#there is supposed to be at least a little more snow by now

[lostfracturess]

REMEMBER ME IN SUMMER — SATORU GOJO

pairing — one night stand!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary — six months ago, you left satoru gojo's apartment before sunrise, thinking you'd never see him again. now, trapped in a beach house for a weekend with mutual friends, you're forced to face the man who doesn't seem to remember that night—or does he? between shared walls, heated touches, and games of pretend, you're starting to think maybe one night wasn't enough after all. but in a house full of friends, some things are better left in the past… right?

word count — 9.5 k

genre/tags — beach house AU, summer romance, one night stand to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, tension, awkward reunions, friends gathering, miscommunication, beach vibes, satoru is a little menace in this one

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, alcohol consumption, all characters aged up (mid 20s), language

author's note — hi everyone ! this fic came out of nowhere, and i literally wrote it in three days, but i really love the idea and the summer vibes in this one, even tho i wrote it while it was literally snowing outside, but somewhere on earth it's summer rn, so why not post it lol. hope you enjoy this mess of a summer romance story as much as i enjoyed writing it ! <3 (credit/art)

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The last person you expected to see in Okinawa was Satoru Gojo.

Yet there he was, lounging on the deck of the beach house like he belonged there, white hair catching the sunlight as he laughed at something someone had said. Your heart tumbled over itself as memories of that night six months ago flooded back unbidden.

"You okay?" Maki nudged you with her elbow. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

More like the ghost of past bad decisions. "I'm fine," you managed, gripping your weekend bag tighter. "Wasn't expecting so many people."

The beach house was supposed to be a simple weekend getaway with close friends. But somewhere between planning and execution, it had turned into a "friends of friends" situation to fill the eight-bedroom house Okkotsu's family had offered.

"Yeah, Yuta's cousin's boyfriend invited some people to fill the space," Maki explained, completely unaware of your internal crisis. "That's Satoru over there, by the way. He's actually pretty fun once you get past the whole—" She gestured vaguely at all of him.

You wanted to laugh. Or cry. Maybe both. Because you were already very familiar with how "fun" Satoru Gojo could be.

Six months ago, you'd met him at a bar in Tokyo. He'd been charming and gorgeous, all easy smiles and playful banter. One drink had turned into several, flirting had turned into kissing, and kissing had turned into...

Well.

You'd slipped out of his apartment before dawn, leaving nothing but a lipstick stain on his collar and a dip in his pillow. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time. You weren't looking for anything serious, and someone like him definitely wasn't the settling down type.

Now, watching him chat lively with your friends like the universe's cruelest joke, you wondered if you should have at least left your number.

"Girl," Maki waved her hand in front of your face. "You sure you're okay?"

Before you could answer, Satoru looked up. His eyes met yours across the deck, and for a moment, your heart stopped. 

But there was no recognition in those sea blue eyes. No hint that he remembered the way you'd gasped his name in the dark, the way his hands had traced every inch of your skin, the way he'd whispered "stay" against your shoulder just before you'd fallen asleep.

He just smiled politely, the same smile he’s probably giving everyone else too, and went back to his conversation.

Right. Of course he didn't remember. You were probably just one in a long line of one-night stands for someone like him. The thought shouldn't hurt as much as it did.

"Come on," Maki said, tugging you towards the house. "Let's get settled in before the others arrive.”

Up close, the beach house was even more impressive. A sprawling three-story mansion of white stone and floor-to-ceiling windows that caught the afternoon light like rippling water, a wraparound veranda with a cozy sitting area led to a private path down to the beach, lined with swaying palms and colourful flowers.

Inside, the house opened into a huge room with soaring ceilings and an open floor plan that made the space feel endless. Ocean views followed you everywhere through the massive windows, and the whole place smelled of salt and lemon.

"The bedrooms are upstairs," Maki said as she led you up a floating staircase. "Most of them are on the second floor, but there are two master bedrooms on the third."

The universe, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor. Not only did you have to spend the weekend pretending you didn’t know how Satoru's brows draw together when he'd cum, but your room ended up right next to his—the two largest bedrooms on the top floor, sharing a wall and a connecting balcony. Of course.

Your room was bigger than your entire apartment in Tokyo, with a king-size bed draped in soft white linens. One wall was entirely glass, offering an unobstructed view of the ocean, while the other walls were decorated with pictures and minimalist art.

"My god, the view’s amazing!" Maki gushed and threw open the balcony doors. The sound of waves immediately filled the room, along with fresh, salty ocean air. "You can see the whole beach from here." 

But you were too busy staring at the wall next to you, where a door that must lead to Satoru's room was hidden behind a cupboard. You could hear muffled movement from his room, the sound of his laugh drifting through the wall that suddenly felt far too thin and your mind helpfully supplied memories of other sounds he could make, and you wondered if it was too late to fake some sudden illness and go home.

"Yeah," you said, dropping onto the edge of the bed. "Amazing."

Maki flopped down beside you, bouncing slightly on the plush mattress. "I know I've been here like five times already with Yuta, but it never gets old." She rolled onto her stomach and rested her chin on her hands. "Usually it's just us and his family, maybe a few cousins. This is the first time we're doing a friend group thing."

You tried to focus on her words instead of the sound of suitcases being wheeled into the room next door. "How long have you and Yuta been coming here?"

"Since we started dating three years ago. His family does this whole summer tradition thing." She smiled. "First time I came, I was so nervous I barely left the room. Now it feels like a second home." She sat up, crossing her legs. “And since his parents said we could use it this weekend, we thought why not invite friends.”

Through the wall, you could hear male voices chatting and laughing, followed by the sound of a door sliding open. Probably the balcony doors. Your shared balcony. Where he could walk past your windows at any time.

“You’re okay with this, right? Yuta’s friends are actually really fun once you get to know them. Especially Satoru, even tho he can be a pain in the ass.” Your stupid heart tumbled over itself once more at his name. "And single, if you're interested. I could—"

"No!" The word came out louder than intended, and you heard the conversation next door pause briefly. Lowering your voice, you added, "I mean, no thanks. Not really looking for anything right now."

Maki gave you a strange look. "You sure you're okay? You've been weird since we got here."

"Just tired from the drive," you lied and stood up. "Maybe I'll take a quick shower before everyone else arrives."

"Okay..." She didn't sound convinced but got up anyway. "I should go find Yuta anyway, make sure he's not letting Satoru destroy any of Yuta's mum's favourite vases."

You waited until she left before falling with your face first onto the bed with a groan. Perfect. Not only did you have to spend the weekend next door to your one night stand who might or might not remember you, but now your best friend was trying to set you up with him.

Through the wall, you heard Satoru laugh at something, the sound familiar enough to make your chest ache. 

It was going to be a very long weekend.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 

You'd barely finished unpacking when Yuji burst into your room without knocking. "Hey! We're setting up a net for beach volleyball. You in?"

"Ah, I don't really—"

"Everyone's playing!" He was already on his way back to the door. "Even Megumi, and you know how he is about fun."

Before you could form a proper excuse, Maki appeared behind him. "Come on, it'll be fun, the sun is out and it’s better than hiding up here all afternoon."

And that's how you found yourself trudging down to the beach, trying to convince yourself this was fine. Totally fine. Just a fun game of volleyball with friends. Nothing to worry about.

But then the boys started stripping off their shirts. It was like watching some ridiculous scene out of Top Gun as they all shed their shirt in the afternoon heat. But it was Satoru who made your brain go silent completely. 

He pulled his shirt off, and suddenly you were having vivid flashbacks to exactly how that toned chest felt under your hands. The sun caught his hair like a halo, and when he stretched his arms over his head, the muscles in his back shifted in ways that should not make your knees so weak, but here you were, rooted to the spot, your pulse racing as if it had a mind of its own.

"You're staring," Maki whispered next to you.

"I'm not," you said, even though you definitely were. How could you not? It was like someone had taken every beach volleyball scene from every summer movie ever and combined them into one ridiculous moment.

Teams were forming, and with an uneven number, you volunteered to sit this round out. Not that you were particularly eager to participate in the first place. You were perfectly happy watching from the safety of your beach towel, where the risk of accidentally brushing against Satoru's unnecessarily perfect body was thankfully minimized.

The game started, and it quickly became clear that everyone was taking it way too seriously, as Satoru and Yuji seemed to be in some sort of competition to see who could spike the ball more impressively. 

"Show off," you muttered to yourself as Satoru delivered a rather dramatic jump serve, the ball landing dangerously close to your foot. But he must have heard you, because he caught your eye with a wink that made your stomach flutter. "Like what you see?"

"I've seen better," you said before you could stop yourself.

His eyebrows shot up and a slow smile spread across his face. "Have you now?"

Oh god. Were you flirting? This was definitely flirting. You needed to stop staring at the way sweat was making his skin glisten and focus on... literally anything else.

"Pay attention!" Nobara yelled, and Satoru barely managed to dodge the ball she'd spiked directly at his head.

The game continued, growing more competitive with each round. You had to admit, it was entertaining watching your friends become more and more dramatic with each point. One of Yuta’s cousins and Yuji had some sort of rivalry going on, while Maki and Nobara were trash-talking each other.

But it was Satoru who kept drawing your attention. The way he moved was almost unfair and you found yourself following the drops of sweat as they made their way down his neck, remembering how that skin had tasted under your tongue.

"Incoming!"

You looked up just in time to see the volleyball heading straight for your face. Before you could react, Satoru dove in front of you and caught the ball just inches from your nose. The movement sent him sprawling across your legs, his face entirely too close to yours.

You blinked at him for a few moments, then whispered, "Thank you.” But the words came out too soft, almost like they had that night in Tokyo when he'd helped you into a taxi and then convinced you not to take it and instead come home with him.

Time seemed to slow, the crashing waves and voices of the others fading into white noise as Satoru's eyes met yours. For a moment, something flickered in those blue depths—a flash of recognition, perhaps even remembrance. 

His breath caught, barely noticeable, and his hand on your leg tightened ever so slightly. You watched his eyes, saw the exact moment his gaze dropped to your lips, and suddenly you were back in that Tokyo bar, both of you caught in that same magnetic pull.

"You're welcome," he said, his voice so low that only you could hear it. There was something in his tone, a hint of question, like he was trying to place a hazy dream. His thumb brushed against your skin, possibly by accident, possibly not, sending shivers up your spine.

The moment stretched, taut as a bowstring, thick with shared memories—memories you weren't even sure he had. Then someone yelled "Dinner!" from the direction of the house, and the spell broke.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The sun was setting by the time everyone had showered and gathered around the huge dining table on the deck. Fairy lights twinkled overhead and the sound of the waves could be heard in the background as the chaos of fifteen people trying to organize a meal unfolded.

You'd taken extra care getting ready, telling yourself it was just because of the salt and sand, not because of the way Satoru had looked at you on the beach. You'd chosen a light summer dress that happened to be the exact shade of blue as his eyes—pure coincidence, of course—and had let your hair dry naturally in the sea breeze.

Yuta ended up ordering way too much from the local seafood restaurant, you concluded as you surveyed the spread of food on the table. 

You ended up squeezed between Maki and Megumi, which should have been a relief. Instead, you found yourself very aware of Satoru sitting directly across from you, his hair still slightly damp from his shower, wearing a loose white linen shirt that he should really button up and stop teasing the entire table with glimpses of his toned chest.

"Pass the crab?" he asked, and when you handed him the plate, your fingers brushed. The contact sent a shiver through you, and you could have sworn you saw his breath catch. But then he was turning to laugh at something Yuji said, and you were left wondering if you'd imagined the whole thing.

"—and then he just fell face first right into the sand!" Yuji was saying, gesturing wildly with his chopsticks. "You should have seen it!"

"We were all there, literally two hours ago," Megumi deadpanned.

"The game was rigged anyway," Nobara said, reaching for another plate of grilled shrimp. "You can't put Mr. Perfect over here on a team and expect it to be fair." She jerked her thumb in Satoru's direction.

"What can you do?" Satoru said, his eyebrows knitted together, but a grin played on his lips. "I just happen to be naturally gifted." And then his eyes caught yours once more across the table. 

Heat crept up the back of your neck as you remembered how he'd felt when he'd sprawled across your legs, his skin sun warm and slightly sandy. How his touch had lingered just a fraction too long to be casual. 

Something had changed in his expression, so subtle that anyone else might have missed it. But you'd spent hours that night memorizing his faces. His smirk when he had you right on the edge, his soft smile when you were trembling beneath him, the way his eyes darkened just before he—

Maki snorted. "Yeah, sure." And you looked over at her, breaking the eye contact before you could do something stupid like climb across the table and find out if he tasted as good as you remembered.

When the dinner was over, Nobara suggested to play drinking games, truth or dare to be specific, to which "What are we, fifteen?" Megumi commented but Maki already chimed in with "Never ever I ever" and so it was decided.

Your stomach dropped. The last thing you needed was a drinking game where people confessed their secrets. Especially with the way Satoru kept looking at you, like he was one memory away from connecting dots you really didn't want connected.

"I think I'll pass," you said, pushing your plate away. "The sun really did take it out of me."

You gathered your plates and the sound of the others setting up their drinking game followed you into the kitchen—Yuji's voice carrying over everyone else's as he argued about rules, Nobara shouting something about "no questions about exes," and Megumi's long drawn out sighs.

A salty ocean breeze swept into the kitchen through the open wall of windows overlooking the water as you rinsed your plate. "You know," a voice came from behind you, making you jump, "I was starting to think you hate me."

Your heart skipped a beat. You didn't need to turn around to know it was Satoru—would recognize that voice anywhere, had spent months trying to forget how it sounded when it was rough after he’d cum. But you turned anyway, finding him leaning against the doorframe and the kitchen suddenly felt so much smaller. 

"What?" The word came out embarrassingly breathless.

"Let me rephrase, for someone who doesn't hate me, you're doing an impressive job of avoiding me."

"I'm not avoiding you.” You turned back to the sink. "I'm doing dishes."

"Sure. The dishes." His voice got closer, and you could feel the heat of him just behind you. "Though I have to wonder why someone would work so hard to avoid someone they've never met before."

Your hands stilled under the running water. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You've barely looked at me all day." He was close enough now that you could smell his perfume that had lingered on your clothes for days after that night. "Want to tell me what I did to deserve the cold shoulder? Because usually, I at least remember if I've pissed someone off."

Your heart pounded so loudly you were sure he could hear it, but at the same time the irony of his words made you want to laugh. "You haven't done anything," you said, which was technically true. He hadn't done anything wrong. Except maybe be too good in bed and then forget about it entirely.

"No?" His voice dropped lower, and you could feel his breath on your neck. "Then why—" He cut himself off. "Wait. Have we met before?"

You spun around, hands dripping water onto the floor. The motion brought you chest to chest with him, trapped between his body and the counter. "No," you said, too quickly, way too quickly. "Definitely not."

"You sure about that? Because you seem familiar—"

"Must just have one of those faces."

He moved closer still, one hand braced on the counter beside your hip, effectively caging you in. "Is that so? Because I’m sure I’d remember a pretty one like yours." You felt your breath catch in your throat, every nerve in your body screaming. He was going to kiss you, wasn't he? You should probably do something. Like move. Or breathe.

But then he simply stepped back, his smile widening. "Sorry. Must have mistaken you for someone else,” he said and the loss of his warmth felt like whiplash, leaving you cold despite the summer heat that still lingered in the air. You watched him retreat towards the door, casual as anything, like he hadn't just turned your world sideways.

Through the open door, laughter spilled in from the deck, breaking the spell that had held you captive. Satoru paused in the doorway for a moment, silhouetted against the warm light from outside, before disappearing back into the noise of your friends.

You stayed at the sink, trying to convince yourself that the heat in your cheeks was just from the summer air and ignoring the way your heart refused to settle in your chest. What had just happened? You had no idea. But one thing was painfully certain.

This weekend was going to be a long one.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Next morning, you decided to get up early and have your coffee on the beach before anyone else was awake. Sleep had been hard to come by anyway, with too many thoughts of certain one night stands keeping your mind racing. 

Dawn was just beginning to break over the horizon, painting the sky in orange and gold watercolours and the ocean stretched out before you, quiet and calm, each small wave catching the early light like diamonds.

You'd wrapped yourself in an oversized cardigan against the morning chill, bare feet buried in sand that was still cool from the night before. And of course, because the universe hated you, that's when Satoru appeared.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, settling into the sand beside you without invitation.

You clutched your coffee mug tighter. "Something like that."

"Yeah, me neither." He stretched his long legs out in front of him, and you definitely didn't notice how his shorts rode up slightly, definitely weren't thinking about how those thighs had felt under your hands. "Keep having these weird dreams."

"Oh?"

"Mmm." As he turned to look at you, the rising sun painted his profile gold, catching his eyelashes. There was something different about him in this light — softer somehow, more like the man who'd asked you to stay than the one who'd cornered you in the kitchen last night. "About a girl in a black dress. Red lipstick. The most amazing laugh I've ever heard."

Your heart stopped.

"Funny thing is," he continued casually, "I can never quite see her face in the dreams. But I remember how she tasted. How she felt pinned beneath me. How she clenching around my fingers. How she said my name when she—"

"Stop," you whispered.

"Why?" His voice was softer now. "Because you don't want to talk about that night? Or because you thought I wouldn't remember?"

You stared at the ocean, unable to meet his gaze. "You didn't seem to yesterday."

"Don’t be stupid. I recognized you the moment you walked into the beach house."

Your coffee nearly slipped from your hands. "What?"

"Did you really think I wouldn't remember the girl who stole my favourite shirt on her way out the door?"

Heat flooded your cheeks, you totally forgotten about the shirt. "Then yesterday, in the kitchen—"

"I wanted to see how long you'd keep pretending." He smiled, the bastard had the audacity to smile at you when he revealed that he was playing you the whole time. "You're cute when you're nervous, you know that?”

"You're mocking me."

"Mocking you?" His eyebrows rose. Then he leaned closer to you, but you still refused to look at him. "I spent six months trying to find the girl with the kind of laugh that makes you feel drunk just hearing it, who left before I could ask for her number—" 

"It was just one night," you interrupted.

"Was it? Because I distinctly remember asking you to stay."

"I couldn't."

"Couldn't? Or wouldn't?"

You finally met his gaze fully, and immediately wished you hadn't. Because he was looking at you the same way he had that night. He was enjoying this, wasn't he? Playing with you, teasing you, making you feel like a flustered schoolgirl. 

"Does it matter?" you asked.

"You're really a bit slow, aren't you?"

You wanted to protest, to tell him exactly what you thought of his arrogant everything, but then Maki's voice carried across the beach, "Breakfast! Come and get it before Yuji eats everything!"

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The breakfast table was just as chaotic as the dinner the night before. Fifteen people crammed around the table had that effect, especially with Yuji already piling his plate high with pancakes while Nobara complained about him taking too many. 

You'd barely settled into an empty chair when Satoru slid into the seat next to you, as if he hadn't just admitted that he'd been playing jokes on you the whole day before. 

"Can you pass me the syrup?" he asked innocently, but there was nothing innocent about the way his thigh pressed against yours under the table. 

You handed him the bottle without looking at him, trying to focus on pouring your coffee without spilling it everywhere. Which was made all the more difficult when his hand found your knee under the table.

"So what's everyone's plans for today?" Maki asked, passing around a plate of fresh fruit.

You tried to concentrate on the conversation, you really did. But Satoru's hand was inching higher up your thigh, and your brain was shorted out. You kicked him under the table, aiming for his shin.

He didn't even flinch, just smiled wider and continued whatever conversation he was having with Megumi about later activities, all while his fingers danced along the hem of your shorts. You felt a sudden surge of heat, definitely not from the summer sun.

"You okay?" Nobara asked suddenly. "You look a bit flushed."

"Fine!" Your voice came out higher than intended as Satoru's fingers skimmed just slightly under the edge of your shorts. "Just... hot."

"It is pretty warm this morning," Satoru agreed, his tone perfectly pleasant even as his thumb pressed into that sensitive spot on your inner thigh that he somehow remembered. The bastard. You kicked him again, harder this time.

"Did someone just kick the table?" Maki looked around suspiciously.

"Must have been the wind," you said stupidly.

You grabbed his wrist under the table, intending to push his hand away, but he just interlaced his fingers with yours and kept them there on your thigh. It was like he was asserting dominance, staking his claim, and you were suddenly trapped.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay?" Yuji asked through a mouthful of pancakes. "You're acting weird."

"Totally fine," you managed. "Just didn't sleep well."

"Hmm, me neither," Satoru chimed in, his voice all false innocence. "Must be all these weird dreams I keep having." You dug your nails into his hand in warning, but he just squeezed your hand in response, his grip tightening.

"Dreams?" Nobara asked.

"Oh, you know," Satoru began thoughtfully, "the kind that keep you up all night, thinking about... things that got away."

You were going to murder him. Slowly. Possibly with the butter knife you were currently gripping way too tight.

"That's... weirdly poetic for you," Maki said, raising an eyebrow.

"You wouldn't want to know,” he replied, and you felt his fingers inch just slightly higher once more, making you jump and bang your knee on the table.

"Jesus, what is wrong with you two this morning?" Nobara asked, looking between you and Satoru.

Under the table, you finally managed to grab his hand in yours and hold it still. But that backfired when he started playing with your fingers instead, his thumb brushing across your knuckles in a way that made you gasp. You definitely wanted to kill him. Right after you figured out how to breathe normally again.

"So, beach day? I wanna go snorkelling," Yuji said, thankfully drawing attention away from whatever was going on under the table, and everyone agreed. JJust then, Satoru freed his hand from yours and placed it back on your knee before trailing it up your thigh. 

Okay, nope this had to end now.

"I need more coffee," you announced abruptly, standing up so fast your chair scraped against the deck.

"I'll help," Satoru offered, already rising.

"No!" The word came out too sharp, making everyone look at you strangely. "I mean, I'm good. Thanks."

You practically fled into the kitchen, your skin still tingling where he'd touched you. Through the window, you could see him chatting with the others, looking completely unaffected while you were here trying to remember how to make your heart beat normally.

When is this weekend going to end?

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

"You sure you're okay?" Maki asked, swimming up beside you. "You've been weird all morning. Is the sun too much?"

"I'm fine," you said for what felt like the hundredth time today. "I’m not used to be around so many people."

The water was crystal clear, stretching out in various shades of blue that seemed to go on forever. Everyone had eagerly jumped into snorkeling, with Yuji and Nobara already in a heated competition about who could spot the most fish.

You adjusted your mask for the tenth time, trying to focus on anything except how good Satoru looked in just swim shorts. He was a few meters away, the sunlight catching the droplets of water that clung to his ridiculously toned shoulders.

My God. You needed distance. You needed space to breathe, to think, to do anything other than stare at him.

"If you say so." Maki didn't look convinced. "But tell me if something’s bothering you, okay?"

If only she knew. "Sure."

"Guys, come look at this!" Yuji called from where he was floating near some corals. "Rainbow fish!" 

Everyone swam over to where he was pointing, and you had to admit, the sight was beautiful. Countless colourful fish swam through the coral, creating a vibrant palette under the water.

You followed the fish as a sudden pressure against your calf made you flinch. Satoru. He had brushed against your leg. It could have been an accident, a mere consequence of the crowded water, but somehow, it felt like anything but. You knew better. Nothing about Satoru was ever accidental.

You drifted slightly away from the group, desperately needing to put some distance between yourself and Satoru. The vibrant corals blurred into streaks of colour as you swam further from the group, the shouts of Yuji and Nobara fading.

The water a bit away from them was deeper, a darker shade of blue. As you peered down, you noticed the sandy ground was dotted with small stones, and a different kind of life seemed to thrive here. Sea anemones swayed gently in the current, and schools of silver fish, smaller than the ones near the reef, darted in and out of the anemones.

You floated on your back for a moment, gazing up at the sky, a vast expanse of pale blue flecked with fluffy white clouds as the sun warmed your face. It was so peaceful, and you were happy for the small pause amidst the chaos of the house.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

You startled at Satoru's voice right behind you, nearly inhaling water through your snorkel. He'd somehow managed to swim up without you noticing, and now he was close enough that his arm brushed yours in the water.

"What are you doing?" you hissed, pulling your snorkel out.

"I know a better spot.” He nodded towards a more secluded area around the curve of the beach. "If you're interested."

You glanced back at the others, but they were all absorbed in whatever Yuji had found. "I don't think—"

"Come on," he said, already swimming away. "Don't you trust me?"

"Not even a little bit." But found yourself following him anyway.

He led you around a small outcropping of rocks, the current tugging gently at your fins, to a quieter part of the reef. His hand on your arm gently guided you through the water. The water here was somehow even clearer, as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a breathtaking underwater scenery with colourful coral formations that created a labyrinth of archways and caverns with small fish swimming in between.

"How did you—"

"I came here earlier this morning," he said, treading water close to you. "While you were pretending to ignore me after breakfast."

"I wasn't—" You cut yourself off as he dove under the surface, the sunlight playing across his back as he swam deeper.

You followed him down, your breath taken away by the sight. This part of the reef was like something out of a documentary. Swarms of tropical fish swirled around you in ribbons of colour, and the coral itself seemed to shine in the filtered sunlight.

When you surfaced, Satoru was watching you with an annoyingly knowing smile. "Worth following me?"

"It's alright," you said, trying to sound unimpressed even though you were anything but.

He laughed. "You're still trying to play hard to get?"

"I'm not playing anything."

"No?" He swam closer, close enough that you could see droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes. "Then why did you follow me here?"

"To see the fish.”

"The fish." His voice was amused. "Sure. That's why you've been watching me all morning?"

"I have not—"

"You know," he cut you off, moving even closer, his body brushing against yours in the water. "You're pretty when you get all flustered. Just like that night in Tokyo. Same flush you had when I made you cum three times.”

Ha? Had he been keeping count or what? You frantically tried to replay that night in your head — there was the first time against his apartment door, then on the kitchen counter, and... oh god, he was right. The bastard had been counting. The smirk on his face told you he knew exactly what you were thinking about.

You splashed water at him. "We are not talking about Tokyo."

He wiped water from his face, grinning. "No? Should we talk about this morning instead? About how you nearly jumped out of your skin when I touched your—"

You dunked him mid-sentence.

He came up spluttering, pushing wet hair from his eyes. "Okay, I probably deserved that."

"You definitely deserved that."

But he laughed, and despite yourself, you found yourself laughing too. There was something infectious about him, something that made it hard to keep your walls up, dissolving your defenses with unnerving ease, like mist beneath the morning sun.

"We should head back," you said finally. "Before they come looking for us."

"Probably," he agreed, but made no move to leave. Instead, he floated closer, until his chest pressed against yours. "Or we could stay here a bit longer. I could remind you of all the other ways I can make you wet."

Heat flooded your body. "Satoru..."

"Yes?" His hands found your waist under the water, pulling you flush against him. One thigh slipped between yours, and you had to bite back a gasp at the friction. "You know, I still remember exactly how you sound when you're trying not to moan my name."

"We can't." But your body betrayed you, arching into his touch as his fingers skimmed along your ribs, dangerously close to your breast.

"Can't?" His lips ghosted over your lips, his thumb tracing circles on your hip under the water in a way that made you think of how those fingers had felt inside you. "Or are you afraid you won't be able to keep quiet this time?"

Before you could answer, Nobara's voice carried across the water. "Where did you guys go?"

You pushed away from him quickly, already swimming back towards the group. "Coming!"

"This isn't over," he called after you, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

"It never started!" you shot back, but you were smiling too.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Satoru spent the rest of the afternoon driving you absolutely insane.

After snorkeling, he'd positioned his beach towel suspiciously close to yours, spending an unnecessary amount of time applying sunscreen to his chest and arms. His movements were deliberately slow, borderline pornographic, fingers sliding over muscle in a way that had you remembering exactly how those muscles had felt flexing under your tongue. 

You knew without a doubt he was putting on a show for you—every movement a reminder of how those arms had looked braced above you as he'd fucked you against his apartment door, how they'd felt pinning your wrists to his sheets.

During lunch, he'd somehow ended up next to you again, his bare thigh pressed hot against yours under the table like this morning had taught him nothing. Except this time, his hand didn't just rest on your knee. It spent the entire meal tracing patterns up your thigh, fingertips dancing dangerous close to where you'd been aching for him.

Your breath caught every time his hand "accidentally" slipped under the hem of your shorts, remembering how those fingers had curled inside you, how they'd made you beg.

The afternoon beach volleyball rematch was even worse. He kept finding excuses to touch you—steadying you with a hand on your waist when you stumbled in the sand (the same way he'd gripped your hips while taking you from behind), reaching around you to grab the ball (his breath hot on your neck like when he'd whispered how good you felt around him), his chest pressing against your back, closer than needed (making you remember how it felt to be pressed between him and that apartment door).

But dinner? Dinner was pure torture.

He'd shown up freshly showered, hair still damp and tousled in that way that made your fingers itch to grab it (like you had when he was between your thighs), wearing a dark blue linen shirt that he hadn't bothered to button properly once more and spent the entire meal finding new ways to make you squirm.

He'd catch your eye across the table and slowly lick sauce off his thumb, making you remember exactly how that tongue had felt when he'd spread you open. When passing dishes, his fingers would brush against yours unnecessarily long, making you shiver. At one point, he'd stretched his arms above his head, his shirt riding up to reveal his lower abs that had you gripping your fork so hard your knuckles turned white.

He knew exactly what he was doing, too—you could tell by the smug look on his face throughout the whole dinner. 

Thankfully, no one else seemed to notice anything amiss. They were all too busy with their own conversations, completely oblivious to the way he was systematically dismantling your sanity with nothing more than glances and touches.

Every time you thought you'd gotten yourself under control, he'd do something else — run his fingers through his hair the same way he had when you'd been on your knees in front of him, or bite his lip in a way that had you crossing your legs under the table. By dessert, you were a mess of sexual frustration and murderous impulses. 

He was enjoying this, the bastard. Testing your control, seeing how far he could push before you broke. And the most infuriating part? 

It was working. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

After dinner, everyone wandered into the living room in various states of food induced laziness. You'd barely managed to claim a corner of the big couch when Nobara disappeared into the kitchen, returning with an armful of wine bottles and a certain look in her eye that spelled trouble.

"No one move," she announced, setting the bottles on the coffee table. "I have an idea."

"Your ideas usually end with someone crying," Megumi commented from his spot on the floor.

"Or arrested," Maki added helpfully.

"Or both," you muttered, trying to ignore how Satoru had somehow appeared in the armchair closest to your corner of the couch. He'd rolled up his sleeves during dinner, forearms on full display, and you were having a hard time not staring at his fingers. Fingers that you knew from experience felt so good in your mouth to keep you from—

"Never have I ever!" Nobara's voice cut through your dangerous train of thought. A collective groan rose from the group.

"Not again," Megumi said, already trying to get up.

"Sit your ass down," Nobara commanded, pushing him back down. "We're bonding."

"We bonded plenty last night," you Yuta tried, but Nobara was having none of it and before you knew it, everyone agreed.

"Okay, I'll start easy," Yuji said, clearly excited despite his earlier protests. "Never have I ever cheated on a test."

Several people drank, including Satoru—and you, okay let’s be real. 

The questions started innocent enough. Never have I ever broken a bone. Never have I ever been arrested. Never have I ever dyed my hair. But as the wine flowed, the questions got progressively more suggestive.

"Never have I ever kissed someone of the same gender," Maki said, and half the circle drank. "Never have I ever faked it," was Nobara's contribution, and several people groaned but drank.

You were starting to feel a bit hazy, the wine making everything feel warm and soft around the edges. Which was dangerous, because Satoru kept looking at you like he was remembering exactly how you'd sounded that night when you definitely hadn't been faking anything.

"Never have I ever," one of Yuta’s cousins announced then, "had sex with someone in this room." For a moment, no one moved. Then Yuta and Maki drank, of course. And then Satoru raised his own glass slowly and took a long sip.

"Who?" Nobara shrieked, looking around the circle. "Satoru just drank, so someone else here has to—" Her gaze swept over everyone suspiciously.

"Someone's lying," Maki sang, already tipsy enough to find this hilarious. "Come on, fess up!"

You kept your face carefully neutral, even as you felt Satoru's eyes burning into you. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Not this time.

"Maybe it was before any of us knew each other," Yuji suggested, but Nobara shook her head.

"No way. Look at his face!" She pointed accusingly at Satoru. "He's got that look. You know, that 'I know something you don't know' look."

Satoru just smiled lazily from his armchair, swirling the wine in his glass. "Maybe I just like keeping you all guessing."

"You're a dumbass," Nobara said, but the group's attention was already shifting as Yuji launched into the next question, something about falling asleep at work.

You released a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, but made the mistake of glancing at Satoru and he gave you a look that sent a shiver of heat through you over his wine glass. 

God, you were going to murder him. Slowly. Painfully. Preferably with the very wine glass he was currently smirking into. 

Who did he think he was, just casually drinking like that, nearly exposing everything? He could have at least warned you, given you some sign he was about to blow up your secret. But no, he'd just taken that deliberate sip, probably getting hard on watching you squirm as you tried to keep your poker face. 

That sick bastard.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Sleep was impossible. You'd been tossing and turning for hours, replaying the day's events in your mind—from that moment in the ocean to his deliberate almost-reveal during the game. The walls of this fancy beach house seemed paper thin at night, every small sound amplified in the darkness.

That's how you heard his door open around 2 AM, followed by quiet footsteps heading downstairs.

You waited a few minutes, telling yourself you were just thirsty, that going downstairs for water had nothing to do with knowing he was maybe down there. The wooden steps creaked softly under your bare feet as you made your way down.

Silvery moonlight streamed through the massive windows, creating silver patterns on the marble countertops of the kitchen. Satoru stood at the island, drinking water from a glass, looking unfairly handsome in just sleep shorts and a wrinkled t-shirt.

"Couldn't sleep?" he whispered when he spotted you.

"What's your game, Satoru?" You kept your voice equally low, padding closer. "That thing earlier? During never have I ever?"

"Game? I'm not the one who was afraid of drinking".

"Because unlike you, I don't feel the need to announce our business to everyone."

He set his glass down, turning to face you fully. "Our business? So you admit there's something to announce?"

"That's not—" You caught yourself before your voice could rise. "What are you trying to achieve here? With all the—" you gestured vaguely, "touching and teasing and almost exposing everything?"

He stepped closer, and suddenly the kitchen felt way too small, even though it was like three times the size of your Tokyo apartment. "Maybe I just want everyone to know that night wasn't as casual for me as you seem to think it was."

You felt the weight of his words settle in the quiet kitchen, heavy with meaning you weren't prepared to unpack while moonlight caught his features in a way that made him look softer, almost vulnerable.

"What are you talking about? It was only one night."

"Was it?" He moved closer, until you had to tilt your head back to keep eye contact. "Because I remember asking you to stay. I remember waking up to an empty bed and spent the next six months thinking about why you left."

"I... you were just saying that in the moment. People say lots of things in the moment."

"Do they?" His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face. "Is that why you ran? Because you thought I didn't mean it?"

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore how your skin prickled where he'd touched you. "Satoru..."

"You know what I think?" His voice dropped even lower, barely a whisper in the quiet kitchen. "I think you're scared. Not of me, but of the fact that you wanted to stay too."

"That's not—" But the words died in your throat as his thumb traced your jawline.

"Then why are you down here?" He was close enough now that you could feel the heat of his body against yours. "If it was just one night, just something casual, why did you follow me down here in the middle of the night?"

The counter pressed against your back—when had you started backing up?—and Satoru's arms came to rest on either side of you, caging you in. Position achingly familiar, reminding you of how this all started six months ago.

"I was thirsty," you said. You did not even believe yourself as you said it.

His laugh was barely a breath against your skin. "Liar."

And then his mouth was on yours, and god, you'd forgotten how good he was at this. His lips were soft but demanding, one hand sliding into your hair while the other gripped your hip, forcing you close against him. You gasped into the kiss, and he took the opportunity to deepen it, his tongue against yours in a way that made you forget your own name.

It was different from that first night—less urgent, but somehow more intense. He kissed you like he was trying to prove a point, like he was laying claim to every moment you'd denied him these past six months. His teeth caught your lower lip, and you had to bite back a whimper, too aware of the sleeping house above.

"Still want to pretend this is nothing?" he whispered against your mouth, and you could feel his smile when your only response was to pull him back down for another kiss.

His hands slid down to grip your thighs, lifting you onto the counter. You wrapped your legs around his waist, drawing him closer as his mouth moved to your neck, kissing your throat just the way you like it, just the way he somehow remembered.

"Someone could come down," you breathed, even as your fingers tangled in his hair.

"Then I guess you'll have to be quiet." His teeth grazed your skin, making you shiver. "Think you can manage that? Because I distinctly remember you being quite vocal last time."

You tightened your grip on his hair in return, but that just made him groan softly against your throat. "You're stupid."

"Mm, that's not what you said in Tokyo." His hands slid higher under your shirt, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. "In fact, I remember you saying some very different things—"

You cut him off with another kiss, partly to shut him up and partly because you needed his mouth on yours like you needed air. His fingers teased along your ribs, your back, your thighs, touching you everywhere except where you desperately wanted him to.

But then his fingers found the edge of your underwear, and you had to bite his shoulder to keep from moaning as he slid his fingers inside you, making you cum all over his fingers in seconds—just like that night in Tokyo.

You were done, dizzy, breathless, clinging to him as he stripped your shorts and underwear down your legs. He pushed one leg up your chest as he lowered you back down onto the marble kitchen counter, your other leg still wrapped around his waist. His forehead pressed against yours as he thrust inside, hard, slow, perfect angle—just like that night in Tokyo.

He tossed you around, manhandled you, fucked you against the fridge, threw you onto the couch and fucked you there too. He whispered your name, his voice husky against your ear, every letter a caress, even as he picked up pace, even as his hand closed around your throat, even as you bit into the pillow below to muffle your screams as he made you cum again. Multiple times. In various positions. Using his own cum as a lube for the next round—just like that night in Tokyo.

Afterwards you laid outside on the veranda in a big chair you both shared, gazing up at the stars scattered across the deep velvet sky, countless and impossibly bright. A second later his lips found yours and another second later you were on top of him, underwear pushed to the side and your head thrown back as he watched you chase your release on his dick—just like that night in Tokyo.

And his hand found yours, intertwining your fingers as he ate you out on the stairs just before you wanted to go back to bed, but he wouldn't let you, making you cum again before he carried you off to the laundry room to fuck you one last time for sure good mesure—just like that night in Tokyo.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Morning came way too early, sunlight streaming through windows you'd forgotten to close. Every muscle in your body ached in the most pleasant way, reminding you of exactly how many surfaces you and Satoru had christened last night. 

Yeah. You were definitely going to be feeling this for days. You winced slightly as you sat up — apparently kitchen counters weren't the most ergonomic choice for certain activities, or the stairs, or the laundry room, or... Okay, we get it.

When you finally made it downstairs, moving perhaps a bit more strangely than usual, Satoru was already at the breakfast table. Because of course he was, looking absolutely perfect and fullyfull rested in a fresh shirt, casually sipping his coffee like he hadn't spent half the night making you bite down on your fist to keep quiet.

"Well, someone looks rough," Nobara commented as you lowered yourself carefully into a chair. "Too much wine last night?"

You caught Satoru hiding a smirk behind his coffee cup. The bastard didn't even have the decency to look tired.

"Something like that," you muttered, reaching for the coffee pot and trying not to wince at the stretch. Your thighs burned in protest of the movement, and you could swear you saw Satoru's smile widening at your slight grimace.

"Must have been some wine," Nobara said, eyeing you suspiciously. "I don't remember you drinking that much during the game."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Yuji asked, looking concerned. "You're walking kind of funny."

"I'm fine, really," you managed. "Too much wine, that’s all."

Maki, who sat next to you, leaned in closer. "Your 'too much wine' is showing," she whispered, pointing to your collarbone. Your hand flew to your neck, suddenly remembering all the attention Satoru had paid to that area—especially that moment on the stairs when you'd begged him to finish what he'd started before anyone heard them, while he sucked a very dark bruise right above your collarbone.

You quickly buttoned up your cotton shirt higher, but from Nobara's growing grin, it was too late. But thankfully, no one commented on it.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The rest of Sunday passed in a lazy haze, with everyone moving a bit slower thanks to varying degrees of wine headaches. Most of the day was spent sprawled out on beach chairs, hiding behind sunglasses and drinking coconut water that Yuta swore would help with hangovers (but, in fact, did not).

You dozed on and off under an umbrella, trying not to think about how your body still ached in several places from the night before, and enjoyed your last day in Okinawa before you'd return to work on Monday.

When evening rolled around and it was time to pack up, the house became a chaos of suitcases and forgotten phone chargers once more. You were struggling with your bag next to your car, trying to figure out the best angle to lift it into the trunk without stressing your still sore muscles, when Satoru suddenly appeared and took it from your hands without a word.

"I can manage," you protested, but he was already lifting it into your trunk with an effortless ease that really shouldn't be as attractive as it was.

"I'm sure you can," he said, closing your trunk with a soft thud. "But maybe I just want an excuse to do this." 

Before you could ask what 'this' was, he pressed a small folded piece of paper into your palm. You opened it to find a phone number written in his surprisingly neat handwriting.

"Since you didn't stay for it last time," he said softly.

"What makes you think I'll use it?"

"Because this time, you want to stay just as much as I want you to." He leaned closer, his voice dropping so only you could hear. "Besides, I believe we still have a few surfaces in my apartment left to explore."

You shoved his shoulder. "Stop." 

He caught your hand before you could push him again. "Use it. Please?" His voice held a note of softness, an unexpected tenderness that made your heart ache with a strange longing. You nodded, tucking the paper safely into your back pocket.

"Still not announcing anything to everyone tho," you warned as Maki called out that they were ready to leave.

"Yet," he said with an eye roll. Then, before you could react, he pulled you in for one last kiss. It was slower, deeper this time, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you, as if he was afraid he might forget the feel of your lips.

"Someone could see us," you whispered against his lips, even as your fingers curled into his shirt.

"I don't care," he murmured, one hand sliding down to your waist to draw you closer. "Let them see." He kissed you again, shorter this time but no less intense. "Besides, they'll find out soon enough when I take you to this little ramen place in Shibuya I've been wanting to show you."

You pulled back slightly. "Oh? Someone's confident about getting a second date."

"Third, technically," he said. "If we're counting Tokyo. And that thing against the washing machine last night."

"Those don't count.”

"Then I guess I'll have to make the next one special. Maybe dinner first. Then I can show you my apartment. Properly this time, not just the entrance hall and kitchen counter."

"Is that your way of asking me out?"

"That's my way of saying I'm not letting you disappear for six months again." He pressed a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Use my number this time, yeah?"

"Satoru!" Yuji's voice carried across the driveway. "Stop making out and help me with these bags!"

Satoru laughed against your lips, stealing one more kiss before reluctantly pulling away. "Think about it. The ramen place. My apartment. All the surfaces we haven't used yet."

"Go help Yuji," you said, pushing him away even as you smiled. "Before he comes over here."

"Call me," he said, walking backwards with that stupidly handsome smile. "Or I'll just have to show up at your office. Make a big scene. Maybe bring flowers. Really embarrass you in front of all your coworkers."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me!" He finally turned then to help with the bags, leaving you to shake your head, your lips still tingling from his kisses.

The drive home felt different somehow. Every now and then, your hand would drift to your pocket, fingers brushing over the folded paper with his number, making sure it was still there as the familiar roads back to Tokyo stretched ahead.

The beach house grew smaller in your rearview mirror until it disappeared completely, taking with it the memories of lazy afternoons under the summer sun and heated nights. But other things lingered—the ghost of his lips against yours, the warmth of his hands, the way he'd looked at you like you were something worth waiting for.

Maybe you'd call him tomorrow. Or maybe you'd wait a day or two, just to prove you could. But knowing you, you'd likely message him the moment you set foot in your apartment.

A smile tugged at your lips as you pulled onto the highway, the setting sun painting the sky in strokes of rose and  lavender. Whatever happened next, one thing was for sure — this weekend had changed everything.

And maybe, just maybe, that wasn't such a bad thing.

masterlist + support my writing

author's note — and that's a wrap on our beach house summer story ! thank you so much for reading :)) & thank you again to @/nanamis-baker for beta reading !!

for anyone wondering, yes, she kept the shirt. and yes, he definitely noticed when she wore it to their first proper date to that ramen spot in shibuya.

if you enjoyed this fic, please feel free to leave a comment or reblog. it means so much !! until next time. stay thirsty hydrated, my friends <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here.

tags — @fayuki @starmapz @starlightanyaaa @sxnkuna @cocomanga

@nanamis-baker @rosso-seta @sugurbo @chiyokoemilia @janbannan

@bloopsstuff @snowsilver2000 @ihearttoru @momoewn @yokosandesu

@90s-belladonna @fairygardenprincesss

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[ellecdc]

grovelling under an old oak tree

prompt from @redeyesthicthighs: I have been thinking about our girl Vix & craving some good ol’ hurt/comfort with a touch of groveling from one of the boys... I feel like we tend to see Sirius or James be the ones to step wrong and then have to fix it but… I know we are all obsessed with Remus and he truly is an angel (I KNOW! YOU KNOW I KNOW!) but how do you think he would grovel?

poly!marauders x vixen!reader who Remus needs to apologize to [1.3k words]

CW: fem!reader, Remus yelled at her/told her off off screen, Remus-centric, begging for forgiveness, hurt/comfort and fluff

“Sirius, I think you ought to at least pretend to be a little less happy about how upset your girlfriend is right now.” Remus scolded instead of acknowledging the fact that he was currently in the wrong.

Sirius simply snorted at him. “Of course I’m not happy about my girlfriend being upset, Moony. I’m just thoroughly enjoying the fact that it’s not my fault.”

”It doesn’t hurt that Moony was the arse this time.” James added rather unhelpfully. 

“I wasn’t an-” Remus started as he stood straighter, cutting himself off and taking a steadying breath. He really was sort of an arse. It was the day after a full, Remus was feeling particularly sorry for himself - his hip seemingly giving him more problems today than it had in months - and you had been your normal, vibrant, effervescent self. 

The way Remus spoke to you probably had you thinking that was a crime worthy of Azkaban. 

You’d taken off - of course you had - because who would want to stick around to be spoken to like that?

It probably hadn’t helped matters that the other two boys were so thoroughly shocked by Remus’ outburst that neither of them thought to say anything to you, and Remus himself was too simultaneously proud and full of self loathing to retract his earlier sentiments.

The last thing any of them had seen from their dormitory window was a small red fox bolting into the forest. 

“I was an arse.” Remus admitted in defeat.

”Fuck yeah you were!” Sirius cheered, earning him a high-five from James as though the two of them had been watching a quidditch match and not Remus simply pull on a jacket, hat, and scarf to go out in search of you. 

“I need you to enjoy this a little less, please.” Remus sighed.

”No can do, Moonbeam; I’ll be riding this high all week. Can you imagine!? I wonder what it would be like to have Remus grovelling at our feet, eh Jamie?”

“Fuck off. The difference between the two of you and Vix is that you’d actually… deserve it...” He joked, though the atmosphere immediately fell flat when he remembered that he had, indeed, been an arse to you. And what’s more, you didn’t deserve it in the least. 

“Fuck; I was an arse.” Remus reiterated.

”Do you want us to help, Rem?” James finally asked, clearly taking pity on Remus who, in his defence, was not at all used to being in the dog house. 

“No… no. I- I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.” Remus decided; whether he was convincing himself or his boyfriend’s, he wasn’t sure as he ventured out of his dormitory in search of his girlfriend. 

…

He supposed that, all things considered, he should be thankful for the mixture of rain and snow that was currently falling from the sky. If nothing else, it served to leave a definitive trail of paw prints in the soft ground leading Remus to where you’d gone and hidden.

From him.

You were hiding from him.  

Fuck, he was an arse. 

There was a small hole in the earth under a tangle of roots beneath a grand old oak where your paw prints came to a decided halt. 

“Dovey?” He tried carefully; he heard an exhale and a shuffle. “Sweetheart? I’m sorry…” 

He received no response. 

Remus didn’t think he was in a position to ask anything of you; not to hear him out, not to come out and talk to him, not even to come back inside so he’d - at the very least - sleep knowing you were indoors and warm. 

So, screaming hip be damned, he lowered himself to the ground, the layers he was wearing doing nothing to protect him from the biting cold of the muddy ground as it seeped into his front. 

He wondered for a moment if he should feel embarrassed should a passerby notice a student prostrate beneath the trunk of an old oak tree, but he decided pleading for your forgiveness outweighed any potential embarrassment. 

“Vix, I’m sorry, love.” He pressed earnestly; a small white muzzle appearing near the entrance of your burrow. “I didn’t mean it.” 

You let out a huff and moved to turn your face back away from him. Yes you did, you seemed to argue.

”I didn’t, sweetheart. But I shouldn’t have said it, and that doesn’t excuse that I still did.” 

You kept your face turned away from him. 

“Dovey, I-” Remus paused and bit in a breath, using his elbows to pull him that much closer to your burrow and streak that much more mud up his front. “Pads and Prongs…they saved me. But…but you- you brought light back into my life, and you manage to do that even on my darkest days.” 

He waited a few beats before he continued. “Even when I don’t deserve it.”

One of your back legs twitched as though you were itching to move but actively fought against it. 

“Even when it’s the pain that’s talking, and not me. Even when I know it’s the pain talking for me and I let it anyway. Even when all I want to do is sit and wallow and feel sorry for myself you-” He felt embarrassingly close to tears. “You never fail to share what little light you might have to offer; to me, to Sirius and James, to everyone around you. It’s one of the things I love most about you, and I berated you for it.” 

More silence.

”I’m sorry.” 

He didn’t push. He simply laid on his stomach beneath an old oak tree in the Forbidden Forest under the light of the waning moon as he watched your fur fall and rise in time with your breathing whilst you refused to look at him. The only movement other than the infinitesimal twitching of your legs and ears. 

“Okay, that’s alright.” He sighed after an unknown stretch of time, turning his head to rest his cheek against his folded arms. “I’ll be here, okay? Whenever you’re ready.” 

Remus’ blinks became sticky with the moisture gathering along his eyelashes between the cold and the sleet quickly soaking him through the top of his jacket, leaving him damp on all sides. 

He was just about resigned to spending the entire night out here, perhaps being found by a rather smug Sirius or slightly less smug but no less pleased James covered in a thick layer of frost not unlike the heather bushes lining much of the landscape come morning when he felt a wet, warm nudge to his cheek.

He peeled his eyes open to see a small red fox standing above him with a curious tilt to its head.

“I’m fine to wait out here if that’s what you need, dove.” He assured you, shifting his head to look at you though never lifting it from his arms. “Don’t worry on my account.”

Your ears twitched again - towards something deep in the forest behind you - but you kept your eyes dutifully on him before pressing another boop to his cheek. 

“Ready to go inside?” He asked, daring to prop himself up on his elbows. A definitive yipping sound told him yes, you were. 

Remus finally moved to stand, hip cracking audibly though he kept his face painfully neutral so as not to have you feeling inadvertently guilty. Remus thought he probably deserved to spend more time on the cold wet ground for the way he spoke to you.

“Hope this doesn’t mean you’ve gone and forgiven me yet, Vix.” He declared sternly, bending slightly to pick you up when you stood on your hind legs to press gentle paws into his thigh. “I have much more grovelling to do.”

You made a fox-like laughing sound before shoving your nose into his neck, nuzzling closer to him in as much of a hug as a fox could manage. 

“And if Sirius or James ever spoke to you that way, I’d expect you to leave them begging for days.”

[royal-chandler]

temporary/maybe permanent title is winter interlude. written for the lovely @caressthosecheekbones ✨

--

Henry is certain that he's only just fallen asleep when he’s nudged awake, Alex’s soft scratched voice at his ear and his hand giving Henry’s wrist a slight squeeze. Henry’s answer to his name is a long groan. 

“Hen, baby. Can you wake up for me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Please?”

Henry groans once more and burrows further into the pocket of warmth that’s been conjured from sleep, their thick cloud-like duvet, and Alex’s arms. He keeps his eyes shut and silently, drowsily wishes for Alex to concede. And of course, no such luck.

“I’ve got an amazing idea.”

“That for some ungodly reason can’t wait until morning?”

“It’s uh,” Henry feels Alex slightly shift away, imagines that he’s checking the nocturne glow of their bedside clock, “one thirty-six right now so technically...”

“Don’t even bother finishing that sentence.”

“Come on,” Alex draws out. He shakes Henry some more, as if he can transfuse enthusiasm through vibration or using Henry like a ketchup bottle that’s been sitting too long. “Come on, we’re losing starlight. Let’s get a move on.”

“Christ, Alex, what for?”

“It’s stopped snowing. We should go sledding.”

Henry snorts, incredulous in the quiet. “Fuck off.”

Clearly Alex has gone bonkers because there is no way on earth that Henry is dragging himself out of bed to charge down a hill of snow on a plastic death trap in freezing temperatures in the middle of the night. 

*

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Henry says, trudging through snow that’s at least twenty five centimetres deep at the rear of the White House. 

At Henry’s side and tugging him and his sledge the last bit to the crest of the hill, Alex says, “It'll be fun.”

“Ah, yes.” Henry nods. Editorialised with bone-dry sarcasm, he continues, “Whenever I think about fun, frostbite is the first thing that springs to mind.”

“It is nowhere near cold enough for that.” Alex brings up their joined hands. “Plus, you’ve got your little cute gloves on. You’re good.” 

The Aztec patterned gloves are secondhand from Alex, dug out of a closet cubby as he had pointedly made sure to mention that they were a gift from his abuela when he was thirteen and no longer fit. 

Alex had also emphasised that Henry didn’t need to give them back. That it was a transfer of ownership. And they are very nice, the fingerless sort that convert into mittens. The yarn stretches comfortably and the pouches slip over Henry’s fingers just right. 

“Everything will be fine,” Alex promises. He reaches out and clicks on Henry’s headtorch. His already lit grin is brilliantly illuminated. “Trust me.” 

“There’s no question of that,” Henry returns. “I only ask why this couldn’t wait for the daytime? You know, how it’s normally done.”

Alex simply shrugs, his grin gentling into something flagrantly affectionate. “Because right now it's like the world is just us.”

And fuck, what is Henry supposed to argue against that?

*

“How are you winning?!” Alex drags his sledge behind him with one hand and wildly gestures with the other. “You didn’t even want to do this. I did not plan on you winning.”

Above him and at the top of the hill already, Henry props an elbow on his now vertical vehicle that’s planted in the snow, watching Alex with amusement. His boyfriend is exceptionally precious when he pouts. “My being reluctant to sledging doesn’t mean I’m not skilled at it.”

“Best of seven,” Alex huffs upon arrival. 

“You have a problem. The terms were already agreed upon.”

“You scared?” 

Alex then proceeds to emit the noises of a fowl.

“Resorting to primary school tactics, are we?”

Alex only lifts his brow, his expression dancing with challenge.

“I'm going to need some proper motivation, darling,” Henry says, sliding on a smirk.

“I could be a victim of clichés and offer mind-melting sex if you win but you get that all the time anyway.”

Henry breaks into helpless laughter and agrees when he finds the cold air to do so. 

“So, instead, how about the next time I’m at the palace I take you up on those horseback lessons finally,” Alex says. 

“Truly? You’ve always seemed—uncomfortable around them.”

“Well they are huge, intelligent beasts that can buck me off and launch me god knows how many miles an hour into the air.”

“Dramatic." He pauses, shaking his head. "Really, Alex. You don’t have to.”

“You love it and it’s something we can do together. I’d like to try it out,” Alex says and he sounds sincere. “If I don’t enjoy the experience, I won't be shy about it.”

“And if you win? What do you want?”

“Here’s where I do get pervy."

"Of course."

"I win and you let me buy you a pair of cowboy boots and a Stetson and you wear them for me.”

“Nothing else, I’m assuming.”

“Anything else would get in the way, Henry.”

“You’re on.”

*

Minutes and minutes later, victory is Henry’s and he graciously accepts Alex’s request for a final run, plopping down on the front of Alex’s sledge when he makes a grabby motion for Henry, his legs open. Their combined weight rips them downslope, easily the record of the night. They’re a powdery pile at the bottom when they come to a stop short of the treeline with a sharp turn and tumble off the sledge. 

“You alright?” Henry asks. 

“I should be asking you. You’re the one who cushioned my fall. Am I smothering you?"

“It's all fine for now, love. You’ll be nursing my aching bruises later.”

“Obviously.” Alex animates the line of his brow. “Just call me the love doctor.”

“Won’t be doing that, thanks," Henry comments. Using his teeth—due to most of him being trapped under Alex—Henry yanks back the pouch of his right mitten. He assesses the snarled wreckage of Alex’s hair that’s been freed of the headtorch and clumsily combs through it with chilled fingers. There’s a small scratch by Alex’s temple. Henry thumbs away the paper-cut thin trace of red and finds Alex’s perfect eyes. “You didn’t let me win, did you?”

“Me? Never. I lost,” Alex insists, sweetly leaning his head into Henry’s touch. His adoration is spotless if not his honesty. “Life rolls on.”

Henry considers calling Alex out but a shiver distracts him, stalls his tongue. 

Alex’s arms around him tighten and with their physical arrangement, it’s plenty awkward. It’s also loving. He ridiculously presses a kiss to Henry’s wintry-wet palm. “Cold?”

Spellbound, Henry murmurs, “A bit, yeah.”

“I’ve got a way to get you warm,” Alex shares quietly. 

*

Henry moans and licks at his lips, chasing the flavor off his mouth. “This is sinful.”

“I know,” Alex says after a long sip from his UT mug. “Nothing beats Mexican hot chocolate.”

“And the amaretto? Ugh, chef’s kiss.”

“Discovered that little addition four Christmases ago.”

Henry smiles at him and eats another mini marshmallow. “The man’s a genius.”

“Yeah, my ideas aren’t all shit that will have us needing Icy Hot the next day,” Alex replies, his gaze dropping to where their sock feet share the spindle of a kitchen stool.

Henry lightly kicks him. Kicks him again to get his full attention. “Tonight wasn’t shit.”

“No?”

“No.”

Alex sighs, abandons his drink to rub at his stubbled jaw. “Snow felt like—like a fresh start. A renewal, I guess. Getting rid of yesterday. I know it’s not that easy, that it doesn’t work like that and it’s fucking stupid—”

His heart sore and swollen, Henry closes the distance that parts them, hushes Alex’s doubt with a slow and open kiss. He kisses past the cling of sugar and spice, until it’s clean. 

“I love you,” Henry says. His words are only a fraction of what he means but he knows Alex can read the spaces between. Thank you. It helps. You help.

“Love you still. Love you always.” Alex curls into him, his hand over Henry’s knee. 

He’s there. He’s there, Henry knows because he can read Alex’s spaces just as well.

--

please forgive any mistakes. i read over it but it was written very quickly. also, i’m fairly sure there are no hills behind the white house. the grounds are pretty flat but for some reason this fic insisted on being there.

[tarareindeer]

male reader x claggor going on a date? maybe baking at home?

Claggor baking date

The first time you met Claggor was at Vander’s bar, where the air was thick with smoke and the hum of chatter. You’d just finished a long day hauling cargo in the Lanes, sore and tired, when he slid into the seat next to you.

“Rough day?” he asked, his voice warm and unassuming, like he wasn’t prying but genuinely cared.

You glanced at him, noting the friendly smile beneath his cap and the kind gleam in his eyes. “Something like that,” you replied. “What about you?”

“Oh, nothing too bad. Just here to grab a drink for the road. Though…” He chuckled softly, a sound that was contagious. “Seems like you could use some company more than me.”

That’s how it started: a conversation that stretched into an unexpected friendship. Claggor was easy to talk to thoughtful, patient, and with a knack for making you laugh just when you needed it most. Over the weeks, you found yourself looking forward to his visits, and soon enough, he invited you over to his place for what he called “a quiet evening.”

“It’s nothing fancy,” he’d said, scratching the back of his neck, “but I thought we could bake something. I’ve been wanting to try this bread recipe, and it’d be more fun with you around.”

At Claggor’s Apartment

His place was small but cozy, tucked away in one of Zaun’s quieter alleys. The kitchen was modest but neatly organized, with a worn wooden table at the center and mismatched chairs.

“Alright,” he said, rolling up his sleeves with a grin, “ready to be my sous chef?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure you’re supposed to bribe sous chefs, not boss them around.”

“Bribe, huh?” He opened a cupboard and pulled out a small bag of candy. “Will this do?”

“Depends—what kind of candy?”

“Chocolate drops.”

“…Fine. You’ve got yourself a sous chef.”

The next hour was spent mixing ingredients, laughing as flour dusted the air like snow. Claggor was surprisingly meticulous, double-checking every step in the recipe and pausing to explain little tips.

“Make sure the water’s warm but not too hot,” he said, handing you a bowl. “Otherwise, the yeast won’t activate.”

“Got it. No killing the yeast.”

He chuckled, his expression soft as he watched you measure the water. “You’re better at this than you let on.”

“You mean I’m good at following instructions?”

“No, I mean you’re… good at this.” His voice was quieter now, almost shy. “It’s nice, you know? Doing something simple like this with you.”

You felt your cheeks warm, but before you could respond, he gestured to the dough. “Alright, now we knead.”

Later That Evening

The bread was rising in the oven, filling the kitchen with a warm, yeasty aroma. Claggor poured you both a glass of water and sat across from you at the table.

“You know,” he said, fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve, “I wasn’t sure if you’d say yes when I asked you to come over.”

You tilted your head. “Why not?”

He shrugged, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t know. You’re just… I don’t meet people like you often. Thought you might think baking bread was boring.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Claggor, you’re literally the least boring person I’ve met in Zaun.”

His face softened, and for a moment, the world outside seemed far away. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

The oven timer dinged, breaking the moment. He stood, pulling out the bread with careful hands, and set it on the counter to cool. It wasn’t perfect—lopsided and a little overbaked on one side—but you both agreed it tasted incredible.

As the evening wound down, Claggor walked you to the door.

“Thanks for tonight,” you said, lingering in the doorway.

“Anytime,” he replied, smiling gently. “Let’s do this again soon.”

And when he leaned in for a hug firm and warm, like he was trying to say all the things he hadn’t yet you knew you’d gladly bake bread with him a hundred more times.

[the-unexplained-council]

Frostbitten Stars; Morning Frost

Legends of Avantris; Once Upon A Witchlight

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

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

Word Count: 13.2k

-~-~-~-

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

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

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

But no one was there.

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

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

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

Green.. that was Frost’s robe.

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

Now you were here.

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

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

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

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

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

Make it to the treeline.

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

Fire..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Frost nodded, looking back towards the tree line.

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

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

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

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

“Not that I noticed, no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Frost?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you go through the door?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded, looking at the fire. “Hm.”

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

Frost fed the fire, encouraging it to grow larger.

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

“What?”

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

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

“That’s good, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

Nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

You felt your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was warm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled and nuzzled his chest.

And he said tigers couldn’t purr.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God he’s so hot right now.

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s all you wanted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were alone.

~~~

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

He didn’t like being wet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was water on top of the ice.

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

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

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

Then he saw red.

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

“Frost!”

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

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

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

It was like an escape room.

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This.. wasn’t Frost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Run. It was all you could think. Run.

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

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

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

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

Were you going to die here?

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

You couldn’t.

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

“Frost!!!” You screamed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

What an anticlimactic way to die.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ugk-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Umf!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

God. You thought. I’m so tired.

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You loved him.

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

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

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

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

“Frost,” you tried. “What is it?”

The crackling of the fire filled the silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God was this anticlimactic.

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me show you.”

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

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

How am I supposed to think it is winter when it looks like early spring outside?! Or late fall. Probably late fall since less stuff is flooded. I’m pretty sure El Niños aren’t supposed to go this hard. “Global warming isn’t real” I’m going to smash your face into the mud that is SUPPOSED to be covered in a foot of snow by now. I WANTED to go tubing this year but the slope is fucking dry and also my plants have no insulation from the elements. They fields have nothing keeping the dirt down! The birds flew all that way south for nothing! Although the ones that fly here from the arctic are probably having a field day. Maybe not though, they do fluff up more in winter. I should probably be enjoying the fact that I can still use the sidewalks but I can’t! Because this is fucking WEIRD!

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 9 ! :)

[blackwaxidol]

I do not know what my problem is.

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - non/con, manipulation, mentions of breeding, and unbalanced power dynamics.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's ecstatic the day his owner, Suguru, brings you home. He's the pinnacle of a spoiled pet, constantly showered in toys and treats and affection, but his owner's a busy man, and he tends to sulk when left home alone. He's had other companions before, another leopard hybrid who nearly killed him before being released back into the wild and a black panther who somehow proved to be a worse influence on Satoru than Satoru was on her, but you're supposed to be more permanent solution, another hosuepet to keep him company when Suguru can't. You're a sweet little housecat, all wide-eyes and raised ears, but still, Suguru wouldn't be surprised if you're begging to go back to the shelter less than an hour after meeting your new roommate.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who falls in love with you immediately. Suguru practically has to keep him in a chokehold while you explore your new home, eventually curling up on your new bed. Satoru's on top of you as soon as he gets loose, purring obnoxiously while he runs his bristled tongue over your cheek. Suguru's half-convinced that your first day's going to end with bloody claws and bandages, but you only nuzzle into his chest and knead at the blankets underneath you. Satoru's a difficult cat to put up with, and Suguru's relieved that you, at least, find him tolerable.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's absolutely massive compared to you. The tips of your pointed ears barely reach his collarbones, and your wrist is only as thick as his fluffy tail. His favorite hobby quickly becomes carrying you from room to room despite your softly mewled protests, and he's not happy unless he's pressed against you as closely as possible. He used to force himself into Suguru's lap whenever possible, but now, he's unbearable unless you're sitting pretty in his. He doesn't even complain when you lose your temper and dig your little fangs (barely half the size of his - a poor imitation of a real predator's) into his arm, just grinning as he tugs at your ears and pinches your cheeks. He's not exactly a wild animal, but he's still at the top of his food chain. You're not quite a mouse, but you might as well be, compared to him.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's calling you his mate after less than a full month. You don't know what it means, often parroting it back as more of a question than a term of endearment, and Suguru just brushes it off as Satoru being deliberately irritating. He keeps it up, though. even after you start refusing to respond to it.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who starts introducing you to new "games". You know you don't stand a chance against him, but somehow, he always manages to goad you into roughhousing, into squirming as he pins you under his full weight. He likes to dangle things above your head, to see how long it takes your instincts to get the best of you before your chest is pressed against his and you're pouting so adorably as you jump and bat at his hand. Sometimes, when you fall asleep mid-grooming session, he'll let his mouth wander lower than it should, and you'll wake up to his tongue lapping over your chest, his face buried between your thighs in a way that leaves you teary-eyed and warm. You've tried to tell Suguru, but you always get embarrassed and end up mumbling something as vague as 'Satoru's being mean to me, again.' In the end, Satoru only ever gets a slap on the wrist and a new reason to tease you, next time Suguru turns his back.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who fucks you whenever Suguru isn't home. He planned on waiting for your first heat (delayed by your shelter suppressants and the stress of a new home), and he knows he's not supposed to, but he just can't get enough of having your smaller body curled up underneath his, your tail thrashing from side to side as he lazily rolls his hips against yours. You tend to whine, at first, to go on and on about how weird it feels and how much it hurts, but as soon he gets his cock inside of you, all those complaints tend to go away. It's almost funny, how easily your stupid little kitty mind gets all hazy and cockdrunk. He always loves you, but he loves you most when you're drooling and purring for his cum, begging him to breed you properly between hitched moans.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's not even mad when Suguru catches him bouncing your half-conscious, fucked-out body on his cock. He wants to be the best possible mate for you, and he couldn't do that if he wasn't willing to show you off <3

[mommynott]

Snowed in, Turned on

12 Days of Dickmas - Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: Snowed in with your friends during Christmas vacation, you and Theo turn up the heat in the hot tub👀

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, chars 18+, college au, PIV, fwb!theo, outdoor sex, semi public sex, oral, pussy eating, rough sex, dirty talk, teasing, tittyfuck, hot tub fuck, Theo always getting what he wants

The hot tub bubbled and steamed, the warm water lapping against your skin in the chilly mountain air. You sat close to Theo in the hot tub, feeling the heat of your bodies mingling as you both tried to out flirt the other. The snow fell gently around you, like tiny cold touches on your skin.

The only sound was the gentle lapping of the water against the sides of the tub and occasionally the distant laughter from the rest of the Slytherins staying in the lodge.

“You’re not afraid of getting a little wet, are you?” Theo teased, brushing his foot against your leg. Meeting his ocean gaze, you saw the same playful glint in them that you knew so well. A comfort. Familiarity. “Never afraid of getting a little wet…” Feeling the steamy tension brewing between you two, you splashed some droplets of water in his direction.

“…But are you afraid of getting a little…too hot?”

Through your soft giggles, you scooted closer to Theo. Letting your leg gently graze against his. Both of you were being cheesy, exchanging flirtatious banter. But this wasn’t unusual in the least.

Theo’s eyes gleamed in the dim light from the patio lanterns. A sly smirk twitched on his lips as his face grew closer to yours, his voice dropping to a husked whisper. “Oh…I think I can handle the heat-“

Those words made a shiver run down your spine within the bubbling tub. Feeling the heat pool between your legs. And not just from the hot tub. However, you wanted to tease him just a bit more.

“Can you though?” Your tone remained playful, stifling back your own laugh. But Theo? His aura was rapidly shifting to one that held dominance. His gaze darkened with desire, cupping your cheek forcefully.

“Are you trying to test me, Tesoro?”

Growling out his words, his voice was low and husky. Theo’s hands found their way to your hips, pulling you into his lap before plastering you flush against him.

Gasping dramatically, You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling his body solid against yours. His nails digging further into your hips. “Maybe I am…” Murmuring, you looked up at him through your lashes.

“-What are you gonna do about it?” You rocked your hips against him, feeling his body respond to you. His cock already throbbing against your bikini bottom.

Letting a low rumbling sound free from his throat, his hands sliding down to your thighs and palming them tightly. “Keep up your little teasing games and I’m gonna fuck you out here’”

His lips brushed against the flesh of your neck, kissing and biting on it as his hands roamed to the small of your back, rocking you on him more so. “Maybe…Just maybe…I want you to fuck me out here-“ Teasing your friend, he growled into the crook of your neck.

Without warning, Theo quickly lifted you out of the water. The brisk icy air making goosebumps erupt all over your body. “You could’ve just asked, amore…” Mumbling his words, he sat you on the seat of the tub. Falling to his knees, his chest was barely above the hot water.

“I suppose I could’ve…But I so do enjoy teasing you, Teddy…”

Smirking down at him, his gaze only darkened more so. His drenched head of hair catching a few of the falling snowflakes. Taking his fingers, he tugged at your bikini bottom strings, untying them as they began to float atop the bubbling tub.

“Oh- I am well aware, Bella…But you know just how much I like to tease you as well..”

The way he spoke hinted at danger, noticing his eyes twinkle with mischief. “Let’s see how quick I can make you cum out here, hm?” Not even giving you a chance to respond, Theodore plunged under the water.

“F-fuck! Theo— My god!” His face now buried between your thighs, His tongue lapping at you underneath the water. Your hands gripping onto the ledge of the Hot tub.

However, he wasn’t stopping, his fingers spreading your cunt further open, rimming his tongue around your clit as he added pressure to it. Feeling the way your legs shook but suddenly a familiar voice took you out of the blissful trance.

“Aye! Where’s Nott?— And why are you screaming?”

For. Fucks. Sake. Not now Mattheo. I’m begging. You were trying to find a way to form a sentence, stuttering through your flushed face. “I-I…Uh…” Your lips quivered just as Theo firmly grazed his tongue along your clit in a fast manner.

“Are you good?” Mattheo was completely oblivious to what was going on, standing right in the frame of the backdoor. You nodded your head, swallowing. “Y-yeah…F- I’m fine!” Trying to suppress your moan as much as possible, Matt raised a brow.

“I-I— Fuckin’ Hell-“ Squeezing your eyes shut, one hand snaked into the water, gripping around Theodore’s locks to tell him to stop. At this point, you were close to finishing. But Theo? Oh, he wasn’t stopping. Lapping harder at your swollen little bud.

Mattheo had a moment of realization hit him, stifling back his signature loud laugh as a smirk grew on his face. “Oh...So he’s— Alright. I’ve seen enough- Have fun fuckin’ each other. I’m out.”

With that, Your friend walked back inside, hearing his laughing fading as he did. Theo finally shot out of the water, inhaling the brisk oxygen dramatically. “Was that Riddle?”

Your mouth hung open, no words audibly coming out for a split second. Seeing the way Theo pushed back his wet hair. “Uh- yeah! No shit. You knew someone came out?!” Almost scolding him in a sense, Theo chuckled down at you.

Placing his hands on either side of you, he leaned closer to you, his breathing still heavy from his underwater adventures. “Yeah, Wanted to see how you’d react, Tesoro.”

The most shit-eating grin plastered his features. Causing you to roll your eyes for a moment. But the slight annoyance you felt faded when he pressed the sweetest lingering kiss to your lips.

Sitting beside you, Theo swiftly grabbed back onto you, having you straddle over him. “C’mon, it’s just Riddle…Now…” Taking a moment to shuffle off his swim trunks, his length waved right beneath your needy entrance.

“…Let’s see how much hotter we can make it here…”

Fuck it. You were too horny to worry about your friends or anyone for that matter. With ease, you slowly slid his cock between your slippery walls. A dragged-out groan escaping from Theo’s lips.

Bouncing yourself as fast the water allowed you to, Theo helped guide you up and down his length. Your moans freely slipped through as the water rocked around you. “Gods— I missed this cock-“ Giving his ego a major boost, Theodore smirked.

“And- I missed this tight little pussy even more, Tesoro-“ Tugging off your skimpy bikini top, your breasts bounced right out. Theo instantly squeezed his face between them.

It was as if the harder you both fucked, the harder the snow came down around you. The universe feeding off of the sexual energy you two were creating. “J-just like that, baby- Fuck! It feels so good!”

A sea of your moans echoed into the mountain night air. Able to see your breath through the briskness. Theo grabbed onto your hips, pounding his cock deeper, and harder into you.

“That’s right- take in all of the pleasure, Bella…”

Encouraging you, praising you, he plowed faster in your pussy. The soapy water splashing around you both. Your eyes starting to roll into the back of your head. “Theo-baby! I’m- I’m so close! Fuck-“The babbling mess freeing from your lips was enough to want to push Theo over the edge.

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me- hm? Cum all over my cock?” Taunting you, his gaze trailed down to your bouncing breasts. Groaning along with your erotic sex sounds. “Don’t stop- don’t stop- Fuck! Yes—“

You weren’t even making sense, but then it hit you, the overwhelming feeling of euphoria washing over you. Your juices flowing freely down Theo’s throbbing cock. Hitting a pleasurable orgasm. What a sight to see.

Theo was fighting off his own climax, gritting his teeth together as he continued to mercilessly rail your fucked body. “-So pretty when you cum for me, Tesoro— Mmm…So fuckin’ sexy.”

Mumbling the little praises to you, the slightest giggle freed from your swollen lips. He thrusted faster inside of you for a little while longer before pulling out of you.

“On your knees, Cara…I wanna fuck those perfect tits-“

Nibbling down on your lower lip, Theodore stood up, stroking his drenched erection with need. Taking your breasts, you wrapped them perfectly around his length. Hearing him groan with approval.

“God I fuckin’ love these titties- So soft— F-feels so damn good-“

He was losing himself in pleasure, helping thrust his cock between your warmed tits. Going faster and faster. “—Mmm…I want your cum all over my chest, baby-“ You spruced up the dirty talk, giving your friend a flirtatious smile.

Pumping his dick at a great speed, his darkened gaze was glued to your boobs, watching his cock slip right between them. “-Fuuuuuck— I’m gonna cum-“

Grunting through his words, his body trembled, his white sticky seed shooting up and in between your tits. Your chest now glistening with all of his cum.

You laughed just a bit, taking your pointer finger to scoop up some of his cum, bringing it up to your lips and tasting it, only forcing another groan out of Theo. “For fucks sake…You’re too fuckin’ hot, amore.”

Pulling his trunks back on it, he helped you get your bikini tied back up after just lapping some water at your tits. His mindset was the hot tub would clean it out eventually. Men.

“You good, Cara?” Theo smoothly questioned you, settling his arm back around you. But just as you were going to respond, the sound of the lodge window screeching open startled you.

“You sex fiends done fuckin’ yet?!”

Pansy snorted out of the window, giving you both a wave. Promoting you and Theo to burst out laughing before he flicked her off. “Fuck off pans!” He shouted back before she shut the window with an eye roll.

“To answer your question…I’m great” You finally replied as your body relaxed further against him. The both of you lost in the trance of the slowly falling snow. Setting a romantic atmosphere around the hot tub. Perhaps something more than friend with benefits was brewing here?

On the 4th day of Dickmas we get…a steamy hot tub 👀🎁

Dividers linked in my masterlist🌙

Love my naughty smut sluts so very much! Hope everyone’s been enjoying Dickmas 💋

[enderlovez]

Snow

Spencer Reid x Female Reader WORD COUNT: 719

Summary: To say he's worried when he wakes up alone in the middle of the night, only to see you laying in the snow outside, is an understatement.

Content Warning: mentions of hypothermia and being cold in general, mentions of people dying from hypothermia

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

It's not often that you and Spencer spend the night without one another. Either he's staying with you in your apartment, or you're sleeping with him in his apartment — the latter is, of course, the more common occurrence, as you prefer the calmer feel of his place.

Which is why, as Spencer groans tiredly and reaches his hand across to your side of the bed, he's surprised to find that the sheets there are cold, and you're most definitely not there.

At first, it's not much of a big deal — it's not the first time you've woken in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom or get a glass of water from the kitchen, and it's definitely not the first time he's woken up while you were gone. But as the minutes drag on and you still don't come back to bed, worry begins to prick at his mind.

Spencer pushes the blanket off himself and scuffs his feet on the floor as he makes his way out of the room, padding through the apartment in search of you. But it's as though you've vanished into thin air, because you are nowhere to be found.

At least, that's until he's back in his room with his phone in hand, seconds away from calling you to make sure you're alright, when he glances offhandedly out the window and sees a pile of clothes in the show — one that looks distinctly you shaped, horrifyingly enough.

Panic surges through his body as he rushes out of the apartment, not bothering to grab more than a coat and a pair of shoes on the way out, as he moves as fast as his feet will take him.

If you're out in the freezing cold, laying in the even colder snow, why should it matter if he's cold, anyway.

Except, by the time he himself is standing out in the bitter cold, eyes searching the snow-covered ground for you, you seem completely fine, bundled up in what must be all of your clothes and humming a little tune to yourself.

"An estimated two thousand people in the United States are diagnosed with hypothermia a year," he says as way of greeting, standing over your face and looking down disapprovingly, "and of which, there are approximately seven hundred deaths a year."

Your eyes glitter in the pale moonlight as you shift your gaze from the sky to your boyfriend. "You're supposed to be asleep in bed," you reply quietly, ignoring his very morbid greeting as your eyes skim over what he's wearing. "Or at the very least, dressed warmer! Oh darling, you must be freezing out here!"

You're already getting to your feet, throwing one last glance at the sky as you take his trembling hand in your own glove-covered ones and pull him back into the building. Neither of you say a word until you're both safely back in his apartment.

"Why'd you even come out?" you demand, shrugging all your clothes off until you're left in just a pair of plaid pajama pants and a black tank top. There's a small frown on your face as you take his ice-cold hands into yours, rubbing them to try and warm them up faster.

"Saw you outside when I woke up. Thought you were hurt," he replies in a quiet voice, leaning forward and down so he can rest his forehead on your shoulder, tired again now that the adrenaline is wearing off. "Why were you out there?"

"Woke up and couldn't go back to sleep," you whisper into his ear, pressing a kiss to the chilled skin of his neck and rubbing your hands up and down his back. "I tried reading one of your books, but got really bored after a few minutes."

He scoffs as if that's the most stupid thing you've ever said in your life. "Could've woken me up, so I could keep you company," he argues gently, and despite the lighthearted tone he's using, you know he's not joking. He would much rather be woken up than risk your health.

You shake your head against him, chuckling as he begins pulling you back to the bedroom, likely so you can both go back to sleep.

"And my books are, most definitely not boring."

[moonlightwritingf1]

Snowed-In Together | LN4

❄️ summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N and Lando’s road trip to a cabin turns into a bickering match, but after a heartfelt moment, they share a kiss. By the end of the storm, their rivalry has transformed into something more.

❄️ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

❄️ word count ━━━━━━━ 1.3k

The drive up to the cabin was supposed to be relaxing. Christmas lights twinkled along the roadside, and the snow had been falling softly—at least until the storm rolled in. Y/N and Lando, stuck in the same car thanks to their mutual friends’ poor planning, were now bickering endlessly.

“This is your fault,” Y/N said, shooting him a glare as the wipers struggled against the heavy snow.

“My fault?” Lando retorted, his voice rising in indignation. “You’re the one who insisted on stopping for coffee. I said we should keep going before the weather got worse!”

“Right, because skipping caffeine is the key to safe driving,” she snapped.

Every shared moment seemed to turn into a battle of wills—one neither could ever admit enjoying, even though their friends joked about their "chemistry."

It wasn’t chemistry, Y/N thought as they pulled into the snowy driveway. It was just him being insufferable.

They’d barely made it to the cabin before the storm hit full force. Inside, their friends were already settled, fires lit, drinks poured, and the best rooms claimed. Y/N and Lando, arriving last, were left with the drafty, freezing room at the far end of the cabin.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Y/N muttered, eyeing the twin beds.

Lando, standing behind her with his bag slung over his shoulder, let out a sharp laugh. “This is going to be fun.”

“Define fun,” she shot back, dropping her bag onto one of the beds.

_________________________________________________

The storm was relentless, the wind howling against the windows as the snow piled higher outside. The cabin, warm and cozy in the main living area, felt like a refuge—unless you were Lando or Y/N.

They’d spent the evening snapping at each other over every little thing.

“Who chooses Die Hard over Love Actually during Christmas?” Y/N demanded, clutching the remote.

“People with taste,” Lando retorted, lounging on the couch like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Their friends exchanged knowing glances, clearly amused by the bickering.

“You two should probably just kiss and get it over with,” one of them teased.

Y/N spluttered, her cheeks flushing. “Excuse me? As if that would ever happen.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, his smirk infuriating. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

The next day, the storm had worsened, leaving them completely snowed in. The cabin was cut off from the outside world, and the power flickered ominously throughout the morning.

Wrapped in a blanket, Y/N sat by the window, sipping tea and trying to ignore Lando’s presence as he sprawled on his bed, scrolling through his phone.

“You’re surprisingly quiet,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Maybe because I’ve run out of ways to insult you,” she shot back, though there was no real bite in her tone.

He smirked, setting his phone down. “Impressive. I didn’t think that was possible.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile.

Later that afternoon, Y/N busied herself with unpacking some Christmas decorations their friends had brought. Lando, clearly bored, wandered over and started rummaging through the box.

“What are you doing?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Decorating,” she said shortly, not looking at him.

He wandered over, picking up a small, hand-painted ornament. “What’s this?”

“Don’t touch that!” she said, snatching it from his hands.

He blinked, surprised by her tone. “Relax, I wasn’t going to break it.”

“It’s fragile,” she said softly, her fingers brushing over the chipped paint.

“It’s just an ornament,” he teased, but his voice had lost some of its edge.

“It’s not just an ornament,” she replied, her tone sharp. “It’s... it belonged to my grandparents.”

Lando’s teasing smirk faded, replaced by something softer. “Oh.”

“They gave it to me when I was little,” she continued, her voice quieter now. “It’s the only thing I have left of them.”

The room fell quiet, and for a moment, Lando seemed at a loss for words. Then, in a voice softer than she’d ever heard from him, he said, “I didn’t mean to joke about it. I get it... holding on to things like that.”

Y/N looked up, startled by his sincerity. “You do?”

He nodded, his gaze distant. “Yeah. It’s not the same, but... Christmas isn’t really the same for me anymore. With racing, I’m always away from my family. It’s like I’ve lost that connection to it, you know?”

Her heart softened, the walls she’d built around him crumbling just a little. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

He shrugged, a small, self-deprecating smile on his lips. “You never asked.”

Something shifted between them in that moment, the usual sharpness of their banter replaced by an unfamiliar warmth.

That night, the power went out completely, plunging the cabin into darkness. The fireplace provided some warmth, but the room they shared was freezing. Y/N huddled under her blankets, shivering, until Lando spoke up.

“You’re going to freeze over there,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence.

“I’m fine,” she replied through chattering teeth.

“Stop being stubborn,” he said, his voice laced with irritation and concern. She heard him get up, and before she could protest, he was climbing into her bed, pulling his blanket over hers. “There. Better?”

She glared at him, though the warmth was undeniably welcome. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Yeah, well, you never do,” he said, his voice soft but laced with amusement and settling beside her. “Doesn’t mean you don’t need it.”

The bed was small, and the proximity was unnerving. She could feel the heat of his body, his scent—woodsy and faintly sweet—lingering in the air.

“You’re annoying,” she muttered, trying to ignore the way her heart was racing.

“And you’re stubborn,” he countered, his lips curving into a small smile.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the flickering firelight casting shadows across his face. Something in his expression softened, and Y/N felt her heart skip a beat.

“Why do we do this?” she asked quietly.

“Do what?”

“Argue. Fight. Act like we hate each other.”

He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look at her. His gaze was intense, but not in the mocking way she was used to. “Maybe because it’s easier than admitting the truth.”

Her breath hitched. “What truth?”

“That you drive me absolutely mad,” he said, as he reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his voice low and unsteady. “And I can’t stop thinking about you.”

She stared at him, her heart pounding. “Lando...”

Her lips parted in surprise, but before she could respond, he leaned in, his lips hovering just above hers. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured.

She didn’t.

When his lips met hers, it was soft at first, almost hesitant. But as the kiss deepened, months of tension and unspoken feelings spilled out between them. Her hands found their way into his hair, pulling him closer, and he responded with a quiet, desperate intensity that made her head spin.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting together.

“Well,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his, “that escalated quickly.”

He chuckled, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “Guess we were overdue.”

_________________________________________________

By the time the snowstorm passed, everything between them had changed. The biting remarks and sharp retorts were gone, replaced by teasing smiles and stolen touches. Their friends noticed, of course, but no one said anything—at least, not yet.

As they packed up to leave, Lando lingered by her car, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“So,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, “what happens now?”

She tilted her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “What do you want to happen?”

His smile was slow, warm, and a little unsure. “I want... whatever this is. You and me.”

Her heart fluttered, but she managed to keep her voice steady. “Good. Because I want that too.”

He grinned, leaning in to kiss her again, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world.

As she drove away, her cheeks flushed and her lips tingling, she couldn’t help but smile. The storm had left them with something unexpected, something real—and she couldn’t wait to see where it led.

[goosita]

trying to work when you're sick as young!politician!snow's secretary would be hard, but not for the reason you might think

you've been sniffling since yesterday afternoon, but this morning when you woke up, you felt like you'd been hit by a train. every muscle in your body was sore, your throat hurt, your nose was running and you could tell you had at least a lowgrade fever. you glanced at your alarm clock next to your bed and groaned, seeing that you'd woken up just a little while before it was set to go off anyway.

you thought about calling in sick, but you've never done it before. were you supposed to call....coriolanus? directly? he was your only boss, you worked solely for him. but that thought made you feel even worse than your illness did. you knew that he had a busy day today full of meetings and work calls, and that you needed to be there to help organize his schedule. you couldn't stand the thought of disappointing him.

you sucked it up and took the hottest shower you could stand in efforts to clear your sinuses and stop the fever-induced chills wracking your body every few minutes. you knew coriolanus liked for you to look put-together in pretty dresses and heels, but today you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. you dressed in a loose blouse and pair of wide-leg trousers that felt comfortable enough, shoving your feet into flat shoes. good enough.

so now here you are, bundled in your sweater you keep at the office and trying hard to manifest that nobody will notice your red and raw nose or your watery eyes, least of all coriolanus. the wish goes ungranted, prayer unanswered as he strolls in and immediately stops and stares at you.

"what's wrong?" he asks.

"oh, um. just a little cold," you answer, voice nasally and much lower in pitch than normal. coriolanus frowns at you and shrugs his coat off, hanging it up and walking straight over to you to press the back of his hand to your forehead.

"you're burning up."

his lips turn down even further, not noticing the way you freeze at his sudden touch. coriolanus has been a lot more...touchy with you lately, but even still, this amount of concern is unexpected. his brows furrow at you, looking at you for a long moment. he carefully brushes your hair out of your face, looking over you and taking note of your outfit and general state. you can tell he notices that you've dressed much more comfortably than you usually would, and that your face is makeup-free and hair left at simply brushed through to undo any tangles.

"up," he tells you, gently lifting you out of your chair by your elbow.

"what?"

"let's get you home," he says gently, rubbing a warm and heavy hand up and down your back. "you're in no shape to be here today. i'll have my driver take you back to your apartment."

you look at him confused, unsure what to say. you're not sure if he's upset that you're sick or if he's more worried for your wellbeing, but it makes you anxious that he's acting so abrupt and unceremonious, almost as if you being sick is putting him on edge.

"coryo...?" you ask quietly. he freezes where he stands, having gone to grab your jacket off the coatrack. you watch as his entire demeanor softens.

"yes, miss y/n?"

you swallow hard, wincing at the pain it causes in your throat. "are...are you upset with me?"

coriolanus' eyebrows draw inward and upward at your question, quickly shaking his head.

"oh, no. no, of course not," he breathes, rushing over to help you slide into your coat. "i'm worried about you is all. i don't want you making yourself sicker by being here today, you're clearly very unwell. it's not your fault you're ill."

he carefully zips up your coat, grabbing his red scarf from the rack as well. before you can protest, he's draping it around your neck and tying it.

"for extra warmth," he explains. "it's freezing out there today."

the scarf is so soft where it's tucked beneath your chin, instantly adding more warmth where you need it. coriolanus gives you a tiny smile, lips closed but small dimple appearing at the corner of his mouth.

you're led to the car by him, his hand resting between your shoulder blades the entire time. coriolanus opens the car door for you to slide into the back seat, instructing his driver to take you home and make sure you get into your apartment safe and sound. his voice holds so much authority when he speaks to the driver, a deepness and sternness that's never present when he's addressing you.

by the time you reach your apartment and climb the steps up, there are several beautifully packaged boxes waiting for you at your door, as well as a single red, long-stemmed rose. you tilt your head and bring them inside, opening them one by one to find that coriolanus has had soup, bread, and medicine delivered to you. attached to the rose by a red satin ribbon is a note that simply reads:

"get well soon, darling"

[evielmostdefinitely]

scorned earth |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: the last stop on your honeymoon tour of the districts, leaves coriolanus to show you parts of his past, making new memories with you. based off this ask from the other day :)

contains: smut 18+. dark!possessive!coriolanus. mentions of corio's past. dom/sub dynamics. skinny dipping, semi-public sex. pinvsex. mean-ish!coriolanus.

“Where are you taking me?” You looked around at the tall trees, the sun peaking through the branches onto the moss covered ground. Your hand in Coriolanus’, fingers intertwined, letting him lead you through the thicket of trees. 

“It’s a surprise, my love. I told you.” Coryo’s eyes were bright, daring with excitement. Turning back to look at you over his shoulder, the sun caught in his baby blues, making your heart skip. “You trust me, don’t you?” 

You melted at his words, smiling softly. “Of course, I do.” You whispered, letting him tug you through the forest. “I-I’m just worried about snakes, or bears, or-” 

“-I won’t let them hurt you.” Coryo smiled, squeezing your hand. The pistol resting on his hip offered some comfort to you. “That’s why I’m going first.” 

You’d blame it on the warmth of the day, hot but breezy, as the reason you were so flustered at his words. The heat in your cheeks, tingling up your spine. District Twelve was the last stop on your tour, the last stop on your honeymoon. Coriolanus insisted on showing you around, to some of his favorite spots from his Peacekeeper days. After putting the town on a strict lockdown- you weren’t sure why he did it, but you didn't dare question it- he dragged you out here. 

“This is…” You looked at the water, sparkling from sunlight, and the greenery all around it. 

“Breathtaking isn’t it?” Coriolanus’ arms found your waist, chin tucking over your shoulder. The breeze fell between the two of you, fresh air, not smoggy or stuffy like the polluted city air of the Capitol. 

“It is.” You nodded, hand sliding over his biceps, leaning back into his touch. “How’d you ever find this?” 

Coriolanus paused for a moment, heart skipping a beat at the thought of her. He wouldn’t tell you about her, not now, at least, it was your honeymoon. “We used to come out here on our days off.” He said instead. It wasn’t a complete lie, he supposed. 

“Stay in that cabin, sometimes, when it would rain.” Coriolanus pointed to the cabin, a little more worn than he remembered, a lot colder looking too. 

You turned, smiling at the sight. “That’s… This is very nice.” You grinned, head tilting back to meet his gaze. You looked pretty like this, Coryo decided, under the bright District Twelve summer sun. 

“Would you like to go swimming?” Coryo smiled, hand brushing over your hip, squeezing it gently. 

“Swimming?” You giggled. “In what, Coryo? I didn’t pack any swimwear.” 

“Do you think they have swimwear here?” Coriolanus scoffed lightly, shaking his head at you. “Just go in your undergarments.” 

“Coryo.” You blushed, looking around like there might be others to overhear. It was so improper, you were surprised he even suggested it. 

“Or just go without anything on.” Coryo rasped, his crotch grinding lightly into the fat of your ass. Your body jolted with electric heat, grabbing at his arms. “No one’s out here, darling. I won’t mind.” His breath was hot on the shell of your ear, leaving you shivering at the thought. 

Your hands trembled lightly with excitement, pushing down the straps of your dress, gaze on Coriolanus. He grinned proudly as you stripped, your eyes on him so obediently- just as he trained you to be. You were bare, arms covering your most private parts, standing in front of him on the small dock. 

Coriolanus followed, slinging off his slacks, his shirt, grinning at you with that familiar, wild look in his eyes. It made your heart flutter, his gaze animalistic, roaming all over your body. 

“I’m going to throw you in.” Coriolanus growled playfully, though his eyes were primal. 

“Don’t you dare, Coryo.” You pointed at him, walking back on the creaking dock. “Coriolanus Snow, I swear-” 

Coryo lunged at you, laughing at how you shrilled, your scream bouncing off the trees, the mockingjays echoing it through the breeze. Your bare feet padding against the wood, ass jiggling with your run, taunting him. You skidded to a stop at the edge, whipping around to look over your shoulder. Coriolanus pacing towards you, arms reaching out for you, eyes narrowed with a primal sense that had you reaching your arms out in instinct. 

“Coryo, no!” Your squealing pleas were cut short, his hands on your waist, slinging both your naked bodies into the lake water. 

Cool water plunged around you, hands clawing at Coriolanus even under the murky water. You surfaced, a large gasp of a breath, hands hitting the rippling waters with a panicked fury. You could swim, sure, but not very well, especially not when you were thrown in unexpectedly. 

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” Coriolanus hummed, hands pulling you into his wet chest, bobbling with you through the water. You crawled up his back, legs wrapping around his waist, hugging him tightly to you. 

He could feel your heart beating on the back of his chest, your pebbled nipples from the cold water pressing to his back, making his cock lurch with lust. 

“Don’t you dare let go of me.” You hissed, nails digging into his shoulder. “There’s no telling what’s in this water. I can’t even see the bottom.” 

“Oh,” Coryo taunted, chin hooking over his shoulder to grin at you. “Might be a monster, hm? Might come up and bite you.” His fingers pinched the fat of your ass, you squealed in his ear, feet pushing up on his hips, dunking him slightly. 

He sputtered, water, feet kicking steadily under the water to keep you both afloat, wiping the droplets out of his eyes. Your pouting face greeted him once his vision cleared, brows creased in a deep furrow. “That wasn’t funny.” You grumbled. 

“Oh, don’t be pouty with me, darling. I was only teasing.” Coriolanus’ hands found your waist, pulling you around his body so you rested on his hips, legs still tight around him in a vice. “You know I wouldn’t let anything hurt you, petal.” He muttered, cupping your jaw gently. 

It was a rare pet name, but by far your most beloved, which is why Coriolanus used it so sparingly. Only when he was especially in love, when he wanted you to know. 

You ducked into his kiss, your own hands on the back of his head, pulling you closer and closer to him. His lips moving on yours, noses brushing, teeth gnashing in a positively sloppy makeout. It felt exhilarating to be doing this in public, showing such crude affection outdoors, even if no one else was around. 

Coriolanus’ hand on your hip, squeezing gently, sliding under the water up your back to cup your breasts under the water. You giggled breathy into his kiss, legs tightening under the water. Coriolanus tipped you into the kiss, dunking you under the water accidentally. 

You sputtered, coughed at the water invading your nose, glaring back at him. He grinned cheekily, squeezing the fat of your left ass cheek firmly under the water. “Maybe this isn’t the best idea.” He hummed. “Far easier in the bathtub, I’m finding out.” 

You blushed, shoving his shoulder playfully. “So what then? On the banks? Like animals?” 

Coriolanus’ eyes left your gaze, darkening at what he saw past you. You could see the change in them, that crossed over to something sinister and dark, it made your stomach flip with thrill, anticipation. 

“No,” Coryo’s eyes met yours, lips curling in a sinister smile. “I have a better idea.” 

“That’s it, that’s perfect, my love.” Coriolanus grunted, head tipping back into the hardwood of the floors. 

The floorboards squeaked beneath you, with every rise and fall of your hips. Your hair was still damp, as was his, bodies still soft from the water that hadn’t been wiped away. His hands pawed at your breasts, squeezing them with every roll and rise, riding him in the small cabin. 

His mind flooded with memories, memories of before, everytime he looked around. The dark day he didn’t want to remember, a dark time before you. Coriolanus felt guilty, thinking of her while you were on top of him- his wife. So he did what he could to keep his mind from wandering, pawing at your breasts, grabbing at the fat of your ass, but he swore- swore he could hear the mockingjays singing that same song over and over. 

“Wait, just a- hold on, darling girl.” Coriolanus grunted, pressing on your hip to stop you. 

“What?” You panted, chest rising and falling sharply. “What’s wrong?” You muttered, purely lust drunk, your eyes told him so. 

Coryo smiled, cradling your jaw gently, pulling you to him. Your body folded over his, lips on his, kissing him passionately. Coriolanus flipped the two of you, rolling you lightly onto the wooden floor, the floorboards groaning at the shift. His hands cupped under your knees, pressing your thighs forward, letting you hook them over his shoulders while he bottomed out in you, smug at how your eyes rolled back. 

“C-Coryo,” You whimpered at the sudden change of pace, his hips snapping and rolling into you sharply, cock spearing that spongy spot that had your eyes rolling back, mouth falling open dumbly. 

Coriolanus’ pace didn’t stop, fucking you nearly barbarically, at a punishing pace. You hadn’t expected it, truthfully, he normally saved this type of sex for when you’d been bad, when you needed to get fucked like this. Maybe he needed it. Something about District Twelve had him off, but you didn’t pry. 

“Look at me.” Coriolanus growled, hands pushing into your hips, fingertips curling so sharply you knew there would be bruises. 

Your eyes fluttered open, glazed with ecstasy from every punctuating jab of his cock into you. “Who do you belong to?” 

You were confused, mind dwindling away, thoughts following them. Coriolanus tapped your cheek lightly, hard enough to get your attention, eyes snapping obediently back to him. “Answer me.” Coryo repeated through gritted teeth, his pace not letting up, not once. “Who do you belong to?” 

“Y-You.” You shuddered, body rolling with another wave of pleasure, thighs trembling around him. 

“Say it again.” Coriolanus spat, reaching forwards, hand cupping your cheeks, squeezing them between his fingers so your lips puckered. “Who do you belong to?” 

“You, Coryo, you. You- oh!- it’s only you. Only you.” You babbled, tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes as your orgasm consumed you. He didn’t stop, squeezing tighter around your cheeks. 

“You’re all mine. Mine. You belong to me, you got that? Not anyone else.” Coriolanus growled, his thrusts faster now, leaving you no time to recover. You whimpered at the sensation, the sensitivity. 

“You’re never leaving me, either. You got that?” Coryo snarled. Your eyes had glazed, looking at the wood ceiling above him, half heartedly pushing at his arm. 

Coriolanus’ hand pulled your chin back to him, stilling suddenly, still deep inside of you. “Look at me.” He sneered. Your eyes fluttered to him. “You’re not leaving me, ever.” He held your gaze, his wild eyed one peering back at you. 

“Say it.” Coryo demanded. You whimpered, his hips pressing further into you, filling you more- you didn’t even know he still could, you felt so full already. “Say it!’ 

The sheer possessiveness, his tone, a chilling edge that had you shuddering. “I-I’m not going anywhere.” You whispered, voice caught around the lump in your throat. “I’m not going anywhere, Coryo, staying with you.” 

“Forever?” Coryo hated how needy he sounded, but he doubted you noticed, not with the way your lip was trembling, eyes glazed. 

“Forever.” You repeated, squeezing his wrist lightly. “Forever with you. Only you.” 

Coriolanus dropped himself over you, face buried in the crook of his neck to breathe in your sweat soaked scent, rutting into you like a mutt in heat until he was spilling, presseed deep inside of you, milking his load into you. 

The walk back to the train was much slower this time. You clung to Coryo, legs wobbly and unsure, his arms wrapped around your back. It was silent, the chirping of the birds, the breeze floating between the leaves, your only sound. 

Coryo left you later that night, tucked into the bed, pressing a kiss to your head. You didn’t pry as to where he was going, and he was grateful for that. You didn’t ask why he smelled of smoke when he came back, why he was just as ravenous as before, which he was even more thankful for. 

As Coriolanus left you, meeting with the General over the Peacekeepers, leading them back through the thicket, he thought of her. Her smug grin, her in his mother’s shawl, how she’d just left it- left him. He thought he’d never recover after Lucy Gray. Then he met you. How you treasured every gift, only looked at him, craved him the way he did you. 

You wore his mother’s ring with pride, and he knew she’d be pleased with you. 

Which is why he had to kill all of his past before you. 

Kill the woman who wrecked him, the girl who took his heart and shredded it, made it jagged for your hold. 

And as the cabin burned, scorched under the starry night sky, Coriolanus was pleased knowing his last memories of the cabin were with you instead of her. 

Knowing that part of him was ash like the wooden cabin was now, soot mixed with the soil of District Twelve. 

Coriolanus returned back to you, holding you as close as he could in his arms, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat. You were his, and he was yours. Now until forever.

[swordsandholly]

Live in Five

Reporter Reader x Cameraman Kyle Garrick | Ao3

MDNI | NSFW | cw: sexism, almost car wreck, driving in blizzard, PiV sex, fingering, afab reader, consent checks, unprotected sex, barely edited

Word Count: 4.9k

Summary: After your boss sends you and your cameraman out into a blizzard you find yourselves stuck in the snow in your news van. With no signal and no way to get the van out, the two of you have nowhere to go for the night. You have to entertain yourselves one way or another.

A/N: Y'all thank @mareiasereia for sending this ask that reminded me of this idea.

You sigh, looking down at your feet for the time being. As long as you can until you’re forced to stare into the sun behind the silhouetted camera. Cold wind bites at your cheeks, nearly seeping through the thick wool of your trench coat. You hate these winter outdoor broadcasts - can’t ever quite get used to the weather despite doing them for years now. It takes all your concentration to keep your teeth from chattering while you speak.

“How’s my hair?” You ask, squinting as you try to meet Kyle’s eye where he works on setting up his camera.

“Just perf- oh!” He jogs forward, gently tucking what you assume to be a stray piece back. “Perfect. As always.”

You roll your eyes, cheeks warming. He always manages to get you flustered, even after years of working together. You’d think you’d get used to it - the way his dark eyes focus in and the slight grit to his voice. Instead it infects you - pools at the base of your spine and gnaws at your concentration.

Kyle whistles at you, holding up a three.

You nod, adjusting your stance and clearing your throat.

Two.

One.

“Thanks, John.” You grin, meeting the camera’s ���eye’. “The downtown winter festival is well underway. Everyone seems to be enjoying the festivities-”

You go through the normal song and dance. Kyle follows as you move closer to the wooden, painted entrance to the park for the vent. It’s nice this year, actually. The city sprung for a real artist to craft something interesting. Though, nothing will top that one time they let the local elementary school decorate it. It isn’t anything special, this story. Just the usual yearly coverage of the usual winter activities. You’ve done the festival for the past three winters - the first just after the station hired you. If it weren’t for the icy air on your cheeks you might enjoy it more.

Kyle cuts, lowering his camera and you sigh in relief. Even after all this time your cheeks still hurt from smiling for so many minutes straight while talking. At least you didn’t stutter at all. Or slip. You almost wiped out last year. That clip became more popular among the highschoolers than you might have liked.

“Great job, luv.” Kyle grins, giving you a supportive thumbs up.

You snort. “Thanks.”

“It’s so cold.” Kyle sighs as he packs up his camera carefully into it’s case. His hands are always so delicate. “I’m thinkin’ a coffee stop on the way back?”

You hum and glance at your watch. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Always so serious.”

“One of us has to be.”

“Think you’re mixin’ me up with Johnny, luv.”

“Oh, right.” You snicker.

The station you work for is small. Local. Buried in the back woods, covering a single populated town and the surrounding rural counties. Most of the news pertains to weather for the sake of farming, or livestock related accidents. The occasional violence makes its way onto the main, evening segment but generally it isn’t anything that can’t be covered in an article. That’s the other half of your job - updating articles and writing short columns about recent events. It’s not glamourous, but it’s still journalism. Plus, picking up the extra work boosts your pay and vacation time enough to make the job a little more worth it.

You watch from the side while John and Kate prepare for the serious evening news. The big, main anchors of the station. They might as well walk on water around here. Not that they act like it. They’re actually quite kind. Kate’s suits are always smart and often brightly colored. Her hair is always quaffed and you pray that your skin looks that good at her age. John… well, everybody loves John. Hard not to with that warm smile and those wide set shoulders.

“Can you drop these at my desk, sweetheart?” Philip pulls you from your daze. He smirks down at you in that twisted, snake-like way while holding out a file. “Since you’re headed that way.”

You frown. “I’m not your-”

“Thanks a lot.” He drops the papers, the last of your coffee sloshing as you just manage to catch them. Philip is easily the most insufferable asshole in this place. You curse the day you volunteered to move cubicles because it would put you closer to the tech guys. To Kyle. Now you’re sharing a wall with the human embodiment of liquid shit.

It’s not just him, really. Most of the men here don’t see you as anything important. Too young, too new to hold any weight around the station. The pretty, soft girl that does feel good, soft stories. A petting zoo. Some fluffy little thing for them to caress and coo at. You glance back at Kate. The men don’t mess with Kate. What does she do so differently?

It’s not that you mind doing fluff stories. Those are fine. You enjoy them, even. You’d rather spend your time talking about kids selling lemonade to fund their future college (still dystopian) or some dog that managed to save it’s owners life (still cool as hell.) You just wish they took you seriously. That you weren’t treated as lesser for it. Lesser for not wanting to be subjected to violent accidents and crimes that make your gut churn.

So, you do what you usually do when you want to slam your head through a wall, disappear into the tech room. After messily throwing the file on Philip’s desk, of course.

“Alright, darlin’?” Kyle leans back in his chair as you push through the door into the designated ‘bat cave.’

You nod silently, glaring at your feet as you flop down into the open editing bay. It’s nice in here. Calm. Separated from the main office. You feel like you can actually breathe in here.

“There’s my bonnie lass!” Johnny appears from the supply closet with his usual ear to ear grin. You don’t miss the extra pinkness of his lips - or the way Simon follows him out.

You glance over at Kyle who has turned back to his editing. You watch his hands as they move, his eyes locked in on the screen before him. Are you the only person in the world that follows rules? That does as they’re told? How come everyone else gets to break them?

It’s Friday. A massive blizzard blew in seemingly out of nowhere halfway through the work day. Your meteorologist practically scrambled to figure out what to report on and how long it might last. Roach, they call him, on account of that time he survived getting picked up and thrown by a tornado. Most people mutter about leaving early, some preemptively grabbing their coats. A few snuck out the back nearly an hour ago when the weather first started. You opted to hunker down and get some work done, considering the universe blessed you with a lack of Philip for the day.

The harsh utterance of your name has you snapping up, back straight and eyes wide. “Mr. Shepherd! Uh, how can I help you?”

The station owner steps into your cubicle, face as taught and stern as ever. He isn’t the one that hired you but part of your onboarding included a brief meeting with him. You hated every second - an inexplicable pressure building in your chest the entire fifteen minutes. It’s back now.

“There was a massive wreck on the highway. Fifteen cars, apparently.” Shepherd says. “I want you at the hospital giving updates for the site. Take your camera man, too.”

You blink up at him dumbly for a moment. “Sir, I don’t- In this weather? It’s a blizzard out there! We’d just be in the way-”

“It’s not a request.” Shepherd snaps, staring down at you with that bored, icy gaze that makes you desperately wish he had hair you could rip out. You know you have to, though. You’ve seen him fire people more important than you over lesser infractions.

“O-okay.” You murmur, hands balled into fists. Partially from anger, partially to keep them from visibly shaking. It isn’t right. It isn’t right that he’s putting you in this kind of unnecessary danger. Kyle, either. Oh, Kyle…

You drag your feet as you head to the tech room, heart dropping into your gut as you see him packing up and pulling on his thick bomber coat. Probably assumed you’d get to leave early, too. You should get to leave early. You should have ducked out an hour ago like the others. Why do you always follow the fucking rules?

“Hey, angel.” Kyle grins, smile dropping as soon as his eye meets yours. “What’s up?”

“Shepherd wants us to go to the hospital.” You swallow roughly to keep your voice from cracking. “Wants us to cover some big car wreck from there.”

“Tha’s so far from here!” Johnny gasps from his perch at the editing bay. “He cannae expect ye tae go out like this.”

“He can, apparently.” You mutter, staring at your feet. You want to say no. You want to give him an earful - to really lay into him about his sexist, careless attitude. Y’know, girlboss stuff or whatever. Whatever Kate would probably do. She wouldn’t take this laying down, belly up. Instead your hands shake and your eyes sting with frustrated tears. You can’t breathe right. It’s wrong. This is wrong. It’s wrong and you can’t do anything about it without losing your job at the only station in town.

“Hey.” You jump as Kyle’s hand strokes down your arm - gentle and warm. Grounding. “It’s alright. The vans got chains on the tires. We’ll take a backroad and see how far we can get. If we have to turn back, I’ll take the heat.”

You snap your head up to meet his gaze. “Kyle-”

“It’s fine.” He smiles reassuringly. “C’mon, go get your coat.”

“O-okay…”

You stay quiet at you load into the van. Guilt gnaws at your chest while you do the same to your inner cheek. The idea that you’ve put Kyle in danger just because you’re too weak to argue with your boss makes you feel weak. Pathetic. You’re pathetic. Neither of you talk much as you drive, opting to keep the radio low so Kyle can concentrate on the road. It’s just as bad as it seemed. You can barely see to the end of the headlights - the sun having already nearly set - everything else pitch black while the snow glints in the light. It’s falling sideways. You can feel the truck sway every so often from a massive gust of wind. At least no one else is on the road.

You wish you didn’t feel like crying so badly.

There’s a loud cracking sound somewhere. You can’t tell from what direction - unsure if it was even real. You can’t hear much of anything over the howling wind and snow beating against the van.

“Did you-” You’re cut off as a massive trunk appears in front of you, crashing down onto the street.

Kyle gasps. You screech, the van whipping off road and he redirects away. A strong arm braces itself over your chest to keep you steady as you careen off the road. You screw your eyes shut tightly, bracing for a likely impact. Between the snow and the darkness you can’t tell what direction you’re facing when the van finally lurches to a stop in the icy mud. A loud grunt escapes you as your seatbelt locks against your sternum.

Several beats of quiet pass between you. Both of you panting, trying to clear your heads and take in what just happened. The moment breaks when Kyle drops his arm, hand resting on your thigh. You don’t think anything of it past a comforting gesture - there isn’t any room in your brain for anything else as you blink slow. It feels good, though. Grounding. It slows your heart and evens your breathing.

“Scary, huh?” Kyle chuckles nervously, still staring forward out the windshield.

You can’t help but giggle back, nervous energy making your hands shake. “Uh-huh. You okay?”

“Yeah.” He finally turns to look at you. “You?”

You nod quietly.

“Alright.” He grunts. “Let’s see about getting out of here.”

The moment he hits the gas to reverse you both know you’re in trouble. The tires spin, whirring loudly along to the wind outside. The van doesn’t budge an inch. You’re stuck on the side of a random backroad, in the middle of a blizzard, with a felled tree in your path, all alone.

Kyle pulls out his phone, tapping around. He sighs loudly, resting his head back on the car seat headrest. “No signal out here. Fuckin’ hell.”

You’re well and truly stranded.

Your shoulders start shaking and you bend forward, curling in on yourself. You bury your face in your hands, hot tears swelling in your eyes. “Kyle, I’m so sorry…”

“Oh, angel-”

“I could’ve gotten you killed! I could’ve - all because I couldn’t - It’d be all my fault!” You sob.

Kyle’s hand comes to rest on your upper back, rubbing in gentle circles. “Love- it’s okay. We’re okay. Hey, look at me.”

You shake your head. How could you? How fucking could you? Pathetic.

He takes your wrist, peeling your hands away from your face. “Look. At. Me.”

You sit up slowly, still hiccupping, though no longer sobbing like before. Something about his touch, his hands on you, just feels right. The world feels right. Grounded.

“It’s not your fault. Shepherd’s an arse. He shouldn’t have put us in this position. He knew you couldn’t say no. That’s the only reason he asked.” There’s a snarl at the edges of his voice. Something bitter - wrong sounding in his sweet voice. He glances over at the dash. “We’ve got plenty of gas. The battery is basically new. We’ll be fine for the night. Roach said it should be over by morning and they’ll figure out we didn’t make it back.”

You sniffle, nodding weakly and undoing your seat belt to breathe properly. Your chest still hurts. “I’m sorry…”

“Here.” After rooting around in the glove box, Kyle comes up with a small pack of tissues. You reach for it, but he makes no move to hand them over. Instead, he takes one out. Cupping your jaw in one hand and slowly, gently, patting around your eyes to fix up the mess you made. Like he always does.

“I’m sorry.” You murmur.

“No more sorries.” He shakes his head.

Kyle shuts the high beams off, leaving the regular lights on just in case someone drives by. Not that anyone will. This road is underpopulated even during the best summer days. Neither of you speak for a long while. You keep glancing over at Kyle out of the corner of your eye. He’s thinking about something - you can tell by the pinch in his brow and the pull in the corner of his mouth. He looks so pretty in the moonlight. The contours of his face softened by the low light, eyes nearly pitch black besides a pinprick of light.

“How are your moms?” You blurt.

He chuckles. “Good. Think they’re on a cruise right now.”

“I’m jealous.” You snort, looking out the window at the ice.

“Facts.”

You lapse back into quiet, emotionally and physically drained - he probably feels the same. Neither of you quite able to muster your usual, easy banter. A slimy little part of you is glad that Kyle came with you - even if is did put him in unnecessary danger. You don’t think you would have handled this situation well on your own. Adrenaline makes your hands shake, your heart still pounding in your chest.

“Want t’ fuck?” Kyle breaks the silence suddenly, head leaned on his hand and elbow on the window seal.

You sputter out an awkward laugh. He’s joking right? He’s just fucking with you because he’s bored. “Don’t mess with me, it’s not nice.”

“Not messin’.”

You slowly meet his eye. Even in the dark with only the moonlight and the glow of the electric buttons in the back of the van you can see the seriousness of his expression. The unwavering way his eyes rake over you. He means it.

You shrink away, bashful now. “Kyle-”

“You can’t deny that there’s something here.” He gestures between you. “I know you feel it. That night at the pub-”

“We were drunk.”

“We were honest.” He shrugs. “Besides, what better way to pass the time and keep warm?”

You stare at him, eyes searching his face for some other meaning. Some secondary, malicious intent. It’s not there, of course. Kyle simply isn’t like that. Those dark eyes meet yours honestly. You glance down at his hand laying on the arm rest. It’s been so long since you've been held; touched. You’re coworkers, though. Close knit professionals. A team. What if moving forward ruins your dynamic? What if you lose him? It would be wrong, wouldn’t it? A total HR violation.

Then again… why should you always follow the rules?

Fuck it. “Okay.”

“C’mere.” Kyle smiles and reaches over to pull you by your waist and you follow.

It’s too easy, almost, to let yourself go over the armrests and right across his lap. It takes a moment with your wide hips and thick thighs to get comfortable straddling him. At least the van seats are big. You hover over him slightly, leaning your weight on the hand holding the armrest.

He clicks his tongue, the hands on your waist pressing down. “On me, love. Want t’ feel you.”

How could you ever deny that? You sigh softly, letting your weight fall into his thighs. Kyle hums appreciatively. The hands on your waist begin to knead down over your hips. You aren’t quite sure what to do - what the social protocol is for this situation. Your hands find a resting point on his shoulders, so strong and firm under your touch.

You don’t have to worry for long. Not when he leans up to you, the hands on your hips arching you into him, “Kiss me?”

You nod, for some reason, before pressing your lips to his. It remains chaste, at first. Little pecks and presses as you feel each other out. His lips are soft, moving so naturally against yours you nearly miss when his tongue swipes across your lower lip. You gasp, giving him just enough room to make his move forward. Suddenly, you’re collapsing into each other. He tastes like his usual morning coffee - sharply sweet caramel. Your hand finds it’s way to the back of his head, one of the hands on your hip scrapes down to grip your thigh.

The moment only breaks when he leans you back too far, sounding off the van horn into the empty night. You both stop, looking at each other for a beat before giggling.

You gasp as the hand on your thigh suddenly disappears under your skirt - your laugh breaking off into a gasp as he cups your pussy through your tights and underwear. His nail catches on the thin fabric. A promise if what’s to come.

“You and these fuckin’ skirts…even in the middle of winter…” Kyle murmurs, breath warm against your ear. “D’you have any idea how good you look? Prancing around for my camera, huh?”

“Kyle…” A shiver runs down your spine.

“It’s just for me, isn’t it?” He chuckles, big hands running up your thighs to the bend of your hips. “I’ve seen you with the other guys. Not nearly as excited. Lackin’ that little pep in your step.”

He lightly smacks your ass for emphasis. You squeak - face so hot you almost want to get out of the van and bury it in the snow. The heel of his hand grinds against your clit and you can’t help but whine quietly. His other hand travels up, pushing at your sweater. His hand catches your bralette as he moves, hiking both up over your chest. A gasp rattles in your throat as he catches a nipple between his teeth, your hands tightly fisting his shirt while you let him explore.

A tearing sound echoes through the van. You can’t complain - it’s not like these were your nice tights anyway. Kyle drags his finger along your lips through your underwear. He’s teasing, eyes locked on your face as he waits for you to react. You just sigh each time his fingers glide over your clit ever so slightly until they stop, catching the hem of your underwear and pushing them to the side.

Kyle pauses, looking up at you. “May I?”

You huff. “You better.”

He grins up at you from ear to ear, pressing his lips to yours once again as he drags his fingers between your folds. A low, gravelly hum rumbles in his chest. “So wet already… all this for me?”

The reply gets caught in your throat - cutting off into a moan as he circles your clit with the pads of his fingers. His middle finger circles your entrance, eyes never leaving your face as he gauges your reaction. You’re sure you look ridiculous - face hot and utter disheveled. He seems to like it, though, quietly moaning with you as he presses one digit inside. You tip your head to the side, matching his slow pace until he adds another. They reach so much deeper than yours ever can, lightly prodding until he finds what he was looking for.

“Fuck-!” You gasp, whole body shuddering.

“There she is.” Kyle murmurs, almost to himself more than you.

“Kyyy-!” You whine, rocking back and forth on his hand, desperate for any friction on your clit.

“Thassit, take what y’need, babygirl.” He sighs, catching your nipple between his teeth. “Be good and cum on my fingers.”

It doesn’t take much. A few more bounces of your hips just as his fingers curl even further into that spot that leaves you seeing stars. You keen loudly, face buried in the crook of his neck as you fuck yourself on his fingers. You slow to a stop, breathing heavy. Your skin feels electric, body practically humming happily. A pathetic sigh pushes past your lips as Kyle removes his hand.

He slowly brings his fingers to his mouth, groaning as he licks them clean. “Taste just as pretty as you look, love.”

You whine back dumbly, mind and body still coming down from your first orgasm in a long, long time. Well, with a partner at least. Fuck, if Kyle doesn’t know what he’s doing. Your find yourself clumsily pawing at his shirt, suddenly desperate to get to see him properly. He just chuckles, pulling it over his head and tossing it toward the passenger seat.

Kyle leans the seat back. It doesn’t go far, just enough to give you some extra room to maneuver. Your hands drag over corded muscle just under a layer of soft. You run your fingers through the light dusting of hair on his chest. He lets you take your time, lets you feel him out until you’re satisfied and leaning down for another kiss.

“Y’want to keep going?” He murmurs against your lips. “No pressure.”

You nod vigorously, the hands you braced on his chest gliding down toward his belt. “Do you?”

“Fuck yes.” He sighs, hips bucking up into your hand - telling you to get a move on.

You don’t, brain to cottony to care much as you take your time with his leather belt. His breath hitches when you palm him through his trousers - the size of him registering somewhere in the back of your mind. You clumsily undo his trousers, hands shaking in anticipation. He lifts his hips just enough to help you pull his pants and boxers partially down his thighs.

Kyle sighs as his cock springs free, eyes still fixed on you as you take him in. Your eyes widen - raking over the length of hum to the perfectly groomed curls at the base. He’s what you imagine an artist would carve - curve and veins too perfect. Another shiver runs down your spine.

“Pretty…” The word falls from your lips before you can stop it. You cover your mouth, embarrassment forcing you to look away. Kyle just laughs, reaching up to pulls your face back to him.

“I know.”

You suck your teeth. “Arrogant man, you are.”

“Just self aware.” He shrugs, smirking up at you.

You roll your eyes, raising your hand to lick a long, wet stripe over your palm and fingers. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, giving him a long, slow stroke from root to tip. Kyle groans, hips bucking up into your touch. You wish you could reach down to wrap your lips around it - let him rest warm and heavy on your tongue. Another time, perhaps.

You meet his gaze as you position yourself over him. A brief moment to let either of you end it here. To stay on this side of the boundary. To leave things as they were - for the most part, at least. Neither of you take it.

The hands on your hips help guide you down. Slowly, an inch at a time. Without any extra lube there’s a slight burn to the stretch just on this side of too much. You moan, low and quiet as you finally rest at the base of his cock. He sighs out a moan as you lean your weight on him again - fully sheathed inside you. You peek your eyes open to look down at him. His dark eyes have locked onto where you’re connected, the hands on your hips grip so tight you wonder if they’ll leave bruises. Kyle’s jaw is set as he breathes long and deep.

“A-alright?” You gasp out.

“Feel so fuckin’ good around me, doll.” He grunts through grit teeth. “Christ.”

You tilt your head to watch his reaction while you tentatively roll your hips. Those pretty lashes flutter and Kyle tips his head back, groaning.

A newfound confidence overtakes you. “Feels that good, huh?”

He nods with another low groan as you begin to roll your hips at a rhythm. A slow grind down onto each other. Lazy. You’re both tired after that adrenaline spike earlier, and your legs still feel loose and jelly after already cumming once. He fills you so perfectly, though. His warm hands drag over your skin, leaving an electric feel in their path. His teeth nips at your neck, mouthing along your jaw. He’s everywhere - all consuming.

“Kyle-” You whine, cheek pressing to his temple.

“Yeah, baby?” He moans back. “C’mon - shite -say my name again.”

“Please, Kyle, f-fu-” Your words trail off into nothing. Just unintelligible chants that you think are supposed to be his name. You can’t tell anymore, to enraptured in the feeling of your bodies moving against each other.

Kyle’s hand drifts up your back to cup the base of your neck, pulling you down until your foreheads press together. Your eyes may be screwed shut, but you can feel his on you - boring through to the very core of you. He shifts under you, just slightly, suddenly forcing a startled, keening sound out of you as he thrusts up into you with his newfound footing. The pace becomes desperate as you both careen toward the edge.

“Oh, fuck!” You whine, nails biting into his shoulder and the fabric to the seat beside his head.

“Gonna cum again?” He pants against your lips. “I can feel it - pretty little cunt’s clenching around me like a fuckin’ vice.”

You nod sloppily, only managing a choked, “Y-yea-”

“Together?”

“Mmhmm!”

You cling to each other, eyes screwed shut. Your teeth sink into his shoulder, muffling the high pitched whine that tears through your throat as you climax. Kyle moans in your ear, hands digging into your skin so hard they’ll surely leave bruises in their wake as he spills inside you. You stay like that for a moment, catching your breath - his cum dripping from you as he slips out. You sigh, far too content to just stay here with your face buried in the crook of his neck. Warm and comfortable. It feels right - laying in his arms.

“Hey.” Kyle pats your hip, pointing behind you. “We did the Titanic thing.”

You glance at the fogged up windows and laugh.

[strawberriesoup]

24 to 25٠࣪⭑

── .✦ A snowstorm forces you to take refuge with Jisung on christmas eve

word count: 6.6k

genre: fluff with a little angst, jisung x female reader, mutual pining, comfort, acquaintances to lovers

warnings: cursing, feelings, reader is down horrendously bad for jisung, kisses, jisung is a sweetheart

a/n: this has been in the works for a while (i’m bad at writing stuff fast) SO IM SUPER HAPPY THAT I WAS ABLE TO GET IT OUT FOR THE HOLIDAY SEASON

if you make it all the way through, please leave some feedback! i always love to hear other people’s thoughts!! your feedback is what keeps me writing stories like these ❤️❤️

taglist: @jisunggy @holly-here @hannamoon143 @fly-you-dam-fools

if you would like to be added to my general taglist, send me a comment or an ask! <3

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The holiday season is a time for joy, a time to share laughter and meals, a time to wear fuzzy socks and fall asleep watching bad Christmas movies. Well, that’s what it’s supposed to be anyways. It’s a little hard to get into the Christmas cheer when each snowflake swirling outside your windshield is somehow concerningly larger than the last.

Wind whistles past your car as you squint your eyes, trying — and failing— to get any sort of visibility through the rapidly thickening blanket of snow and darkness. The gas light flashes on with a ping. Damn it. Continuing on whilst the best you can make out of your surroundings is a screen of nothingness and the occasional telephone pole doesn’t seem like the best course of action right now.

Eventually, you manage to pull into a small gas station about five minutes away by reluctantly putting your life into the hands of Google Maps.

Blowing warmth onto your hands, white-knuckled from your death grip on the steering wheel, you yank your phone out of the cupholder. Stranded in some dingy parking lot a good forty-five minutes away from your apartment is definitely where you needed to be on Christmas Eve, thanks so much universe. And your feet are cold.

You had really wanted to surprise them. The last time you’d seen your family was back in March, well over half a year ago. You thought Christmas as the perfect opportunity to visit. Just imagining the look on their faces alone was more than enough to spur your enthusiasm. But, then again, you hear the worries in the back of your mind. You hadn’t visited in so long, rarely even sending a text their way. And coming over with zero warning? They might not be as happy as you hoped.

No, of course they would be happy to see you, right? Right. Either way, there’s no way you’re going anywhere tonight.

Warm air from the AC fans across your face as you slump back in your chair, unfastening the top clasp of your coat that suddenly seems to be suffocating you. What do you even do in this situation? Call someone?

Scrolling through your contacts, your eyes alight on a familiar name.

Han Jisung

You face lights up with hope. Didn’t he say something about living around here? You open his contact, immediately faced with the looming call button in the top right corner of the screen.

Jisung is somewhat of an aquaintance of yours. Calling him a friend might be too bold. Being partners on a group project doesn’t automatically equal friendship, but you two had gotten along quite well. At least, you thought so. Maybe that was wishful thinking coming from your fat crush on him and his gorgeous smile, but still.

What are you doing? You hardly know this guy, and you’re going to call him on Christmas Eve night so he can, what, pick you up? You have to admit, the thought sets off little warning bells in your head. But what other options do you have?

Finger hovering over the button, you hesitate for a moment longer before pressing call.

The line rings once, twice. What if he doesn’t answer? He’s probably busy, it is Christmas eve after all. Did he ever mention leaving town for the holidays?

You’re so busy trying to recall previous conversations with him that you almost don’t notice the line picking up before the third ring. Shit, that was faster than you were expecting. Jisung’s voice greets you through the speaker.

“Heyy, what’s up?”

At the sound of his voice, your heart does a little leap in your chest. You take a deep breath before answering.

“Hi Jisung. I, uh, have a bit of a favor to ask.”

⋆⁺₊❅ ⁺₊❆⋆

You were right about him living close, because less than fifteen minutes later the bright flash of headlights announces Jisung’s arrival. You know that looking nice should be the least of your priorities right now, but that doesn’t stop you from flipping open the sunvisor and briefly inspecting your appearance.

Jisung’s car door thuds shut as you hop out of your own car, met with a brisk rush of air that fills your lungs, chilling you from the inside out. He wasn’t far, but with the heavy snow you can just make out his form from across the lot. You’re quick to hustle towards his dark sillouette, eager to get out of the cold as soon as possible.

Meeting in the middle sooner than you had expected, both you and Jisung halt in tandem, breaths coming in puffs of condensation. The zipper of his puffer jacket is half undone, complimented by a scarf thrown haphazardly around his neck. His hands that are shoved deep in the pockets of his coat give hint to the fact that he’s probably not even wearing gloves.

Neither of you had spoken a word. The silence is painfully awkward, and you can tell he feels it too, if the way he glances down at his feet in favor of meeting your eyes is anything to go by.

“So, do you—”

“Should we—”

Speaking simultaneously, you both cut your sentences short, falling into a silence that’s somehow louder than the last. God, you had expected it to be awkward but not this awkward. Meeting with Jisung outside of a college setting feels so foreign, the only way you’ve interacted with him thus far has been through school. You can feel your ears burn as Jisung clears his throat.

“Sorry, uh, you were saying?” He pulls his hand out of his pocket to gesture at you, confirming that he is indeed not wearing gloves.

The question hangs in the air as Jisung pushes his glasses up with two fingers and looks at you expectantly. His cheeks are tinted with blush from the prickling cold. Lips slightly parted, his breath hisses through his teeth with every inhale, as if trying to supress them from chattering.

“Oh, yeah,” you begin your sentence again, shaking your head to focus. You’re standing in a parking lot in the middle of an actual snowstorm, now is not the time to be fawning over him. “should we, like, head to your car? I’m freezing. I’ll just leave my car here because it’s— yeah.” You twist around to look at your drab little car. It’ll be fine.

He lets out a little puff of laughter, sending a cloud of frost into the air.

“Yeah, good idea. c’mon let’s go.”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

The car ride to Jisung’s place is less awkward than your experience in the parking lot, but not by much. A comment is occasionally made about the storm, but other than that the ride is filled with silence and the steady swishing of windshield wipers.

Jisung glances at you from the corner of his eye. You’re examining the fluff on your gloves with your head down, not seeming too intrested in conversation.

Or maybe you’re uncomfortable. That would make a lot of sense.

Wincing internally at himself, Jisung draws his attention back to the road and furrows his brow, trying to remember if he’s done something wrong. Although, he supposes that being alone with, well, not a stranger— Jisung would like to think he’s at least a good aquaintance to you— but with someone you don't know too well, is enough to put anyone on edge. He has to remind himself that this was your idea.

When your contact info had popped up on his screen, interrupting his very important business (scrolling), he promptly froze, had an intense mental battle on how he should answer, dropped his phone, picked it back up again, and hit answer, all in the span of about four seconds.

Jisung has to admit he does have a slight thing for you. Well okay, maybe a big thing. Like, he has your class schedule and favorite study spot memorized kind of big. Also you wear your hair up on Tuesdays.

But thats besides the point really.

After what feels like a lifetime of driving and the occasional buzzing of muted christmas music playing through the radio, you two finally arrive at Jisung’s place.

It’s nicer than you had expected. The house is dimly lit, but perfectly tidy. Best of all, it’s warm. Behind you, Jisung’s keys jingle as he hangs them up next to the door.

“Uh, make yourself at home, okay? There’s instant ramen, some milk… actually, that’s about it but hey, at least there’s ramen.” He beckons you in, tugging his scarf off while smiling ruefully at the lack of food options to offer.

“That’s okay, I believe in instant ramen supremacy,” you state confidently, earning a laugh from Jisung as you follow him into the kitchen, resting your weight on the counter.

“A woman after my own heart I see,” He jokes, closing his eyes and placing a hand dramatically over his heart. His knuckles are still flushed pink from the cold.

If only he knew.

You can feel the awkward tension from earlier start to melt away now that you’re here. Thank God, because you were seriously considering going back to your car and just waiting out the night there. You couldn’t do that though. Jisung was so willing to help, coming as soon as you had called. Which is kind of crazy, if you stop to think about it for a second. Going out of your way to drive out in a snowstorm and picking someone up on Christmas Eve would be absolutely out of the question for most people, let alone someone you aren’t even close with.

Jisung is busying himself with running some warm water in the kitchen. He rests one elbow on the counter, testing the water tempature. You find yourself watching his movements, how he runs a hand through his hair, the dark strands dampening with the moisture from his hand, and how his eyebrows pinch in concentration until the tempature is just right. Jisung seems more comfortable and relaxed now that he’s here. He’s not a tall man, by any stretch of the imagination, but his confident demeanor makes his presence seem much larger.

Running his chilled hands underneath the warm faucet to bring the warmth back, Jisung looks to the window. You blink and follow suit. Fortunately, he hadn’t caught you staring.

“Holy shit, we must have made it here just in time,” He laughs incredulously, shutting off the sink and shaking the rest of the dampness from his hands.

The window is completely engulfed in white.

Outside, the wind angrily laments that you’re inside and safe. You can’t imagine being stuck out there in that, alone. Just the thought of it makes your insides churn with a strange mixture of anxiety and relief, and you realize that you haven’t even thanked Jisung yet for saving your sorry ass. You open your mouth, but the words seem to dry up on your tongue.

Jisung tilts his head at you, questioning.

“No for real, I haven’t seen a snow this crazy in a while,” Running your hand along the cool countertop, you fix your eyes on an unlit candle to the left of Jisung’s form. Why can’t you just say thank you? It’s not that hard, yet you find yourself avoiding the two simple words like the plauge.

A beat of silence falls over the two of you, but this time it’s comfortable. There’s no rush or pressure to say anything, just a quiet presence while gazing out at the bright sheet that blankets the night.

⋆⁺₊❅ ⁺₊❆⋆

You have an idea.

Is it a good idea? Probably not, but it’s an idea nonetheless.

While you had been absentmindedly thumbing through your Pinterest homepage in an attempt to pass time, you came across a recipe. And not just any recipe, it’s a sugar cookie recipe in the likeness of a snowman. With a little face on it.

The tantalizing image stirrs your sweet tooth, and you glance over at Jisung on the other side of the couch. He seems to be putting an obviously large amount of distance between the two of you, as the entire middle section of the couch remains empty with you and Jisung perched on either side.

“Hey, so… are you any good at baking?”

Jisung’s head jerks up at your question.

“Uhhh. I plead the fifth.”

You find yourself grinning.

“How about this, do you like baking?”

“Now that. Is a different story.” His knees spread apart as he adjusts his position on the couch, slouching lower and crossing his arms across his chest. He looks at you sideways. “What, did you have something in mind?”

You definitely do have something in mind, and it doesn't have anything to do with baking.

“Hear me out,” you point your phone screen at Jisung, who leans in to squint at it. “we make christmas cookies. In the shape of snowmen.”

“You know what, hell yeah. Nothing better to do,” Jisung stretches his arms towards the ceiling, hands balling up into fists. Your wandering eyes betray you, and you can’t help but notice the little sliver of smooth skin that peeks out from where his shirt slides up as he stretches. He needs to stop being so casually sexy right now or you might go crazy. “Cross your fingers though, ‘cause I dunno if I have any eggs.”

⋆⁺₊❅ ⁺₊❆⋆

Currently standing in a neat line across the countertop are all the gathered ingredients necessary for the cookies. Jisung had miraculously acquired two eggs from the depths of his fridge, which now sit next to the flour, and you had spent a good five minutes opening and closing cabinets in search of all the dry ingredients.

You’ve baked a couple of times before. Granted, the first time the cookies were still soft in the middle and the second time may or may not have involved the fire department, but third time’s the charm right? You’re determined to make and eat these cookies.

Next to you, Jisung is staring at the ingredients, hands on his hips. Seemingly at a loss, he looks over to you for instructions.

“Okay, step one: combine the dry ingredients…”

So far, so good. Jisung was put in charge of the flour mixture, while you had started the task of creaming the butter and sugar together.

When you glance up to check on Jisung after a bit, you find him leveling out a scoop of flour, meticulously brushing any stray lumps of powder off of the top with a butter knife. His eyes squint in concentration until he is satisfied with the measurement, proceeding to dump it into the bowl. A faint cloud of white powder dusts the air.

You watch him with amusement as he scoops another cup out of the flour bag, starting the whole process over again.

He must have felt you staring, because his head darts up, eyes finding yours. You quickly duck your head back towards your work.

You wonder if Jisung is a perfectionist with most things in his life. He’s mentioned before that he writes and produces music, you figure that has a certain degree of perfectionism to it. Then again, during the car ride here your feet were resting on several bags of fast food from various restaurants. Maybe his perfectionism is selective.

The undeveloped batter clings to the mixer as you switch it off and pull it out of the bowl. You swipe a finger over one of the whisks and pop it in your mouth. It might just be sugar and butter, but hey, that shit’s good.

Turning your head to offer Jisung a taste, you let out a gasp of surprise upon realizing that he’s standing right behind you. He leans forward, lowkey trapping you between him and the counter as he crosses an arm around you to scoop up some of the mixture from the edge of the bowl. Your breath catches at his proximity. His warm breath brushes againt your neck, causing a shiver to run up your spine.

He draws away, licking his finger while you remain frozen in place. What happened to him keeping a good distance from you? You don’t think he even realizes what he just did, because he just strolls on back to his little station, quietly humming a tune as he goes.

⋆⁺₊❅ ⁺₊❆⋆

As soon as the oven door slams shut, Jisung is immediately squatted in front of it, dutifully watching the uniform balls of dough through the yellow tint of the oven light.

“You know those will take, like, thirteen minutes to cook, right?” Leaning over the countertop, you raise an eyebrow at his crouched form.

“Thirteen? No way. I’ll basically be dead by then.” Jisung stands up, brushing some of the remaining flour off his pants. That’s when you notice a patch of white just above his left eyebrow. How did that even happen?

You step forward without thinking, reaching up to rub the spot off with your thumb. His skin is ridiculously soft, and you find your treacherous fingers lingering for probably longer than was strictly necessary.

Jisung’s eyes are twice as wide as normal as you pull your hand away. He blinks at you and swallows, causing his throat to bob up and down.

Oh so now he’s flustered. You’re beginning to think your little crush is reciprocated after all.

Momentarily confident, you send him a sweet smile.

“That’s better.”

Jisung doesn't say anything in return, but you don't think you’re imagining the slight red tint to his ears.

Three loud beeps announce that the cookies have completed their oven time and are now ready to be taken out and consumed.

Jisung arms himself with oven mitts and carefully slides the cookie tray out of the oven and onto the potholders that you had placed on the countertop a few minutes prior.

They look good. Like, really good. You can feel your mouth starting to water.

“Holy shit, I think we actually did it! Thank God they didn't catch on fire this time,” you exclaim, poking one experimentally with a finger.

Jisung’s eyebrows fly up and he shoots you a bewildered look.

“I thought you said you could cook??”

“Hey now, I never said that…”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Throughout the night, you have become painfully aware of the fact that you are wearing jeans.

Thankfully, since you were heading to your family’s house anyways, you have an entire suitcase packed with the works. Your comfy pajamas from last year are sounding really good right now.

Jisung is propped up on the corner of the couch with a cookie in one hand and his phone in the other. His cheeks are stuffed with probably half of said cookie right now, making him look like some sort of rodent. It’s cute.

You need to ask him where his bathroom is to change, but you find yourself hesitating. Jisung looks up at you with a confused expression and a cookie crumb clinging to his cheek.

Realizing that you’re just looming over the side of his couch ominously, you are quick to blurt out your question.

“Do you know where the bathroom is?”

Goddamnit. Of course he knows where his own fucking bathroom is. What kind of question is that?

Jisung, luckily, seems to have found it amusing, his eyes squinting up as he lets out a hearty laugh. Which almost, almost, makes up for the fact that you just asked the stupidest question in the history of mankind. It doesn’t stop your cheeks from heating up though.

“Yeah, I think it’s down the hallway to the left,”

He’s playing along. You wonder if he has any idea how much better that makes you feel as you break into a wide smile and thank him, scurrying off to go grab your…

Suitcase.

Your suitcase. Where was it? You don’t remember bringing it to Jisung’s place, where could it be? Did you- oh. You remember your dingy little car, sitting out there in the gas station parking lot. Your dingy little car that happened to have your suitcase in it.

Sometimes you surprise yourself, because how can one be this much of a mess? Everything has gone wrong tonight, and now this? You couldn’t even make it to your family’s house to surprise them. The weight of it all is beginning to crush you, forcing tears to well up in your eyes.

Stopping in the hallway around the corner, out of Jisung’s eyeshot, you shove your impending emotions down your throat, the roughness of the wall against your fist keeping you steady. You are not going to cry right now. You’ll find a solution. You just need to calm down first. Closing your eyes, you take in deep breaths, letting each exhale push you farther away from tears.

Once you’re sure you have yourself under control, you consider your options. You could ask Jisung for something to wear, or you could remain uncomfortable in your jeans for the remainder of the night. Now, you wouldn’t be upset about wearing Jisung’s clothes, not even in the slightest. They’d probably smell like him, too. How that man always smells so damn good is beyond you.

He’ll understand if you ask him for his clothes. You know he will. Hopefully, he won’t take it in the wrong way. It’s not like you want to wear his clothes, you just have to because you don’t have any other option.

Yeah no, you really just want to wear his clothes.

Rounding the corner, you expect to see Jisung on the couch only to find that he’s no longer in his spot, or in the living room, for that matter. He’s not in the kitchen either (which still has various baking supplies and smears of flour scattered about. You make a mental note to clean that up later). Huh. Maybe he went to his room. You settle down on the couch to wait for him, busying yourself with counting your knuckles.

Sock-padded footsteps cause your head to perk up in their direction. Jisung emerges from his room, closing the door behind him with his foot. His face lights up when he finds you on the couch.

“I wasn’t sure if you had brought any PJs or not, so, I grabbed some things you can wear,” He says, then seems to check himself and quickly adds, “If you want! You don’t, like, have to or anything, just thought I would offer.” In his arms he carries a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie.

You could kiss him right now.

“Oh my God, Jisung, are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course, it’s no problem at all.” He reassures you.

Jisung had offered the clothes purely out of wanting to make sure you’re comfortable. Sleeping in jeans is pretty awful and he didn’t see you bring a suitcase or anything. Maybe he also wanted to give you his clothes but that’s irrelevant.

He watches as you skip off to the bathroom to change with a newfound pep to your step. Jisung shakes his head, grinning despite himself. You’re just so damn cute.

This storm might just be the best thing that’s happened to Jisung in a while. Getting to spend time with you? And on Christmas Eve no less. If you’d have told him that yesterday, he wouldn't have believed it one bit. It’s like all his prayers have been answered.

He finds himself wondering, what were your plans before you called him for help? Are you upset that you’re here, at his place, instead of wherever you were heading to? Jisung hopes not. As much as he’s happy you’re here to keep him company, he can’t help but worry about how you’re feeling about the situation.

As if on cue, you appear once again at the entrance to the hallway. This time though, you’re all cozyed up in his clothes.

Jisung’s eyes widen as he takes in the sight of you. The sweats nearly swallow your feet whole, and his hoodie— which is oversized in the first place—fits almost comically large on your frame; hanging off of one shoulder.

It’s not the exposed shoulder that gets him necessarily, this isn’t the 19th century, it’s the fact that you’re in his clothes and in his house.

He swallows.

“You look- you, uh, yeah. You look good. Warm?”

Jisung’s reaction tells you all you need to know. You laugh in response.

“Mhm! Add this to the list of things I definitely owe you for,”

“Pshh, nah don’t even worry about it, i’m happy to help,” Jisung figures that if he doesn’t look at you too hard, he’ll be able to keep his brain from short-circuiting. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?” Sparing a careful glance back up at you, he pats the couch to back up his offer.

The couch dips as you plop down next to him, sporting that smile of yours that has him weak. You had looked so distraught just a couple of minutes ago, and just the simple act of him offering his clothes and a movie had brought your spirits right up. Cute.

Jisung rests his chin on his hand and listens as you lay out your christmas movie options, but he’s only half-paying attention. He knows that he’ll enjoy whatever movie you choose, as long as you’re there to watch it with him.

He also knows that he’s probably more than a little bit head over heels for you.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

The smell of freshly-microwaved popcorn fills the room as you and Jisung take your respective places on the couch, the silent agreement apparently being to keep at least a foot between your bodies at all times

You settle in and get comfortable while the opening credits roll across the screen. Jisung is tossing some popcorn in his mouth, having already eaten nearly half of his bag. You get the feeling that he’s going to be asking to steal some of your popcorn sooner or later.

Even with him being a foot away, you are hyper-aware of his presence. The movie is starting, but you know there’s no way you are going to able to maintain any sort of attention span with Jisung sitting right there.

Still facing towards the screen, you sneak a quick look at him from the corner of your eye, only to find his eyes already trained on you.

The unexpected eye contact makes your heart jump to your throat, and you quickly jerk your gaze back to the television.

Why was he looking at you? Is he still looking? You consider turning again to check, but then decide against it, preferring to live in ignorance for the time being. You’re not sure you can deal with knowing he’s looking at you right now.

Not even ten minutes into the movie, a particularly loud whistle of wind rushes past the windows. The lights flicker once. And then again.

Fuck.

You barely have time to turn and look at a now wide-eyed Jisung before both of you are plunged into absolute darkness.

A small yelp of terror escapes from Jisung, and you feel his weight shift on the couch.

Blinking rapidly as though that would make the lights magically turn back on, you find yourself scooting towards Jisung. A heartbeat of silence passes, with only the sound of your and Jisung’s soft breaths cutting through the darkness.

“The power’s out,” He observes helpfully, voice noticably higher than it’s normal tenor.

“No shit.” You pull out your phone to turn on the flashlight, illuminating your faces. Jisung squeezes his eyes shut at the sudden intrusion of light, peeking one eye open at you after a moment.

The light reveals that he is a lot closer than you had thought. Barely an inch of space was left between your legs, and you swear you can feel warmth radiating off of him. Huh. That little mole on his face is visible from here.

Jisung swallows hard (apparently a habit of his) and quickly combs a hand through his hair, pulling himself up from the couch.

“Hold on, I think I have a candle somewhere,” He still looks a bit frazzled, but heads towards the kitchen nonetheless.

You turn and cross your arms over the back of the couch, illuminating his path.

“You do, it’s on the counter,” You point at it, having noticed it earlier when you’d first arrived. “‘Spiced apple toddy’, huh?”

You grin at the offended look on Jisung’s face as he approaches, candle and lighter in hand.

“Hey! They’re seasonal,” he objects to your teasing, placing the candle on the coffee table.

T he lighter sparks into a flame as Jisung drops back down on the couch and lights the candle, bathing your surroundings in a soft, warm light.

Well. So much for the Christmas movie.

“That sucks, I really wanted to see what was going to happen to Frosty this year,” Jisung mirrors your thoughts with a sigh, crossing one ankle over his leg and shaking his head with a tsk.

You giggle, giving him a light shove on the shoulder. In the back of your mind, you feel like you should be upset about yet another thing going wrong tonight. But how could something be wrong, really, when Jisung is smiling like that. Smiling like that because of you. The thought ignites little butterflies in your stomach.

The power doesn't seem to have any plans to turn on again anytime soon, so you and Jisung break out a deck of cards. Turns out he’s a big trash talker when it comes to competition, which has you laughing your head off at the creative insults he throws at you. Seriously, how does he come up with these?

After losing your third game of speed, you realize that goosebumps have began to form all up and down your arms. Not wanting Jisung to notice, you try to smooth them down as nonchalantly as possible.

Of course, he immediately notices.

“Are you cold?” He furrows his eyebrows in concern, drawing his attention away from his hand of cards to you.

“Nope!” A shiver decides that it’s the right moment to shake your whole body. “Okay maybe a little,” you admit, “but I’m totally fine, it’s not bad at all.”

In all honesty, that was a complete lie. It’s cold as shit. You just hope your smile is enough to distract from your clenched teeth and slightly runny nose.

Jisung raises an eyebrow at you skeptically, obviously not buying it.

“So I guess if I got a blanket, you wouldn't want it, right?”

“Hey, thats not-” you start to protest to him poking fun at you, but your confidence shrivels when Jisung places his cards on the table, batting his eyes at you in mock attention.

It’s flustering, to say the least. He directly offered you the solution to your discomfort, and didn’t really leave you with the choice to say no. Which, you decide, is kinda hot. That seems to describe most of what Jisung does, though.

You drop your hands down on the table in defeat. “Fine. Can I please have a blanket?”

As a response to your request, Jisung simply hoists himself up once more, tapping you twice on the top of the head as he passes.

“Attagirl.”

The sideways grin he flashes you tells you that he knows exactly the effect that that little word had on your insides.

He’s going to be the death of you.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

You had just barely managed to compose yourself when Jisung returns with not one, not two, but an entire armful of blankets. In favor of just dropping them all on the couch, he decides to launch both himself and the blankets onto the couch simultaniously. His legs fly up behind him as he lands belly-down onto the pile of blankets, face buried in the soft fabric.

Whether he’s trying to draw out a laugh or not, you bark out a laugh that’s probably louder than the situation called for. You slap a hand over your mouth in embarrassment as he lifts himself up to sit on the empty cushion of the couch.

It’s intresting, the way he moves. Every motion so natural, every curve so perfect, it traps your attention to him like a moth to a flame. His muscles are lean, tensing when he pushes himself up. You follow the lightest trace of a vein trailing down from his bicep to his hand, absentmindedly wondering how his hand would feel in yours. Wondering if he would ever so lightly run his fingers over the back of your hand, your collarbone, your jaw…

“So do you want a blanket or what?” Jisung waves his hand, snapping you out of your head. You hope he hadn’t noticed the way you were essentially ogling him just now. He most likely had though, given how annoyingly observant he’s proven to be.

The corners of Jisung’s mouth quirk up, a witheld laugh brimming behind his eyes. Okay scratch that, he definitely noticed.

Too humiliated to say anything, you take a seat next to him and toss a blanket over your head. The outside noises dim significantly from under the shelter of the blanket. The blanket that— unfortunately for you and your creative imagination— smells quite strongly of Jisung. You find yourself having to refrain from burying your face in the cloth. Because that would be weird.

It’s warm at least. Staying here forever sounds like a good plan.

A wave of fresh, cool air washes over you as the edge of the blanket lifts up to reveal Jisung peeking in at you.

“May I join you?”

You nod, hoping the darkness will conceal your flushed face. Jisung scootches to sit next to you and flicks the blanket back over both of your forms. Darkness encases you once more, only this time you aren’t alone.

Jisung’s phone light shines out, lighting up your faces in such a way that makes you think he might break into some cheesy horror story; the kind that you were genuinely terrified of in second grade.

He’s close. Like, really close. You could count his eyelashes if you wanted.

His eyes crinkle slightly as he gives you a little close-mouthed smile. He looks so lovely right now, you can’t help but smile right back at him. Except your smile definitely isn't lovely since you’re cheesing so hard.

When he chuckles, a breath of warm air puffs over your face, making you warmer than you think you’ve ever been.

Despite being a good bodily temprature already, the urge to wrap your arms around Jisung and bask in his physical presence is getting stronger by the second.

“I’m still cold.” The words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them, such a blatant untruth that it makes your heart speed up.

Jisung’s head drops, shoulders bouncing slightly with silent laughter.

As if your ears couldn't get any hotter than they were already.

“Still cold, huh? You know what’s crazy?” He leans in just a touch further as if about to tell you some great secret, his voice quieting almost to a whisper. “Me too.”

Jisung arm wraps around your shoulders, and he turns you sideways, pulling you flush to him. How you seem to fit perfectly in the curve of his side, you’ll never know. Resting your head down on his shoulder and tentatively reaching a hand up to curl on his chest, you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. His heartbeat pounds in your ear, slower than your own jumping pulse, but much louder.

Wrapped in Jisung’s arms, you are definitely warmer than before. Which—since you really weren’t cold in the first place— has you sweating, the space under the blanket suddenly feeling small and suffocating.

You toss the top of the blanket off of your heads, inhaling the cold, crisp air now available to your lungs.

You’re not sure what comes over you. maybe it was the way that he tilts his head back to lean on the back of the couch, or maybe it was the little sigh he lets out, his breath just barely visible in the chilled air surrounding you. The hand that’s gently rubbing up and down your upper arm definitely isn't helping either.

You reach up and plant a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Jisung instantly tenses under you, every muscle tightening. You pull back to look at him, finding him frozen, staring straight ahead. a gorgeous pink tint graces his cheeks.

Always so confident until he’s the one being flirted with. Cute.

He’s silent and still for just a hint too long, and you start to get worried. Did you read the energy wrong? Was he just being nice?

You open your mouth to blurt out some sort of apology, but Jisung turns his head to look at you, eyes wide, searching your own. Your mouth snaps shut.

“Can you do that again?” His request is quiet and mumbled, nervousness evident in the way his knee starts to bounce up and down rapidly.

You reach up to grab his chin, his skin soft beneath your fingers. He’s real. He’s here and under your fingertips, gazing at you like you hung the moon.

You lean in, but pause to hover just millimeters away from his lips, your breaths mingling in the space between.

It’s not until Jisung makes a noise in his throat that is somewhere between a huff and a whine that you close the final distance between you two.

A white-hot flame ignites in your stomach when your mouths connect, only blazing brighter when Jisung runs his hand up the length of your back to rest it on the back of your head, holding you softly but firmly to him.

He wants you, everything about you. And you want him too, you always have.

When you part, you let out a breathless giggle. What just happened?

It seems as though Jisung is feeling the same way, a look of disbelief of his face as his eyes flick between your own.

“Thank you.” The two words that you’ve been skirting around all night finally slip past your lips.

“For what, the kiss? Anytime, babe.” He sends you an over-exaggerated wink, which of course doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but it is drowned out by the slightly more pressing fact that he just called you ‘babe’.

Not that you mind. At all, actually.

“First of all, I’m the one who gave you the kiss, thank you very much, and secondly I just- well, it just means, y’know, a lot to me that you picked me up… and stuff…” You wince as your confidence audibly dwindles, looking at the couch beside him, “So yeah, thank you. So much. I don’t know what I would have done without you tonight.”

“Hey, hey,” He brings your chin back up to look at him. “Seriously, it was no trouble at all. To be honest, I was so not looking forward to being alone on Christmas eve.” His gaze lightens, “So really, I should be thanking you because this is probably the best thing that could have happened to me.”

His genuine words paired with that soft look on his face make you realize that you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else or with anyone else tonight.

For the nth time tonight, you smile.