frozen over in the bitter cold of Winterfell. But you had been slowly thawing it, chipping away at the ice until he could feel again.

“I’ve been a fool,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’ve been a fool to keep you at arm’s length.”

You stepped closer, your heart aching for the man before you. “It’s not too late, Cregan,” you said softly. “We can still make this work. But you have to let me in.”

He looked into your eyes, seeing the sincerity and love reflected back at him. For the first time in a long time, Cregan felt hope. He placed his hand over your, pulling you closer.

“I love you, Y/n,” he confessed, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you, but I was too afraid to admit it. Too afraid to lose control.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, your heart swelling with emotion. “I love you too, Cregan,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumb gently brushing away a tear that had escaped down your cheek. “I promise I’ll do better,” he vowed, his voice steady. “I’ll be the husband you deserve.”

You smiled through your tears, leaning into his touch. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Cregan leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, one that spoke of all the love and longing he had kept buried for so long. You melted into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed him back, pouring all of your love into that one moment.

When they finally pulled away, Cregan rested his forehead against your, his breathing ragged. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice filled with gratitude. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

You smiled, your heart filled with love and hope for the future. “We’ll figure this out together,” you promised, your voice steady and sure.

They stood there for a long time, wrapped in each other’s arms, the warmth of the fire and their newfound love surrounding them. The city outside may have been cold and ruthless, but inside Stark Manor, there was nothing but warmth and the promise of a brighter tomorrow.

The next few weeks passed in a blur of emotions and newfound closeness. Cregan made good on his promise to be a better husband, spending more time with you and opening up to you in ways he never had before. He shared the burdens of his empire with you, letting you into his world and showing you the man behind the mask.

You, in turn, supported him every step of the way. You became his confidante, his partner, and his anchor in the storm. The more they shared, the stronger their bond grew, until the walls that had once separated them were nothing more than a distant memory.

But life in Winterfell was never simple. The Stark empire was powerful, but it was also constantly under threat. Rivals from the South, old enemies of the Stark family, were always looking for a weakness, a way to bring them down. And now that Cregan had let you into his heart, you had become his greatest vulnerability.

It was a crisp winter morning when that vulnerability was put to the test.

Cregan had been in meetings all day, discussing the latest threats to their territory. You had spent the morning in the study, catching up on some reading and preparing for a charity event they were hosting that evening. You were just finishing up when the phone rang, the shrill sound breaking

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TAGLIST: @r-3dlips

[yeonzzzn]

🧊just come over, would ya?: sim jaeyun

pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: 2.2k

synopsis: snow storm causes the whole apartment complex power to go out, in which your hot neighbor offers to help keep you warm…

genre: neighbors au!, neighbors to lovers, smut

warnings: swearing, jerking off, fingering, finger riding, unprotective sex, cuddly + funny jake ♡

Your whole body shook, pulling yet another blanket over your body. 

Your sweatpants, sweatshirt, fuzzy socks, and beanie were not enough to keep you warm through this power outage. 

This was one of the moments you wished you had a fireplace in your small apartment, yet here you are. 

What was supposed to be a small snowfall turned into a snowstorm and the whole apartment complex’s power went out with no word on how long it would take for the power to come back on. 

Your teeth grinded together as you pulled the blankets over your head, pulling your legs to your chest in hopes of getting warmer. 

You tried to sleep, hoping it would pass the time, but due to your freezing, sleep was not going to come. 

You decided to check your phone in hopes of seeing a message from the apartment complex's owner about when the power would be back but instead saw a text from your neighbor. 

Jake: How are you holding up? Heard you sneezed earlier. The building is way too quiet.  You: Obviously I’m freezing.  Jake: Oh, you don’t have a fireplace, right?

You rolled your eyes at your text from him. He was clearly teasing you for not having one. 

Jake was always teasing you any moment he could get. You both attend the same college and have many classes together, so once he moved next door the amount of “good neighbor” jokes he would say was more annoying than his shit-eating grin when he’d say them. 

You: Jake, you obviously know I don’t have a fireplace, don’t be a dick :) Jake: Want to come over and use mine? The fireplace obviously, not my dick. 

You bit your bottom lip in debate. It would be nice to finally be warm, but the thought of being stuck with Jake for god knows how long made you irritated. Mostly after his joke just now.

You: No thanks. I’m good.  Jake: Y/N, I can clearly hear your teeth chattering through these walls.  Jake: I am trying to be nice here.  Jake: Just come over, would ya? Jake: The door is unlocked. 

You knew the best option would be to rush next door and sit in front of the fireplace with him.

Fuck it. 

You jumped from your bed, slipped your feet into your slippers, and rushed out of your room. 

The hallway was way colder than inside your apartment. The darkness of the hall reminds you of something from a horror film, the moonlight outside being the only source of light. 

You quickly jumped in front of Jake’s door, knocking frantically. 

After a soft “come in” was heard from the other side, you opened the door and quickly stepped in shutting the door behind you. 

You quickly took in Jake’s living room, his couch being pushed up closer to the fireplace. 

Jake raised a hand from his couch, “Over here.”

You kicked your slippers off, ready to sit close to the fire, only for your smile to turn upside down seeing Jake sprawled out, lying down. 

The only thing you could see was his eyes, the rest of him being completely covered by his blanket. 

You stared back at him? raising a brow, “Move over?” 

Jake furrows his brows, “No, Hi? Hello? How are you? Nice weather we are having?” 

You rolled your eyes, “Hi Jake, the weather sucks, move over, ya?” 

Jake lifted the blanket off his body, patting his hand to his stomach. 

You blankly stared at him, confused. Until it clicked in your head. 

Jake could read you like a book, your facial expression telling exactly how you were feeling, “Y/N, just come lay down.”

You shook your head, “No, I will sit on the floor.” 

Jake rolled his eyes this time. This was further than ideal for him too. All he was trying to do was be nice. Even with the fireplace he was still freezing and can only imagine how cold you were. 

“Y/N, we would warm up faster, it’s basic science and survival tactics.” 

You tucked your lip between your teeth. You knew he was right, plus he has his couch so close to the fireplace that you wouldn’t be able to fully sit in front of it anyway. 

You rolled your eyes and dropped your arms at your side, “Fine!” 

Jake smiled at you as you laid down on top of him, your head nuzzling in his neck. He threw the blanket back over your body, his arms wrapping around you. 

You hated to admit it, but this was nice. Your body slowly warms up, but obviously not fast enough. 

“If we strip down, we'll warm up faster.” Jake teased. 

You weren’t looking at him but you could feel his smirk that was slapped across his face. 

“Shut up, Sim.” you scoffed at him and a little chuckle left his lips. 

“Hey, I am just saying.” he shrugged his shoulders and you barely looked up at him, glaring at him. 

Jake absolutely loved teasing you. He loved how easy it was. You looked way too cute to him when he got you all mad. 

The way you’d look at him and the smiles you would try to hide when you thought he was being funny. It pulled at his heart more than he’d like to admit. 

Jake closed his eyes and wrapped his arms a bit tighter around you, his main focus to help keep you warm. 

Unfortunately laying in the same position was making you uncomfortable. You slowly started to wiggle around, trying to lay more comfortably. 

The friction of you moving against him was sending Jake’s thoughts into other places, biting down on his lip and steadying his breathing to keep calm. 

But you noticed all the well the bulge growing in his sweatpants against your stomach. 

“Sim Jaeyun,” you warned, shifting your leg up a bit, accidentally rubbing your knee against his hard length. 

“Stop moving then, jeez.” Jake spat out, his heart racing against his chest. 

You could hear how fast his heart was going, how it threatened to beat out of his chest. 

You just wanted to be comfortable, “Let me get comfortable and I’ll stop moving, I promise.” 

You slowly lifted your leg a bit more, Jake’s hand flying to your thigh, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Y/N,” he softly breathed out. You looked up at him, seeing the lust that filled his eyes, “If you keep moving on top of me, I can’t promise I’ll stay on my best behavior.” 

The way his voice spoke those words sent chills down your spine. You’ve never seen Jake look so serious and so…hot. 

You’ve always been attracted to Jake, he was such a good-looking man. But the Jake in front of you with lust and want written all over his face was enough to dampen your panties. With the way your name rolled off his tongue in warning made something in you click. 

Jake slowly laid his head back down on the armrest, his grip on your thigh not leaving. 

With the way Jake looked at this moment, made you want to test his limits. The way his eyes searched for something on the ceiling to focus on while his heart pounded and his dick twitched against your tummy. 

The hand that rested on his chest, you slowly slid down, your fingers brushing his soft skin where his shirt slid up from your leg. 

Jake hissed at your touch, his eyes closing, “Y/N, this is your last warning.” 

But you kept going, reaching your thumb to slide against his tip over his sweatpants, a soft “fuck” leaving his lips. 

You moved your hand down more, all your fingers grazing his clothed hard-on. His hand leaves your thigh to grip your hand. 

“If you keep up-“

“Kiss me.” you interrupted him. And that’s all it took. 

Jake’s lips found yours, one hand was placed at the side of your neck and jaw, and the other went back to your thigh. 

Jake kissed you with such hunger, his hand squeezing your thigh tightly. 

His tongue found its way into your mouth and rubbed against your own as he moaned on your lips. 

You snaked your hand down his sweatpants and underwear, wrapping your hand around his length, your thumb rubbing the precum around his tip. 

Jake released his lips from yours, resting his forehead on yours panting with each stroke your hand made. 

Strings of “Fuck fuck fuck fuck”, rolled off his tongue as you pumped him. 

You released him, sliding both hands up his torso and pulling his shirt along with them. 

Jake helped you remove his shirt and right after removing your own. Your shirts and beanie being thrown off somewhere else in the room. 

Jake kissed you again, his hands sliding from the sides of your face down to your shoulders, his fingers looping at your bra straps pulling them down. 

With just two fingers, Jake unclasped your bra and removed it from your body. 

The skin-to-skin contact drove you insane with how warm his body felt against your own. 

Jake squeezed your ass, a soft moan leaving your mouth and oh god it was music to his ears. 

Jake wanted to feel every inch of you. To worship your body the way it deserves to be. 

“Take your pants off,” he whispered, his thumbs looping into your sweatpants. 

You sat up getting rid of your pants and panties, your hands reaching for Jake helping him slide his off. 

His cock slapped against his abdomen, the precum glistening from the light of the fireplace. 

Jake’s hand snaked between your folds, groaning, “You’re so wet for me baby.” 

His long fingers pumped in and out of you. You flip your head back and dig your fingers into his chest. 

You rolled your hips against his fingers. Jake bit his lip at the site of you riding his fingers, your juices coating them.

God you were a sight to see, your facial expressions sending Jake over the deep in. 

He loved the way your hips rolled against his fingers, he needed to see how they’d work with his dick deep inside you. 

“Baby,” the Aussie man pled, “I need you on my cock, please.” 

You nodded, lifting yourself and lining the tip with your entrance. 

Jake threw his head back onto the couch’s arm as you slid down into him, “Oh fuck baby.” 

You started rolling your hips, placing your hands on his chest for support.

His hands went to your breasts, cupping both of them. Squeezing them with every roll of your hips against his. 

“Fuck baby, you look so beautiful riding my cock. Such a good girl for me.” 

“Hmmm, Jake, you f-feel so good.” you moaned out, sitting yourself up even more to bounce on his dick. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Y/N. Oh, fuck me.” Jake groaned, his hands flying to your hips, slamming you down onto him. 

He helped you pick up speed, the knot in your stomach ready to burst. 

Jake knew you were getting close with the way your breath became unsteady and how you clenched around him. 

He felt like he was in heaven being fucked by an angel. 

Jake has dreamed of this moment since the day he met you in class and knew it was fate when he moved in next door. 

The moment he heard your soft moans coming from the other side of his bedroom wall he dreamt of being the one making you moan. 

He tried so hard to cover his ears, knowing it wasn’t something he needed to be listening to, but found his hand wrapped around his cock as he pumped himself to your moans. 

Now that he could hear your moans clear as day in his ears drove him wild. 

“Jake, I-I’m cumming.” you pant, your movements becoming sloppy. 

Jake pulled your body back down onto his, lifting his legs and wrapping his arms around your waist holding you down into place fucking into you. 

Your hands went into Jake’s hair as you chanted his name. 

“Cum for me baby girl,” he said between breaths, “Make a mess on my cock for me, ya?” 

You let go, the ecstasy washing over you. 

“That’s my good girl, so fucking good for me.” 

Jake fucked you into overstimulation, his cock twitching inside you, ready for release. 

“Jake,” you whispered into his cheek, placing small kisses. 

“I’m cumming baby, fuck, I’m cumming.” 

Jake connected his lips back to yours as he pumped his load into you, moaning against your lips. 

Jake loosened his grip on your body, slowly moving his hands up and down your bare back as the kisses went from lustful to soft and sweet, filled with passion. 

The only sound heard was your lips moving against each other and the crackling of the fireplace. 

As if on cue, all the lights in his apartment came on. The sound of the heating system starting up. 

“Guess the power is back.” You whispered against his mouth, slowly laying your head down on his chest. 

“I don’t know about you, but I was plenty warm.” Jake teased, earning him yet another glare from you. 

“And we are back to teasing, I’m going home.” 

“No no, Y/N, I’m sorry,” Jake said, wrapping his arms tightly around you, “I am not ready for you to go yet.” 

You giggled, “You know we are neighbors, right?” 

“Mmhm,” Jake hummed, “Make sure you always treat your neighbor well, never know when another snowstorm will hit.” 

You couldn’t be mad at him for that joke. He did keep you warm and won your heart over. 

“Y/N?” 

“Yes, Jake?” 

“Let’s do this more often.

a/n: this was a bit rushed and I apologize, but I still hope you all enjoyed it!

[connorsui]

“I trust you…I promise you that I trust you, and nothing will come in the way of that…but you can’t tell me this isn’t ridiculous, right?”

You stand in the middle of your snowy driveway, gazing with a mix of exasperation and amusement at Johnny and your twin sons as they create a battlefield out of the morning’s snowfall-- Instead of the simple snowmen you might have imagined, the boys are busy crafting a fortress, with underground paths, tall mounds as shields, and small stockpiles of snowballs for their so called ... “ammunition.”

You’d pictured the morning so differently: hot chocolate by the fire, maybe a bit of decorating? or Johnny sharing tame, kid-friendly stories from his time in the service—with the casual violence out of the way. But instead, here you are, cup of coffee warming one hand, the other resting on your hip as you watch Johnny instruct the boys in how to "properly" make a shield.

“Ohh, c’mon, lovie,” Johnny calls out, dusting the snow from his gloves with a playful shake of his head, “Let the lads enjoy themselves a bit, eh?” He straightens up, strides over to you, and presses a kiss to your cheek. The cold on his lips contrasts sharply with the warmth of his smile, and you feel yourself smiling back, twirling your coffee idly in the mug.

Johnny steps behind you, wrapping his arms securely around your waist, resting his chin atop your head. “I meant it when I said I wanted to spend every second with the boys,” he murmurs softly. “Been too long without ‘em, you know?”

“Oh, I know you said that,” you chuckle, a warm puff of air slipping into the crisp winter morning. “Don’t think I forgot so quickly... But taking on our boys in an early morning little war wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when you promised ‘quality time,’ Johnny.”

He laughs, his deep chuckle vibrating against you. But before he can reply, one of the twins rushes over, his cheeks flushed with excitement, snowflakes clinging to his coat.

“Mum! Mummy! Look! We did it!” He points eagerly to their snow fortress, an impressive structure for something built by two kids and their overly enthusiastic dad.

The other twin, standing guard behind a snowy barricade, grins mischievously before launching a snowball toward his brother. It narrowly misses, skimming past you, and you instinctively step back, laughing as you bump into Johnny’s chest.

“Oi! Careful with yer aim,” Johnny calls out, unable to hide the pride in his voice. He lets you go and grins at the boys. “Ye want to join me inside for a while, love?” he asks, lowering his voice, a playful warmth in his tone. “I’ll make you somethin’ nice, your favorite.”

“Hmmm,” you hum in mock consideration, pretending to think it over. Finally, you give a quick nod, and the two of you make your way back to the kitchen, where you begin preparing a warm breakfast for the boys. The house feels cozy, the warmth from the stove and the sound of laughter just outside filling it with a sense of peace that feels almost too perfect to be real.

As you look out the kitchen window, you see the twins giggling, a flurry of snowballs passing between them. One boy dives behind a mound, trying to evade the other’s shot, only to trip and collapse in a heap of laughter and snow. You watch, smiling to yourself, feeling that rare, unfiltered happiness that fills every corner of your heart.

“What’re ye thinkin’, hmm?” Johnny asks, catching the look on your face as he leans against the counter, his gaze soft.

You blink, as if just waking from a daydream. “What? Nothing… Just happy, is all.”

Johnny raises an eyebrow, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Sure about that?”

“What makes you think I’m not?”

“Oh, nothin’,” he teases, feigning innocence. “Just wonderin’.”

You lean back against the counter, eyes drifting again to the scene outside. “This is everything I could’ve ever wanted with you, Johnny. I remember imagining this life with you back then, maybe one little one in tow… but now, with two boys, and you… it almost feels ...dream-like,... you know?”

He slides closer to you, his hand resting over yours. “No, darlin’. I don’t know,” he says softly, his eyes meeting yours with that familiar, grounded warmth. “Because this here? It’s all real. Me, the house, our boys… us.” He gestures around as if to make his point clear. “This is it. All of it’s real.”

A smile spreads across your face as you meet his gaze, unable to hold back. Leaning up, you place a soft kiss on his lips, savoring the moment, the crisp air still lingering on his skin.

“And ye know what else could be real right about now?” he murmurs, a glint of mischief in his eye.

“Oh, and what would that be?”

“Leaving the kids with yer mum while we take apart that new lovely present you left out for me.”

You gasp, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “Johnny! Don’t tell me you’ve already seen it?”

He smirks, tapping the side of his head. “Oh, don’t think I didn’t spot it, all prettily wrapped with a bow.”

Lowering your voice, you whisper, “That was for later!”

“How much later?” he teases, a mischievous sparkle in his eye that sends your pulse racing.

You glance away, hiding a grin, cheeks warm as you try to suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

Johnny lets out a laugh, his deep voice filling the cozy kitchen. But before you can respond, the boys come bounding in, their noses red from the cold, eyes wide with excitement.

“Mum! Mum! Can you make our favorite breakfast?” they ask in unison, looking up at you with hopeful smiles.

You sigh playfully, shaking off the blush that had crept up your neck, and nod. “Alright, alright. I’ll call you back when it’s ready!”

With twin shouts of “mmkay!” they scamper back outside, their laughter echoing through the yard as they dive back into their snowball war.

Johnny watches you, a familiar, mischievous smile still on his face. “Well?”

You tilt your head, chuckling, “I'll call her.."

A laugh escapes him, and he pulls you close, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek. As you continue with breakfast, he stays by your side, keeping an eye on the boys through the window. You realize that this—Johnny beside you, the kids laughing outside, the warmth of your home wrapping around you—is the happiest you’ve ever felt.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Broken Mind | Josh Washington x Reader

......

Another day, another Until Dawn rewrite by yours truly <3

I've got Rami Malek on the brain again so I decided to revise this old 2016 fic I wrote about Josh being accompanied by Reader in the shed (after his prank reveal). Changed a few things around and added stuff from the prologue, but all in all the plot's the same (except they're together)

Anyways enjoy!

......

"Hey, [y/n]. Got a special delivery for you."

Hearing the quiet giggles of the Washington sisters, you looked up from your phone and smiled upon seeing your boyfriend being held up by the two of them.

He looked plastered as hell and half-asleep, but his eyes were slightly open. The moment they landed on you, lopsided grin spread across his lips.

"[Y/n]...baby...?"

"Yes. It's me, Josh." With a chuckle, you put down your phone and assisted the girls in helping him lay on the sofa. You decided to let him rest on top of you, seeing as he already had his arms wrapped around your torso. "Jeez, so clingy, huh? How much did you drink?"

"Mhm...I forgot.." His words were slurred.

"Of course you did." Putting your arms around him, you lightly scratched at his scalp with your fingertips, hearing his hums of content as he looked to his sisters.

While Hannah left, Beth smiled back and took a picture of him being all cuddly with you, reminding herself to send to you later. After that, she finally left you both alone.

"They take good care of you."

"Yeah..they're..the best." Josh mumbled tiredly into your chest, hugging you tighter. "But 'm glad you're here...thank you for being by my side. I love you sooooooooooo much."

"Of course, Joshie. I love you, too." You chuckled, holding him close until he dozed off again, before you ended up falling asleep yourself, enveloped by the warmth of the cabin fire and the one you loved most.

He probably won't remember much of this in the morning, but that was fine.

For once, everything felt right in the world.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"[Y/n], honey? Baby? Sweetheart?"

Blinking, you returned to the cold and cruel present, looking to the man tied to the post.

"Yes, Josh?" You sighed tiredly, wiping the blood from the corner of your lip.

"I'm pretty cold. How 'bout we loosen these restraints a little and-?"

"I'm sorry, but...I don't think that's a good idea right now."

"What? I....I can't believe it. You would let those jerks do this to me?!! Your boyfriend? After all I've done for you?!!" Angrily, Josh tugged at his restraints, gnashing his teeth at you like some animal. "I feel hurt. Who does this to someone they love?!"

"First of all, I didn't tie you up. And second...you're not the only one who's gotten hurt tonight."

"If anyone deserves to feel hurt, it should be me! After what they did to my sisters..they had it coming."

As much as you wanted to snap at him for acting this way, you knew that he wasn't well, and getting angry right back wasn't going to make anything better.

Instead, you opted to look outside the shed, observing the snowfall while trying to ignore the sounds of him whining and struggling with the ropes.

Such sights used to calm your nerves, but now...it was nothing more than a grim reminder of how long and unforgiving this night has been, and how there's still a few hours until sunlight and rescue arrived.

How did you get here?

Well, it was supposed to be a reunion between friends.

You and Josh were still together after the horrible tragedy that befell his sisters exactly one year prior, and you were with him through the long days he spent trying to isolate himself, and the difficult nights he spent wishing he didn't wake up at all.

You stayed with him no matter what.

No matter how many times he tried pushing you away...you always stayed. And while he didn't express it as much as he wanted to, he appreciated it.

That's the only reason why he didn't subject you to the "prank" he had laid out for the rest of the group.

You knew his passion for film projects, having helped him with some small YouTube ones yourself. You knew that this year, he wanted to do something to "really bring the gang back together", and you let him be when he insisted on working alone.

God, why didn't you press him on what exactly this prank entailed?

Why didn't you pick up the signs that he was off his meds?

What he enacted was horrific beyond measure--a prank that you didn't even think he was capable of carrying out.

One that seemed so real that you were almost convinced that you lost him to a murderer.

When Chris came to you sobbing in remorse over how the "Psycho" tricked him into killing your boyfriend, you didn't know what to feel. You wanted to see the body to confirm it, but given his and Ashley's reactions..it wasn't worth scarring your eyes or mind over.

It left you unbelievably sad and numb, although you were left confused when through his blubbering, he admitted that the saw blade was rigged to kill Josh despite choosing to save him.

That was the first sign that you knew something was off.

You didn't know anybody that held a massive grudge against him to the point of rigging a trap to murder him only.

But only after Josh revealed everything to Chris, Ashley, Sam, Mike, and you....that's when it all made sense.

And you felt betrayed.

You couldn't believe he'd orchestrate this whole scheme behind your back.

How could you have been so naive and trusting?

You felt like you should have known what he was up to. The others gave you suspicious looks and even Mike wondered for a moment if you were an accomplice...but you weren't.

That was the truth.

You had no idea.

Now all you felt was lingering guilt and festering anger that this was Josh's twisted idea of "revenge" against the people who didn't even kill his sisters. Against people like Chris who didn't even know what happened until he woke up.

And in a way, you felt like it was against you for not waking him up in time to stop the prank that led to Hannah and Beth running out of the cabin.

No matter how many times he claimed you had nothing to do with it, you felt like he was punishing you, too.

So now, you, Chris, and Mike have taken him away from the others, to a shed where he couldn't hurt anybody. Apparently Jess was dead, and despite his insistence that he didn't kill her....Mike didn't believe a word he said, having seen her body firsthand in some mining elevator.

Then when he started making lewd comments about Chris and Ashley, both of the men were growing agitated, debating on whether to make him shut up by force or not.

Finally, you intervened before they could decide, offering to watch over him until sunrise. You're the only one who had a small chance to talk some sense into him and make him realize his mistakes.

Mike was reluctant to leave you alone with him, thinking he'll guilt trip you into letting him go, but you convinced him and Chris you'll be fine.

There were some...scary things you've seen out in the woods earlier, and the last thing you wanna do is leave Josh alone with them nearby.

Even after all the shitty things he did, even after faking his own death...you still loved him.

You didn't believe he murdered Jess.

That's not what Josh would do.

"Your sisters wouldn't have wanted this." You quietly said, looking back at the wide-eyed man. "I wish things were different that night. I wish they didn't get humiliated. God, I wish Hannah had talked to me instead. But this...all of this was wrong, Josh. What happened doesn't justify-"

"But it worked, didn't it? Listen, I...I-I didn't want anyone dead." He stammered. "I just wanted to see that same terror on their faces. And I got them good! I got you all!!"

"...did you have to give Ash a black eye, though?"

"Look, she stabbed me with scissors! And it still hurts like a motherfucker."

You just gave him an expression that read "well I would have too if a killer was chasing me", and he seemed to understand...given how his shoulders slumped with defeat.

"Baby, 'm sorry..this...was not how our night's supposed to go. But you know what? I'm glad I was the only one laughing! Because NOW THEY KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE ON THE OTHER SIDE!!" Tears of anger pricked his eyes as his voice unexpectedly rose.

You whole body tensed, but you stayed calm, knowing he's only lashing out. "Josh, I know they hurt you. And hurting them back might feel good..but you hurt me too by faking your own death and not telling me how far you intended to take this prank."

"..you would've stopped me if I told you." He mumbled.

"Well maybe I should've been more persistent." You huffed. "If I was, we wouldn't be here. We wouldn't have to talk about why Jess died and why you seem to be the prime suspect-"

"I swear to god, it wasn't me! I don't even know where she is!" Josh snapped, before he curled up, like a child in timeout. "Mike..he wouldn't explain the wheres and whens. He just kept hitting me, pushing me..telling me to shut up...but I didn't do it...I swear. Please, please believe me, [y/n]. I'm sorry that you got roped into this. I-It's..the..the last thing I wanted.." His voice softened. "I'm sorry I've been bad..."

Slowly, you could see bits and pieces of the Josh you once knew coming back. His mind wasn't all there, of course, but you've known him forever.

You should be thinking with your brain and not your heart.

But....

You still love him, and believe in second chances.

"Joshua."

He perked up, anticipating the worst as you pulled up a chair to sit in front of him. For you to say his name like that couldn't have been good.

Maybe you were gonna side with all the rest of them and spit on him.

Maybe you were gonna say that you're leaving him alone here, as Dr. Hill had warned would happen.

Maybe you were finally going to tell him what an unforgivable monster he wa-

"I believe you're innocent. You're not one to take a life. No matter what they say." You suddenly spoke, putting a hand to his soot-coated cheek

Almost immediately, his twitching stopped, and he stared straight at you.

It's like you put him in a trance.

"I'm not gonna leave you."

"..e-even though I've been..all messed up?" He asked cautiously. "I-I mean..I haven't been a good boyfriend lately..."

"That hasn't stopped me from being there for you before." You chuckled. "We're gonna work through this. Even if it's just you and I."

"............"

"I believe you when you say you didn't kill her. Do you believe me?"

It took him a few moments to study your expression, seeing the genuine care and warmth in your eyes. Despite all the horrors you've seen tonight, there was still a spark of hope in them.

That was the light he needed.

"...I-I do..I really do." He sniffled, resting his head on your shoulder, grateful that you didn't push him away despite being covered in dirt and fake blood. "'m sorry...I-I don't deserve you."

"Oh, honey..." You put your arms around him, sighing softly as you felt him tremble against you, tears slowly dampening your jacket. At this point, you knew you got him back, and you were so relieved. "We'll figure something out. Just stay with me."

"You don't think I'm a monster..?" He asked through his sobs. "I mean, everyone treated me like one...you've seen them.."

"....I know. Neither of us can change how they feel. But listen, the only monster here is-"

All of the sudden, a shrill inhumane screech echoed from somewhere outside, deep in the woods, interrupting the tender moment between you two.

Josh sat up with a start, his tearful eyes wide and terrified as he looked to you. "Wh-What was that?"

"That's the real monster I was gonna mention. They call it the Wendigo. Hang on." Crouching down, you managed to find a small pocketknife on his toolbelt, using it to cut the ropes binding him. "It's fast. But it's blind as fuck. We need to get out of here."

Nodding, he got up as quickly as he could, having no time to rub his aching wrists as you grabbed his hand.

The shrieks became louder, forcing you two to hide further inside the shed, sticking close to the back wall where the shadows were darkest. "Shit. Don't move a muscle, okay?"

His breath hitched as the wendigo dropped down in front of the entrance, creeping inside the small building to look for prey. But he took your advice and tried staying still.

You could practically hear you own heartbeat as you held your breath, thumping louder and louder as the creature wandered around. Josh watched it scrape its claws along the wall, creating a sound most unpleasant in an attempt to make him flinch.

It then made direct eye contact with you both.

While you managed to keep perfectly still, you could hear Josh's quiet whimpers, indicating he had a much harder time considering how jittery he was earlier.

All you could do was hope and pray it would leave.

Otherwise...both of you were dead.

Just when you thought your boyfriend was going to lose it completely, the distant snapping of a branch caused the wendigo to turn at blinding speed and sprint out of the shed, returning to the surrounding woods.

"Okay...thank christ.." Letting his hand go, you took a breather, only to see that he was still standing rigid. His eyes showed nothing but pure terror, as he began mumbling something like "was it real" under his breath.

"Josh? Baby?" You shook his shoulders a bit, and he blinked several times, coming back to reality. Relief immediately crossed his face as he realized you were still here. "It's okay. It's gone."

"Tha....That thing w-was real?"

"Yes. I know how to outsmart it. But we can't stay here. We'll be safer at the lodge with the others. We just gotta keep our heads down until then."

"But..what about the-?"

"Don't worry about them. Let's worry about getting out of here, alright?"

Wordlessly, Josh nodded, practically clinging to your arm as you both headed outside and down the snowy trail. He kept mumbling incoherent things, reassuring himself that he was safe with you.

Obviously, he seemed pretty shellshocked, considering the monster he just encountered was real and not a product of his imagination.

He didn't know whether that was better or worse.

Either way, you allowed him to hold onto you, knowing he needed someone--anyone--to lean on right now. And fortunately you were exactly the person he needed.

The only one who could help him come back to his senses.

You swore to never abandon him, and you intend to keep that promise even after all that happened tonight.

You still loved him, and he loved you.

That hasn't changed.

[aliidarling]

writing this made me think of beth and now i’m sad. i miss beth😒

snowfall

DARYL DIXON x fem!reader

nsfw content — pls scroll if uncomfortable

summary: you’re out on a run with daryl when you stay overnight at a camp. the temperature drops to freezing and daryl notices how you’re shivering.

warnings: fluff and smut, more smut sided, mean daryl, a lot of banter, p in v, groping, riding, whimpering daryl, daryl learns his place, reader is on top but daryl is in control, hypothermia mentions, creampie, unorotected sex, cuddling with the tip in LMAO

no proofread cuz i’m lazy :P

nsfw content below!!

being on runs with daryl was hard. he was short tempered with a bitchy attitude all the time, gruff with his words and agonizingly quiet. you could hear a pin drop whenever you were with the older man, but the second he got angry it was like hell had been released.

it was a cold winter, to your luck. you were walking alongside daryl in the forest, the both of you sweating from the labor of having to put down walkers and walk miles.

“ya’ wanna settle down camp sum’ where?” he gruffs lowly, glancing at you through the corner of his eye. his words catch your attention, probably the first innocent words he’s spoken to you in hours.

“good with me.” you shrug.

he lets out a huff and nods, motioning you towards another direction. you mindlessly follow, wiping some dirt off onto your pants.

a few minutes pass before you eventually wander across a little clearing that seemed fit for a temporary camp. it was a small area, with trees surrounding it, completely silent so you could hear if any walkers came across you two.

“i’ll go hunt sum’ fish, make a fire.” he grumbles, throwing his stuff down on the grass and immediately making a beeline towards the sound of a nearby lake. you watch as he disappears into the distance, a frown painting your expression.

“uhh.. okay.. yeah, i’ll set up a camp n’ stuff.” you mumble to yourself, your words dying off as he leaves hearing range. he was just dying to get away from you, huh?

ten minutes later, you’re sitting infront of a small campfire, a tree stump under your butt as you wait for the older man to return from his little quest. picking at a piece of weed, you stared off as the fire blazed infront of you.

you flinch when you hear a twig snap behind you. you immediately turn, peering behind your shoulder with your hand hovering over your blade.

daryl appears behind a tree, holding a wiggling fish that looked big enough to feed you two plus seconds.

“do i look like a walker?” he says rudely.

“sorry.” you mutter, lowering your hand and relaxing your posture, staring at him as he steps forward and roughly drops the fish into the fire.

the impact sends some fire sparks towards you, making you tense and shield yourself lightly.

“could you not?” you snap, scowling at him as you sit back up. he rolls his eyes at you, sitting across from you without a word. the fire sat between the two of you as silence washed over the camp, the only sound being the fire sparkling.

“it’s pretty cold, huh?” you say quietly, giving him a small smile. your attempt at small talk was shot down as he immediately glared at you, making you shrink and feel quite silly.

“it should take up to ten, fifteen minutes to cook.” he mumbled after a few minutes of silence. you peeked up at him, frowning. what did he have against you?

you shivered as it began to grow colder every passing second, the wind picking up as the air grew thick. you wrapped your arms around yourself in hopes of warming your body temperature. he noticed but didn’t say a word, instead staring at the cooking fish and waiting for it to be ready.

“where are we sleeping?” you spoke up again.

he doesn’t respond until minutes later, hands occupied with skinning the fish and cutting it in pieces. he hands you a nicely sized portion, blank expression on his face. he never had much of an expression when it came to dealing with you.

“we’ll figure it out, but so far it looks like we’ll have to make do with the grass.” he huffs. he motions around the campsite with one of his over-exaggerated waves. “might snow tonight, so find a spot under a tree so you don’t fuckin’ die from hypothermia.”

you nod along to his words, munching on the fish he made with a hum. you glance back at him and narrow at his sleeveless arms.

“are you not cold?” you scoff lightly, a smile tugging at your lips. his lips twitch, readjusting his position as he suddenly feels very aware of the cold air brushing against his biceps.

“i’ll be alright,” he murmurs, taking another large bite of the fish. “what about you? you’re wearin’ a thin top.” he motions to your long sleeve henley.

“i’ll be alright.” you can’t help but grin, shrugging as you mock his words. he can’t help but chuckle lowly, glancing down at his half eaten fish before resuming his feasting.

after you both finish eating you’re quick to find spots under trees. both trees are next to each other but with a respectable distance, mostly because you both haven’t done nothing more then have a small conversation. a conversation that was less then twenty minutes ago.

the air grew more cold as the wind grew louder, leaves rustling and leaving you cold and huddled up into a tight ball. your weak attempt at warming yourself was proven useless when snow started to fall, painting the floor a frosted color.

“yer’ alright?” he breaks the silence. you peer over your shoulder and look at him. he was leaning against the tree next to yours, his biceps tense as snow fell on top of them. the sight was almost angelic, a big muscular man with snow falling on top of him delicately.

“s’cold.” you mumble quietly, curling back up as you quietly rock yourself. your lashes flutter close as you focus on your breathing and not dying of hypothermia. you shivered.

another few long minutes of silence pass, the sound of both your breathing the only thing audible. you can feel his eyes on your back but you don’t say a word, mostly out of stubbornness.

“jesus christ girl, you’re gonna die like an idiot, just c’mere already.” the words leave his mouth with a bitter tone. he didn’t want you that close to him but he would rather have you invade his personal space then straight up die.

you give him a confused look, your cheeks flushing as you see him pat his thigh in an impatient manner. a moment passes before you finally muster up the courage and shuffle onto his lap, your chest to his as you bury your face into his shoulder. the contact felt unfamiliar, but definitely not unwelcome.

his hands wrap around you immediately, one on your lower back and pressing you into him, the other gently petting your hair and twirling little strands between his rough fingers. you had never felt him be so gentle with you, heck, you were pretty sure this was the first time he had ever genuinely touched you other then the rude shoves and pushes.

you didn’t know why his body was so warm, but all you knew was that you wanted to be as close as possible to him. seek shelter in his arms and fall asleep by being rocked.

his rough fingers gently tug at your shirt hem, pulling it down in order to warm you more. his finger brushed softly against your flesh as he did this, making your heart skip a beat. you didn’t say a word, but the two of you could feel the tension thickening.

he stares at your body, your face, how your legs are straddling him and how your buried so deep into his chest. he brushes his finger against your skin lightly under your shirt again, wanting to see if he had imagined the way you reacted the first.

just like he assumed, your body language tensed just slightly, your hands wrapped around him tightening. a lazy smile forms on his face as he slowly pulls his hand under your shirt, resting against your bare back. you shivered, cuddling closer and tucking your head under his chin.

“you’re warm.” you hum quietly, trying your best not to let any more reactions slip as he rubbed his hand up and down your back.

“my bare skin is a lot warmer, sweetheart.” he says smoothly, no hesitance in his words. you gulp hard, blinking and processing his words before looking up at him through your lashes.

“i heard, uh, skin to skin is the best way at beating someone up.” you offer a sheepish smile, cheeks flushed from the cold and the feeling of being in his arms. he can’t help but chuckle dryly at your comment, his hands slipped to wrap around your waist and rub further up until one was playing with your bra clasp and the other was rubbing your belly. you curled up into his touch, a soft sigh leaving your throat.

“you want me to warm you up?” he says lowly, his voice a gentle whisper in your ear as he hoists you up further into his lap. his eyes flutter as he looks you up and down, taking in the sight of your body molding perfectly into his.

“yes please.” you nod and slowly sit up on his lap, your hands going to grasp ahold of his shoulders for balance as you started to lean in. he took the hint and gently cupped your waist, eyes flickering from your eyes to lips, watching intently as you grew closer.

a small moan left him as your lips connected to his. he tightened his grip on your soft skin under your shirt and rubbed it, kneading it as he kissed you. his adam’s apple bobbed as he leaned in, pressing his chest flush to yours and starting to slowly peel your shirt off.

you stopped him, frowning. “it’s too cold for that.” he rolled his eyes at your comment and reluctantly let your shirt go. a small huff left him as he looked back at your pretty face.

“let me at least—“ he mumbles, his hands slipping back under your shirt to grope your breasts. he runs his rough palms over your bra and pulls it down, letting your breasts out from its confinement. he could see your nipples poking through your top more clearly now, but he wished nothing more then to be able to feel them without anything in-between you two. maybe next time.

“so fuckin’ pretty.” a smile tugs at him as he gently gropes them, kneading and rolling your nipples between his fingers. he was gentle, watching your every reaction closely, fingers working at you like a professional. it felt like he was.

“please, i want more, daryl.” your voice sounded pitifully small as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck, straddling his thigh firmly and pressing your core down in hopes of relieving the tension. he watches you with a heavy gaze as you focus on rocking your sensitive core against his thigh, brows furrowed in concentration as you moan softly.

his hands continue groping and gently massing your breasts, rough fingers pulling at your nipples which earns a shallow gasp from you, and pulling you harder down on him. every moan that leaves your throat has him shivering and aching to be inside you more.

“s’enough, baby. c’mon, lemme put it in.” he mutters. his hands grab at his pants belt and he unbuckles it quickly, and in seconds his hard cock slaps against his abdomen, making your eyes widen at his size and his hard he was. you feel your pussy grow even more damp.

“y-yeah, okay.” you nod immediately and start to pull down your pants just enough to have your panties on display. you straddle his hips again, hovering over his cock, your pants around your ankles. it was cold as shit, but you chose to ignore it, too eager to feel him inside you to even care.

one hand on the back of your back and the other pulling your panties to the side, he slowly slides you down until his gruffy patch of hair above his cock brushed against your clit. your lips formed an ‘O’ shape as you felt the slow stretch of him entering you and opening up your inner walls. it felt so good.

“feels so good, daryl.” you cry out softly, shaky hands grabbing onto his shoulders to hold yourself steady on his cock. he hums in acknowledgment, nodding subtly as he wraps his palms around your waist. his fingers knead your doubly flesh, his eyes glued to where you both were conjoined.

“mmm, good girl, jus’ like that,” he grunts, his voice shaky as you start to bounce on his cock. his head leans back against the bark, almost whimpering as he feels your pussy go up and down so him. so god damn tight and wet, he could barely think. it hasn’t even been five minutes and he was already pussy drunk.

“you like that? does it feel good?” you ask breathlessly, eyes dazed as you repeatedly slam yourself down on him. you had never had such a strong and powerful man under you, whimpering as you rode him. you didn’t want this to end, ever.

“feels so good, baby. don’t stop— augh, don’t fuckin’ stop..” his hold on you tightens. maybe you would get bruises, it wouldn’t surprise you, he was holding onto you like you were his lifeline. your hip movements only quicken at his words, moans leaving your throat and eyes rolling back. his fat tip punched that sweet spot inside you everytime you slid down, making you repeatedly chase that feeling.

“i-i’m sorry baby, m’gonna cum,—“ he whimpers, grabbing your hips and starting to slam you down on him at his own speed. a gasp leaves you as your back arches, your hands going to wrap around his shoulders and bury your face into his neck. your body was repeatedly slammed down onto his cock, no break at all between thrusts. he was going fast and hard, eager to feel himself cum inside your soapy walls.

his eyes squeezed shut as he felt himself start to cum inside you, his hands growing faster in pulling you down on him. your tight pussy milked him dry as he whined into your ear, teeth gritted as his fat tip pressed hard onto your sweet spot. his large hand went to rub at your clit as he started to thrust upwards into you, looking to make you cum.

“cum ‘round me sweetheart, i’ve gotcha..” his fingers rub eight figures onto your clit. you shiver on his lap, whimpering loudly into his ear. your hole spasms around him and you clench down hard, making him groan. seconds later, your juices drip down his cock as you slowly go limp, laying like a lifeless doll on his lap with his cock still buried nice and deep inside you.

a few minutes pass of you panting heavily, the cold no longer a problem for you both. daryl held onto you tightly, rubbing your back gently as he calmed down. he eventually started to slide you off him, making you wince and grab onto him tighter.

“jesus— fuck, what’s wrong with ya?” he glares at you. back to his snarky personality, it looked.

“it’s warmer with you inside. just, don’t, okay, please?” you bat your lashes at him, sliding yourself down again, making him hiss at the friction.

“you’re gon’ be the death of me, girl.” he grumbles. he pulls your clothes back on the best he could without tempering with his placement inside you, trying to keep you both as warm as possible. you hum dumbly and snuggle back into his chest, nice and cozy.

[maximwtf]

“I would endure endless defeats before burdening you.”

Capitano x Reader

Words: 4200

Google Docs Pages: 7ish

Warnings: 5.1 spoilers but just about Capitano, established relationship but everything has to be horrible so it’s not established but kinda is but just when you think it is, it’s not. Angst/ kinda comfort? Idk you try to comfort an immortal man rotting from the inside and see how it goes. I guess like the tiniest amount of fluff but that’s sad too. Bad communication, emotional hurt. I imagine him with more real rot, maybe with some abyssal like Dain? Idk, but this is written based on that :) Rotten man, save us.

Opening: Does he have people to open up to about all the years he’s spent with his condition and the thoughts of regret he’s accumulated? Would he allow himself that comfort even if he did? Because that has been for you to figure out, bit by bit. 

AN// G/N reader. I don’t think yall understand how happy I was to get this lore drop on Capitano. Like wdym they have a suffering old man in the cast, and you kept him from me for this long?! Anyway, I feel like it was my duty to write something for him due to that. Enjoy.

If you have any fic ideas for him, feel free to request :)

“I would endure endless defeats before burdening you.”

The hallway outside was silent, matching the space behind the door at the very end of it. A faint light on a sturdy wooden table, a couple other lights scattered here and there. But no amount of warm candles nor a bigger fire could truly disperse the coldness in the room. The man inhabiting it, so stupefied by it by now that he barely noticed anymore. And the people who had before, dared not mention it anymore either.

The light outside had disappeared some time ago. The sun never truly rose in mid winter, or at the very least it didn’t seem like it did. Especially on the days when the snowfall was so thick it painted the horizon white. Covering the sun along with its soft blanket. And so it had done on this day as well, and by the look of it grown tired by the end. Yielding, and soon the snowflakes turned so small it looked more like powdered sugar from afar. Only a little too late for the sun to make any sort of appearance anymore, the chance for that long gone. 

Did the sun have regrets at the end of days such as this? Had it not tried hard enough to repel the heavy snowfall on this day? And now that it had failed, would the people who’d longed to see it shine once more at the end of the day be disappointed? Would they be blinded enough to not see that it had tried to save the end of the day with a few rays of its light, only to realise it was far too late for that? And that it would try again just as hard if another chance was given. 

Capitano stared outside through the window of his office. These seemingly eternal thoughts running through his mind yet again. At times hoping his mind would rot enough to be able to forget any sort of regret he may have still been holding on to. But a curse seemed to stay as such, unable to forget and let his mind rest. 

Not when small things around could be used to remind him, having to shut his mind from viewing these aspects around him on such a deep level. In truth having nothing to do with the past and the actions taken and left undone. All the more reason to try and forget any regret. 

His eyes gazed outside at the snowfall. It coming down in a straight line, placid as ever as it settled to its rightful place. To perhaps be blown to a new location the next day with a gush of wind. The weather was so calm it almost appeared warmer outside than in the uncomfortably chilly office of his. The cold that would have sent a shiver or two down his spine in the past.

Capitano’s eyes focused on his reflection against the window. A man he’d constructed his outer appearance to be, something to stay unchanging as everything else was torn from him bit by bit. That was a man with no regrets, someone powerful to look up to. Someone he’d once been fortunate enough to truly be and live as.

Not that he wasn’t that now as well. Enjoying the respect of his peers, troops and alliances. But each show of power reminded him of who he wasn’t anymore. The person he could no longer even become. A rare few amongst the people he met even being able to comprehend the status he’d held all those years ago. 

His head lowered, a careful pair of hands taking a hold of the carefully constructed mask. Removing it with a slow, almost dragging motion. Lowering it along with his hands, eyes having returned to peer at his reflection. The space dim enough to not allow his full appearance to truly show off. But he knew exactly what the blurry and darkened out parts looked like. What the mask so diligently hid behind it. 

What the outer man he’d built was concealing underneath. The commander he’d been and the person he’d turned into. Forced into being. Cursed with something others would spend their lives seeking, not understanding the cost of living beyond their years. How the flesh would deteriorate and rot. How even his soldier’s will and self respect wavered under the power this change had. How his mind had to come to terms with what used to be and what was now. Who he had to be and what he could now do in order to use what he’d been given to make a mark. Even if only to himself, he wanted to be able to to make this time count. He’d be a disgrace to his former homeland if he had given up all that time ago and frozen in place. The only option was to move on. Even if this curse was eating him alive. 

A part of him sighed in relief when the silence deep in the hallway was disturbed, releasing his mind of these thoughts. Focusing on figuring out who was nearing his door. There was no knock, steps that were silent as ever and that paused almost right after as the door behind this person closed once more. The silence, almost like a vicious entity, taking over the space like it was guarding it. And just before that Capitano had come to a conclusion, you. 

“Greetings,” he spoke with a surprisingly formal tone. Quick to adapt from his thoughts to the current situation. Not foolish enough to not have a guess as to what you were doing here at this hour, but hopeful enough a conversation might make you change the course. But the sound of your voice as you replied, ‘evening’, suggested there was a little chance you’d yield. 

There was much he could have done to try harder, yet he surrendered so soon. Who was he to resist your sheer will? The same will he’d tried to direct elsewhere in the past multiple times, yet it always returned to him. A seasoned warrior smart enough to recognize a losing battle when stumbling upon one, he would have known. 

Your eyes followed keenly as Capitano placed the mask from his hands onto the table. The man’s eyes looked piercing in the faint light of the room, no doubt even frightening to the less knowing. You couldn’t even see his face, only the broad frame of his back. Only the blue shine from the glistened against the reflection from the window, as if peering back at you. The sight overall something not seen every day, something most never saw.

There was no reason for your eyes to be the ones to be allowed to see, to watch and analyse. Or so you believed, if there was a reason neither of you dared to word it. As if doing so would unleash some sort of a spell neither of you wanted to see the aftermath of. There was only so much change a person could bare to their person, so whatever it was that Capitano refused to word, was good as it was. 

Of course, you hadn’t come here for simply the joy of visiting. That never seemed to have formed into a habit, but instead seeking him out when word of him rose from the troops. Anything alluding to his person, not the more usual reputation talk. If that ever changed was when it felt almost mandatory to see him. A difference in the behaviour of a person such as Capitano was sure to never go unnoticed. 

“How was your day?” You broke the silence, seemingly ignoring the reflection from the window. He wasn’t a man to hide himself from you, yet some part of you liked to imagine that respect made you not bring his condition up. Not so soon. 

Waiting for his response after a deep ‘hmp…’ felt like an eternity. Allowing you a chance to slip closer to his desk, eyes skipping mindlessly on the items he’d left there. His words had a deeper growl in them when he spoke so silently, “nothing out of the ordinary.” Which likely was true. Your eyes had scanned the papers on the table, a very few left there to linger. Nothing important ever left for the prying eyes to catch. Yet it proved his words correct, no straight lies ever told. He had no reason to lie to you, to hide anything. But the both of you knew the question had been intended for a deeper analysis of his day instead of an overall view. He hid things. Not out of malice, you knew better than to think such things. 

“That’s good,” you answered soon after. Straightening out a few of the papers, stacking them so the corners met each other in a straight line. The moment was so heavy and you’d only now started to realise as much. There was never much you could do if the murmurs around the troops turned out to be true. He felt so far away even when he was so close, merely on the other side of the desk.

You knew him, better than most, yet he’d seen more than any mortal could likely wrap their head around. So who were you to tell him that it would simply ‘be okay’ or that you were ‘there for him’ when you started to notice his gaze wander. He was not simply sad, he appeared melancholic. But at times even that seemed to be rooted so deep down within him that you couldn’t find a word to describe the emotion radiating from him. And he was unable to give you a word for it. Leaving the now physical distance between the two of you to form into a deeper pit of confusing aches. 

But there was also the root of the problem. This was by no means the first attempt of coming to him, seeking him out and attempting to figure out why his mind wandered. Where it was trying to get for it to be something he couldn’t word. What was the reason for the superficial answers, as if speaking to any one of his soldiers. Why let someone so close, but keep them at the threshold when they were willing to come in?

Though, thoughts like these felt ironic. Knowing you played along with this act of his, not only to entertain him but because it felt easy. How easy it was to allow him to care and dutifully take care of his tasks as he always had, and when it came time to actually connect with him to just let it slide each time. His actions never held any malice nor betrayal, there was no man more loyal to their own morals and comrades than him. So who were you to simply blame him for not letting you closer, when it was you who indulged in his way of communicating. 

“The men seemed to have lived a different day.” You commented after, hoping Capitano would pick up on what you meant. He was not foolish enough to be fully unaware of what his own men were doing and talking about when his back was turned. 

And you’d been correct, the comment made the man look down at you over his shoulder. The piercing eyes of his holding so much in them, it was hard to put to words, but you could tell he knew what you meant. And so you indulged in this way of communicating once more.

Seeing as he had nothing else to ‘say’, you continued. “Thankfully the snowfall gave in on the way here. It was an honest nuisance today…” Continuing to speak of the things you always did, the things you found slipping from your lips each time instead of the actual questions and words you wanted to say. But what use would that be when it felt as if there was no one who truly received those words. 

“Here’s to hope tomorrow will be better on that front,” you continued on alone but knowing full well he was listening, even if he knew exactly the topics you’d choose. The mantras you repeated. His attention on you while you slowly circled around the desk to his side, hand sliding against the smooth surface of the desk. The act as if a final cry to ask for him to reciprocate. 

The fabric of Capitano’s clothes rustled, the movement appearing heavier than they likely truly were. He gave you space near him, allowing you to join him near the window he’d been so keen on. “Hm, may it be so then.” He replied, leaving the end of his response hanging. As if there was more to be added, but left out due to the everlasting heaviness of the room and the air inside it. But you didn’t need more. Past a certain point the conversations you held as a coverup to attempt to communicate started being more tiring than standing in silence to try and understand him better. 

Your eyes gazed at the window, his reflection. Turning to peer at his face soon after. The rot, having consumed so much of the man he used to be, carved him into someone else. You had not seen how he’d looked all those years ago, but he’d insisted that even his comrades from then wouldn’t have been able to recognize him today. 

So how could you ever understand him truly? You weren’t sure what sort of explanation you were waiting to gain from him to make you understand, when there likely was none. He’d seemingly accepted his fate a long time ago, an eternal life ahead of him each morning he woke. Up until the day his body would falter at last. 

But in your eyes that was not a life worth leading on, not with the regrets you knew he held. How could a man rotting from the inside still yearn to fix something that hadn’t even been within his power to save in the first place?

You’d initially not even realised that was likely what he was thinking when his mind started to wander. Not when you’d first seen his face, seen the state he lived in each day. You’d initially feared he held some form of heaviness within him for the way he looked. For a human, losing everything you had and who you were would have been a fate worse than death. Losing the strength you held and the person you had been. Yet he held himself the same each day, seemingly no shame in his condition, if only a flickering light of anguish against the fate he’d been dealt. 

On top of that, he had seemingly never let himself fall to ruin. The person he’d been might have changed into something unrecognisable that could easily disturb the too comfortable. But this was a man of honour, a dignified soldier. For the sake of others, you’d concluded, he diligently kept himself clean. Kept the rot that bothered him not, from causing disturbances to the rest. 

So it was clear, by no means had he given up. He was in terms with who he was now, yet at times like these it seemed like his mind hadn’t. When you so clearly tried conversing, attempting to get him to speak his mind, he refused. Treating you gently, leading your conversation on for long enough to tire you and finally make you stop worrying for him. 

You gave the mask on the table a look, an attempt to lean back towards the topic. Neither of you had forgotten nor had it gone unnoticed by him either. Not now or earlier. 

Capitano followed your movements, eyes landing on the all too familiar mask. Not having to even gaze upon it to know what was being asked of him. And he wished, internally held up hopes that the rot was messing with his mind, feeding him thoughts that weren’t true. That you hadn’t come back to him out of sheer worry yet again.

He was ready to be moulded by you into any shape, ready to yield in front of you if that’s what you asked of him. He cared about what you thought, but in some sense wanted to keep you from worrying. The burdens he held within were self inflicted, he knew that much. A part of him knew the regrets he had were foolish, he couldn’t have done anything more than he had. So when he wasn’t driven mad by those thoughts, he had time to try and form a bond with you. A bond which he wished to not be based on a worry of him. 

He knew you were curious, that was only natural. That was why he’d been open about who he was now, what he could offer you anymore. But what would have been the point of going further into his thoughts, those were his burdens to bear. A fault in himself which he’d created. 

“Your cheek appears irritated?” You said silently, gazing at his face with keen eyes. Pausing for a moment as he turned to face you. “I’m sorry if that-” Backing away from what you’d said a little, cringing if it had come across mockingly. Capitano raised his hand slightly, pausing your rambling. “I know. No need to apologise, you’re fine,” he said after and watched as your expression softened back to normal. 

But you’d been honest, the irritation was no mere frostbite that’d got him. You’d seen it before when he hadn’t had the time to upkeep the condition. A neglect he didn’t participate willingly, but something his work on some occasions forced him to pick up. And which you’d find he let you take care of on those very certain occasions. The least you could do to ease your own worry and the yearning to communicate with him about himself. 

Your hand moved to brush some of his hair from his shoulder to a better position. Running your fingers through it gently so as to not tug him on accident. And he didn’t move, not even if you had. Watching you with the same fond expression he always seemed to. Following keenly when you turned your back to him, abandoning his hair and the caresses he’d grown fond of by that point. Rummaging through the upper drawer of his desk. 

The light in the room was rather dim, not allowing you to see what you were seeking for at first. But your hand knew the shape of the small jar containing a lotion you were familiar with. It was no match for something as detrimental as his condition, but seemingly if this world carried anything that did anything to combat it, it was worth it. 

You fiddled with the jar for a moment, turning it in your hands before daring to look back up at his towering form. He didn’t move an inch, even without the mask he appeared honourable as ever. To you, maybe even more so now. 

An old ache radiating from unsaid words and praises stung your chest at moments like these. An uncountable amount of exalted thoughts of him that you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him, to make him understand that you wanted to share his burdens. None of them would make you view him any differently. No matter how many regrets, scars or rotten flesh would face you, he’d still be the same honourable and respected man in your eyes. 

Your eyes gave him an asking look, almost automatic. The request yet again something you couldn’t put into words, and that would leave an awful ache into your chest for not saying. But you adored how he still always understood, hesitated like he’d always done and still ended up accepting. It was you, after all. 

Capitano sat down on the chair behind him. The old wooden thing let out a small noise under the added weight, the room not falling fully silent after. He watched as you undid the lid of the jar, placed it on the table and carefully leaned closer. Taking some of the product onto your finger and with the same tenderness spreading it on the irritated parts. Yet, even from so close up it felt as if some sort of unremovable distance stayed. Always. 

Capitano closed his eyes for a moment, a low breath escaping him as his form allowed his shoulders to ease ever so slightly. Your touch was always gentle and careful, no matter how far he kept you from his burdens and regrets. So who was he to completely refuse your care? He never wished to turn you down or push you away, but he’d also had the time to rot for 500 years. Building something like this was exceptionally hard, and he’d only now come to figure out what that meant truly. 

You made sure the salve was nicely spread before pulling back, watching as his eyes opened after. Feeling how they followed you when returning back to the lid to put it back on. With movements clearly familiar to the situation, you placed the jar back into its rightful place, closing the drawer with a faint thud. 

“Thank you,” his low voice called out with the familiar growl at the end of his words. Capitano leaned onto his knees, pushing himself up from the chair to return back to the window. His silhouette appeared more frail than when he had the thick cloak on, something that somehow still surprised you every now and then. He was by no means a small man to begin with, yet the cloak changed him so much. Making you wonder if that was why he preferred wearing it so. 

You watched him walk up to the window, this time clearly gazing out rather than at his reflection. Following the now faint snowfall outside in silence. Following along from the side, attention moving back to his reflection at what almost felt like force. Mind so occupied by him it felt impossible to focus on the weather outside. 

You felt almost on edge with how much you wanted to tell him, let him know of what you thought about him to get him to tell you more. It felt almost as if something in your chest stung each time a good moment like this was spent in silence. 

Which was why you almost jumped when he began to speak, not turning around to do so, but nevertheless. “I understand you have your fair share of curiosities about this. But allow me to be selfish, and have you without burdens. And if that by itself is a burden too heavy to carry, you’re not obligated to stay. Know, you are respected even then.” Capitano’s familiar voice spoke, this time for longer than you’d heard during this entire time. Leaving you slightly shaken for a moment, though for an odd reason the air didn’t feel heavy. As if air itself had paused to allow you this conversation. 

And it stayed that way as you walked behind him, hesitating for a moment before placing your forehead against his broad back. Arms sneaking gently around his waist, lose in their hold as your eyes closed. You took a deep breath, mind ticking to form a response. Feeling Capitano tense for a mere moment in the hold before his muscles eased once more. 

Normally, no matter how many walls of protection you shattered from around him, he didn’t seem to react to anything. No matter if he was wearing the helmet or not. A part of you wondering if the corrosion was a sort of a mask itself. 

“I’m not going anywhere. But I don’t want the way I see you to be written on your epitaph. Let me in, make this easier.” The words coming out in a whisper loud enough for him to hear, but not disturb the usual silence. 

A low chuckle escaped Capitano, a part of him amused by the plea. But nevertheless taking it seriously, knowing you’d meant it. “You’re more hopeful than I am,” he replied with a hum. Placing his hands over yours, against himself. Pressing them together lightly, as if hoping that was an answer enough. Aware that it wasn’t, but using it as a way to ask for more time. 

He feared he’d overstep a boundary of sorts, if he told you of his thoughts on a deeper level. He didn’t wish to put them on your shoulders, protecting you from himself in a way. If that was one of the only things he could do for you, not expecting anything from you in return, ever. 

The squeeze from his hands made you lean against him more heavily, a gentle sigh escaping. Not bothering to feel frustrated, not at him. The curse wasn’t his fault, what’d happened to him wasn't his fault and he was in no way obligated to ever let someone so close as he’d allowed you. So even the smallest of actions kept you close to being carefree, in the sense that you didn’t fear that there was no way to help him. There was, and you’d allow him to show that path to you on his own terms. 

[thewolvesofthenorth]

Chapter Three

Chapter Three of Man of Honor

Series Masterlist ❖ Main Masterlist ❖ House Of The Dragon Masterlist

Rating: 18+ Word Count: ~3k Summary: Sara gives you some much needed advice and Cregan finds that dreams can be overwhelming, but so can reality.  Warnings: Angst angst angst, language, fluff, slow burn, pining, smut (p in v and fingering)

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It was just a dream.

You were wrapped Cregan's arms, his body radiating a warmth that not even a fire could offer. He had held you all night, keeping a firm hold on you as you soundly slept against him. And he had laid a kiss on your cheek before pulling you into a passionate kiss.

The near silent closing of your door had drawn you from your slumber and when you opened your eyes, you found yourself nestled beneath the furs of your bed and felt a tingling sensation on your cheek.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and let them adjust to your surroundings. It was still dark, so you guessed it was around the hour of the owl, which meant you hadn't been sleeping for very long. You were confused because you were certain you'd fallen asleep on top of your bedding the night before.

Stretching your limbs, you rolled over and caught a whiff of something you hadn't smelled in a very long time. A mix of oak, chestnut, and leather, with a hint of cinnamon. The distinct musk of a man who you'd been chastising mere hours ago.

Was it truly just a dream?

A hundred thoughts swam through your head as you sat up and looked at the spot beside you. To the untrained eye, the furs looked undisturbed, but to you there was a clear sign that someone else had been there. You placed your hand on the empty space and felt a lingering heat. Someone had laid beside you for much of the night and had left just moments ago.

You knew of only one person who would be brave enough, or in this case, foolish enough to come into your chambers. You rubbed your temples, unsure if your mind was playing tricks or if you were still dreaming, or if he had truly been there.

Why would he have been in here?

And why would he lay beside me?

You tried to think of every possible reason why Cregan would do such a thing and kept coming up blank. You let out a huff as you swung your legs over the side of the bed and padded over to your open window. The North was a cold and unforgiving place to those who were unaccustomed to such a cold climate, but to you it was home.

You leaned against the frame and admired the rare sight of the moon. Due to how cold it was, snowfall was not out of the ordinary, and the sky was often blanketed in clouds, but tonight the sky was strangely clear and the night peaceful.

You let out a sigh, reflecting on the events of the day. You’d given Cregan a piece of your mind, and then he’d decided to come into your room and lay beside you. You were conflicted. Cregan’s words in the godswood had cut into your heart like a knife, and yet his actions spoke differently.

You were a jumble of emotions. Irritation. Sadness. Anger. But beneath it all was also happiness. Knowing that Cregan had laid beside you made your heart flutter. As much as you claimed you hated him, you still loved him and couldn’t help but feel giddy at the thought of him lying next to you in such an intimate way.

You groaned at how childish you felt and how you still clung to the idea that he felt something for you. You huffed and stood back from the window, shaking all the thoughts from your head and decided to go to bed.

I need to talk to Sara tomorrow about what happened.

Cregan must have said something to her at least.

The next morning you’d woken up at the hour of the nightingale and quickly dressed, making it your goal to find Sara and talk to her about what had happened yesterday. Your head was still a mess of thoughts, and you needed her perspective on things.

You tip-toed through the halls as quietly as possible in case anyone else was awake at the same time, a certain Lord of Winterfell in particular, and made your way to the kitchens. As you crossed the courtyard, the hairs on your neck stood up and you felt like you were being watched. You paused and turned to look behind you and spotted his silhouette.

So much for trying to be sneaky.

Your eyes met his and even in the cover of near darkness, you could tell that he did not sleep well.

That makes two of us.

You broke eye contact and shook your head, tugging your pelts tight around you, and quickened your pace. You were already anxious about speaking to Sara about what had transpired, but at the sight of him your anxiety doubled.

He had looked very tired, but he also had an unreadable expression on his face, and if your intuition was correct, he had probably kept watching you as you walked away. After a moment, you crossed the threshold to the kitchens and spotted Sara bent over a steaming bowl of soup.

“Good morrow,” Sara greeted as you approached, her voice soft yet curious.

“Good morrow, Sara,” you replied, anxiously gnawing at your lip. Her eyes narrowed as she noted your restless fidgeting.

“What’s the matter?” she inquired, tilting her head. “You’re never so troubled at the day’s first light.”

“Erm—Cregan… ambushed me in the godswood,” you confessed, casting a quick glance at her. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything of that, would you?”

Sara set down her spoon with a sigh. “I may have told him where to find you.”

“Why?” you pressed, frowning deeply.

“Well, he wouldn’t stop hounding me, for one,” she admitted, waving her hand as if to dismiss the gravity of it.

“That does not answer my question,” you said sharply. “He’s been avoiding me for months, pretending I don’t exist, so why would he ask where I was?”

Sara winced, clearly withholding something. “He and I spoke of… certain matters. And no, I won’t tell you the details. Just know that I knocked some sense into him—or so I thought.”

You huffed in frustration, shaking your head. “And how did that go?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“Not well,” you muttered.

“What did he say?”

“He said… enough.”

Sara groaned in irritation. “Let me guess—you did not like his words.”

“Seven hells, no,” you scoffed. “He tried to apologize, then turned the blame on me. Said I’d been avoiding him too and claimed we were children when he swore to marry me, so it didn’t matter.”

“Ugh, he said that again?” Sara’s face twisted in disgust.

“Again?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “When we spoke, I told him why you had been avoiding him. And before you start, know that I care for you both, but he is still my brother—an utter fool, but my brother nonetheless.”

“So, he truly said the oath was made in youth, as though it carried no weight?”

“More or less,” Sara said, leaving out the part where she told him of your feelings. “But that’s all we spoke of.”

“I see…,” your voice trailed off, thinking about what had happened later that night after speaking to him. You were snapped back to reality when you heard Sara speak.

“What else happened?” she asked, not letting you slip away that easily.

“Nothing… Well, no, not nothing,” you began hesitantly. “I… I fell asleep in my chambers—”

“As one does,” Sara quipped, earning a sharp glare from you.

“—and I awoke later, likely around the hour of the owl, and… I believe he had been there.”

“What makes you think that?” Sara asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well… for one, I awoke covered by my furs. And…”

“And?”

“I could smell him,” you sheepishly admitted, wringing your hands nervously, recalling how his scent had filled your nose. Sara cleared her throat and shook her head.

“Smell him?” Sara’s mouth twitched into a grin. “Are you a direwolf now?”

“Do not mock me,” you snapped. “You asked, I answered.”

“I’m surprised that he would do that.”

“As am I,” you admitted. “Considering how we parted in the godswood, he had no reason to come to my chambers, let alone lie beside me.”

“Wait, he laid beside you?” Sara’s eyes widened.

“Uh… yes,” you confessed, blushing. “Which only confounds me further.”

“I would be as well if I were you.”

“I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’m just wasting my time waiting for something that will never happen,” you said dejectedly. “Waiting for someone to love me the same way that I love them.”

“Then perhaps it is time to stop waiting,” Sara suggested, her voice firm yet gentle.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it may be time to consider other suitors. Since your sixteenth name day, you’ve had suitors practically throwing themselves at you, and you’ve turned them all away. Maybe it’s time to think about your future.”

Her words hit you harder than you expected. You knew she spoke the truth, and you had been wrestling with the same thoughts, but hearing it aloud made it feel real.

“I - I don’t know,” you stammered, torn.

Sara took your trembling hands in hers. “I know it is hard. But you deserve happiness, and my brother cannot offer that.”

Your chest tightened, tears welling in your eyes. “Winterfell is my home,” you whispered. “If I wed another, I’ll have to leave… And I don’t know if I can bear it.”

Sara’s eyes softened with sympathy. “You deserve more. As much as I love Cregan, and as much as I wish things were different, he cannot be the one to give you what you need.”

Tears began to fall, and Sara pulled you into a warm embrace. “I don’t want to leave him,” you sobbed. “I love him, Sara. I love him.”

“I know you do,” she said comfortingly. “But he does not deserve that love. You deserve a man who will cherish you, not one who makes empty promises.”

You wiped your tears and nodded.

Sara offered you an encouraging smile. “In the next moon’s turn, we’ll hold a banquet to welcome the summer. Many of the Northern lords will be there, and it may be the time to consider your options.”

Your heart ached at the thought, but you nodded again, knowing she spoke the truth.

The fire crackled quietly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the room as the warmth of the flames bathed the stone walls. Cregan watched you standing by the window, your thoughts drifting like the cool night breeze that seeped through the cracks. His presence was quiet but undeniable as he crossed the room, the sound of his boots against the floor echoing softly.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his deep voice gentle, fearing that any sudden movement might shatter the fragile peace that hung between you.

When you turned to face him, your eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of unspoken words lingered in the air, heavy and thick. Cregan’s gaze softened as he stepped closer, close enough that you could feel the heat of him even before he touched you.

“I don’t know,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Cregan lifted his hand, carefully brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingertips grazing your skin in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

There was a vulnerability in your eyes that he had not seen before, a vulnerability that mirrored his own. Without thinking, you leaned into his touch, and the space between you seemed to collapse. Cregan’s other hand found its way to the small of your back, drawing you nearer, his breath warm against your temple as he rested his forehead against yours.

Time slowed, the world outside falling away until it was just the two of you, wrapped in the quiet of the moment.

“I should have said this a long time ago,” he whispered, his voice strained with emotion. “I…. I love you. I’ve always loved you. And I’m sorry it took so long for me to see it.”

I’ll watched as your heart pounded visibly in your chest, the weight of his words sinking in. You closed your eyes, breathing in his scent—familiar, comforting, yet laced with the tension that simmered between you for what felt like an eternity.

The confession hung in the air, fragile and raw. Cregan’s fingers gently tightened against your skin, as if he feared you might slip away, but you remained still, rooted in the moment.

Slowly, as if giving you the chance to pull away, he tilted his head, allowing his lips to lightly brush yours. The kiss began softly, hesitant, but as you responded and pressed closer, it deepened into a dance of emotions that had finally boiled over.

You melted into him, the feel of your warmth grounding him amidst the storm of feelings surging through him. Each kiss was a promise, slow and intense, whispering the truths he had long kept hidden.

When he finally pulled away, his breath ragged, his forehead rested against yours once more. “I am yours,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “If you would still have me.”

You opened your eyes, searching his face for any trace of doubt, but found none. There was only the truth of his words, the sincerity that echoed in the deepness of his gaze.

“Yes,” you said so softly that he almost didn’t hear it.

A smile broke across his face, and he dipped his head to capture your lips once more, pulling you flush against him as he wrapped his arms around you. The air in the room grew thick with desire as his tongue battled yours for dominance.

He kissed you like a man starved, as if you were the very air he needed to breathe. As he began tugging at the laces of your dress, you pulled at his tunic, the urgency of the moment igniting a frenzy.

Both your movements suddenly grew frantic, a flurry of clothes being haphazardly discarded onto floor as Cregan picked you up by your thighs and carried you to the bed, your lips never breaking contact.

As your back met the soft furs, he finally broke the kiss, his steel grey eyes meeting your own. In the depths of your gaze, he saw a fiery blend of longing and desire that matched his own in their intensity.

Cregan took a moment to take in your features—cheeks flushed, hair tousled, lips swollen—each detail stirring the emotions he had finally dared to embrace.

I almost lost her.

I can’t let it happen again.

It won’t ever happen again.

His heart was pounding in his chest as you threaded your fingers through his hair and brought his lips back to yours, a tenderness in your touch that lit a fire in him.

He wanted you.

He needed you.

And he was going to have you.

In that moment, something in Cregan snapped. He trailed a hand down your body to the apex of your legs and groaned at the wetness that greeted his fingers as he slipped one into your heat. You moaned at his touch, arching your back as he peppered your neck with kisses. The sounds he pulled from you spurred him on as he added a second finger and swirled them inside of you, pulling another loud moan from your lips.

He groaned when he felt your hand wrap around his length and began to pump, matched the rhythm of his own fingers. As he quickened his pace, your teeth met his shoulder in an attempt to quiet your moans of pleasure, and he grinned against your skin.

Cregan draw circles on your sensitive bud with his thumb, and he was filled with pride when he felt your walls clench around his fingers as you came with a small wail.

He brought his fingers to his lips and groaned at the taste of your essence. Never had he tasted something so sweet before, and he wanted more, but before he could make his way down, you wrapped your legs around him, pulling his hips to yours.

He nearly lost it when you guided him to your opening and rubbed the tip of his hardness with your juices, but he managed to stay in control for just a moment longer as he looked at you.

“Are you certain?” he asked, knowing that there was no going back for the two of you after this.

“I want it to be you,” you answered. “Take me, Cregan.”

Cregan saw stars as he finally sank into you. You felt so good. So soft. So tight. So perfect. He gave you a moment to adjust before he began to slowly move, groaning at the way your walls squeezed him. You felt good, too good, and he wasn’t sure how long he was going to last. You fit him like a glove, and he was in paradise.

Cregan’s breathing grew heavy as he looked down at you, admiring the way your face contorted with pleasure as he thrusted into your heat. The way your mouth fell open when he hit just the right spot, the way you dug your nails into his arms, and the way you sounded, pushed him closer to the edge. He was lost in the moment, plunging into you over and over, driving himself deeper and deeper, when he heard it.

“Cregan. Cregan, please.”

Cregan buried his face in your neck as he reached his peak and spilled inside of you with a grunt, your melodious voice being the catalyst to his release.

After a moment to catch his breath, he carefully withdrew himself out of you and rolled onto his back, pulling you to his side, with your head resting on his chest. You both lay there in peaceful bliss, savoring the intimate moment you had just shared—Cregan with his eyes closed, tenderly caressing your back while you drew small circles on his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat. The room was quiet, save for the light crackling of the fire, and as Cregan began to drift off, he heard it.

“I love you, Cregan.”

Cregan woke with a start. He sat up in bed and looked around frantically. The sky was dark but slowly starting to lighten, and he was alone in his chambers.

It was just a dream.

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

[beefrobeefcal]

the BEEF | #1: Joel Miller

Summary: no-outbreak AU, Joel has a headache and that headache wants his attention. [based on a prompt THOT up in collaboration with @strang3lov3]

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 3,833

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, angry fools who want to play hide the sausage, angry joel, shovel violence against a truck, monster cock, age gap (joel is in his 50's, reader is younger), p in the v (unwrapped), rough dresser sex,

Author's Notes: welcome to the BEEF. Each P-boy has a thorn in their side that has to be dealt with. Thank you to @covetyou for inspiring the idea, and thank you @neverwheremoonchild, @strang3lov3, @rebel-held & @bitchesuntitled for their brains and eyes.

and thank you to every friendo in the Bistro - it's all for you, babies.

Joel Miller was your street’s cranky asshole. No one dared throw a party or hold a garage sale without letting him know first. No one dared let their grass get over a certain length and the whole neighbourhood breathed a sigh of relief when he would go out of a town and not see the kids scribble with chalk on the sidewalks in the summer. He never called the cops; no, instead he showed up and berated whoever was hosting an event or engaging in an activity he found offensive. And he was intimidating. He wasn’t the tallest, but he was built like a brick shithouse. You’d lived on the block for almost nine years, and in that time, Joel had gone from being a broad, sturdy single father to a single, empty nester who lived off HungryMan frozen meals. He was a big man with linebacker shoulders and a meaty chest stacked on top of a boulderous belly. His plaid button up shirts always looked like they were holding on for dear life to avoid his temper.

And you were utterly in love with him.

Before the most recent snowfall, you’d been in your room on your bed with the window open a crack to let in some fresh air. Right below your window was Joel’s front porch, and as soon as you heard his door fly open, you grabbed your vibrator and listened.

“Get off my lawn!”, you heard him bellow at who ever had dared to approach his house.

You smiled to yourself and turned on your purple silicon friend and shoved it in your underwear.

As Joel berated the hapless victim of his temper, you nudged yourself closer to the edge. As you did, you cared less about the volume of your cries and let your noises out at top volume. By the time you came, Joel was standing on his porch with his mouth agape, staring at your bedroom window and the offending party walked away with a look of disgust.

*****

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

You watched as your snow shovel slipped out of your hands and hit your Joel’s truck. The one with the vanity plate ‘SM 9000’ that you had no clue what it meant. You could only sit back and watch as it fell and gouged in the paint job on Joel’s 1989 Dodge Ram pickup, your panties grew damp as you heard his front door open and slam against his house.

You turned around, raising your hands, trying to look like you were de-escalating the situation. “Joel, I-“

“The fuck’re you think you’re doin’?!”, he bellowed, stomping towards you.

As he yelled and flew into a tantrum over your shovel’s sins, you couldn’t help the stupid, lovesick half grin blooming on your face.

“… and you ain’t got no respect for no one’s property and…”, he stopped, took a breath, and looked you over, face twisting in a confused rage as he tried to figure out why you were looking at him as if he were a can of tuna and you were a cat watching him being pulled open ever so gently.

“The fuck is wrong with you?!”, he yelled, stepping forward, trying to scare you to no avail. He huffed and stomped his foot, trying to snap you out of whatever trance you were in.

You sighed and tilted your head, loving the attention he was finally bestowing on you, not caring that your reaction was essentially dumping gasoline on a house fire.

“Fuckin’ disrespectful shit…”, he snarled as he grabbed your arm and dragged you towards his house.

“Joel? What’re you doing? Where we going?”, you asked with a big dumb grin on your face then wincing at the harsh grip he had on your elbow. Your boots slipped and skidded on the icy walkway and you tripped heading up the stairs.

“Fuckin’ clumsy dumbass…”, he grumbled, shoving you through his front door and slamming it behind you both.

You looked around his entry way, noting the ugly wallpaper and the stale cigarette smell lingering. You crinkled your nose, and he turned around, his frown deepening into a scowl.

“Boots off!”, he barked, harshly motioning to your feet.

You didn’t miss a beat and toed them off quickly, kicking them into the wall. His jaw clenched as he watched the dirty snow clumps slide slowly down, leaving wet patches on his yellow-turned-brown floral wallpaper.

His eyes snapped up to yours, expecting an apologetic look. Instead, he was met with…

“Why the fuck you lookin’ at me like a love sick puppy?”

Joel was enraged. You didn’t run away or beg for forgiveness. No. You stood in his entry way, kicking your boots and making a mess, looking like he was David Cassidy or Patrick Swayze. You smiled back softly and that was the last straw for him.

“WHAT IN THE FRESH HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

You could have cum right there. Joel Miller was yelling right in your face. You’d gotten off by listening to him lose his shit at anyone trying to fundraiser or collect donations who had dared knock on his door but having a front row seat to a live performance was better than you could have ever imagined.

Joel watched your lips part and your brows twitch as they furrowed and your head tilt back slightly. He heard your breath hitch between his furious growling breaths, and his eyes slid down your parka-clad frame and he swore he saw your thighs clench.

His eyes went wide as he realized the effect he was having on you.

“You fuckin’ dirty little shit…”

The whimper he received in response made his cock twitch in his WalMart Levi’s. He sucked in a harsh breath and swallowed hard. He hadn’t had a woman look at him like that since he went to the strip club with his brother for his bachelor party, and he knew she was looking for a hefty tip. But you – the only thing he could think of is that you were trying to find a way to get out of paying for the damage your shovel caused. There was no waythat you were actually interested in him in that way. No. No woman had wanted to fuck him since before his daughter, Sarah, had been in junior high. He was a fat old asshole and you… you weren’t.

“Joel…”

Your soft voice pulled him back and the frown he carried all but left his face, being replaced with eyebrows to his hairline and his mouth open in confusion and shock.

“Joel, I… I’m sorry about your truck.”

You grabbed the zipper to your parka and pulled down, opening it to reveal your great aunt’s knitted sweater with a loon on it. Joel’s widened eyes swept over you and his brows furrowed.

“The hell you up to?”, he croaked, trying to sound intimidating.

“It’s warm in here”, you respond, tossing your parka on to, but missing completely, the stair banister.

His mind was racing. You actually seemed to be coming on to him as you stepped closer in your mismatched socks. You looked up at him through your lashes while your hands slowly slid up your legging-clad thighs and up to the hem of your sweater. He watched as you pulled it over your head slowly, getting it stuck for a moment, revealing a worn out white t-shirt with a faded image of a marshmallow peep and the slogan ‘Holla At My Peeps!’. He took another step back and you tossed your sweater at him, and he stumbled back, falling onto his recliner.

“Jesus, woman!”, he hollered, ripping your sweater off his head just in time to see you standing above him.

“You know how hot you are?”, you asked, leaning forward over him.

He froze. He must be dead. Or asleep. Or maybe he slipped when he stormed out the door to yell at you and hit his head. Or maybe he was drunk. Maybe he took a NyQuil tablet instead of the Omega 3-6-9 fish oil pills.

“The hell is wrong with you?”, he sputtered out, looking at you wide-eyed.

You didn’t answer. You only leaned forward, nudging your nose against his and letting out a breathy giggle. He tried to speak again, but his words got lost in the high pitch grunt he let out when your knee came up and nestled in between his thighs, pushing against the considerable bulge that had developed.

His hand involuntarily gripped your wrist that was supported on his arm rest, and he sucked in a deep breath.

“I know exactly what you need, Joel Miller.”, you cooed, tongue jutting out and licking your teeth, trying to sound seductive. “You need a good fuck.”

His mouth hung open in shock. You grinned wildly and kissed the tip of his nose before nipping at his bottom lip and tugging it between your teeth.

Joel let out a groan and closed his eyes, the hand on your wrist moving to your t-shirt’s hem and slipped underneath it. You nudged your knee against his crotch again and kissed him, tasting no-name waffles and burnt coffee.

The kiss seemed to break something in Joel. This wasn’t a dream, or an antihistamine induced hallucination or a concussion - this was real. You, his hot, young, stupid neighbour was crawling onto his lap and shoving your tongue down his throat.

He grunted lowly and pushed you back, looking up at you with dark eyes. You tried moving forward again, but his hand held you back.

A whine emanated from your throat, and he shook his head. “I’m not fucking you-“

You scoffed and he shushed you.

“Oh, hush and lemme finish, you loony shit!”, he huffed. “I was sayin’ that I'm not gonna fuck you in this chair; it barely holds my weight and if you’re gonna be bouncin’ on me, this fuckin’ thing’ll screw the pooch.”

You shrugged your shoulders, irritated. “Okay, fine. Then where?”

“My bed, you nimrod!”, he snapped with a scowl, then grinned. “Got a nice mattress with good lumbar support.”

*****

You had followed Joel to his room and were pleasantly… let down. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but the beige walls and the picture of a horse above his non-exciting bed were not what you had thought he would have. What surprised you was the essential oil diffuser plugged in on his bedside table, giving the air a fresh lavender smell.

The fact that the rest of his house looked like a rejected concept for an early nineties sitcom and his bedroom looked like a bed and breakfast that had no theme, for some reason, made you want him more. This man and his lack of consistency. You needed him in you now.

Grabbing his arm and turning him around, you pulled him into a desperate kiss; teeth and tongues, fighting for real estate in each other’s mouths.

“Get naked, sugar.”, he grunted as he broke the kiss with a lopsided grin. He unsnapped his shirt, revealing a grey, stained undershirt, its ribbing pulled tight and stretched over his belly while his mouth and surrounding patchy facial hair glistened with your saliva.

While he wasn’t being that polite, he wasn’t being mean. That was a problem. Even with how mundane he’d revealed himself to be, it wasn’t enough. The residual dampness that made your panties stick to your core was a result of him yelling at you out front, and that goodwill your pussy had shown was slowly drying up.

Joel’s hands began to make quick work of his belt and stretch denim jeans, but he noticed you not moving to do the same.

His hand flapped at you in an urging motion, “Make with the no clothes. Can’t fuck you with them on.”

His eyes narrowed as he noted your lack of movement, and he paused. You began to see signs that Joel was getting mad, and your mind flipped through every situation you’d witnessed him lose his shit in.  What was it that would set him off quick? You weren’t about to throw a block party in his room, nor were you a religious group knocking at his door early on a Saturday. Then it clicked.

A devious grin broke out slowly on your face as you sat on his Temperpedic mattress and crossed your arms.

“Make me.”

“You indignant little shit…”, he growled, clenching his fist.

A flutter in your lower belly. More.

“Come on. Make me.”

“You fuckin’ tease… Fuck you!” His eyes were filling with fire.

An almost painful need bloomed in your core. More!

“Fuck me yourself, coward.”

He sputtered and guffawed, eyes wide in rage.

“You fuckin’ shit! Bangin’ up my truck and actin’ like a needy Jezabel just to fuckin’ tease me like this!”

You could have cum right there, between the iron grip on your wrist and his loud belittling.

You couldn’t stop the giggle that erupted, and he snarled. He grabbed your hand and yanked you up off the bed. You truly thought his back was bad enough that the effort of getting you up alone would be too much, but he shoved you against his dresser, then slamming his weight into your back. You whined, feeling your pussy clenching on nothing.

“You’re such a shit!”, he grunted, grabbing your elasticized waistband, and yanking your leggings and panties down on one side while your hand went to the other; the two of you awkwardly working towards removing your barrier.

When they were low enough on your legs to step out of, you clumsily did so, then tried to turn around to help Joel. He wasn’t fast enough, swearing under his breath as your hands lifted his belly to access his strained button fly. His mouth was on your neck, sucking and biting like a dog on a window while a steak was being grilled just on the other side.

You pushed his jeans down around his hips and they pooled around his ankles. He kicked them off and bit down on the crux of your neck and shoulder as your hand cupped and felt up his hard cock.

Jesus. Oh fuck.

Joel was hung. Like unreasonably so. You’d had your fair share of men slamming their pork steeples into your wet cunt, but none of them could even hold a candle to the monstrosity that sat heavy and covered in satin in your hand. You planted your hand on his chest and pushed him back, needing to get a peek at what Joel was packing. You immediately looked down, seeing the Wile E. Coyote faux-satin boxers protruding out in an impressive, and frankly intimidating, bulge.

“Oh shit...”, you breathed out, contemplating on whether you truly needed to do any serious sitting for the next week, or if you could maybe just get away with laying down at work.

His hand snapped to your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eye, and he gave you a dark smile, “Showed up to a gun fight with a knife, sugar?”

You didn’t have time to respond because Joel shoved his hand between your legs and harshly began rubbing your clit.

Your eyes fluttered and rolled back. Joel watched, an approving sneer on his face.

“’S fucked up … you like this?”

“uh…. Uh-huh…”

“You’re a lunatic…”

You smiled lazily. “You’re fingering a lunatic… w-what’s that say about you?”

He paused then huffed out, “That I’m fingering a lunatic, you moron.”

You let out a throaty laugh that bleeds into a moan as Joel shoves two thick fingers into your hole, slowly dragging them out before plunging them back in.

“You’re a sick little shit… you seducin’ and teasin’ an old man, an’gettin’ me all wound up… Neighbourhood headache… that’s you. Fuckin’ shit up and walkin’ away with a smile on her dumb face.”

“’M close… don’t…. don’t stop…”

His fingers kept the slow languid pace going as he leaned in and harshly whispered, “Unlike you, sugar, I don’t like to leave people disappointed.”

His eyes never left you, watching your every move. Every involuntary twitch and shudder, every flutter of your eyelids and breath leave your parted lips. He could feel it around his fingers and see it on your face that you were feeling everything intensely and now that he had you like this, he wasn’t going to let you go without making sure you weren’t going to pull this shit again.

Joel was many things, but a man who could let things go was not one of them. He was tired of hearing you cream and cry on whatever silicon thing you were shoving into yourself through your bedroom window as he lost his shit on someone; tired of seeing you make eyes at him while you sat in your front yard as he grumbled at a neighbour for the state of their lawn. He was still furious at you for once letting your hand - your soft, sweet, tender hand - linger on his when handing him his mail that was accidentally delivered to your home, forcing him to sit in his shitty recliner and try to finish with his calloused, rough, and hard hand. He never came.

You were going to pay for that. He’d promised himself that for almost five years and now here you were, on your way to being a muppet with how his hand played in your pussy. Joel’s time had come.

You came, moaning, on his hand as he watched, his fingers still moving in and out of you, and his thumb took up the task of tending to your twitching clit. Your face twisted and you cried out, trying to push his hand away.

Your tongue felt thick in your mouth and a moan seeped out. As you rode the wave, he yanked his hand out and grabbed your arm, throwing you onto the bed.

“Goddammit, you’re such a pretty shit.”, he grumbled, reaching for your ankle, and tugging your ass to the edge of the bed. You tried sitting up on your elbows, but he shoved you back down with his body weight.

His weight. Good god, he felt heavier and better than you ever thought he could as he pressed you down into the mattress.

But he got up off you, trying to wrangle your ankles and pull your exposed pussy to just the right spot to save his back from being strained. You tried sitting up again, wanting to have some sort of control over the situation, but Joel growled and grabbed your hips, and, in an impressive feat, flipped you onto your front all while grumbling about what a pain in the ass you were.

“Can’t even fuckin’ be considerate enough to stay put…”

You heard him spit then grunt, figuring he was priming that fucking meat wagon between his legs, and you let out an impatient huff.

“Knock that shit off!”, he snapped, flicking you on your ass cheek. “You just came, nimrod. You can fuckin’ wait!”

“Yeah… but I wanna cum again!”, you whined out with a smile, trying to not laugh at how irritated he was with you.

“I bet you do… but you’re on my time, and I am a patient man, sugar.”, he crooned lowly, snaking his hand up your back and to your hip. You squirmed a bit, but his hold kept you planted in place, and his other hand held his cock as he nudged it against your opening.

The smile on your face dropped as his huge member pushed in; your mouth opened, and out came a gasp followed by a choked moan.

“That’s it… Jesus Murphy…  not even fuckin’ your throat and I got you to shut your mouth…”

Yes, you knew Joel was huge. But it was just an abstract concept up until that moment. Now that he was shoving his massive dick into you, you felt like the universe’s mysteries were now clearly laid out. You knew what religion was right, who shot JFK, how they made the moon landing look real…

Nothing in life would ever surprise you again because you were being split open by this grumpy, fat man. You were being ruined by Joel Miller.

He grunted as he pulled back and then slammed into you.

“Tight little snatch, sugar… takin’ me like a champ.”

You couldn’t respond. Your brain had melted and left your skull empty, and you were unable to do anything but breathe loudly and moan, “S’too big… too big…”

Joel snickered and grunted, snapping his hips and shoving himself deep. You wriggled and squirmed, simultaneously needing him stop and to fuck you harder. Your head began to feel faint, and your core squeezed him, forcing a groan out of him.

He began to snap his hips faster, panting and grunting like the fat kid in gym class being forced to run a mile. You whined and squirmed, trying to get your knees under your body to be able to push back against him, to get him deeper, but he grabbed your calf and bit your leg right above your sock with a growl then groaned, “Stay… stay put… don’t move… jus’lemme… lemme finish…”

You let out a yelp than melted into a moan, throwing yourself into another orgasm. Joel’s thrusts became hurried and more erratic. The high-pitched whine that ripped out of Joel sounded like a dog begging for table scraps as he shot his load into you.

He collapsed onto your back, both of you panting. After what felt like hours but in reality, was only about 30 seconds, Joel had gone quiet. You nudged him, hoping to god he didn’t die from a pussy-induced heart attack. He grunted and struggled to push himself up off you, then flopped on the bed next to you. You rolled over onto your back and looked at him. His cheeks were flushed, and his brows furrowed; his wispy salt and pepper hair stuck to his forehead and his eyes were closed. He was still breathing heavily through his mouth. You smiled, feeling a fulfillment you hadn’t since you’d convinced your parents that it was your sister who broke the CD-ROM drive in the family computer even though it was really you. Cuddling into his, your fingers drew heart shapes in his sweat coated chest hair.

Now that he’d fucked you, you wanted to clear the air as it were, and make sure he wasn’t going to make you pay for any damage to his truck. “So…”

Joel grunted in response, one eye opening and looking at you.

“I was just wondering… what’s your licence plate mean?”

He sighed and closed his eye again. He said the meaning quietly and at first you weren’t sure you heard him right.

“What?”

His cheeks flushed a little harder and he rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a huff.

“ShagMaster 9000.”

TAGLIST: @theywhowriteandknowthings @toxicanonymity @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @nerdieforpedro  @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@vabeachazn @clawdee @iamasaddie @jennaispunk @tightjeansjavi @rubyfruitjungle @lilmizmoz @strang3lov3 @pedroshotwifey @harryleatherfit @bitchesuntitled

[bellaxgiornata]

The Devil at Your Window |1: Snowed In|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 8k

Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

Series summary: In the middle of a New York City blizzard, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen accidentally lands himself on your fire escape–quite literally. When he accepts your invitation to warm up inside your apartment, you're surprised at how well the conversation flows all night with the curious and attractive masked vigilante. He's intriguing, though what you find even more intriguing is his unexpected returns to your window after that night–and his flirting. But when it seems like you're not the only one beginning to develop real feelings, he pulls back and you're left wondering two things: Why did he disappear and who really is the mysterious Devil that you've inevitably fallen for?

a/n: Just a short collection of one shots that I'll update whenever the ideas strike. It'll be told in a style like Falling for the Devil but it won't get nearly as long (unless y'all end up loving it, too). I just couldn't deny giving us all the fantasy of black suit Matt reappearing at your apartment window and all the flirting, sexual tension, feelings, and naughty things that might ensue... The installment list for this little series can be found here and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer

Picking up the steaming mug of tea you’d just finished making from off the kitchen counter, you cradled your other hand around the warmth of the ceramic and drew it towards your chest as you turned and headed back towards your living room. The small spot of heat against the front of your sweatshirt caused a shiver to run down your spine as your sock-clad feet padded along the cold hardwood floor and back towards your couch. 

It was freezing inside your apartment tonight and the blustering snow storm raging outside in Hell’s Kitchen wasn't helping. Thankfully your office had already announced its closure for tomorrow before you'd finished work earlier this evening. The snow had already started to dump from the sky before you’d even left the office, falling heavy and wild as it accumulated in a cover of white that blanketed everything in the city. It would have been beautiful if you hadn’t needed to walk home afterwards in the frigid mess–especially with the way the large clumps of snowflakes pelted and battered you in the face over and over, the cold stinging at your skin. 

The city was expected to get a whopping eighteen inches of snowfall minimum over the next twenty-four hours, so you were grateful that your boss wanted as little to do with making it into work tomorrow as you did, especially because you couldn’t afford to do anything but walk to the office. The last thing you wanted to do was trudge through all of that mess and slip on a patch of ice, inevitably falling in a massive pile of snow and leaving you stuck in damp dress clothes all day. 

No, you'd rather stay dry and cozy at home enjoying a lazy day off of work.

You were just hoping the power in your apartment building remained intact throughout the fury of the winter storm. You didn’t want to think about losing the heat in your building in the middle of all of this. Another shiver ran through you as you pushed the thought away–hopefully not something you’d need to worry about tonight. 

But since you didn’t have work first thing in the morning, you had every intention of enjoying your night. You’d immediately come home and thrown off your dress clothes before settling on something comfortable–soft sweatpants and a cozy sweatshirt sans bra underneath. Then you’d made dinner and cleaned it up fast before claiming your ‘spot’ for the evening on your couch. Which consisted of both of your blankets and the television remote while you binged a guilty pleasure show that you hadn’t had time to catch up on for the past few weeks. Tonight you were intending to stay up a bit late, cozy up beneath your blankets, drink some hot tea, and lose yourself in the plot and romance of the show before eventually dragging your tired ass to bed in the hopes of sleeping in tomorrow to make up for staying up late. 

Eyes focused on the paused television screen as you moved, you rounded the side of your couch while drawing your steaming mug up to your lips. You sipped at the warm liquid, reveling in it for a moment before you swallowed it down. You could feel it heat you from the inside out as a pleasant sensation washed over you. Your eyes closed briefly for a moment–it was the first time you’d actually felt warm today. 

Opening your eyes, you continued towards the couch and began to lower yourself down onto the cushions while trying not to spill any of your tea from the mug. Just as you were about to sit back down on the couch and cocoon yourself in both of your blankets, ready to settle in for more of your show, something outside the window to your right caught your attention. Your head spun in the direction just as a flash of black dashed past the window and a loud bang reverberated through your apartment. 

A frightened yelp slipped out of you at the sound and you clutched your mug tight to your chest, your heart thudding heavily in terror. Whatever had just literally dropped onto your fire escape had been large, especially with the sound of that impact. Sucking in a breath, you held it as you stared transfixed at the window, almost ridiculously terrified it would be some sort of wild animal–like a bear or a wolf–on your fire escape. 

Though, more realistically considering you were in New York City, you knew it was probably a burglar. Who else would be traversing fire escapes late at night? Especially dressed in all dark clothes? Except…that also seemed a little ridiculous, too. There was a literal blizzard happening outside, meaning everyone would be home. In their apartments. Making it impossible for a burglar to break into anyone’s place unseen. Plus, it was insane outside, what criminal would risk dealing with that right now?

So what the hell had just fallen onto your fire escape?

Another thought struck you soon after and your lips parted in shock at the idea as you blew out the breath you’d been holding. With trembling hands, you very slowly reached out, carefully placing your mug of tea onto the coffee table before you without taking your eyes off of your window. Gradually, almost nervously, you rose to your feet before taking hesitant step after hesitant step forward. Another sharp, surprised gasp flew out of you when you saw the dark figure sit upright on your fire escape, bent in half as if they were in pain. Which made sense, considering the fall they’d just taken.

But your body froze up instantly at the sight of the man dressed in all black bent in half and dusted in white patches of snow. He wasn’t a burglar at all. With the black cloth tied over his head and the form fitting shirt he was wearing, there was absolutely no mistaking who he was. You'd certainly seen enough images of him plastered across the media. 

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen had just fallen onto your fire escape.

Eyes widening in shock at the infamous vigilante attempting to pull himself up to his feet, one of his gloved hands holding onto the metal railing of your fire escape, you were suddenly overcome with the urge to check on him. To make sure he wasn’t seriously injured from that fall. 

Without thinking your actions through, you crossed the last few steps to the window and unlatched the locks before pushing it up. The masked figure immediately spun towards you at the sound as a bitter gust of wind burst its way into your apartment, chilling you instantly while those thick snowflakes once again assailed your face. For a moment you locked eyes with him–or at least, it seemed like you did despite the fabric covering half of his face–as your mouth hung open. You suddenly found yourself at a loss of what to say in the moment. And considering the way his lips thinned out along his face and the way he remained silent, he clearly wasn’t going to strike up a conversation with you, either.

Eyes darting down, you saw he had one gloved hand clutching at his right side as if it hurt him. His shoulders were hunched in on himself as his back faced the violent winds blowing snow relentlessly. Seeing him in person for the first time ever–something you’d never expected in your life considering how elusive the media made him out to be–you realized just how thin and unprotective his clothes really were. Especially tonight considering the cold weather. He had to be freezing.

An icy wind whistled loudly, another flurry of heavy snowflakes pelting you right in the face and breaking you from your thoughts. Blinking the snow from your lashes, you finally found your voice. 

“Are you alright?” you asked hesitantly, unsure how one should approach the masked man. “I just–just saw you fall. It looked like it hurt.”

He gave a curt shake of his head, wincing before he turned more towards the railing. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” he replied.

Something warm flooded your veins at the gravelly tone of his voice. It suited him somehow, even if it sounded fake. Like he was pitching his voice lower to sound like someone else in order to hide his identity. Not that you'd probably have recognized him anyway. 

With his back partially to you now, especially this close when there was barely a few feet of space between the pair of you, you could see just how incredibly muscular this man was. His black shirt clung to him like a second skin, the toned abdominal muscles on his upper body clearly visible even from just his profile. Even the pectoral muscles of his chest were well defined and visible beneath the sheen of black. His arms were thick–far too big for just one of your hands to wrap around. And as your gaze lingered lower, you fought back the thoughts that entered your mind at the sight of how large his thighs were in those tight pants–and how pleasant a profile his ass also had. You wondered briefly if he'd gained all that from working out or if it had more to do with his nightly activities.

Though when you saw him grab onto the metal railing of your fire escape with both of his gloved hands, the movement drawing your attention away from observing him as he attempted to swing himself over it, you nearly screamed as you lurched forward. You lived on the fifth floor, was this man really about to fling himself off of the fire escape from all the way up here? 

But the scream died in your throat the moment he cried out in pain, his feet slipping from off of the railing as he fell back onto your fire escape. He let out a hiss of pain as he clutched at his clearly injured side.

“Holy shit,” you breathed out, shoving the window open wider despite the cold and snow and leaning further forward. “You’re clearly not okay. Do you need something? An ambulance or something? Is there someone I can call? Or–or something I can do to help?”

The man rolled off his injured side and onto his back, gradually turning towards you as he lay on the fire escape. You hadn’t expected the amused and pained chuckle he emitted while the snow accumulated on the entire front of him, lightly covering the thin layer of his black shirt. Which you’d noticed had ridden up, revealing a small sliver of skin just above the dark, form fitting pants he was wearing. You tried hard to not keep glancing back at that patch of skin as it slowly rose higher and higher, unsure why you were so distracted by it.

The sound of his amusement soon drew you back to the moment and you cringed. Why the hell was he laughing?

“Are you alright? Did you…hit your head?” you asked him cautiously. “Maybe you have a concussion…”

Another amused sound slipped out of him, but that was quickly followed by a pained groan as he tried to once again rise up onto his feet. “I don’t have a concussion,” he assured you.

“You sure?” you asked, an eyebrow arching onto your forehead as you crossed your arms over your chest to stay warm when you began to shiver from the cold. “Because this doesn’t seem like a funny situation to me.”

“Well,” he grunted out, wincing as he drew back up to his full height, “normally I’m the one offering assistance, not the other way around. So yeah,” he continued with a faint shrug, your eyes once again catching the way he was holding his side, “it’s kind of amusing. In an…irritating sort of way.”

Your heart sank to your stomach at his words. “Oh, sorry,” you muttered, heat rushing up to your face instantly. “I didn’t mean to be annoying. I was just concerned–”

He took a half step forward, cutting you off as he waved a hand between the pair of you. He shook his head, letting out a slight huff of laughter. “No, I didn’t mean you were irritating. Just…this situation. The–the snow and the falling part.” In a quieter voice he added, “And having an audience for it.”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you stood there studying him for a moment. He was injured and wearing barely anything at all in the middle of a blizzard. He looked like he needed help even if he seemed like the type not to ask for it.

“Do you want to come inside?” you blurted, unable to stop yourself. “I mean, to get warm and maybe sit down for a moment? I could call an ambulance or–or a taxi or something to bring you to a hospital.”

Another amused huff of laughter slipped out of him as he shook his head. “No hospitals, please. I’ll be alright. But…if you’re offering, I wouldn’t mind a moment to warm up.” His gloved hand lowered, pinching a bit of fabric from his shirt as he glanced down at it. “Admittedly this doesn’t offer much protection from the elements.”

You eyed the thin material between his gloves doubtfully. “Doesn’t look like it offers much protection from anything,” you told him.

A surprised bark of laughter peeled out of him, the sound drawing a smile onto your face. You’d made the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen laugh. Now that was something you weren’t going to forget anytime soon. He didn’t seem like the type to break character easily.

“You wouldn’t be wrong,” he agreed, his laughter subsiding.

Taking a step back from the window, you waved a hand towards him, gesturing for him to come inside. “How about you come in so I can close this window and we both can stop freezing?” you suggested, surprised at how bold you sounded considering who it was you were speaking with. “I’m shivering already so I can only imagine how cold you must be.”

You watched as his lips curled up into a charming grin at the corners, just beneath the black fabric of his mask. It was impossible to deny that he had a handsome face–at least, from what you could see of it. You imagined the rest of it to be just as attractive beneath that cloth and a sudden intense curiosity to know what the rest of it looked like overtook you as you watched him carefully climb through your opened window. He moved slowly, wincing in pain as he made his way inside. Despite his tough act, that fall must’ve really hurt his side and you frowned, wishing he’d accept your offer to help. There was no way he was as fine as he claimed to be, surely he needed medical attention.

“Takes a special kind of person to just invite me into their home so readily,” the Devil’s rough tone came out as he turned his back to you, shutting the window after himself. “Normally people prefer to avoid me.”

“You’re not dangerous,” you replied almost instantly.

The window closed with a sharp clack before his masked face turned over his snow-dusted shoulder, his attention fixed on you. “Oh?” he asked curiously, a smirk growing over his lips. “I’m not?”

Your eyes were drawn to his mouth, though it wasn’t like there was anywhere else to look when you spoke to him with that mask covering most of his face. The smirk appeared teasing, and for some reason that had the hair on the back of your neck bristling. You suddenly became very aware of the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra beneath your loose sweatshirt and it was now cold in your apartment. Quickly your arms wrapped over your chest, hugging yourself tight. His lips almost seemed to curl ever higher in response.

“I mean, you are ,” you amended, “but to, you know, criminals.” 

You swallowed hard when he remained still, gazing at you over his shoulder wordlessly.There was something almost predatory in the way he was studying you. It was easy to see how this lone man terrified the criminals on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, striking fear into them. He certainly had a presence. Goosebumps rippled beneath the sleeves of your sweatshirt at his continued silent stare.

“Right?” you asked tentatively, voice softer.

His smirk vanished as the other corner of his mouth curled upwards into what felt like a warm smile despite you being unable to see if it reached his eyes. He nodded gently, turning slowly back towards you as he did. 

“That's correct,” he agreed, brushing the snow from his broad shoulders. “I’m only dangerous to criminals. So unless you’re hiding any dead bodies or have some outstanding charges…?”

You laughed, though abruptly you snatched your bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt to quiet the noise instantly. He was witty and funny. You weren’t anticipating that. Or the way your reaction to his quips seemed to please him, like he was trying to charm you. Which seemed even more curious, considering who he was and what he spent his nights doing. 

“Can't say that I do,” you said. “I'm probably the most boring person in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Well now,” he replied teasingly, “don't sell yourself short. I'm sure you're not taking that title  all by yourself.” 

That charming smile was back on his face and it had your stomach fluttering. Tearing your eyes away from him, you noticed the television was still paused on your show. Paused on a scene where the two actors on screen were clearly about to kiss. Cheeks burning, you hurried over and grabbed the remote from the couch and turned it off. 

“You can make yourself comfortable if you want,” you told him, trying to keep the embarrassment out of your tone. “I've got a couple of blankets you can use to help warm you up.”

His heavy boots thudded with each of his steps as he crossed the room and made his way to the couch. You bent over, grabbing both blankets from your place on the couch where you'd previously been curled up as he passed behind you. The moment one of his cold gloves brushed against your back, you froze.

“Sorry,” he whispered. 

“No it's–it's fine,” you replied. 

He passed behind you before settling onto the opposite end of the couch from where you had clearly taken residence. You forced a smile onto your face as you turned and leaned over, holding out the blankets towards him. 

Pull yourself together , you internally chastised yourself. Just because it's been a while since you've had a man here doesn't mean you need to react to every little thing. That's not what this is, obviously. 

“Thank you,” he said, accepting the blankets from your outstretched hand. 

You nodded before sitting back down on the opposite end of the couch, keeping space between you and him. Curling your legs up under yourself, you watched as the Devil wasted no time throwing both blankets around himself, beginning to visibly shiver beneath them as he tried to warm up.

“Are you sure you don't want me to call anyone?” you asked him.

“No one to call,” he answered. “And a hospital would defeat the purpose of trying to remain anonymous.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” you muttered, glancing away and spotting the forgotten tea on your coffee table. “Would you like something to drink at least? Some water or some hot tea, maybe?”

His masked head tilted curiously to the side at your question, a grin returning to his plush lips. “Playing hostess?” he asked. 

“Well I'm sure you've got to be thirsty running around Hell’s Kitchen and fighting criminals all the time,” you explained. “I always sort of wondered if you stashed water bottles around the city or stopped for water breaks somewhere–not where you live, I imagine. Since you're trying to keep your identity hidden.” Your eyes narrowed as you added, “Or do you just let yourself get dehydrated every time you're out? Because that's not good for you, you know.”

The Devil's grin grew wider as he shifted on the couch, facing you even more from his place on the cushions. “Oh?” he asked, curiosity in his tone. “You've thought about me before, have you?”

Eyes dropping down to your lap, you smiled sheepishly as you shrugged. “I mean, I've had some theories circulating about you ever since you kept reappearing in the news,” you admitted awkwardly. “Sort of hard not to.”

“Well now you have to indulge me,” he teased. “Enlighten me on some of these theories of yours.”

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you continued to avoid his covered stare. “I mean, they're not that interesting…”

“Oh come on,” he tried again. “It's not like we don't have the time. And maybe I can confirm or deny some of them for you. Besides, I admit I’m curious to know what you think of me. Especially being so willing to offer help like you did.”

Chewing your bottom lip, you glanced up at him from beneath your lashes. He looked far less intimidating beneath your blush pink blanket now. What would it hurt if you told him a few of your ideas about the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen? Maybe he might laugh at them, but would hearing that sound again be all that bad? And it truly would be interesting to learn more about the mysterious vigilante, something you'd probably never have the opportunity to do again. 

“Okay,” you agreed with a nod. Straightening up on the couch, you turned to face him more fully. “So I've always thought with the way that you fight that you were trained by some sort of secret ninja assassin organization.”

A hearty chuckle filled your living room at your first theory. The pleasant and resonant noise left you grinning as your stomach fluttered in response. You briefly wondered how often the Devil actually laughed when he was out. 

“I cannot confirm nor deny that,” he responded. 

The playful smile that kept appearing on his face was beginning to further disarm you. You found yourself enjoying his company, soon becoming used to the way half his face was hidden from sight with that ridiculous fabric. And for some reason your unexplainable attraction to him was only growing. 

“Next theory,” he prodded, the smile on his face apparent even in his voice. 

“You're not wealthy,” you stated, leaning forward and grabbing your tea from the coffee table.

“Oh, ow,” he joked, playfully recoiling back from you on the couch. “What makes you say that?”

You waved a hand at him across from you as you settled back into the cushions, mug in hand. “Because you wear clothing that is obviously not meant to protect you very well in a fight,” you answered. “I imagine if you had money you'd have something…nicer. Meant for what you do. And,” you continued, pausing long enough to drink down some of your now barely warm tea, aware of him focused on you, “you protect Hell’s Kitchen. Only Hell’s Kitchen. This part of the city isn't exactly filled with the wealthiest people. And with how dedicated you are to everyone here, I assume it's because you probably grew up here yourself. Most likely still reside here, too.”

The Devil hummed appreciatively when you'd quieted, his masked gaze still on you. You swore you could feel it as you drank down more of your tea.

“You're observant,” he mused. “Maybe I need to watch myself around you.”

A surge of pride swelled in your chest; you hadn't expected his praise. Or the way it would make you feel. And apparently, you'd guessed something right about him. 

“You're also not married or in a serious relationship,” you blurted before you could help yourself, wondering what more you could learn about him.

“Poor and unlovable?” the Devil asked with a surprised laugh. “That's what you think of me?”

“No,” you disagreed, laughing a little with him as you shook your head. “No, but I mean, I imagine you don't have time for someone else. And I figure most people wouldn’t like their partner going out and doing what you do. Putting yourself in danger.”

“Mmm,” he hummed out, shifting on the couch and making himself more comfortable. “A partner would certainly be…a distraction. A liability. One I couldn't really afford to have. So no, you're not wrong, I don't have one.”

You glanced down at your lap, your fingers fidgeting with the mug in your hands. Half of you was hoping to hear that he wasn't with anyone–though you refused to admit to yourself why that mattered–but the other half of you had heard the way he'd said that a partner would be a distracting liability and you’d felt a sad pang hit you in the chest. Considering how much he seemed to be enjoying your company when he didn't even know you had you guessing that the Devil was a lonely man deep down. 

But that wasn't a theory you felt comfortable sharing. 

“Any others?” he asked, breaking through your thoughts.

Clearing your throat, you focused back on him across the couch from you. His smile had disappeared, his lips now downturned at the corners just a bit. His posture had changed in your silence, the same as his mood, as if he'd picked up on the subtle change in yours somehow. 

Strange.

“I imagine you're the kind of guy who's fridge is always empty,” you answered.

A ghost of a smile reappeared on his face as he huffed out an amused breath. You couldn't fight the smile returning to your own lips at the sight of his again. 

“Well hey now,” he countered lightly, “there's usually beer. Sometimes orange juice and eggs.”

You giggled, unable to stop yourself. “Who'd have guessed the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is just your average bachelor?” 

“Average?” he repeated in mock offense, his head tilting to the side. “I'm just average now?”

Quirking a brow at him in a challenging manner, your own head cocked to the side. “Maybe tell me more about yourself and I could say otherwise,” you boldly teased back. 

“Well obviously,” he began, grinning at you in a way that had your body heating, “I can't exactly do that now can I? Defeats the purpose–

“Of remaining anonymous,” you finished for him. “I've picked up on the importance of that.” 

A silence soon settled between the pair of you, one that slowly began to cause your nerves to grow with the way he kept smiling at you. Once again you desperately found yourself wanting to see the rest of his face, curious to know just how handsome he really was under that black mask. Though you settled for studying what you could see, your eyes tracing the soft curves of his pink lips, noticing the way they very minutely twitched under your scrutiny. Eventually your gaze dropped down, following the hard lines of his stubbled jaw. As your eyes trailed further down, they lingered on the part of his neck that wasn't covered by the blankets he’d wrapped around himself for warmth. A heat burned in you as the urge to reach out and just touch him, just to see if he was real, suddenly grew within you. It didn't help that it almost felt like you could feel the weight of his own eyes fixed on you beneath the mask, once again making you very aware of your lack of bra beneath your sweatshirt.

Catching your lip between your teeth, you noticed the way his throat bobbed with a hard swallow. Had he been having similar thoughts? Observing you, too? 

Inhaling a sharp breath through your nose at the idea, you knew you needed to stop this line of thinking and stop it fast. There was absolutely no way the Devil would be interested in you. Certainly not like that. That was absurd.

“Would you like something to eat?” you asked, trying to calm your pulse. “If your fridge is empty all the time I'm guessing you could use something to eat.”

“I mean, I suppose if you’re–”

He stopped short the exact moment that the lights died, throwing the pair of you into almost complete darkness. You sucked in a breath, turning to look out the window just to your right. It was eerily dark outside, a sight that was rare in the city. Even the buildings across the street had been thrown into darkness. There was nothing but the howling wind and snow outside.

“Guess it was too much to hope the power wouldn’t go out in this mess,” you breathed out.

“I suppose so,” he replied, his tone just as soft.

Reaching blindly forward, you set your almost empty mug onto the coffee table before you. For a moment you reached around on the surface until your fingers brushed against your phone. You picked it up and unlocked the screen, grateful for the bit of light it shed in the dark as you turned on the flashlight function.

“So I can’t offer you a nice cooked meal without power,” you told him, rising to your feet, “but I can get you an apple and a couple of protein bars? If you’d…like?”

“You don’t have to, but I’d appreciate it,” he said.

“It’s the least I can do for the man who does so much for the rest of us,” you told him, maneuvering around the couch and navigating your way to the kitchen by the light of your phone. “I’d feel awful leaving you hungry and dehydrated.”

Wrapping one arm around your chest to try to fight the chill that had been steadily creeping into you, you headed towards a cabinet near the sink. Reaching up, you grabbed a glass from out of it before taking a moment to fill it beneath the faucet before setting it along the countertop. Then you plucked an apple out of a fruit bowl on your counter, taking a moment to rinse it off first. The moment you’d turned off the faucet you heard his voice from across the apartment.

“You’re cold.”

For a moment you found it odd how his words hadn’t come out as a question but more of an observation, though you quickly shrugged the strangeness of that aside. You set the apple down on the counter beside the glass of water before sliding a step to your right and opening up another cabinet.

“It’s alright, I’m fine,” you answered, trying to shine the light from your phone into the cabinet to read the labels on the boxes. “I wasn’t the one out in that snowstorm wearing barely anything at all.”

“You say that like I was out there naked.”

His voice had unexpectedly come from just behind you this time and it jolted your heart in your chest instantly. His sudden proximity mixed with his word choice had you startling on the spot. Your hand that had been about to pull the box of protein bars out of the cabinet accidentally bumped it instead, causing the entire box to slip off of the shelf. But before it could tumble to the floor and spill its contents, a black gloved hand darted out beside your face, catching it before it had barely fallen six inches. 

You stood there rooted to the spot, his hand just brushing your arm as his held the box of protein bars. The hair on the back of your neck had risen, aware that he was standing barely a foot behind you now. Slowly, you turned over your shoulder to look at him. Your pulse quickened further at how close his face was to yours. He was looking at you, too. Or at least, he was facing you. Eyes dropping down, you couldn’t help but notice that mouth of his again. 

“I apologize,” he said, your eyes watching as his lips moved. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Sometimes I forget how quiet I can be. I just wanted to give you one of the blankets. No sense in me using both when you’re cold.”

“Oh,” you whispered, unable to form any other response.

With his attention still on you, he reached up and slid the box back onto the shelf. Then he seemed to take a purposeful step back from you, his lips set in a straight line. You wondered what was going on in his mind right now, because you were sure there had to be something. Had he felt the tension you’d just felt? Or were you just ridiculous and overly hopeful?

And why did it even matter? You were never going to see this man again after tonight anyway.

Blinking a few times, you returned your attention to the shelf. Reaching up, you slid your hand into the box that had nearly taken a nosedive to your kitchen floor and pulled out two protein bars. Keeping your eyes actively focused away from the Devil nearby, you closed the cabinet and slid a step back to your left, grabbing the glass of water in your hand with your phone and the apple in the same hand as the bars. Though before you could turn around, you felt something gently drape over your shoulders. Looking down, you noticed it was the pink blanket he’d been wearing.

“Like I said,” he repeated, “there’s no sense in me using both.”

“Right,” you whispered, pulse pounding in your throat.

Turning on your heel, you stepped past him and made your way back to the living room by the light of your phone. This time you heard the heavy steps of him following after you. You assumed that was intentional.

“So why were you out in this blizzard tonight anyway?” you asked him, making your way around the couch. You hoped having something to talk about would distract you from whatever it was he kept stirring inside of you. “Surely there aren’t a lot of crimes being committed in this weather?”

The Devil let out a light laugh as he accepted the offered glass of water and food from you. One of your brows quirked curiously onto your forehead at his reaction as you sat back down in your original spot on the couch. Though you noticed as he took a large drink from the cup while lowering himself onto the cushions that he’d sat closer to you than before. You watched as he ripped open a protein bar and tore off a large bite next, but he didn't answer until a moment later when he’d swallowed the bite down. Internally you noted he must’ve been hungrier than he let on with the way he was devouring that bar and you’d wished you’d had more food to offer him with the power out.

“You’d be correct,” he told you. “And yet I still stupidly made my way out into this storm tonight in the hopes of catching a lead on something. Instead all I got was my ass frozen and my side bruised.” 

You watched as he took another large bite of the protein bar, chewing it almost contemplatively as his head canted to the side. You could still see him in the beam of light from your phone which you were still clutching in your hand. Somehow this lighting made him even more appealing as it cast sharp shadows along his jaw.

“Though I suppose unexpectedly meeting you was a highlight,” he added, causing your cheeks to flush. “But you know, you never did give me your name.”

“Well you never exactly gave me yours,” you immediately quipped back.

Those beautiful lips of his curved upwards yet again as he chewed the last bite of the first protein bar. What you wouldn’t give to see if that smile had reached his eyes.

“Alright, point taken,” he replied. 

Tearing your gaze away from him, you focused on your phone. If you kept the flashlight running the battery would die in no time. And who knew how long the power might be out for, you might need it later. You supposed you didn't need it on just for a conversation.

“I’m going to turn the flashlight off on my phone for now, if that's alright?” you told him, fingers darting across the screen to do just that. “Might need the battery on this later.”

“That’s alright,” he replied, sounding as if he was chewing another bite of food. “I don’t need it.”

He’d made the comment just as you’d leaned forward to set your phone back onto the coffee table, but you’d paused as the words processed in your mind. Your eyes narrowed again as your mind raced. Something about the way he’d said that sounded as if it had another meaning to it. But before you could put too much thought into it, he’d changed the topic.

“You’re still cold,” he pointed out. “That blanket alone isn't helping.”

Brows furrowing together as you slowly sat back, you wondered how he could possibly know that. The pair of you were in almost pitch black again with your phone flashlight off. It wasn't like he could see you and you hadn't been shivering, though there were definitely goosebumps dotting your skin. How could he possibly know? 

“I’m fine,” you said, pulling the blanket you had on tighter around yourself. “It’s bound to get colder here with the power out now.”

“And with how long you had your window open earlier,” he added. “The temperature is going to drop in here faster than it would have if you hadn’t helped me.”

You sighed, frowning in his general direction. “So much for being able to help you warm up,” you muttered. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” he assured you.

It felt as if he was shifting on the couch nearby. Your brows knitted further together as you tried to make out what he was doing through the dark. All you could see was a faint mass of black that seemed darker than the rest of the blackness. Then moments later you felt a blanket being draped over your lap. 

“No, uh uh,” you said, shaking your head and immediately grabbing the blanket. “There’s two blankets, we can clearly share.”

“You’re freezing,” he countered. 

“And you’re not cold?” you shot back.

“Doesn’t matter, you’ve already been far kinder than I deserved this evening,” he replied.

You grabbed the blanket in your hands and stubbornly tossed it back in his general direction. An audible sigh sounded through the darkness to your left.

“You know I can just leave, right?” he told you. “Which would leave you with no reason to not use both blankets.”

Your eyes narrowed in the direction of the sound of his voice. “But then you’d be allowing more cold air into my apartment, which would only make the temperature drop faster in here,” you argued back. “Then I'd really be cold.”

He breathed out a laugh and you imagined the smile on his lips at the sound. You smiled triumphantly back at the dark shape of him because you knew you had a good point. Even though really, you could just layer on more clothes.

“Okay,” he relented. “That’s true. So how about…we share?”

The smile on your face quickly disappeared at his suggestion. Mouth dropping open, you felt your heart skip a beat in your chest. It took you a few seconds to regain the ability to respond.

“Share?” you asked.

“Body heat would certainly keep us both warmer,” he answered. “So would sharing two blankets instead of using only one.”

“Oh, uh, well,” you stammered, your mind racing at the thought of your body pressed up against his. “I–I–”

His deep laugh rumbled towards you through the darkness, the sound causing your lips to clamp shut. 

“I’m not suggesting anything immoral,” he assured you. “Simply a possible solution to the very real problem of us freezing in here. Unless, of course, you’d prefer me to leave?”

“No!” you exclaimed.

Immediately your eyes widened in horror at how quickly you’d responded to that. And judging by his chuckle, he’d also noticed, too. Your face scrunched up as you mentally scolded yourself for sounding so eager to keep him here in your apartment.

“Well in that case, we could share the blankets and our body heat,” he suggested again. “Because the temperature has definitely dropped a few degrees already and it's only going to continue if the power stays out.”

Nervously your tongue slid out, licking your lips. You were trying hard to control the racing of your heart, positive he could hear it with how hard it was beating now. Of course you weren’t going to pass up a chance to basically cuddle the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen for warmth during a snowstorm. You just needed to find a way to not sound so eager to accept his offer first.

“I suppose you…have a point there,” you said slowly, trying to keep your voice even. “That’s–that’s usually what people do in survival situations. Use their body heat to keep warm.”

An amused huff came from him and you realized he’d scooted even closer to you on the couch. Your breath caught in your throat the moment you felt his thigh bump against yours.

“So are we in agreement with sharing both blankets, then?” he asked.

“That–that appears to be the most logical solution to the problem,” you answered. “So yeah, I guess we…share the blankets.”

Despite the lack of light, the Devil seemed to move with ease and fluidity through the darkness, something you were paying close attention to as he gently sidled his way up against the side of you, managing to wrap both blankets around the pair of you. All the while you’d sat pin straight on the couch, aware that he was flush to your side from your shoulder all the way down to your knee. You clasped your hands in your lap, unsure of where else to place them. Truthfully, you had to admit you were already much warmer like this, with his body heat enveloping you beneath both blankets.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked, his tone far gentler than it had been all evening. “Because that's not my intention.”

“No,” you answered with a light shake of your head. “You're not.”

He chuckled softly, his body shaking yours slightly with the movement. Your head turned towards him and you wished you could see at least the part of his face that was visible right now.

“Then why are you so tense?” he questioned. 

“I'm not tense!” you lied.

He laughed again, this time louder. The movement jostled you somehow further into his side, though your hand flew out and landed flat on his very solid chest as you tried to stop yourself from falling further into him. Your eyes widened in horror yet again, but before you could push yourself away you felt his arm wrapping around your shoulders and allowing you to sink even more into him. Heat was very much creeping up your neck and reaching your cheeks now in embarrassment. 

“You're very tense actually,” he teased. “If you're uncomfortable I can move, but we aren't going to be sharing much body heat if you don't actually sit next to me.”

Slowly you removed your hand from his chest, lowering it to your lap. Though with the way you were sitting facing partially towards him now, your knuckles were brushing against his thigh. 

“I am not tense,” you grumbled. “And you aren't making me uncomfortable. This is just…awkward. I barely know you and you don't know me.”

“Okay,” he conceded. “How about since you've guessed a few things about me, I think it's only fair you tell me a few things about yourself now.”

“I told you I'm not very interesting,” you reminded him.

“Ah, well,” he replied with a shrug, “I think I'd like to decide that for myself.”

Biting your lip, you turned your burning face and buried it into his shoulder, glad he couldn't see how nervous he'd suddenly made you. It was hard to tell if he was flirting with you or if that was just his vigilante persona–when he wasn't beating people, of course. 

With your nose pressed against the fabric of his shirt, you noticed he smelled surprisingly good. There was the hint of his sweat, but there was also a faint clean detergent scent. You closed your eyes and tried to relax, inhaling a deep breath in. Even though he was still a stranger and a vigilante, he seemed kind and safe so far. And he also hadn't thrown you off of himself for getting even closer to him, either. Maybe you should just do what he seemed to be doing: relax and enjoy the unexpected cuddles tonight with an unexpected acquaintance. 

“Alright, what do you want to know?” you whispered, eyes still closed as you focused on his scent.

Eyes fluttering open, you felt yourself waking from a deep, comfortable sleep. Though your eyes instantly snapped closed against the bright light that immediately assaulted them. Slowly you blinked them back open, trying to adjust to the surprising sunshine pouring through your living room window. Gradually you began to push yourself upright, realizing you were laying with your head on a couch pillow, both of your blankets snuggly wrapped around you. For a moment your face twisted into a look of confusion as you hesitated, staring down at the two blankets. Why had you been asleep on your couch?

But then flashes of last night came back to you. The masked man falling onto your fire escape. The joking and constant banter between the pair of you. Darkness when the power went out and the feel of his warm, muscular body wrapped around yours as he tried to keep you warm. The scent of clean detergent and his sweat. The feel of his spandex shirt against your fingertips and your cheek as you rested your head against his shoulder.

Had that all really happened? Or had you just fallen asleep on your couch and dreamt it?

Your attention shifted towards your coffee table and your sluggish brain processed the sight of your almost empty mug of tea, left abandoned all night, and an empty glass of water. Pushing yourself the rest of the way upright on the couch, your head turned over your shoulder. The lock on your living room window was undone.

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen really had been in your apartment last night. Which meant the pair of you really had cuddled together for warmth when your power had gone out. And you really did meet him. At least, somewhat.

“Oh my God,” you breathed out in awe. “He was really here.”

But just as the rush of excitement at meeting someone you’d always secretly admired filled you, it quickly vanished. Because you must have fallen asleep on him sometime last night when the pair of you were talking, and then he must’ve slipped out of your apartment before the sun came up, probably when the power had come back on. Which made sense, considering he wouldn’t want to be seen sneaking back to his own apartment in such a conspicuous outfit. 

But what was upsetting you was the growing realization that it wasn’t just the first time you’d met him, but it would most likely be the last. And you’d gone and fallen asleep through part of that meeting.

Stupid stupid stupid.

[andy-wm]

Back to WHO : the MV

This is a continuation of the earlier post that discusses the song WHO, by Jimin. That post was a first impression focused on the lyrics - while this one looks more closely at the MV.

(Remember this is my interpretation, not an official statement by Hybe)

The more times I watched the music video, the more I wanted to yell, because look...

IT'S REALLY STARING US IN THE FACE.

And again, kudos to Jimin's team because it's the most obvious thing in the world ever but only if you ALREADY KNOW what's going on.

Here's a summary:

The music video loosely represents Jimin's attraction/sexuality/love life as a timeline.

New colours - a new spectrum shall we say - filter into his life even though he's trying so hard to 'keep to the program'.

He searches high and low for a girl to love, but alas, nobody makes the fireworks happen for him. Then Billboard Boy crashes into his life, threatening to destroy everything. Jimin has to weather the storm and figure out where his place is because Billboard Boy is a major disruptor - a tornado in fact. In the end, the fireworks are popping and the chaos is happening, and Jimin has to just go with it and finds his place again. His colours have been getting brighter and louder as he goes along and in the end he's prepared to walk away from everything in order to be the spectrum he is.

<<I'm not saying it's literally a count of how many girls or boys or enbys he's kissed. I hope his kissed all of them and then some, frankly, but that's none of my business.>>

A few things to pay special attention to:

Burning cars > cars = masculinity. fire = hot. 1+1=2.

Dancers > people he's interacting with

Rough weather, as represented by the wind-whipped papers and eventually even cars being tossed about the set > His attraction to men (and dare I say it, culminating in a focus on one man in particular)

Colour flares, machine text, and marks on the tape (horizontal lines etc)

Are you ready? Let's go...

Jimin enters the scene looking like sex on legs (no surprises) and strolls casually onto the road. Immediately our view of hm is blocked by a pop-art style poster blowing across the screen. It's immediately followed by a car coming around the corner onto the road. The car is on fire. Jimin watches it pass by and follows it.

He follows the burning car.... and so it begins.

The narrative starts from before BTS even exists. Jimin encounters several female dancers who he has brief and sexy interludes with. In fact i don't think there's a single woman in this MV who he doesn't at least look at. He really does try everything (and everyone) in his efforts to find HER.

BUT WAIT.... rewind...

Let's go back to the poster... it depicts a street scene much like the one we see here, with the words:

WHO IS!! TORNADO OF LOVE

Note: those are exclamation points not question marks.

It's not a question. This is telling us UP FRONT IN BIG LETTERS that 'WHO' is tornado of love.

I could probably stop here and just say 'ok go watch it again' but it's too much fun to go through all the details.

So let's continue...

Jimin has a little more steamy choreo with the female dancers before the lyrics tell us he has so many people to see and places to go, and he leaves them and joins 6 other men in what looks like a work environment....

Hello we are BTS!

Yes you guessed it... like Yoongi did in Haegum, Jimin has his members represented here. (Fan chant going off in my head...) and more delicious choreography follows.

Notice that while Jimin was dancing with the girls, the only signs of rough weather were a few glittery specs floating through the air, barely noticable. Those bits of glitter multiply when he joins the 6 men, and instead of a sprinkling of glitter, it starts looking like a light snowfall.

That's all about to change....

The first moment of reckonning:

At the end of this section of choreo, as Jimin sings 'who is my heart waiting for' and moves into the next phase we have a barely visible flash of light across the screen and rainbow colours bleed into the footage (at 1.14).

This is also the moment the significant rough weather starts. I'd say this is where Jimin starts noticing how he feels, and the turmoil begins, because this is also where he makes eye contact with the camera (1.23).

He sees us watching.

Fuck. I had a moment here. There's a look on his face as he walks past the camera and stares right into it.

AUTO CALLIBRATION...

As another millisecond flash of light and rainbow colours seep into the footage, The machine text 'AUTO CALLIBRATION' appear on the screen and flash there for a couple of seconds.

CALLIBRATE: To standardise... by determinning the deviation from a standard so as to ascertain the proper correction factors (Meriam-Webster definition).

"Get a hold of yourself, Jimin. Reset (your behaviour and desires) to correspond with expectations"

Jimin makes a very determined bee-line for the nearest girl and dances with her, ignoring the burning car in the foreground.

This brings us to the next phase of the narrative, and the next location - the performance space in front of the OASIS cinema.

(Do you see the doors of the cinema - BTS referenced again).

As he dances with this girl, the camera zooms out and we see that a crowd has gathered outside the cinema, watching them, but the crowd does not seem friendly and the dance seems performative - the movements are exagerated and obvious. The girl has Jimin in a headlock at one point and then she pushes him away and leaves. All in all it's an unpleasant event.

At this point the BTS members return (Although now there's one missing) and they dance with and around a number of female dancers. flashes go off in the crowd as the choreo is performed.

As they dance the wind picks up quickly and papers and cans are blown about. Even when Jimin is obviously interacting with female dancers the weather continues to pick up. Dancing with the girls isn't helping.

The camera pulls back and we see the same car as before, still on fire.

This is the moment when the penny (or billboard) drops.

All the other dancers scatter, dissapearing in a matter of seconds as the billboard comes crashing down. The billboard blocks his path. Wherever he had been planning to go - or whatever course of action he had planned to take - this man on the billboard forces a new decision. Jimin has to rethink his plans.

Jimin turns and goes in the opposite direction to everyone else. (A similar scene occured in Like Crazy, Jimin going the other way, rejecting the norm, going against the tide).

The machine text flashes "REWIND ... REWIND" on the screen and we see Jimin heading back to where all this started... where the original car on fire was seen.

He's travelling his own path now, but as he walks, alone in what seems to be the wrong direction, we see the store lights brighter, reflecting off cars and filling the space around him.

He's going through the motions with the girls he passes but the interactions are brief and in one case he actually dodges the girl completetly.

He retraces his steps amidst the chaos, and the weather really goes nuts. Now there are cars being thrown through the air, streetlamps exploding. The storm is almost upon him.

As Jimin steps into that original street again, the one with the neon letters spelling BLISS, the machine text reads PLAY. It's almost ike he's having a redo, where he accepts who he is from the start and allows the chaos to happen. And the chaos DOES happen, because the tornado has arrived.

THE TORNADO OF LOVE.

There's a flash and the whole screen is flooded with colours, blanking out the footage.

Jimin can no longer dance in step with everyone else at this point. He's doubled over, belting those high notes at the climax of the song while the chaos rages in the background. Without the music to give his actions context, it almost looks like hes in agony.

Sparks fly, lights flash, even the film itself is affected...

He eventually gets it together and rejoins the choreography, picking up his life so to speak. But his callibration is forever changed. the colours that bled into his life are there for good now, and and as he walks away after the music stops, we see that those colours are not just for the performance, they exist outside of that.

A note about the light flares we see throughout the MV:

It was really hard to catch these, some of them were literal milliseconds. I had to slow the MV down to play at .25 original speed and even then they were fleeting - well hidden.

Only the one at the very end was really visible.

In this one, the word PAUSE appears, as the MV ends. I wonder if that relates to their military service?

The flares of light and colour, those rainbow flashes, aren't always easy to find. Youvhave to be prepared to seek them out.

We will find them if we look for them, but i think Jimin won't show his true colours until after the lights go down and the performance is over.

I respect his decision (if that's what that is) and i will continue to meet him here his stands. I'll support everything he does knowing what I know and I'll continue to search for and uncover the hidden messages he sends us.