summary: you accidentally overhear steve calling you “clingy” to robin. instead of confronting him, you retreat into silence, letting your hurt fester. steve notices and becomes desperate to understand, but the more he reaches out, the wider the distance grows.
word count: 6.1k
a/n: after writing way too much steve fluff, it’s time for some angst with my fav trope: fmc overhears her spouse call her clingy… eventual happy ending <3
tags: takes place after s4 timeskip, so much angst, emotional hurt, crying, reader has scars from a demo attack, nancy and robin are so sweet here, distancing, reader has ptsd, emotional vulnerability, reader was eddie's bsf, mentions of violence, trauma, typical upside down gore, lack of communication, so much fluff at the end, happy ending.
You truly didn’t mean to eavesdrop.
If anything, it was an accident, a cruel, stupid accident orchestrated by the universe itself and whatever higher power up there that wanted to see you suffering.
You’d been at the Squawk with Steve and Robin, the three of you crammed into the booth like always. Robin, as usual, was rambling about something while Steve laughed and bumped his knee into yours under the table, grounding you without even trying.
By the time the clock crept past 8:30, the air outside was already dark and heavy, that familiar tightness had started curling in your chest; one that always showed up when it got late.
You’d told yourself you could handle it, that you were fine and you weren’t helpless, but you still asked Steve to accompany you home anyway, too afraid to go on your own.
“Can you come with me?” you’d asked casually, “or at least drive me home?”
Steve frowned, glancing at Robin. “Baby, you’ll be fine. You can go on your own. I’ll be back in like an hour, okay? ”
You nodded and kissed him goodbye, then you walked out to your car telling yourself you weren’t a scared little kid, and that nothing can harm you anymore.
Only to realize halfway down the lot that your coat was still inside.
So you turned around.
That was all; a forgotten coat, a stupid, normal thing, and you would have been in and out in seconds if not for your name cutting through the noise in the squawk as you heard Steve mention you to Robin.
You shouldn’t have listened, you knew that. You were raised better than to hover at doors and steal pieces of conversations that weren’t yours to hear, but your body didn’t listen to reason anymore.
Your feet stayed planted, your lungs forgot how to work as panic washed over you so fast and so violently that for a second you weren’t in Hawkins at all.
You were back in the Upside Down.
Back in that choking red sky, where the air is thick and cold. You could feel all over again the vines slick and alive under your hands as you ran, heart tearing itself apart inside your chest.
You could still feel the demobats, the weight of them, the wet snap of their wings, the sound of flesh ripping, the blood, so much blood, everywhere you looked there was bloodbloodbloodbloodblood—
—the combined screams of yours and Eddie’s. You remembered the way his body had gone still, the way Steve had dragged your bloodied body away as your entire abdomen was ripped apart, shaking so badly you couldn’t even scream.
You remember the way you’d thought you were going to die there with your throat ripped open and your bones scattered across that fucked-up place.
You hadn’t felt safe since.
Four months, five months? however long it had been, it didn’t matter. Fear had latched onto you like a parasite and refused to let go.
Everything startled you now, doors, clocks, cold air on your neck, cars backfiring, footsteps too close behind you. The world felt like a nightmare, and the night was only much worse.
Steve was the only place that didn’t feel like that.
Steve made it quiet. Steve made it stop.
You hadn’t even realized you’d started clinging until it was already done, until your body had decided he was shelter, that he was protection, that if he was near then nothing could touch you.
And now you were standing outside a door, listening to him talk about you.
“I don’t know, Robin,” he says again, voice rough and worn down, like he’s been chewing on the same thought for weeks and it’s finally gone bloody. “She’s just… different. Ever since.”
Robin leans back against the counter, arms crossed, watching him carefully. “Yeah,” she says, slow and measured. “No shit. She went to literal hell, Steve.”
“I know that,” he snaps too fast, immediately regretting the edge in his voice. He exhales, drags a hand down his face. “I know. I do. That’s the problem. I know, and I still feel like shit about how I feel.”
She waits. Robin’s good at that. At letting him talk himself into the truth.
“It’s like,” he starts again, quieter but faster, words tumbling over each other now, “she’s everywhere. All the time. Wherever I go, she’s already there or tryin’ to be. If I grab my keys, suddenly she needs to leave too. If I’m sittin’ down, she’s sittin’ down. If I say I’m tired, she’s tired. It’s like she can’t exist unless I’m right next to her.”
Your stomach drops where you stand, frozen just outside the door, fingers clenched tight around the strap of your bag.
“I’m serious,” Steve keeps going, oblivious, frustration bleeding through every word. “If I’m goin’ to see Dustin, she’s got a reason to come. If I’m headin’ to the Squawk, somehow we’re paired up for drills again. She doesn’t do anything alone, Robin. Never. She’s just… latched onto me.”
He laughs humorless. “And I sound like a dick sayin’ it, I know I do, but it’s fuckin’ suffocating.”
Suffocating. Like he’s drowning because of you.
Robin doesn’t answer right away. When she finally speaks, her voice is softer, more careful. “Steve. That’s not weird, matter of fact it's a normal response given what she's been through. That’s her brain trying to keep her alive.”
“I know,” he says, rubbing at his neck like it physically hurts to admit it. “I know she’s not doing it on purpose.”
“She nearly died,” Robin presses. “She watched Eddie die right in front of her. She got dragged into the Upside Down and came back with scars all over her body. She wakes up screaming, Steve. You’re the only thing that makes her feel safe.”
“I didn’t say she was the bad guy,” he snaps, voice cracking despite himself. “I’m just sayin’ I’m overwhelmed. She’s so clingy, Robin. You saw her tonight. She didn’t wanna leave without me. I had to practically beg her to go first.”
Your vision blurs. You press a hand to your mouth, swallowing hard.
“It’s like I gotta make up excuses just to be alone,” he admits, quieter now, stripped bare. “I need space. I need to breathe. And I can’t say that without soundin’ like a heartless asshole because yeah, she’s traumatized, and then suddenly I’m the villain for wantin’ five goddamn minutes to myself.”
Robin scoffs, pushing off the counter. “Steve, you idiot. You said it yourself. Your girlfriend is traumatized.”
“Yeah,” he shoots back, voice rising, “but how the hell do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off without destroyin’ her. How do I say ‘hey, I love you, but you’re smotherin’ me,’ and not absolutely fuck her up more than she already is.”
“You don’t call her clingy,” Robin says immediately. “For starters. That word is banned and most girls, including Vickie, hate it.”
Steve lets out a short, bitter laugh. “Well, she is.”
Robin gasps dramatically, clutching her chest. “Oh nooo,” she mocks, voice high and obnoxious. “I’m Steve Harrington and my girlfriend loves me so much. Oh noooo, she feels safe with me. My life is helllll.”
“Shut up,” Steve mutters, shoving her shoulder.
“Oww, you asshole!” Robin shoots back, swatting him in return, then sobers as she gets all serious again. “You’re not wrong for being tired. You are wrong for talking about her like she’s a burden.”
Steve goes still. “I don’t think she’s a burden,” he says quietly, and this time it sounds like the truth. “I just… I don’t wanna be the only thing keepin’ her together. What happens if I fuck up? What happens if I leave?”
Robin sighs. “Then you talk to her. You communicate, dingus.”
You step back before they can see you, heart pounding, every word replaying in your head on a brutal loop. Suffocating. Clingy. Everywhere.
You don’t grab your coat when you leave.
You don’t even realize you’re driving until you’re already halfway home, knuckles white on the steering wheel as every memory crashes into you at once. Begging him to stay while you showered because you were convinced something would crawl out of the drain. Nights you woke up screaming, clinging to his shirt like it was the only safe place left in the world. Training days for the crawl where you stuck close, too afraid to be alone, grateful when you were paired with him again.
You could see it all, every single little thing you had leaned on him for, flashing through your mind like some god-awful horror slideshow.
Steve’s words had been like a bucket of ice water dumped on you, shocking you into clarity whether you wanted it or not.
Maybe you had been too sensitive. Maybe you had been unbearable. Maybe you had been so clingy that it wasn’t fair for him, and maybe you needed to let go, at least a little.
It wasn’t as if you had been the only one stuck in the Upside Down. Will had survived a week in that hell, seen things that should have ripped him apart, and yet he had come back and carried himself with a strength you couldn’t even muster.
Dustin had lost Eddie too, but he hadn’t latched onto anyone, hadn’t made himself a burden. Eleven had been tortured, exploited, experimented on, broken in ways that should have left her crushed, and yet she still managed to find herself amidst everything, to stand and breathe and continue on.
And here you were, the only one who seemed incapable of moving past it, of finding even a fragment of independence, still tethered to Steve as if without him you would fall apart.
Somehow, without realizing it, you had arrived at your shared home with Steve, parked your car in the driveway, and walked inside on autopilot, your body carrying you through familiar motions while your mind carried the full weight of guilt, shame, and heartbreak.
You stripped off your clothes in the bathroom, letting the water hit your skin in a rhythm you used to find comfort in, and prepared some dinner. You heated up leftovers, the smell of food filling the kitchen like it always had, but this time there was no laughter, no shared commentary on who had eaten what, no teasing Steve about his obsession with ketchup.
By the time Steve arrived, the house was quiet. You were already in bed, tucked under the covers, something you hadn’t done alone in months because for months you hadn’t slept unless his arms were wrapped around you.
But tonight, the house felt empty, and he found himself standing in the kitchen, fork in hand, staring at the warm meal you had prepared for him, and realizing that for the first time in an eternity, you weren’t waiting for him.
The next morning only deepened the silence. Steve woke to an empty bed, the sunlight spilling across rumpled sheets that smelled faintly of your perfume, and felt a prickling, cold panic he couldn’t name at first.
You were already dressed, shoes on, ready to leave.
“Where are you heading?” he asked, voice rough.
“Going to get some stuff from the store,” you replied dryly.
“Want me to come with you, sweetheart?” His words carried that familiar gentleness, but you couldn’t look past it without feeling like a burden.
“No,” you said simply.
It was such a small, simple word. It shouldn’t feel like this. Except it made Steve sit in bed alone, blood running cold, realizing far too late that you were beginning to avoid him.
You leave early and don’t come back until the sky is already dimming, the house dark except for the kitchen light that Steve has turned on and off three times now like it might summon you home faster.
By the time you unlock the front door, he has been pacing a groove into the living room carpet, heart in his throat, mind running through every worst case scenario he promised himself he wouldn’t think about anymore. The second the lock clicks and the door opens, he’s there, crowding your space before you can even hang up your coat.
“Where the hell were you?!” he blurts, voice tight and frantic, eyes scanning you like he’s checking for blood. “You’ve been outta the house for nearly six hours. Six. I was losin’ my goddamn mind. I thought somethin’ happened to you.”
You sigh, slow and tired, and for a split second when you really look at him, at the pure unfiltered worry etched into his face, you almost break.
Almost step into his arms, almost let yourself melt into him and admit how badly you missed him, how those six hours felt like six days without his voice or his hands or the steady reassurance of his presence.
If six hours did this to him, then the space you were forcing had been tearing you apart twice as badly.
But then your brain betrays you, replays his words in his voice, clingy, suffocating, always there, and you harden.
“I was out, Steve,” you say quietly.
“Yeah, no shit,” he fires back, following you as you walk toward the kitchen. “Out where?”
You open the fridge, more for something to do than because you’re hungry, and shrug. “With Nancy. We hung out and I accidentally lost track of time.”
The tension drains out of him immediately, shoulders sagging in relief. “Jesus,” he breathes. “Why didn’t you tell me, huh? I was freakin’ out. Is everything okay? Did somethin’ happen?”
You shake your head. “No, nothing happened, don’t worry.”
He nods quickly, like he’s trying not to push. “Okay. Okay. I won’t pry.” He hesitates, then softens. “Hey, I was thinkin’ dinner. You want lasagna or pizza?”
“I’m not hungry,” you say, already turning away. “I’m gonna go sleep, okay.”
He frowns. “But I thought we could just hang out a little, I mean we barely saw each other toda—”
“Maybe another time, alright? Goodnight, Steve.”
He exhales, defeated. “Goodnight,” he says softly. “I love you.”
You pause just long enough to whisper it back before disappearing down the hall. “I love you too,”
The days after are worse.
Steve wakes up and barely gets a word in before you’re already pulling on shoes, mumbling something about a jog. If he waits, you need a shower. If he waits longer, you’re late to see your nana.
If he suggests the Squawk, you’re already going with Nancy. It’s like every time he reaches out, you slip through his fingers a little more, like trying to grasp smoke.
Not long ago, you haunted him with your presence. You were everywhere, constant, inescapable, but now you ghost him with your absence. He doesn’t know where you go or what you do, only that the house feels emptier even when you’re technically still there.
That’s how he ends up sitting on the edge of the bed tonight, waiting for the bathroom door to open, heart pounding like he’s bracing for bad news. When you finally step out, hair damp, towel slung over your shoulder, he looks up like he’s been holding his breath.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he says gently, like he’s testing the word to see if it still belongs to him.
You glance at him in the mirror and give him a small, careful smile. “Hi, Steve.”
He lingers there for a second, then steps closer, hands hovering before he settles them lightly at your waist, afraid you might flinch. He leans down and presses a kiss to your collarbone.
“I missed you,” he murmurs. “You’ve been out all day. Didn’t even see you at the Squawk.”
Your body betrays you before your mouth does, a shiver running through you at the sound of his voice, the warmth of him behind you. For a heartbeat you let yourself feel it, the pull, the ache. Then you pull away, just enough to break the contact, reaching for your hairbrush like it’s a shield.
“Yeah,” you say lightly. “Nancy asked me to go shopping with her again.”
“Oh.” He straightens, nodding, trying to keep his tone easy. “Was it fun? I figured you’d come back with, like, ten bags or somethin’.”
You shrug, brushing through damp hair. “Didn’t need anything.”
He watches you in the mirror, the way you won’t quite look at him, the way your answers land flat and stop short. He clears his throat as heshifts his weight.
He hesitates, then clears his throat, trying again, voice low and careful. “Uh. We trained today. Me, Hopper, and El. She shaved her time down again.”
You pause only briefly, tugging at your hair with the brush.
“Thirty-three seconds,” he continues, a little brighter despite himself. “Last week it was thirty-six. She’s pissed about it too, which I guess is good. Means she knows she can do better.”
“That’s good,” you say quietly.
He nods, even though you’re not looking at him. “Yeah. She’s gettin’ scary strong again. In a good way.”
“Mhm.”
Steve frowns. He leans back on his hands, searching your face even though you’re facing away now. “We could all hang out this weekend. Just us, or maybe the kids too. Whatever you want. Thought it might be nice.”
“I’m actually quite tired,” you say quietly.
“Okay,” he says quickly. “Yeah. That’s fine. We don’t have to do anything big.” He pauses, then softly asks. “Hey. Are you okay? Like, really okay?”
You swallow. “I’m fine, Steve.”
There’s a beat of silence where he clearly wants to say more as his mouth opens and closes like he’s rearranging words that never come out right.
He tries again, desperate now. “Did I do somethin’? Because if I did, I swear I’m not tryin’ to mess this up. I just need you to talk to me, okay.”
Your chest tightens. You squeeze your eyes shut.
“Steve,” you say softly, cutting him off before he can dig himself deeper, “can you turn off the light, please?”
He gets the hint; you don’t want to talk.
He freezes for a second, then nods once. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”
He stands, reaches for the lamp, and the room falls into darkness. He lingers there for a moment longer, like he’s hoping you’ll turn back around, say his name, give him something to hold onto.
You don’t.
“Night,” he says quietly.
“Night,” you reply, barely audible.
He lies down beside you, careful not to touch, staring up at the ceiling with the awful, sinking realization that this is what losing you looks like..
As the days passed, then quietly turned into weeks, you built a new routine that did not include Steve in it at all. It happened slowly enough that it almost felt reasonable at first.
You learned how to time your mornings so you were out the door before he woke up, learned how to come home late enough that conversation felt unnecessary, learned how to smile just enough to keep him from asking questions that you did not have the strength to answer.
Avoiding him became second nature. Lying became easy.
You spent most of your days outside, anywhere that was not the house and not around him. Sometimes you sat beside your nana’s hospital bed for hours, holding her hand and watching the rise and fall of her chest just to remind yourself that people stayed alive even when everything went wrong.
Other days you walked until your legs ached, wandering neighborhoods you barely recognized, letting exhaustion drown out thought. Occasionally you called a friend, anyone who would answer, and let the hours blur together in cafes and parking lots and friendly conversations that never went anywhere deep enough to hurt.
It got to the point where you could not remember the last time you had kissed him without forcing yourself to think about it, and when you did, the number made your stomach twist. Four days. Four whole days since his mouth had been on yours, since his hands had found your waist without asking, since you had slept tangled together instead of inches apart.
There was a time when five minutes apart felt unbearable, when you haunted each other in hallways and kitchens and doorways, hands always reaching, always searching.
You grew used to the distance.
Steve though, did not.
His patience thinned in ways that showed. It did not help that things with Dustin were already strained. Steve started snapping again and retreating into old habits he thought he had outgrown.
He tried to pull himself back every time he felt it happening, tried to reach for you like he always had.
And every time he did, you stepped further away.
That was how he found himself one late afternoon sitting on the couch, elbows braced on his knees, staring at the front door.
You had been gone all day again, supposedly with Nancy, doing whatever it was you told him you were doing now.
Steve knew you were close to her, knew you trusted her, but not to the point where you would spend hours every other day together. Still, he told himself not to judge. Girls were odd in their friendships, and he did not want to be the guy who questioned everything.
But his mind would not shut up.
Every instinct in him was screaming that something was wrong, that he needed to do something instead of sitting there waiting. He was snapped out of his thoughts when the doorbell rang.
Steve was on his feet instantly, relief and fear colliding in his chest as he rushed to the door. He yanked it open, already ready to say your name.
Instead, Nancy Wheeler stood there.
For a split second, his brain refused to process it. Then panic slammed into him so hard it stole the air from his lungs. If you were supposed to be with Nancy, then why is she standing here alone?
“Where is she?” he blurted out, voice sharp and scared. “Is she okay? What happened?”
Nancy blinked in shock at his reaction, taking in the way his shoulders were tight, the way his hands were already shaking like he’d been holding himself together by sheer force of will. “Whoa, Steve, hey,” she said quickly. “Slow down. What’s going on?”
“What,” he shot back, breath uneven, eyes already scanning the driveway behind her like you might suddenly appear. “Where’s she? Why are you here without her, Nancy?”
Nancy frowned. “Without who?”
“Y/N,” he snapped, panic bleeding into anger because fear always did that to him. “I’m talking about Y/N.”
Her expression shifted immediately. “Yeah,” she said slowly, “that’s actually why I’m here. I haven’t heard from her in weeks. I just wanted to check in.”
The words hit him like a punch straight to the chest.
“What do you mean you haven’t heard from her?” he said, quieter now, like saying it louder might make it real. “You were literally together today?”
Nancy let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Steve, no. I’ve been with Jonathan all day. He’s waiting in the car right now. I just stopped by because I was worried about her.”
The color drained from his face so fast it scared her.
“Steve,” she said carefully, stepping closer, “you’re freaking me out. What’s going on?”
He swallowed hard, throat tight like it was closing in on itself. “She’s been telling me she’s with you,” he said. “Every time she’s gone. She says she’s with you.”
Nancy stared at him. “Why would she lie about that?”
“I don’t know,” he said, voice cracking despite how hard he tried to keep it together. “That’s the thing, Nance, I don’t know. One day she was everywhere. Everywhere. I couldn’t turn around without her being there, couldn’t breathe without feelin’ her next to me, and then suddenly it’s like she vanished. We didn’t fight. I–i didn't do anything. At least not that I remember.”
Nancy sighed, rubbing her forehead, her tone firm but not unkind. “Steve. You don’t just wake up one day like that. Something must've happened.”
“No, no, no” he said immediately, shaking his head. “No, I would know. I would remember if I fucked up that bad.”
“And you didn’t think to ask her?” Nancy pressed.
“I did,” he snapped. “I tried. Every time I tried she’d shut it down, say she was tired or busy or fine. What the hell was I supposed to do, corner her?”
“She was clingy, okay. I’ll say it. I couldn’t go anywhere without her, couldn’t get a second alone, and then suddenly it’s like she was gone.”
Nancy’s head snapped up. “Don’t,” she said sharply.
“What?” he shot back.
“You do not call her clingy, Steve!” Nancy said, anger flaring now. “You don’t get to use that word with Y/N out of all people!”
He bristled. “Oh come on, Nancy. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yeah, you did,” she said. “And even if you didn’t, it doesn’t matter. In case you’ve forgotten, Harrington, we’re all wrapped up in this upside down bullshit because we have to be. I do it because of Mike and Barb. You do it because of Dustin. Guess what? She doesn’t have to be involved in it!”
Steve opened his mouth, then stopped.
“That girl is fucking traumatized, and she went through that shit because you dragged her into it!” Nancy continued, voice steady but fierce.
“She nearly died. She was attacked by monsters that shouldn’t exist. She watched Eddie die just like the rest of us, and she doesn’t get to talk about it with anyone outside this circle. She can’t go to her friends or her family and say, ‘hey, I got slimed by an interdimensional monster and almost got ripped apart.’ The only person she feels safe enough to lean on is you!”
His jaw tightened, guilt creeping in through the cracks.
“So yeah,” Nancy went on, “maybe she leaned too hard or she didn’t know how to be alone after that. But that doesn’t make her clingy, Steve. That makes her scared.”
He dragged a hand down his face. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
“I know,” Nancy said. “But intent doesn’t erase impact. Something you said or did made her feel like she was too much, like she was a burden, and instead of yelling or crying she did the only thing she could think to do. She disappeared.”
Steve let out a shaky breath. “She’s been lying to me, Nancy.”
“She’s protecting herself,” Nancy said. “You need to see things in her light”
Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.
“So what,” he said finally, voice raw. “What if she’s just… done? What if she realized she doesn’t need me?”
Nancy softened then, stepping closer. “Steve. She needs you. She just doesn’t think she’s allowed to anymore. And that’s on you to fix.”
He looked at her, eyes glassy. “How?”
“You talk to her,” Nancy said simply. “Really talk. Don't accuse her or get defensive. Listen to her.”
She glanced back toward the driveway. “I’ll stop by tomorrow and check on her too, okay? But you can’t let this sit. Whatever’s going on, it’s clearly eating both of you alive.”
Steve nodded faintly, chest aching. “Yeah.”
Nancy opened the door, then paused. “And Steve.”
“Yeah?”
“Snap out of it,” she said firmly. “Before you lose her for real.”
With that, she left, heading back toward Jonathan’s car, while Steve stood alone in the doorway.
Ironically, barely ten minutes after Nancy and Jonathan pulled out of the driveway, you came home.
The house was dark. Too dark.
Your stomach dropped immediately, panic flaring hot and fast as you stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind you. No lights. No TV. No noise.
For a split second, every worst-case scenario you’d trained yourself not to think about came crashing in all at once.
“Steve?” you called out, voice tight.
Footsteps shuffled, and then he appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, lit only by the faint glow from the stove light.
“Hey,” he said, like nothing in the world was wrong.
You froze for half a beat. “Oh. Hi.”
There was something awkward in the air instantly, like you’d both stepped into the same room carrying entirely different weights. He leaned against the counter, trying to look casual.
“How was your day?” he asked.
You shrugged, slipping your shoes off. “It was… alright.”
His eyes drifted to the bag clutched in your hand, the crinkled plastic catching his attention. “What’s that?”
“Oh,” you said quickly, glancing down at it. “I stopped by the pharmacy to get the cream. For, uh… you know. The scarring.”
He nodded, softer now. “That’s good.”
Neither of you said anything else as you walked down the hall together. The bedroom felt smaller than usual as Steve sat on the edge of the bed while you set the bag down.
“Um,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you want me to help you apply it?”
You hesitated for a second. Then you nodded and handed him the bag.
He unsealed the ointment while you slipped your shirt off and sat cross-legged on the floor, your back to him. You were suddenly acutely aware of every scar—deep, jagged reminders carved across your back and abdomen from the demogorgon attack. Old wounds, but never really gone.
Steve didn’t react the way you always feared people might. He never did.
His hands were warm as he scooped some of the cream, spreading it carefully across your skin gently. He worked it into your shoulders, thumbs pressing lightly as he massaged your shoulders.
You let yourself breathe.
He kept going until he was done, smoothing the last of it in with quiet focus. As you started to shift, ready to stand and pull your shirt back on, you felt it—
Two soft kisses. One pressed over each long scar crossing your back.
Your heart kicked hard against your ribs.
You stood quickly, sliding your shirt back on, suddenly unsure what to do with all the space between you. You were halfway to the door when his voice stopped you.
“Uhm, Y/n.”
You turned. “Yeah?”
He reached out, fingers wrapping gently around your hand, and tugged you a step closer. “Can we talk?”
He keeps hold of your hand when you hesitate.
“Talk about what?” you ask quietly.
Steve doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat of him, the familiar gravity that’s always pulled you in whether you wanted it to or not. His hand tightens around yours like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he loosens his grip.
“I know I’ve been shitty,” he says again, like repeating it might finally make it land where it needs to. His voice is low and rough, scraped raw by guilt. “I know I’ve been so far away from you. I know you felt it. I saw it, even when I pretended I didn’t.” He swallows hard.
“And I know you’re going through things—things I can’t even fully understand—and I hate that instead of being the person you could come to, the person who made it easier, I—”
He cuts himself off with a sharp breath, hand lifting to his face like he can physically stop the words from spilling.
Your chest tightens so painfully it almost steals your breath.
“I panicked,” he rushes on, panic bleeding straight through his words now. “I didn’t know how to handle it. Knowing someone was dependent on me, really dependent on me, not just for rides or babysitting or stupid shit like that, but emotionally.” His voice wavers. “I thought I was gonna screw it up. Thought I already was screwing it up. And instead of dealing with that like an adult, I freaked out.”
He laughs once, sharp and broken. “God, I thought I needed space. I thought if I pulled back, things would calm down, that we’d both breathe easier. But fuck—” His voice cracks hard on the word. “This is so much worse. You being gone is so much worse than you being everywhere. I’d give anything to have you hovering around me again, asking if I’m okay, touching my arm, sittin’ too close on the couch.”
He steps closer, hands shaking as they come up to your sides, not quite touching like he’s scared you’ll flinch away.
“Please,” he whispers, forehead nearly brushing yours now, eyes glossy and wrecked. “Please, sweetheart. Don’t stop being dependent on me. Don’t stop needing me. Don’t stop loving me.”
Your breath stutters, a broken sound caught somewhere between your chest and your throat.
“I need you to need me,” he says, the words spilling faster, desperate and unfiltered. “I didn’t realize it until you pulled away, but I do. I need it. I need you. Because I can’t do this anymore. I can’t wake up every day wondering if you’re okay and knowing it’s my fault you don’t tell me.” His voice drops to a whisper.
“I can’t do this without you.”
That’s when you break.
The sob tears out of you violently, ripping through your chest like something finally gave way. Your knees nearly buckle as you fold into him, crying so hard your body shakes, hiccups jerking through each breath.
Steve reacts instantly, arms wrapping around you tight, crushing you to his chest like if he lets go you’ll disappear for real this time.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into your hair, voice breaking completely now. “I’m so sorry. Fuck—fuck, baby, don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”
His hand moves up and down your back in slow, steady motions, grounding and familiar, his chin pressing into your hair. You cry into his shirt until it’s damp, until your throat burns and your lungs ache and you feel wrung out and hollow.
Eventually, trembling, you pull back just enough to look at him.
“I heard you, Steve,” you say, the words tripping over themselves.
He freezes. “You… heard what?”
Your hands curl into fists at your sides, nails biting into your palms like you deserve the sting. “A few weeks ago. At the station. I left early and forgot my coat.” Your voice wobbles badly now. “I came back, and I heard you.”
The color drains from his face so fast it scares you.
“You were talking to Robin,” you continue, tears spilling again. “You said I was clingy. You said I was suffocating you.”
“Oh—no,” he breathes, panic exploding across his features. “No, no, no, baby, please—”
“I didn’t mean to be,” you sob. “I swear I didn’t. I wasn’t trying to trap you or make you feel stuck. I just—” Your breath breaks, the words barely making it out. “I only felt safe with you. And everyone else was doing okay. Everyone. And I wasn’t. I was falling apart and I didn’t know how to be alone with that.”
You swallow hard, voice dropping to something small and raw. “And somewhere along the way, it started to feel like you weren’t loving me anymore.”
Your eyes lift to his, shining. “It felt like you were just… tolerating it. Tolerating me.”
Steve’s hands come up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing your tears away like each one physically hurts him.
“Baby,” he says fiercely, voice shaking as his arms tighten around you. “You can cling to me as tight as you want and as long as you want. I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to pull away to protect me.”
His voice drops, thick and aching, the words pressed straight into your hair. “I love you so much it hurts. I love you so much it scares me, and instead of owning that, I ran my mouth and said somethin’ stupid and careless. And I hate that it hurt you. I hate that I made you feel like you were too much when all you ever were was… you.”
He presses his forehead to yours, breath shaky. “You were never suffocating me. I was just scared of how much I needed you back.”
You search his face, eyes swollen, chest still hitching with quiet aftershocks of sobs. He looks wrecked and earnest and painfully open, like every wall he’s ever built has finally come down.
“It’s okay, Steve,” you whisper, even though the words wobble on the way out, even though they don’t quite feel solid yet.
He shakes his head immediately, curls bouncing with the movement. “It’s not. It’s really not.” His hands slide up your back, holding you close. “But we’re gonna fix it, okay? I will fix it. I promise. I don’t care how long it takes.”
His forehead presses against yours again, like he’s grounding himself. “Just… don’t pull away from me ever again.”
You nod, slow but sure, arms wrapping around him fully now as you bury your face into his chest. He holds you like he means it this time, rocking you gently, big hands warm and steady like they’re reminding you that he’s real, that he’s here.
You breathe him in.
And then—
Grrrgrgrgrgrgr.
You freeze for half a second.
Then you pull back just enough to look up at him, eyes still wet, face scrunched, and you burst out laughing—broken, hiccupy laughter that comes out of you mid-cry.
“Are you—” you sniff, laughing harder, “—are you hungry?”
Steve’s face goes bright red.
“I—” he stammers, mortified. “I was gonna wait for you to come back, okay? I didn’t wanna eat without you.”
That just makes you laugh more. You press your face back into his chest, shoulders shaking, and he lets out a breathy laugh too, embarrassed but relieved, his arms tightening around you again.
“God,” he mutters. “Timing, huh.”
You tilt your head up and kiss him. He kisses you back immediately, like he’s been starving for it just as much as food. When you pull away, barely an inch, he leans in again and kisses you harder this time and deeper, pouring everything unsaid into it.
He breaks the kiss with a breathless laugh, forehead resting against yours. “Missed kissing you.”
You smile. “Me too.”
He exhales, then straightens suddenly like he’s had an epiphany. “You know what?”
“What?” you ask.
“I am starving,” he says, dead serious. “And I’m pretty sure you are too.”
You blink. “Steve—”
“Come on,” he says, already grabbing your hand and tugging you gently toward the door. “Grab a coat.”
“Wait,” you laugh, stumbling after him. “Where are we even going?”
He grins over his shoulder, that familiar boyish smile you fell in love with. “Enzo’s.”
Your eyes widen. “What? No, Steve, that place is expensive. And you need a reservation and— I can just heat something up, it’s fine—”
“Nope,” he cuts in immediately. “Absolutely not.”
“Steve—”
“I gotta spend the next year or so making it up to you,” he says, squeezing your hand. “Minimum.”
You gape at him. “But—”
“Too late,” he says cheerfully, already opening the door.
You stumble as he leads you out to the car, the night air cool against your skin. He opens your door for you like always, and excitedly smiles at you. As the engine starts and the house disappears in the rearview mirror, you lean back in your seat, heart full and sore and warm all at once.
Deep down, you know it again: Steve will stay by your side. He’ll wait while you heal. He’ll hold you steady until you’re strong enough to take steps on your own.
And Steve knows, wholeheartedly, that he’ll be the one clinging to you just as tightly. Because you’re the only one he’s ever loved enough to spill his heart to.
And, apparently, spend three hundred and ninety dollars on at some fancy restaurant without even blinking.
hey everyone!! since a bunch of you have been following the updates and sending sweet messages, i figured it was finally time to open an official taglist for if ice could burn. if you want to be tagged in future updates, sneak peeks, or any bonus drabbles i drop, just:
📝 like + reblog this post
or
💬 comment “❄️” and i’ll add you!
feel free to share if you think someone would want in. thank you for all the love!! i also post on ao3 as well!
p.s there might be a little artwork coming out in the near future :)
summary: Jack and Kristoff take a special trip, in search of finding Elsa help.
w/c: 5.1k
tags: crossover, angst, slow burn, romance, post frozen 1, pre frozen 2, , political intrigue, mysterious powers, dream sequences, canon-typical violence, supernatural mystery, mentions of blood, romantic tension, almost-kiss, tags will be updated as series goes on!
taglist (open !!) :: @casadelcisne , @laufxye
a/n : just realized i wrote chapter 7 over a month ago and forgot to upload it here?? check out my ao3 @/insomdia !! im much more consistent on there, apologies!!!
The moment Jack stepped outside, the cold hit him like a living thing, sharp and restless. The wind scraped along the rooftops of Arendelle as if trying to whisper warnings in his ear. Behind him, the door to Anna’s room shut softly, leaving Elsa safe inside… for now.
Kristoff tightened Sven’s harness, jaw set with determination that didn’t quite mask his nerves. “All right,” he muttered, tugging one last strap. “Sled’s ready. I still can’t believe we’re doing this.”
Jack held his staff loosely, its tip glowing with a faint, pulsing frostlight. “Trust me,” he said, forcing a half-grin he didn’t feel, “this is the least unbelievable thing you’re gonna see today.”
Kristoff shot him a look. “That was supposed to be comforting?”
“Nope,” Jack said, swinging onto the sled. “Just being honest.”
The air sharpened further, a strange shimmer spreading across the snowy ground beneath Sven’s hooves. It started as delicate frost patterns, like snowflakes stretched long and thin, then grew, spiraling outward in glowing, icy lines. They pulsed like veins of light, forming a twisting path that snaked out of town and into the horizon.
Kristoff’s eyes widened. “Uh… Jack? What is that?”
Jack exhaled, watching the path awaken. “A road,” he said softly, almost reverently. “Only winter spirits can open it. It leads straight north, straight to him.”
Kristoff slowly climbed onto the sled beside him. “To Santa Claus.”
Jack nodded. “North. The Workshop. The Guardians. They can help fight Pitch… and maybe help me figure out why he’s after Elsa.”
Sven pawed at the ice, snorting as the glowing path hummed beneath them. Jack placed a steady hand on Kristoff’s shoulder.
“This sled is your part,” he said. “I can’t fly there, not through the border storms. But we can ride your sled there. With my magic, we can get there safely, so we don’t end up scattered across a blizzard.”
Kristoff blinked. “Scattered?”
Jack winced. “Bad word choice. Mostly we’ll be fine.”
“Mostly?”
Jack flashed him a quick grin. “Ready?”
Kristoff didn’t look ready at all. But he grabbed the reins anyway. “Let’s go save Elsa.”
Jack’s smile faded into something more serious, more focused. He lifted his staff; light surged down the ground, brightening until it looked like a river of shooting stars.
“Hang on,” he murmured.
Sven bolted forward.
And the world dropped away into wind, ice, and blinding light as Arendelle vanished behind them.
The sled sped forward in a blur, the frost unfurling beneath them like a living ribbon of pale blue light. Wind whipped past their faces, cold enough to numb skin.
Sven snorted as if agreeing, hooves clattering along the glowing path with impossible ease. Trees, rocks, and distant hills raced past, the landscape smearing into watery streaks of white and silver.
But the sky ahead… darkened.
Not night-dark. Something heavier.
Kristoff noticed it too. “That cloudbank…it looks weird.”
Jack’s expression tightened. “Pitch has a wide reach. He’s trying to slow us down.”
As if on cue, the path flickered, just a shiver under their feet, but enough to make Sven stumble and Kristoff curse under his breath.
Jack immediately struck the ice with his staff. It brightened again, steadying. “Sorry! It’s usually more stable when I’m traveling alone.”
Kristoff shot him a tense look. “So, for the record, if this thing disappears while we’re on it—”
“It won’t,” Jack said quickly.
A beat.
“It shouldn’t.”
Kristoff groaned. “Comforting.”
A pulse of cold air hit them, unnatural, sharp, humming with something dark. Jack braced himself, gripping the sled.
“We’re close,” he said.
“How close?” Kristoff asked.
Jack nodded toward the horizon.
There, rising from the earth like some ancient pillar, shimmered a column of northern lights, greens and blues twisting upward in a slow spiral. The colors reflected across the path, painting Jack’s face in shifting hues.
Kristoff’s eyes widened. “That’s… beautiful.”
Jack’s voice softened. “The North Pole… I can’t believe it.” He said in awe. “I’ve never actually been here. Been on my own for most of my life… or at least what I remember about it.”
The path narrowed, funneling them toward the luminous tower. The air vibrated like a held breath.
Kristoff swallowed. “So… we just ride into that?”
Jack nodded. “Lean back when we hit the light. It feels… weird.”
“Weird how?”
Jack only gave a faint, apologetic smile.
Sven leapt forward, hooves striking the threshold of the light—
—and everything dissolved.
Colors swallowed them whole. Sound warped into soft chimes. The sled seemed to float, then twist, then settle gently onto solid ground.
Cold air, clean and sharp, filled their lungs.
Kristoff blinked rapidly, adjusting to the new brightness.
They were standing in a vast, snow-covered courtyard of carved ice and stone. Towers rose like frozen cathedrals. The aurora danced endlessly overhead.
Jack stepped off the sled. “We made it.”
Kristoff followed, brushing frost off his jacket. “Elsa would lose her mind if she saw this place.”
Before Jack could answer, a thunderous voice rang out.
“Jack Frost?!”
Kristoff jumped like someone had fired a cannon behind him.
North strode into view, tall as a tree, beard sparkling, eyes sharp. He stared at Jack like he was sizing up a myth that walked off a page. “We have never met formally, but I know you. You make trouble.” His gaze softened. “But why are you here?”
Before Jack could speak, Bunny burst from a snowdrift, fur puffed out. “What’s with the shouting? Some of us are—” He froze, staring right at Jack. “...Well that’s interestin’.”
Tooth’s wings flickered as she hovered closer. Her fairies swarmed around her like glittery hummingbirds. “He really is Jack Frost.”
Sandy floated overhead, golden sand forming a glowing snowflake topped with a bright question mark.
Then all of them noticed the human.
Kristoff stood there holding the sled rope like it was a security blanket. “Hi. Kristoff.” He pointed over to Sven. “This is Sven.”
North pointed. “Reindeer man.”
Kristoff sighed. “Close enough.”
Jack stepped forward, gripping his staff. His heart hammered, but he kept his voice steady. “Okay. I know this is weird. I’m not a Guardian, and we’ve never officially met. But I’m here because the Man in the Moon sent me.”
The courtyard fell silent.
Tooth’s wings stilled mid-flutter. Bunny straightened. North’s eyes widened. Sandy formed a glowing full moon in the air.
Jack continued. “He showed me something. Pitch. And Elsa.”
North frowned. “Queen Elsa of Arendelle? The woman with ice powers?”
“Yeah.” Jack swallowed. “Pitch attacked us. He’s been following us for days. And it’s not just about fear this time. He’s after… something else.”
Bunny grated out, “Speak plainly, Frostbite.”
Jack exhaled, chest tight. “Elsa and I…we’re both magical. Our powers are connected. And when we’re together, when we both use our powers… it amplifies everything. It creates this… surge. I don’t know what to call it, but it’s big. Bigger than anything I’ve ever felt.”
Tooth’s eyes widened. “A convergence.”
Sandy drew two snowflakes merging into a bright burst of golden light.
Jack nodded, grateful someone understood. “Exactly. Pitch wants that. He wants to twist it into fear. Or destroy us so no one can ever use that kind of power against him. He attacked Elsa to get to me. Or maybe he attacked me to get to her. I don’t know. But he can’t be allowed to get what he wants.”
Kristoff stepped forward, his voice steadier now. “Elsa’s unconscious. She hasn’t woken up since Pitch hit her with whatever he did. Jack got her away, but he can’t fight Pitch alone. And Arendelle…” He hesitated. “Arendelle can’t survive something like this.”
Jack forced himself to keep talking. “I brought her home. She’s safe for now. But if Pitch is hunting us because of what our powers can do together, then he’s not going to stop. Not until he gets control of that power, or destroys it entirely.”
Tooth covered her mouth. “That’s why the Moon sent you.”
Bunny scowled at the snow. “Pitch havin’ that kind of magic? That’s a nightmare none of us want.”
North finally stepped forward, gaze heavy with resolve. He placed a massive hand on Jack’s shoulder. “If Manny sent you, then it is fate we help. You came to right place.”
Sandy nodded fiercely, golden sand forming a shining shield around Jack.
Tooth moved closer, her expression warm and determined. “We’ll keep Elsa safe. And we’ll figure out how to stop Pitch before he gets anywhere near her again.”
Bunny crossed his arms. “Alright then. Guess we’re doin’ this. But if he starts a snowstorm in my tunnels, I’m blaming you.”
Jack let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
—
The massive doors of the workshop swung shut behind them with a low, thunderous thunk, sealing out the howling polar wind. Inside, everything was warmth and motion, golden lantern-light spilling across rafters thick with garlands, gears humming inside walls, and conveyor belts rattling overhead as half-painted rocking horses and clockwork soldiers drifted by on hooks. The air smelled like pine sap, fresh-cut wood, melted sugar, and oil. Even the floor was warm beneath their boots, enchanted to keep the cold from biting through.
Elves froze mid-step.
One very slowly slid a tray of jingle bells behind his back and backed away.
North ignored them all.
He strode to a long central worktable and slammed both hands down. The wood glowed instantly, runes burning to life in soft blue and gold. The grain of the table shifted, rising into topography, mountains, coastlines, and stars. Lines of light latched from constellation to constellation until a detailed, softly rotating map of the northern hemisphere spun beneath their hands.
“Now,” North said, voice low. “We think.”
Everyone leaned in.
Tooth hovered closer, her wings flickering softly, fingertips brushing the light. Sandy swirled a cautious halo of golden dust around the edges, like a protective ward. Bunnymund crossed his arms but tipped in anyway, ears angled forward. Even Kristoff drifted closer, unconsciously tightening his grip on the sled rope while Sven huffed softly at the warmth.
Jack stood still for a second, then stepped forward.
When he spoke, it wasn’t rushed.
He told them everything. About Burgess, his memories, and their powers connecting.
Everything.
Not just what happened, but what it felt like.
He explained the way Elsa’s magic wasn’t wild, wasn’t chaotic. It was precise, like a storm that knew exactly where it belonged. How the air shifted when she entered a room. How his frost reacted before he even wanted it to, how the end of his staff always felt warmer, brighter, and more alive when she stood near.
“When we fought Pitch,” Jack said quietly, fingers flexing unconsciously around the wood of his staff, “he didn’t just attack her… he went for the space between us. Like that was the thing he was really afraid of.”
The map flickered faintly.
Tooth’s eyes softened. “Because that space… is powerful.”
Jack nodded. “Yeah.”
He told them about how Elsa tried to step in front of him even after she was hurt. How her hand had found his without looking as the darkness closed in. How the shadows recoiled, just slightly, when their magic flared in the same moment.
He did not say the part about the way her name sits in his chest.
Or how the silence feels off when she isn’t beside him.
But North saw it anyway.
The older man leaned closer to the map, resting one heavy, gloved hand on the glowing surface, the other folding calmly over his beard. He studied Jack through the curve of warm lantern light.
“You speak of her like… home,” North said, casually.
Jack blinked. “What? ”
“You speak of storms and skies and danger with a normal voice,” North continued. “But when you say Elsa…” His eyes twinkled faintly. “Your magic listens harder.”
Jack opened his mouth to argue, then stopped.
Bunnymund made a low, thoughtful noise. “Bloke doesn’t even realize he’s doin’ it.”
Tooth’s lips curved, soft and knowing.
Sandy quietly sketched a tiny glowing snowflake next to a small golden heart on the corner of the table. Then, tried very hard to smudge it away when Jack noticed.
North leaned back, folding his arms, more amused now. “You do not fear for world only,” he rumbled. “World can be rebuilt. But when she is hurt… you run to stars.”
Jack looked at Kristoff, then back down at the map, frost curling instinctively from his fingertips into delicate patterns across Arendelle.
“…I just want her safe,” he said, quieter. “Before anything else.”
Tooth drifted closer, her wings slowing to a calmer flutter. “We know,” she murmured. “And we’re going to protect her.”
Kristoff gave a small nod, arms crossed tightly. Sven pressed his snout into Kristoff’s shoulder, as if reassuring both of them at once.
North pressed a rune on a massive circular table. With a grinding whirl, it opened and projected a luminous map of the world. Lights flickered like stars—dreams, fears, hopes. Then two soft blue glows pulsed—one at Jack’s feet, one far away over the fjords of Arendelle.
Bunny squinted. “Even separated, your magic’s still chattin’ with hers.”
Jack stiffened. “What does that mean?”
Tooth flew nearer, eyes wide with understanding. “It’s the connection. The convergence you described.”
Kristoff stepped forward. “And what does that mean for Elsa now?”
Before anyone could answer, Sandy shaped a glowing image above the map, Elsa lying in bed, pale and faintly glowing with frost. The image flickered, as though something unseen brushed against it.
Jack felt ice squeeze around his ribs. “She… she hasn’t stirred since Pitch hit her. I didn’t know how to help her on my own.”
But what Jack didn’t know—what Sandy’s conjured vision didn’t show…was that at that very moment, far away in Arendelle, Elsa’s fingers twitched. Her eyelids fluttered. Frost crawled across her pillow as she clung to the last fragments of a nightmare she couldn’t escape.
North stroked his beard. “Pitch knows your powers amplify each other. He searches for a way to twist that. Or break it.”
“That’s why he attacked her,” Jack whispered. “He was using her to get to me. Or me to get to her.”
The map flickered again—Elsa’s light pulsing erratically, as if something pressed against it from the outside.
Tooth’s gaze sharpened. “She’s getting weaker.”
Jack’s breath hitched, panic rising like a storm. “We have to block the resurgence… stop Pitch from tracking her through me.”
“That is the plan,” North agreed, turning to his yetis. “Get archives! I want scrolls on elemental pairings, frostborn lore, and ancient winter spirits!”
A distant yeti roared and dropped an entire shelf of books.
Bunny hopped onto the table. “Alright, mates. We’ll divide and conquer. Tooth, get your fairies out lookin’ for fear spikes. Sandy, keep watch over Elsa’s dreams. North and I’ll work on blocking this magic link.”
Jack’s jaw tightened. “And what about me?”
North turned, eyes gentle but heavy. “You stay. We need you here until we understand what convergence is capable of. If you get too close to Elsa before we learn more—”
“North—” Jack started.
“You could make things worse,” North finished.
Jack felt the words like a punch, but he nodded. If staying meant keeping Elsa safe, he’d do it. He’d do anything.
The others erupted into motion, fairies streaking out in shimmering waves, tunnels opening under Bunny, and sandy lights drifting like protective fireflies.
Jack stood alone for a moment, watching Elsa’s distant blue glow flicker on the map. Kristoff approached quietly.
“You did the right thing getting her home,” Kristoff said. “Whatever Pitch threw at her… it wasn’t normal. You weren’t supposed to fight that alone.”
Jack stared at the map. “I can feel her, you know. Like a thread of cold pulling somewhere in my chest. I thought it was just fear but…”
Anna woke up to a small groaning noise in the corner of the room. She immediately stood up and crossed the room, standing right in front of Elsa’s bed.
“Els…?” She said wearily.
It felt as if her heart dropped when she saw Elsa’s eyes slowly blink open. She watched as her sister slowly let out another grunt and tried to push herself up.
“Whoa… whoa… be careful.” Anna held onto her sister’s shoulder gently. “Elsa... are you okay? You were out for a while.”
“Jack… where is he?”
She took a step back. “Elsa… you were knocked out for nearly 2 days… I mean, look at your shoulder!” Anna pointed at the darkness, practically fusing with her pale skin, spreading down to her bicep. “I was worried sick about you, and you’re sitting here asking for Jack?”
Anna frowned, noticing the slightly hurt look on Elsa’s face. “I’m sorry. It’s just… imagine how scared I felt seeing you coming back from… wherever you two went. I thought I lost you.”
Elsa sat up a bit straighter, rubbing her head. “I…I’m sorry.”
A pause.
Elsa looked down at her shoulder, finally noticing the darkness had spread on her arm. “Oh…”
“I think you should lie down. Don’t stress yourself out.” Anna sighed.
“Where is he, Anna?”
She leaned close, squeezing Elsa’s hand gently. “He left. With Kristoff.”
“What?” Elsa exclaimed.
“He came in the other night, saying that he found people who can help us… help you.” Anna sighed. “Something about… the North Pole? Like the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and Santa Claus. He and Kristoff left immediately.”
Elsa froze. For a split second, she thought she’d misheard.
“…The North Pole?” she echoed faintly. Anna nodded.
Elsa drew in a quiet breath, meaning only to steady herself—but when she exhaled, a faint white mist slipped past her lips.
It hovered.
Anna blinked. “Did you just…?”
Elsa frowned, trying again, slower this time. Another breath out….and the fog was thicker, curling in front of her face like fragile smoke. The air immediately around her cooled, a thin chill creeping across the blankets and biting at Anna’s fingers where they rested near Elsa’s hand.
“That’s… not right,” Anna muttered, pulling her hand back slightly and then guiltily moving it closer again anyway.
Elsa swallowed. She felt it now—not the usual calm, familiar cool of her magic, but a deep, unnatural cold blooming in her chest, spreading outward through her arms and fingertips. It wasn’t responding to her. It wasn’t something she was doing.
“I’m… cold,” Elsa said quietly, almost confused.
The word felt wrong on her tongue. She had never been cold.
Anna’s eyes widened, real fear flashing across her face. “Elsa… you don’t get cold.”
Elsa nodded. “I know that.” She thought for a moment. Then immediately tossed the blankets off her body and sprang out of the bed.
“Elsa—!”
“I need to figure this out now. I need to follow Jack.” Elsa limped over to the corner of her bedroom, heading towards her changing screen.
“No, you don’t. Look at yourself! You’ll barely make it out the door, Els.” Anna grabbed her hand, pulling her towards her. “Please, can you just listen to me for once! Jack is getting you help. You’re hurt… you’re not yourself. We need to stay in Arendelle; we can’t just leave our people in the dark like this.” She pulled Elsa into a tight hug and guided her back to the bed.
Elsa’s shoulders sagged as the fight drained out of her. She nodded slowly, allowing Anna to guide her back toward the bed. “You’re right,” she murmured, her voice hoarse but steadier. “I can’t lead like this. Not when I can barely stand.” She hesitated, then added quietly, “I’m just worried about Jack and Kristoff. Pitch obviously finished his business here and went to follow them out of Arendelle. Heaven knows what situation they’re in right now.”
“I understand; we just have to hope that they’re okay. Don’t stress yourself out too much about it, kay? Just lie down and rest.”
Anna tucked the blankets around her carefully, smoothing stray platinum strands back from Elsa’s face. The frost on the floor faded, but the cold in the air lingered, a silent reminder that this wasn’t over.
Elsa turned her gaze to the darkened window, watching the faint shimmer of moonlight on the glass. Somewhere beyond the stars, Jack was running out of time… and she could feel it.
—
The resonance hit Jack like a blow.
He staggered, gripping the table. The world tilted. A rush of cold swept through him, familiar, terrified, unmistakably her.
Kristoff lunged forward. “Jack? What’s wrong?”
Jack’s eyes went wide. “She’s awake.”
The map flared; Elsa’s light was no longer flickering but violently pulsing.
“Tooth!” Jack shouted toward the workshop rafters. “Where’s Sandy? Something’s wrong—Elsa’s calling for me—”
North spun around. “Jack, wait—!”
But it was too late.
The connection surged again, sharper, desperate. Pitch’s shadow brushed its edges.
Jack’s heart dropped.
He didn’t have a choice.
“Elsa needs me,” he said, already running, frost swirling under his feet.
Bunny leapt forward. “Hold up, Frostbite—you don’t even know what you’re running into!”
Jack didn’t stop. “I don’t care!”
North thundered after him. “Jack! If you go now, convergence may trigger!”
Jack stopped only long enough to look back, eyes blazing with fear and determination.
“Then I’ll take that chance.”
He slammed his staff down. A gust of wind and snow exploded outward, swirling into a bridge of shimmering frost. Before anyone could grab him, Jack leapt onto it and shot upward into the night sky.
Kristoff ran to the edge of the platform, breathless. “Go, Jack. Hurry.”
Far below them, the map flickered—Elsa’s light flaring dangerously bright.
And somewhere in the shadows between Arendelle and the pole… Pitch smiled.
—
Jack didn’t land so much as crash into the room in a burst of frantic winter wind.
“Elsa!”
The balcony curtains whipped back. Snow exploded across the floor. Frost chased his feet like frightened birds scattering.
And then…
He saw her.
Awake. Sitting weakly upright. Wrapped in blankets which Anna had tossed over her just before running out to fetch food. Her hair fell in soft, uneven strands around her face. Her breathing came in thin, fogging wisps.
Elsa lifted her head slowly at the sound of his voice.
Her eyes widened with relief so raw it nearly buckled him.
“Jack…” she breathed, the word trembling out of her like a prayer she didn’t expect to be answered.
Something inside him shattered.
He crossed the room in three desperate steps but stopped just short of touching her, fingers hovering near her shoulder like he was afraid she might break if he brushed her wrong.
She blinked up at him, tears gathering fast, shining like little stars trapped on her lashes. “You came back.”
His chest tightened painfully. “Elsa… of course I did.”
Her breath shuddered, fogging dangerously cold in the air. “Anna told me you and Kristoff left. I wasn’t sure if you were coming back.”
Jack’s expression twisted—hurt, guilt, and fear all knotted together. “Elsa, don’t…don’t think that. I would never leave you alone in this. Not ever.” His voice cracked on the last word.
Her lower lip trembled. “I was so scared. That something had happened to Kristoff. Happened to you.”
That was it. That broke him.
He sat beside her, gently cupping her arms, his hands shaking. “Elsa… look at me.”
She tried, but her vision blurred. A frozen tear slipped down her cheek. Jack caught it with his thumb before it fell.
“You’re freezing,” he whispered. “You’re never cold.”
She closed her eyes, her voice barely audible. “Something’s inside my magic. Something dark. I feel like I’m losing pieces of myself.”
Then, she let out a small laugh, a puff of freezing breath coming out of her mouth as a result. “I was about to follow you. Anna insisted I stay and rest… she’s right, I can barely even walk.”
The fear beneath her words was unmistakable, and it cut through him like ice.
“Oh, Elsa…” Jack leaned closer, forehead nearly touching hers but not quite, hovering, aching. “You’re not losing anything. I swear to you. Whatever Pitch did, whatever this is… We’ll get through it. Together.”
Her breath hitched at the word together.
Slowly, so slowly, she reached toward him. Her fingers brushed the fabric of his sleeve first—as if testing whether he was real—then slid down to curl weakly around his wrist.
He sucked in a sharp breath at the contact, something electric sparking through him.
“I felt your magic,” she whispered, voice thin. “Calling to mine. Pulling me back. Like it was trying to find you.”
Jack shut his eyes, jaw tightening. He swallowed hard before speaking. “I think… maybe mine was doing the same.”
She let out another breath and leaned towards him.
Jack caught her instantly, guiding her into his arms. She pressed her forehead to his shoulder, trembling like she was made of glass.
He held her carefully, reverently, as though she were the most delicate thing he’d ever touched. One hand hovered at her mid-back; the other rose to cradle the back of her head.
Her fingers clutched the fabric at his chest, not pulling him closer, just holding on, needing something steady in the storm clawing inside her.
Her voice came muffled against him. “I thought I lost you.”
Jack exhaled a breath that stuttered into a fragile, pained laugh. “No. No, Elsa… you’re never losing me.”
He pulled back slightly, enough to see her face. Her cheeks were pink with cold, her eyes bright with unshed tears, and her lips parted as if trying to form words she didn’t quite trust yet.
It made something deep inside him ache in a way he didn’t understand. Or didn’t want to understand.
“Jack…” she whispered, searching his face. “You came back for me.”
He reached up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear with trembling fingers.
“I’ll always come back for you,” he said softly, like a vow he didn’t know he’d been waiting to make.
Something flickered behind her eyes—warm, hopeful, fragile.
The door opened quietly, and Anna stepped inside, carrying a small tray with tea, bread, and a few simple fruits. She froze for a moment when she saw Jack beside Elsa’s bed, one hand resting lightly near her shoulder—not touching, just steadying himself. Relief washed over her face.
“Jack…” she said softly, letting the tray settle on the bedside table. “I’m… glad you’re here. Where’s Kristoff?”
“He’s at the North Pole,” Jack said, keeping his voice low and even. “He’s with the Guardians; he’s safe.” He glanced at Elsa, who lifted her head slightly at Anna’s voice. Her eyes were tired but aware now, and there was a small, steady spark there, enough to ease some of the tension Jack had carried across the wind-whipped skies.
“You’ve been awake?” Jack asked gently.
Elsa gave a faint nod, sitting a little straighter against the pillows. A small, tentative smile tugged at her lips. “I am now… thanks to you.”
Jack let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “I needed to see you like this before I leave,” he admitted. “I have to go back to the North Pole. The Guardians need me while they research this… this connection, the convergence. But I couldn’t go knowing you weren’t awake, weren’t alright.”
Anna stepped closer and set the tray down carefully, brushing a lock of hair behind Elsa’s ear. “You’re awake now,” she said softly. “That’s already a start. You just need a little rest, and then you’ll be stronger. We’ll make sure of it.”
Elsa’s fingers brushed lightly against the edge of the blanket. The warmth from the tea, the soft lamplight, Anna’s calm presence, and Jack standing so close made her feel… steadier. Not fully safe, not fully well, but enough to let a slow, grounding breath fill her lungs.
Jack crouched slightly, keeping his hand hovering near her shoulder. “You’re alright for now, and I’ll make sure of it before I go. I want to make sure you’re stable… comfortable. We don’t need more surprises before the Guardians figure out the rest of this.”
Elsa managed a small, tired smile. “I feel… better, just seeing you here. Knowing you’re okay.”
Jack’s chest tightened at her words. He stayed for a moment longer, just watching her, making sure she could meet his gaze without panic or fear. “I’ll stay with you a little while,” he said quietly. “We don’t have to talk about the plan yet. Just… be here.”
She blinked slowly, nodding. “That’s… enough.”
Anna gave a soft smile and pulled a chair up beside the bed. She started quietly preparing the tea, murmuring gentle encouragements as she set the cup in Elsa’s hands. Elsa accepted it carefully, letting the warmth seep into her fingers. It was a small thing, but it grounded her…just a little.
Just enough to remind her she wasn’t alone.
Jack stayed crouched beside the bed, sometimes brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, sometimes just letting his hand hover, feeling the faint pulse of her magic echoing lightly against his own. “I’ll be back soon,” he said softly, almost more to himself than to her. “I promise.”
Elsa’s gaze followed him, and her lips curled slightly. “I know you will.”
He exhaled, letting himself take in the simple, fragile peace of the moment. She wasn’t completely fine, but she was awake, aware, and no longer shivering uncontrollably. She had a little strength. That was enough for now.
He gave her one last, careful look and then picked up his staff. Snow began to swirl lightly at his feet, drifting like a promise through the room. He paused at the balcony, glancing back once more at Elsa’s small, steady smile, and then he stepped into the night, the wind carrying him toward the North Pole and the Guardians waiting for him.
Elsa took a careful sip of her tea, the warmth spreading through her fingers and into her chest. Anna moved closer, smoothing the blanket around her. For the first time in days, she allowed herself to feel… a little hope.
And though Jack was gone for now, she felt the echo of his presence still there, steady and strong.
summary: Jack and Elsa arrive back in Arendelle, but something's not right.
w/c: 4.1k
tags: crossover, angst, slow burn, romance, post frozen 1, pre frozen 2, , political intrigue, mysterious powers, dream sequences, canon-typical violence, supernatural mystery, mentions of blood, romantic tension, almost-kiss, tags will be updated as series goes on!
taglist (open !!) :: @casadelcisne , @laufxye
“Anna.” Kristoff approached her from behind, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
She closed her eyes and took a breath. It has been days since Jack and Elsa left. Staring out the window at the courtyard. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted softly. “It’s too quiet. Feels like a part of the castle went with them.”
Kristoff squeezed her shoulder lightly. “You miss them.”
Anna let out a small, bitter laugh. “Of course I do. Elsa… she’s my sister, but Jack… I never thought I’d care so much about someone I barely knew.”
Kristoff nodded, understanding, though his brows knit slightly. “They’ll come back. You just have to be patient.” He took a step closer to her. “At least whatever that shadow thing was went away.”
She turned her gaze to him, nodding. “It’s making me think it followed them, though. I just… I don’t know if I can wait without worrying myself sick.”
Kristoff gave a reassuring smile, pulling her close. “Maybe you should head to bed and sleep off the stress.”
Anna sighed and turned her head to give one last look out the window, the empty pit never leaving her stomach.
—
The early morning air was still, save for the faint rustle of leaves outside the inn. Jack lay still, Elsa having fallen asleep beside him, the glow of candlelight casting shadows across her pale skin.
But somewhere beyond the circle of warm light, the darkness shifted. A low, whispering wind snaked through the trees. It carried a voice like silk and shadow.
Then, a strong gust of wind blew through the room
“Interesting,” it murmured, a grin audible in the tone. “So this is the little ice queen who dared to follow the frost spirit.”
Elsa’s eyes shot open, immediately finding the tall man in the corner of the room. Their eyes locked; his silver-golden yellow eyes looked like an eclipse. She immediately felt fear. Jack stiffened beside her, eyes narrowing.
“Who are you?” he said quietly, hand brushing instinctively toward his staff.
“I am… Pitch. But you may call me the Boogeyman… the Shadow. Names are trivial, really. It’s what I do that matters.”
A shadow detached itself from the corner of the room, stretching impossibly, coiling into the shape of a man. “I’ve been everywhere,” Pitch said smoothly, voice like smoke sliding over glass. “Watching. Waiting. Listening.”
Elsa shifted closer to Jack, the candlelight revealing the tense set of his shoulders. “Why are you here?” she demanded, her voice steady but firm.
Pitch tilted his head, amused. “Oh, I do enjoy the theatrics. But mostly… I’m curious. You’ve been meddling in things far worse than either of you realize. Memories… magic… spirits of the past. And I do hate surprises.”
Jack’s grip tightened on the journal. “You won’t touch her.”
Pitch chuckled, a sound like dry leaves rustling. “Touch her? Oh, my dear frostling, I’m not here to touch. I’m here to wait. To see how far you’ll go before you realize the shadows are already inside.”
Elsa drew a slow breath, her hands trembling only slightly. “We’re not afraid of you.”
Pitch’s grin widened. “Fear is not always what I need. It’s your power. You two are such a powerful little couple, aren’t you? It’s too much for this world, that’s why… I’m going to take it. Even if it means taking out one of you. And, Jack Frost, I do love a lost boy with something to remember. Makes the game far more… pleasant.”
Jack’s jaw clenched. “We’re done with games.”
Pitch faded back into the shadows, his presence lingering like a cold, twisting draft. “Oh no, Jack Frost. The game has just begun.”
The wind died down, and the room was silent once more, save for the soft turning of journal pages, the faint clink of candle wax, and the unspoken awareness that the silence had just grown a thousand times.
Jack immediately stood up from the bed, his staff basically flying into his hand. “I’m going after him.”
He didn’t even realize the look on Elsa’s face behind him. It was like all the light had left her eyes.
“Stay here, Els. He couldn’t have—”
“Jack.”
She ran a hand through her hair, shivering slightly despite the warmth of the room. “He’s gone… but… the way he looked at me…”
Jack turned fully, concern flashing across his features. “What do you mean?”
Elsa’s hands trembled slightly as she pulled the blankets tighter around her shoulders. “Pitch. His presence… It’s like the shadows themselves were alive. Like he’s… always just outside the corner of your vision.”
Jack’s grip on his staff tightened. “And you’re… okay?”
She swallowed hard, nodding slowly, though the tension in her shoulders betrayed her. “I think so. But… I’ve never felt anything like this before. I don’t want him anywhere near me again.”
Elsa froze, clenched her fists, then looked up at Jack, eyes stern. “I think he’s going to Arendelle. We have to leave now.”
“Are you sure?” Jack asked, kneeling beside the bed, but Elsa’s expression told him enough. “Okay, let’s go. You won’t have to face him alone. I swear. He’s not touching you, not if I can help it.”
Elsa met his gaze, eyes wide but steadying. “He moves like the shadows themselves are his army. Who knows, he might be in Arendelle already.”
Jack exhaled slowly, trying to steady his racing thoughts. “Enough chit-chat then. We’ll be there in the speed of light.”
Elsa let out a shaky laugh, leaning into him. “You always know the right thing to say, don’t you?”
Jack smirked, brushing a hand gently along her arm. “That’s because I’ve had the best teacher. And, well… it helps that you make me want to protect you.”
Her cheeks flushed faintly, though she tried to hide it. “Stop… that’s not fair.”
“Fair? Who said anything about fair?” he teased. “Besides, you’re worth it.”
Elsa scoffed, looking down. “We’re getting distracted. Come on, let’s head out; hopefully, he hasn’t gone far.”
—
“It’s quite early to be checking out, miss,” the innkeeper chuckled from behind the counter.
Elsa hurried over to her and gave her the coins she had left. “I apologize, but I have an emergency, and I have to leave immediately. Thank you for everything.” With a smile, she walked out of the inn.
The morning air hit Elsa’s face as she walked out. She looked around frantically before finally locking eyes with Jack, who was leaning against the wall of the inn.
“There you are.” She sighed in relief, her eyes catching Jack’s, which were filled with worry. “Do you have your journal?”
Jack nodded, grabbed his staff, and began walking side by side with her. “Yup, ready to go?”
As they moved down the cobblestone street, they noticed the town felt… different. Windows shuttered. Even the usual morning chatter was gone. Elsa’s steps slowed. “It’s like everyone’s hiding.”
Jack twirled his staff absently, trying to ignore the uneasy twinge in his chest. “Pitch,” he said quietly. “He’s still here.”
They crossed the last row of cottages and reached the edge of the wood. Mist hung heavy between the trees, silvered by the weak sunlight. Elsa shivered, not from cold, but from the strange pull she felt, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.
Jack stopped, turning toward her. “Elsa.” His voice was gentle but serious now. “Once we leave, we’re not coming back. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”
“I think I should be asking you that.” Elsa sighed. “Have you discovered enough about yourself while you were here?” Her eyes met his, calm but resolute.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Jack nodded and searched her face, the quiet determination, and the faint sadness behind it. Then he smiled faintly and offered his hand. “I’ve found out everything I think I need.”
Elsa hesitated just a heartbeat before taking it. His hand was cool and steady.
Together, they stepped into the woods.
Behind them, Burgess faded into the fog. Ahead, the wind stirred, soft at first, then stronger, carrying whispers through the trees. Jack’s grip tightened instinctively.
Elsa glanced at him. “Jack?”
But before he could answer, the mist began to move, rolling and twisting, and shadows formed faces.
Pitch’s voice, low and cold, rippled through the air. “Running already? I’m hurt, Jack. We were just getting reacquainted.”
Jack spun, staff raised, the crystal tip pulsing faint blue. “Show yourself!”
A low laugh rippled through the fog. “Oh, I think you’ve seen enough of me for one night. But she—” His tone turned silk-smooth, mocking. “She’s new. The famous Queen of Arendelle. Tell me, Your Majesty, does he let you sleep at night knowing what he really is?”
Elsa’s jaw tightened. The air snapped colder, frost spreading outward from her boots in a sudden burst. The mist crystallized into a thousand glittering shards and then shattered, revealing Pitch standing among the trees, his shadow curling like smoke.
“Now that’s a proper introduction,” he purred. “You two really are a matched set.”
Jack didn’t hesitate. He thrust his staff forward, sending a blast of icy wind that slammed into Pitch’s chest. He staggered back, then dissolved into smoke, reforming behind Elsa in an instant.
“Behind you!” Jack shouted.
Elsa spun, her hand already raised. A ribbon of blue-white light shot from her palm, slicing through the darkness. Pitch’s form flickered, the impact sending him crashing into a tree with a hiss.
He grinned, teeth sharp. “Very good. But do you really think frost can fight fear?”
Darkness exploded outward like a wave. The ground beneath them cracked open, and tendrils of shadow shot upward, clawing toward their feet. Jack leapt, grabbing Elsa’s hand midair and pulling her close as the shadows snapped where they had just stood.
He landed hard, steadying her. “Stay close to me!”
“I’m not the one who keeps getting thrown into walls,” she shot back, already summoning another burst of light.
Together, they moved as one, her ice cutting through the shadows, his wind scattering them into shards of frost and smoke. But Pitch was everywhere, splitting into silhouettes that circled them like wolves.
“You can’t win,” his voice echoed. “Fear always finds its way back.”
Elsa’s breath caught as one of the shadow figures lunged, striking her shoulder. Frost and shadow collided, and she stumbled back with a soft gasp, pain blooming under her skin.
The temperature dropped instantly. Wind screamed through the trees, the frost swirling in a storm around him. He slammed his staff into the ground, sending a shockwave that tore through the clearing. The shadows shattered like glass. Pitch’s form wavered, half solid, half smoke.
He snarled, retreating into the mist. “This isn’t over, Frost. Not for you. Not for her.”
And then he was gone. The forest fell silent again.
Jack’s chest heaved as the frost settled. He turned to Elsa, who was clutching her shoulder, the skin faintly marked with inky black residue where the shadow had struck.
“Elsa,” he breathed, stepping closer. “Let me see.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, though her voice wavered. “Just… cold.”
He gave her a look that said he didn’t buy it. “That’s not a good sign.”
She tried to smile but winced instead. “It’s nothing a little magic can’t fix.”
Jack frowned, helping her to her feet. The shadows were gone, but the air still hummed with something heavy, unsettled. “He’s not done,” he said quietly. “He wouldn’t just leave.”
Elsa looked toward the horizon, where the faintest glow of dawn touched the sky. “We have to get to Arendelle. Anna and Kristoff… they could be in trouble.”
Jack tightened his grip on his staff, his expression hardening. “Then let’s go home.”
She looked at him then, really looked. His hair glinted pale blue in the early light, his eyes fierce and unyielding. “Home,” she repeated, and though the word was small, it carried weight.
Jack gave a half-smile. “Race you there?”
Elsa arched a brow, the corner of her mouth lifting. “You always lose.”
“We’ll see about that.”
He held out his hand. She took it without hesitation. Frost bloomed beneath their feet, forming a glittering path across the forest floor. The wind rose, swirling around them like a promise.
And then, with one shared glance, they were gone, two streaks of light and frost racing toward the distant sea, leaving Burgess and its shadows behind.
—
“Weather’s been so weird lately, right, Sven?” Olaf looked up into the afternoon sky. It was unusual; Arendelle was usually beautiful in the fall. But now, it was gloomy, the sky filled with almost total darkness, like a storm was coming. He looked at Sven, who was expressionless.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Anna told us to stay inside.” Olaf nodded solemnly, then leaned closer, lowering his voice. “But don’t you think she’s been… different lately? She doesn’t smile as much. And she keeps staring out the window like a weirdo.”
A low rumble rolled across the mountains. The sky darkened further, gray clouds swirling faster than any normal storm. Olaf shivered despite the chill not coming from Elsa’s magic. “That’s not good,” he whispered.
Before Sven could nudge him back toward the stables, the castle doors burst open. Anna stood there, her red hair slightly mussed, her expression tight.
“Olaf! Sven! Inside, now!”
Her tone left no room for argument. Olaf hurried after her, glancing once more over his shoulder. The wind seemed to whisper something, words he couldn’t quite catch.
Inside, the great hall was dim. Candles flickered weakly, their flames bending in unnatural drafts. Anna shut the doors and leaned against them, trying to steady her breathing.
“What is going on?” It seemed as though a blizzard had swept into the room, interrupting Kristoff. The lights started to flicker more quickly than before, and ice and snow were flying everywhere. It swirled violently through the room, forming into a miniature blizzard that rattled the chandeliers. Anna and Olaf shielded their eyes, gasping in surprise.
And then, Elsa and Jack appeared, almost out of nowhere, their forms framed by the raging snowstorm. But it wasn’t triumphant.
Elsa stumbled, leaning heavily on Jack. Her breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, and her hands trembled as they clutched at her side. A dark streak marred her pale shoulder.
“Elsa!” Anna cried, rushing forward, her hands shaking. “What happened?”
“He’s coming, Anna. I don’t know when, but—” She was cut off when she felt a sharp pain pulse in her shoulder, causing her to wince. The frost spreading from beneath her fingertips was darker than usual, threaded with shadows that pulsed like veins.
Kristoff grabbed a blanket from the hearth, throwing it around her. “What happened out there?”
Jack’s jaw clenched. “He found us.”
Anna knelt beside them, brushing a strand of hair from Elsa’s face. “We need to get her upstairs. Now.”
Olaf peeked out from behind Sven, wide-eyed. “Uh, guys? The floor’s… freezing.”
Jack looked down. Ice was creeping outward in jagged lines, cracking through stone. It wasn’t Elsa’s usual pattern; this was colder and chaotic, like her magic was fighting itself.
“Come on,” Jack said, lifting her carefully into his arms. She barely stirred, her head falling against his shoulder.
Anna led the way through the swirling frost. “The blizzard…it came from you, didn’t it?”
Jack didn’t answer. His chest ached with guilt as he looked down at her. Elsa’s lashes were rimmed with frost, her lips pale. Every few seconds, a pulse of cold escaped from her body, brushing against his skin like static.
—
Kristoff looked at Anna, then turned to face Jack, who had a nearly numb expression in his eyes. Elsa hadn’t woken up in hours; the sky outside the window was dark, and she lay in her bed, unusually pale. She had collapsed as soon as they pulled her off the ground, and the blizzard immediately cleared up. But the air was still and cold, like something was about to happen.
“Jack?” Kristoff remarked that he was surprised to see Jack finally take his eyes off Elsa, turning towards him.
“What happened when you and Elsa were gone? How did it even lead to this?”
Jack suppressed an eye roll. “Are you blaming this on me?”
Kristoff shook his head quickly. “No, of course not. I was just wondering… I mean, you both were gone for a couple of days. Did you see him?”
He sighed. “He came into our room at the inn this morning. I thought recovering my memories would be enough, but… it wasn’t. It’s our power he wants. The idea of two powerful winter spirits existing at the same time … it’s what he craves.”
Jack’s mind was racing, his stare locking on Elsa’s injured shoulder, her furrowed brows, and her face growing paler. His hands began to shake.
“Jack… I think you should head outside. Get some fresh air. Me and Anna can watch her and make sure nothing happens.” Kristoff suggests, putting his hand on Jack’s shaky shoulder.
“No, I... I can't leave her. Anything can happen while I’m gone.”
Anna stands up from her seat. “Jack. Please.”
Jack looked up at Anna; their eyes locked. The look on Anna’s face immediately convinced him. She looked so hurt. “I won’t let anything happen to her,” Anna said. “I can’t lose her… not like we lost our parents.”
He nodded and grabbed his staff. “Okay. I’ll get some fresh air and keep watch if anything unusual happens.”
Anna gave him a small smile and watched as he walked out of the room.
Jack continued to walk wherever his feet led him. Eventually, he descended a flight of stairs and arrived at the fjord. He looked up into the cloudy sky and took a deep breath; he’d never felt anything like this before in his lifetime. He took a few steps over and sat down on the ground by the water, staring into it like it would tell him answers, then he looked up.
The moon.
It looked extra bright tonight. Elsa had been unconscious for so long that night had fallen.
His fingers tightened around his staff, the familiar wood suddenly heavier than ever. He looked back up. “You watching all this?” he muttered, his voice rough from the cold and something else, guilt. “Because I could use a little help right about now.”
The only answer was the wind, curling lazily around him.
Jack’s laugh was hollow. “Figures. You never say anything, do you? Just hang up there, big and bright, watching everyone else screw up their lives.”
The wind stirred again, sharper this time, almost insulting. Jack’s grin faltered.
“…Wait.”
The air changed. The light of the moon grew brighter, spilling across the snow in long, silvery ribbons. The world felt quieter, as if every sound had been swallowed whole. Then, faintly, something shimmered in the frost at his feet—a reflection, or maybe a vision.
He saw flashes: a great workshop filled with laughter and toys. A small, glowing woman with wings like crystal. A tall, lean rabbit, fierce-eyed and fast. And a golden figure made of sand, shaping dreams out of starlight.
Jack took a step back, eyes wide.
The moonlight pulsed—once, twice—as if answering.
“They’re real,” Jack whispered. “Aren’t they?”
The light intensified, surrounding him now, warm in a way moonlight never should be. And in the hush that followed, Jack didn’t hear a voice, not exactly, but something deeper pressed against his thoughts. Not words, but meaning.
Find them.
Jack’s breath caught. “Find who?”
The light flickered once more, outlining the faint image of a compass in the frost, pointing north.
Then it was gone.
The courtyard was silent again. The only sound was the distant hum of wind through the trees. But the weight in Jack’s chest had shifted, lighter now, focused. He stared up at the glowing moon, jaw set.
“… Guess that’s my answer.”
He lifted his staff, the frost beneath his boots swirling as if responding to his resolve.
“Hang on, Els,” he whispered, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “I think I just got us some help.”
Jack practically sprinted up the stairs back to Elsa’s room and flung open the door.
“I got it.” He said, eyes filled with determination.
“Got what? You were gone for like 5 minutes...” Kristoff sighed.
“I have to go,” Jack said suddenly, stopping mid-step. “I… I need to get to the North Pole.”
Anna raised an eyebrow. “The North Pole? You’re serious? Why there?”
He ran a hand through his snowy hair, frustration and fear flashing in his eyes. “Because… because there are people there who can help. People who actually exist, The… the Easter Bunny. Sandman. Tooth fairy. Even Santa Claus himself. They’re real.”
Anna blinked, disbelief written all over his face. “Wait. You mean… like the stories? You’re saying all those…things…are real?”
“Of course they’re real,” Kristoff said.
Jack nodded, his expression grim. “Yeah. I didn’t believe it at first either, but I’ve seen the proof. They can fight Pitch. They can help Elsa. But I can’t do it alone, Kristoff. I need to reach them before it’s too late. I need your sled.”
Kristoff ran a hand through his hair, pacing a little. “And you just expect me to let you ride off into… what, a magical North Pole storm? With a wounded Queen lying here? Can’t you just fly there?”
“I can’t just fly straight to the North Pole. It’s… complicated. Shadow magic, weird terrain, and I think there’s possibly some type of passageway your sled can guide us there with. The sled acts like a key; I guide the right frost patterns, and the North Pole opens for us.” Jack said, “Your sled isn’t just a fancy reindeer toy; it’s fast, sturdy, and can handle whatever Pitch throws at us. You steer, I handle the magic and surprises, and together… we actually stand a chance.”
Jack spoke again, his gaze softened. “If I don’t get help… whatever Pitch did to her, it’s going to get worse. I can feel it.”
“But what about Anna? What if something happens while we are gone?” He asked, face filled with worry.
“I think you should go, Kristoff. We can’t let Jack do this on his own. I can stay with Elsa.” Anna's voice was quiet.
Kristoff's head turned quickly. “Are you sure, but—”
“Yes. If this is the only way for her to get help, then do it.” Anna gripped her sister’s cold hand tighter.
He slowly nodded. “Okay. But aside from my sled, I don’t think there’s much I can do… I’m not some kind of magical snow being.”
Jack leaned back, twirling his staff lazily. “Look, you don’t need magic for this. Elsa stays put in Arendelle with Anna, and you come with me. You’re solid, dependable… like a rock in a snowstorm. I need someone who can think on their feet, help me deal with the North Pole people, and make sure I don’t get eaten by something weird.”
Kristoff blinked. “Weird how?”
Jack smirked. “Weird magical stuff. Big bunny, flying penguins… anything could happen. Basically, I need a buddy who can keep up and doesn’t melt under pressure. Pitch has done enough damage to Elsa; he’s just waiting for the next moment to strike. If he sees the two of us leaving Arendelle, he’ll most likely follow us out.”
“And… attack us? So, I’m going to be bait.”
Jack shook his head. “Maybe… but I won’t let that happen.”
“I think it’s a good idea.” At last, Anna smiled a little. “Just please be safe. Olaf and I will watch over Elsa, and we’ll call the guards if anything happens.”
“And nothing will. As long as we leave as soon as possible.”
Kristoff ran a hand over his face, hesitant for a moment, then shrugged. “Alright… you’ve convinced me. Let’s go to this North Pole of yours. But if a giant rabbit tries to eat me, I’m blaming you.”
Jack finally let out a laugh, spinning his staff one last time.
pairing: bar owner!joel miller x musician!reader
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
summary: You're a struggling musician who frequents a bar that hosts open mic every week. The gruff bar owner seems to catch your attention.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
tags: explicit sexual content, use of alcohol, mutual pining, age gap, rough sex, dom!joel, oral sex (m + f recieving), p in v sex, breeding kink, biting, marking, spanking, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, squirting, over stimulation, public-ish sex
──
w/c: 5k
You were already running late when the rain started. It came down in thin, slanted lines that blurred the streetlights and soaked through your jacket before you reached the bar’s crooked awning. The Rusted String always looked like it was one hard wind away from collapsing, but inside it was warm and humming—clinking glasses, low talk, and the familiar smell of cedar and beer.
Joel was behind the bar, wiping down the counter with that same rag he’d probably been using since the 90s. He glanced up when you walked in, one eyebrow raised.
“You’re late.”
You set your guitar case on the stage and shot him a look.
“You gonna dock my nonexistent pay?”
A ghost of a grin tugged at his mouth.
“Ain’t payin’ you enough for it to matter.”
You rolled your eyes and bent to tune your guitar, pretending not to notice how his voice carried easily over the noise. The low, worn-in drawl of it always seemed to settle under your skin, steady and sure, like a rhythm you didn’t mean to follow.
By the time you hit the first chord, Joel had disappeared into the back room. The soundboard crackled, then your guitar came through clean, with just the right balance of low warmth and brightness. He’d adjusted it, like he always did, without asking.
It wasn’t a big crowd tonight. A handful of regulars at the pool table, a couple tucked into the booth by the jukebox. But Joel was there, behind the counter, polishing a glass he didn’t need to.
The last note faded into the hum of the amp, soft and steady. You let it linger for a moment before setting your guitar aside and wrapping your fingers around the glass of water Joel had set on the stool beside you sometime during your set. You hadn’t seen him do it, but you’d expected it—like always.
“Crowd’s quiet tonight,” you said, hopping off the stage.
Joel looked up from where he was stacking glasses behind the counter. “Ain’t payday yet,” he replied. “Wait ‘til Friday.”
You smiled, leaning against the bar. “You sure they’re not stayin’ quiet ‘cause of my singing?”
That earned you a short, low chuckle, one of those sounds that barely made it past his chest. “You sound fine.”
“Fine?” you teased. “That the best you got for me, Miller?”
He raised a brow. “You want me to lie?”
You scoffed, but the heat that crept up your neck gave you away. He noticed, of course he did—but he didn’t call you on it. Joel never said more than he needed to, but somehow it always felt like he’d said too much.
He handed you a clean towel when you reached for your guitar, and your fingers brushed. Just a second, enough to spark something in your chest that you tried to ignore.
“You’re gettin’ better,” he said, quieter this time, like it wasn’t meant for anyone else to hear.
You looked at him, a little caught off guard. “You actually listen?”
His mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but close. “I hear things.”
“Like what?”
He wiped his hands on a rag and leaned one elbow on the counter, eyes on you. “You play differently when you’re mad. Quicker. Don’t look at the crowd as much. When you’re happy, you draw it out. Let folks breathe with you.”
You blinked, surprised at how closely he’d paid attention. “That… sounds like a man who’s been spying on me.”
“Maybe,” Joel said, voice low. “But I’m the one that runs the soundboard, so I guess that’s my job.”
You laughed, soft and nervous. “Guess so.”
The bar had emptied out while you talked, the clatter and chatter replaced by the quiet creak of the old ceiling fan. Joel went back to wiping down the counter, but you caught the edge of something like a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“I’m not lying.” He said.
You looked up, “About…?”
Joel huffed and looked up at you, his gaze soft. “When I said you’re getting better. ‘Think you’ll make it big one day.”
“Yeah, right.” You scoffed, looking down at the scuffed wooden floor.
“I’m serious.” He grunted.
You let out a laugh. “You’re serious about everything, Joel.”
He tilted his head, squinting at you like he was weighing whether to argue. “Not everything.”
“Oh really?” you prodded, leaning a little closer, feeling the quiet tension that always seemed to hum between you. “Then what aren’t you serious about?”
Joel didn’t answer immediately. He just looked at you, that hard, steady gaze that somehow made your stomach twist. The music from earlier still lingered faintly in the air, warm and echoing, and it felt like the two of you were the only people left in the bar.
Finally, he grunted again. “You.”
You blinked. “Me?”
He nodded, almost imperceptibly. “You don’t stop bothering me… and somehow, I don’t mind.”
You felt your chest tighten and a laugh bubbled out, half-nervous, half-embarrassed. “You’re impossible, Joel Miller.”
“Yeah, well… you like it.”
—
You practically threw yourself onto the barstool, startling Joel and the remaining patron at the bar.
“The hell’s wrong with you?” Joel asked as he handed a glass of whiskey to a customer.
“Need a drink…” You murmured, crossing your arms and resting your head down against the bar.
Joel leaned against the counter across from you, watching quietly for a beat, the corner of his mouth tugging in that subtle, almost-hidden smirk he reserved for when he knew you were trying not to show how frazzled you were.
“Long night?” he asked.
“You could say that,” you muttered, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Everything’s… just a mess right now.”
He grunted softly, tilting his head, and for a moment the bar felt quieter, like it had folded around just the two of you. Joel didn’t rush to fix it, didn’t offer empty words. He just stayed, giving you the space to vent, letting the hum of the neon and the low music fill the rest of the world.
“You don’t gotta handle it all yourself,” he said finally, voice rough but calm.
You blinked, letting yourself relax against the bar. There was something in the way he said it steady, grounded, like he really meant it that made the weight in your chest feel a little lighter.
“Where’s your guitar?” Joel asked, finally realizing how empty-handed you were. “Not playing tonight? That’s unusual.”
You shook your head, rubbing your temples. “Don’t feel like it.”
“Not feeling it, huh?” He pulled out a chair and sat down across from you. “Want to talk about it?”
You sighed, your fingers tracing the rim of your beer glass. “It’s just... I don’t know. I feel like my music isn’t good enough anymore. Like I’m just going through the motions. And the customers... they’re getting rowdier lately. It’s hard to focus.”
Joel listened intently, his expression softening with understanding. “I get it. Sometimes it feels like everything’s falling apart. But you know what? That’s when you need to hold on tighter. Your music is a part of you, and it’s worth fighting for.”
As you talked, the bar began to empty. The patrons, sensing the impending storm, hurried out into the night. The sky outside darkened, and the first drops of rain pattered against the windows. Joel glanced out, his brow furrowing.
“Looks like we’re in for a storm,” he said, turning back to you. “You should probably head home before it gets worse.”
You nodded, standing up and grabbing your jacket. “Yeah, you’re right. I should get going.”
But as you reached the door, a sudden crack of thunder shook the building, followed by a torrent of rain. The street outside was a blur of water, and the wind howled through the trees.
“Woah,” Joel said, joining you at the door. “That’s not good. You can’t go out in this.”
You turned to him, a mix of frustration and relief in your eyes. “What do we do now?”
Joel thought for a moment, then a slow smile spread across his face. “I guess since we’re stuck here… I’ve got some whiskey in the back. We can have a drink, and you can tell me more about what’s been on your mind.”
You hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Alright. Let’s do it.”
Joel led you to a small table in the corner, away from the windows. He returned with two glasses and a bottle of amber liquid. He poured you a generous serving and raised his glass to cheer you.
You clinked your glass against his, taking a sip of the smooth, warm whiskey. It burned pleasantly in your throat, and you felt a wave of relaxation wash over you.
“You know,” Joel said, leaning back in his chair, “sometimes the best inspiration comes from the most unexpected places. Like being stuck in a bar during a thunderstorm.”
You nodded, swirling the whiskey in your glass as the thunder rumbled outside, shaking the windows of the dimly lit bar. The rain pounded relentlessly against the roof, turning the world beyond into a blurry haze. It was just the two of you now, the last patrons long gone before the storm hit full force, leaving Joel's place feeling intimate, almost secluded.
"Yeah, unexpected places," you replied, your voice soft amid the storm's roar. You set the glass down, your fingers lingering on the cool surface.
Joel watched you with those dark, steady eyes, his broad shoulders relaxed against the chair. He was older than most guys you knew, with a rugged edge from years behind the bar: salt-and-pepper stubble and calloused hands that spoke of hard work. Something was commanding about him, the way he moved with quiet authority, like he owned more than just this place.
"What's got you stuck?" he asked, pouring himself another measure. His voice was low and gravelly, cutting through the patter of rain.
You hesitated, surprised he remembered. It had been a few weeks since your last open mic night. "Just... writer's block, I guess. Everything sounds the same. Like I'm forcing it." You took another sip, the warmth spreading through your chest, loosening the knot of frustration.
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, his gaze locking onto yours. "Forcing it never works. You gotta let it come to you. Like this storm—it's wild, but it clears the air after." His lips curved into a half-smile, and for a moment, you caught yourself staring at the way his shirt stretched across his chest, the faint outline of muscle beneath.
The conversation flowed more easily than you'd expected. Joel shared stories from his early days running the bar, nights when he'd sling drinks until dawn, dodging bar fights and heartbreak. You opened up about your gigs, the thrill of a crowd hanging on your every chord, and the loneliness that crept in when the music dried up.
As the bottle emptied, the air between you thickened. Joel's knee brushed yours under the table, accidental at first, but neither of you pulled away. You felt a flush creep up your neck, not just from the alcohol. His presence was magnetic, pulling you in with every shared glance. When thunder cracked loud enough to make you jump, his hand steadied your arm—firm, warm, lingering a beat too long.
"You alright?" he murmured, his thumb grazing your skin before he let go. But his eyes didn't leave yours, dark and intent, like he was seeing you for the first time.
Your heart pounded, matching the rain's rhythm. "Yeah... just the storm." But it wasn't the storm. It was him—the way his voice wrapped around you, the subtle scent of whiskey and woodsmoke on his skin. You shifted in your seat, aware of the heat building low in your belly.
Joel stood, clearing the glasses, but instead of heading to the bar, he moved closer, towering over you. "Storm's not letting up anytime soon." He grabbed the chair and inched closer to you.
Sitting side by side, the space between you shrank. His arm draped casually over your seat, his, fingers inches from your shoulder. You turned to say something…anything—but words died as you met his gaze. Hunger flickered there, raw and unspoken.
"You've been on my mind since the other night," he admitted, his voice rougher now. "The way you pour yourself into it... makes a man wonder what else you're holding back."
Heat flooded your cheeks, but you didn't look away. "And you? Running this place, always in control... ever let go?"
A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Not often. But tonight?" His hand slid to your shoulder, turning you toward him. The touch was electric, his fingers tracing the line of your collarbone. You leaned in, breath catching as his lips hovered near yours.
The kiss started slow, testing, his mouth firm against yours, tasting of whiskey and restraint. But Joel didn't stay gentle. His hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you deeper, tongue sweeping in to claim you. You melted into it, hands fisting his shirt, the storm forgotten as desire ignited.
He broke away first, eyes blazing. "Tell me you want this," he growled, dominant edge sharpening his tone.
"I do," you whispered, pulse racing.
With a nod, he guided you down, lifting you up and placing you on the table, his control absolute. Joel's hands worked your shirt open, buttons popping free as he exposed your skin to the cool air. His mouth followed, lips and teeth grazing your neck and collarbone down to your breasts. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, hard and insistent, tongue flicking until you arched against him, a moan escaping.
"That's it," he murmured against your skin, voice commanding. "Let me hear you."
His fingers deftly unfastened your jeans, sliding them down with your panties in one smooth motion. You were bare before him, vulnerable, but his gaze devoured you like you were his. He pushed you back onto the table, kneeling between your legs, broad shoulders parting your thighs.
Joel's mouth descended without warning, hot and demanding. His tongue licked a slow, deliberate stripe up your pussy, tasting you fully. You gasped, hips bucking as he pinned you down with one strong hand on your hip. He lapped at your folds, circling your clit with firm pressure, then sucking it between his lips. The sensation was overwhelming—wet, insistent, building that ache into a fire.
He didn't rush, but his dominance showed in every movement: the way he held you open, fingers digging into your thigh as his tongue plunged inside you, fucking you with it before returning to your clit. You threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling, but he growled, nipping your inner thigh in warning.
"Stay still," he ordered, voice muffled against your slick heat. "Let me take what's mine."
Pleasure coiled tight, your body trembling as he worked you relentlessly. His beard scraped your sensitive skin, adding friction that pushed you closer. When he slid two thick fingers into your pussy, curling them against that spot inside, you cried out, the orgasm crashing over you in waves. He didn't stop, licking you through it, drawing out every shudder until you were limp, panting.
Joel rose, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, satisfaction in his eyes. He unbuckled his belt, the sound sharp in the quiet bar. His cock sprang free, thick, hard, with veins prominent along the length. Pre-cum beaded at the tip, and he stroked himself once, watching you.
"Your turn," he said, voice like gravel. He sat back, legs spread, pulling you toward him by the hair—gentle but firm, guiding you to kneel between his thighs.
You wrapped your hand around his base, feeling the heat, the girth. Leaning in, you licked the underside from balls to tip, tasting the salt of him. Joel groaned, hand tightening in your hair.
"Open up. Take it deep."
Obeying, you sucked the head into your mouth, tongue swirling around the ridge. He was big, stretching your lips as you slid down, inch by inch. His hips twitched, but he held back, letting you set the pace at first. You bobbed your head, hollowing your cheeks, one hand stroking what you couldn't fit. Saliva dripped down his shaft, making it slick as you worked him.
"Fuck, yeah," he rasped, guiding your movements now, fucking your mouth with shallow thrusts. His free hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing your stretched lips. "Look at me while you suck my cock."
You met his gaze, eyes watering as he pushed deeper, hitting the back of your throat. The dominance thrilled you, the way he used your mouth, grunting with each slide. His balls tightened, breath coming ragged, but he pulled you off before he finished, cock glistening with your spit.
Your eyes flicked up to meet his, the intensity in Joel's gaze pinning you in place as surely as his grip on your hair. The dim light of the bar cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw clenched in pleasure, the veins standing out on his neck as he held back from slamming deeper. You hollowed your cheeks, tongue swirling around the underside of his shaft with each bob of your head, tasting the salty pre-cum that leaked steadily from the slit. His cock throbbed against your palate, thick and unyielding, filling your mouth to the brink.
"That's it, take it deeper," he commanded, his voice gravelly, hips rocking forward to push past your gag reflex.
You relaxed your throat, letting him slide in further, the head bumping the back of your mouth. Saliva dribbled down your chin, mixing with the mess already smeared across your lips from earlier. Joel's thumb traced the outline of his dick through your cheek, a possessive gesture that made your core clench with fresh need. "Filthy girl, drooling all over my cock like you can't get enough."
You hummed around him, the vibration drawing a hiss from his lips. Your hands gripped his thighs, nails digging into the hard muscle as you sucked harder, hollowing your cheeks to create that tight suction he craved. He fucked your face with controlled thrusts, not rough enough to hurt but insistent, claiming your mouth as his. The wet, slurping sounds echoed in the quiet bar, drowned only by the relentless patter of rain against the windows. Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the sweat glistening on his chest and the way his abs flexed with each push.
"Gonna make you choke on it," he growled, tightening his hold on your hair and angling your head back slightly. He thrust deeper, holding there for a beat, your nose brushing the coarse hair at his base.
You fought the urge to pull back, eyes watering as you swallowed around him, throat constricting in rhythmic pulses that milked his length. Joel's eyes darkened, pupils blown wide with lust. "Fuck, your throat's squeezing me so good. Bet your pussy's dripping just from this."
He wasn't wrong—heat pooled between your legs, your thighs slick with arousal as you knelt before him. You reached down instinctively, fingers slipping through your folds to rub your clit, but Joel noticed immediately.
"Hands off that cunt," he snapped, pulling out of your mouth with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his glistening cock.
He hauled you up by your arms, spinning you around to face the table. "Bend over. Spread those legs."
Your heart pounded as you complied, palms flat on the scarred wood, ass pushed out toward him. The cool air hit your exposed skin, making you shiver, but Joel's hands were there in an instant, rough palms sliding up your thighs to part them wider. He kicked your feet apart with his boot, the dominance in the gesture sending a thrill straight to your core.
"Look at this pretty pussy," he murmured, voice thick with hunger. One thick finger traced your slit, gathering your wetness before plunging inside without warning. You gasped, arching back as he curled it, stroking that sensitive spot deep within.
"So fucking wet for me." He added a second finger, scissoring them to stretch you, the squelch of your arousal obscene in the charged silence. His thumb circled your clit, firm and unrelenting, building the pressure until your knees buckled.
You braced harder on the table, pushing back onto his hand, desperate for more. "Please, Joel… fuck me. I need your cock inside me."
He chuckled darkly, withdrawing his fingers to slap your ass hard, the sting blooming into heat that made you moan. "Begging already? Greedy little slut." He lined himself up, the blunt head of his cock nudging your entrance, teasing by rubbing it up and down your folds. The heat of him scorched you, promising the stretch you'd been craving. With one brutal thrust, he sank into you, burying himself to the hilt in a single stroke. You cried out, the fullness overwhelming, his girth splitting you open, walls fluttering around the invasion.
"So tight…" he groaned, hands gripping your hips to hold you still as he adjusted. He didn't give you time to catch your breath, pulling back almost all the way before slamming in again, setting a punishing rhythm. Each thrust jolted you forward against the table, your breasts scraping the edge, nipples hardening from the friction.
The bar shook slightly with the force, bottles rattling on the shelves behind you. Joel's hips snapped against your ass, skin slapping skin in a filthy cadence that matched the thunder rumbling outside.
"Feel that? My cock owning this pussy," he rasped, one hand sliding up your spine to tangle in your hair again, yanking your head back to expose your neck. He leaned over you, teeth grazing your shoulder before biting down, marking you as his. The pain mixed with pleasure, your inner muscles clenching around him in response, drawing a curse from his lips. "Yeah, squeeze me like that. Milk my dick with that hot cunt."
You pushed back to meet his thrusts, grinding your ass against him, the angle letting him hit deeper, brushing your cervix with every plunge. Sweat slicked your bodies, his chest pressing against your back as he rutted into you like an animal. His free hand snaked around to your front, fingers finding your clit and pinching it sharply, making you yelp. "Come on, rub that swollen nub for me. Show me how much you love getting fucked like this."
Your hand joined his, fingers working in tandem to circle the aching bundle of nerves. The dual assault, his cock pounding relentlessly, the rough stimulation on your clit, pushed you toward the edge fast.
"Joel…oh god, it's too much," you whimpered, vision blurring as pleasure coiled tight in your belly.
"Not enough," he countered, slowing his pace to long, grinding rolls that stirred you from the inside out. He pulled out halfway, watching as your pussy clung to him, lips gripping his shaft unwillingly.
"Look how desperate this hole is for my cock. Dripping all over me, making such a mess." He thrust back in hard, bottoming out, his balls slapping against your clit. The impact sent sparks up your spine, your body trembling.
He straightened up, both hands now on your ass, spreading your cheeks wide to watch himself disappear inside you. "Fucking beautiful…taking every inch like you were made for it." His thumbs brushed your rear entrance teasingly, adding a new layer of sensation that made you gasp. He didn't push further, just the hint of pressure as he resumed his brutal pace, hips pistoning faster now. The wood dug into your hips, a delicious ache that grounded you amid the haze of lust.
Your orgasm crashed over you without warning, walls convulsing around his cock in powerful spasms. You cried out, your body seizing as waves of ecstasy ripped through you, juices squirting out around his thrusting length.
Joel growled, feeling you tighten, but he didn't stop—fucking you through the climax, prolonging it until tears pricked your eyes from the overstimulation. "That's it, come all over my dick. Soak me, you dirty girl."
He pulled out abruptly, spinning you around to face him. Your legs wobbled, but he caught you, lifting you onto the table with ease. Bottles clattered to the side as he stepped between your thighs, hooking your legs over his elbows to fold you open.
"Not done yet. Gonna fuck you face to face, watch your tits bounce while I fuck this pussy." His cock, slick with your release, nudged your entrance again, sliding in effortlessly now, the glide smooth and deep.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close as he started thrusting up into you. The new position let him grind against your clit with every roll of his hips, the friction building another fire low in your gut. His mouth descended on your breast, latching onto the nipple and sucking hard, teeth grazing the sensitive peak. "These tits…perfect for fucking," he muttered, releasing it with a pop before switching to the other, lavishing it with the same rough attention.
Your fingers dug into his shoulders, leaving crescent marks as you rode the waves of his thrusts. The table was cold against your ass, a stark contrast to the heat where you joined. Joel's pace was unyielding, cock dragging along your walls, hitting that spot that made you see stars.
"Harder—fuck me harder," you demanded, nipping at his earlobe.
He obliged, slamming into you with renewed force, the bar echoing with the wet sounds of your coupling. His hand slipped between you, fingers pinching your clit again, rolling it between thumb and forefinger.
"Gonna make you squirt again. Flood my cock with that sweet cum." The dirty promise pushed you higher, your body coiling tight once more.
But Joel had other ideas. He slowed, pulling out to flip you onto your side on the table, one leg draped over his shoulder as he re-entered from the side. The angle was exquisite, his cock curving just right to stroke your g-spot with every thrust. "Feel that? Right there…your pussy's weeping for it." He reached down, fingers spreading your lips wider to expose your clit, flicking it rapidly as he fucked you steadily.
You writhed, the position leaving you vulnerable, every nerve alight. "Joel—please, I need to come," you begged, voice hoarse from moaning.
"Not yet. Hold it for me." He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss, tongue mimicking the thrust of his hips. Saliva and sweat mingled, the taste of him, whiskey and salt, intoxicating. His free hand roamed your body, pinching nipples, slapping your thigh lightly, heightening every sensation.
The build was torturous, pleasure edging toward pain as he denied you release. Finally, when your pleas turned to sobs, he relented. "Now, come on my cock, squeeze every drop out of me." His thrusts turned erratic, deeper, harder, chasing his own end.
You shattered again, pussy clamping down like a fist, milking him as your orgasm tore through you. Joel followed seconds later, burying himself deep with a roar, hot jets of cum flooding your depths. He ground against you, ensuring it stayed inside, his cock pulsing with aftershocks.
But even as you both panted, spent for the moment, Joel wasn't finished. He pulled out, a trickle of his seed leaking from you, and scooped it up with his fingers, pushing it back in.
"Can't waste that. Gonna fuck it deeper." He lifted you off the table, carrying you to the couch in the back
This time, he entered you slowly, missionary style, your legs wrapped around his waist. His thrusts were languid at first, savoring the slick heat, the way your combined fluids made everything so messy and perfect.
"Look at you, full of my cum already. Pussy's so sloppy now." He kissed you tenderly, contrasting the filth of his words, before picking up speed.
You met him thrust for thrust, nails raking his back, urging him on. The couch creaked under you, the storm outside now a soft drizzle, but the one inside raged on. Joel's hand wrapped around your throat lightly, thumb stroking your pulse as he fucked you with purpose. "Gonna breed this cunt properly. Fill you until you're leaking for days."
The possessiveness in his voice ignited you, another climax building from the dirty talk alone. He sensed it, angling his hips to hit your clit with each drive. "Come with me—milk my load right out." You did, clenching around him as he spilled again, the warmth pushing you over the edge into bliss.
He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his chest, both of you sticky and sated. The bar was silent now, save for your slowing breaths. Joel's fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, a quiet promise of more to come when the storm and your night truly ended.
Yet, as the adrenaline faded, desire flickered back to life. Joel's cock twitched against your thigh, hardening once more. "One more," he murmured, rolling you onto your stomach and lifting your hips. He slid in from behind, the position allowing him to go slow and deep, drawing out every sensation.
You pushed back, savoring the fullness, the way his balls dragged against your clit. His hands roamed, one cupping your breast, the other rubbing your ass. "This pussy's mine now, gonna fuck it whenever I want." He spanked you lightly, the slap punctuating his thrusts.
The rhythm built gradually, turning fervent as he chased another release.
You reached under, fingers finding your clit, circling frantically. "Yes, use that hand, make yourself come on my dick." His voice was strained, hips snapping harder.
Orgasm hit you both simultaneously, a shared explosion of pleasure that left you trembling. Joel pulled out at the last second, stroking himself to paint your ass with the last ropes of cum, marking you thoroughly.
Finally, utterly spent, you curled together on the couch, the storm passed, but the heat between you lingered like an unspoken vow.
summary: Your knight in shining armor takes you on a special trip past your curfew.
tags: royalty au, age gap romance, first love, explicit sex, mutual pining, morning sex, forbidden romance, romantic, intimacy, secretive, soft dom!joel, love confession, fluff, she falls first but he fell harder, joel's accent, yearning, oral sex, intimate
w/c: 4.1k
You hated curfew. You thought it was the most absurd thing to ever be invented. You were the future queen of Virelia, for heaven's sake. The idea of being confined in your chambers from 9 o'clock to when your ladies-in-waiting awakened you constantly frustrated you. You never understood it. Maybe it was the fact that you were well past 18, husbandless, and not the most obedient daughter to the king.
But that didn’t stop you from making your trek outside the palace. This is the farthest you’ve ever gone, with your midnight adventures usually consisting of wandering to other sides of the castle you’ve never explored. But now, you’ve decided it’s time to expand your horizons; you even changed out of your chemise and into a gown better suited for outdoor activities, which you had a lack of.
You examined the palace gates from your balcony and then looked back down at the ground below you. Bushes. You could jump, land in the bushes, and make a run for it outside the gate… right? You gulped, all your confidence suddenly leaving your body. You took a deep breath, gripped the balcony ledge, and began to heave yourself over it. As soon as you pulled yourself halfway over the ledge, practically straddling it, you locked eyes with someone. Someone you knew a bit too well.
Joel.
Sweet, charming, but quiet, Joel.
A small smile began to form on your face, but then you realized. Seeing Joel means you were caught.
“What are you doing?”
Panic began to seep through your veins, and then, you began to slip. Your hands frantically gripped the marble railing, but it failed you.
You braced for impact; hopefully, the bush would catch you.
It did.
You opened your eyes, grateful the bush caught your fall, but still, it hurt.
And there Joel was, looking down at you with that square look on his face.
“Thanks for catching me.” You said sarcastically, standing up and rubbing your sore shoulders.
“What’d y’think was gonna happen?” He huffed, crossing his arms.
You rolled your eyes. That damn accent. You’ve always wondered where Joel was from; it wasn’t Virelia, that's for sure. Although you thought it was slightly cute.
Your thoughts were interrupted when Joel grabbed hold of your hand. “Come on. You'd better head back to your room. You’re lucky I ain’t telling your father.”
You winced as Joel helped you brush off leaves and dirt from your gown. “You really shouldn’t be out here,” he muttered, though there was a faint edge of concern in his voice.
“I could say the same about you,” you teased, stepping closer than necessary. “You’re supposed to be guarding me, aren’t you?”
Joel crossed his arms, jaw tight. “Yeah. And you’re testing my patience.” His voice was firm, but his eyes betrayed the slightest flicker of amusement.
You rolled your eyes. “Testing your patience or your restraint?”
He didn’t answer at first, just stared at you, silent and steady. Something about the way he watched you made your stomach twist in anticipation. Not fear, excitement.
“Look,” he finally said, his tone softer. “I can’t have you sneaking out like this. Someone could see you, and if your father finds out…” His words trailed off, but the implication was clear. Trouble, maybe worse.
You sighed dramatically, letting your hands drop to your sides. “Fine. I’ll behave… for now.” But even as you said it, you felt a spark of defiance. The night was still young, and there were places in this palace you’d never seen.
Joel frowned. “For now?”
You tilted your head, studying him. “Curious?”
He shook his head, though a corner of his mouth twitched in the faintest hint of a smile. “You’re impossible.”
You grinned, and for a moment, you imagined what it would be like to see him let that control slip completely. To tease him, push him, and, maybe eventually…see him respond. But for now, you’d settle for small victories.
Joel’s gaze followed you as you crept toward the garden gate. “I’m walking with you,” he said, voice low.
“Oh?” you asked, pretending to be surprised. “And here I thought I could outrun you.”
“You’d get caught,” he replied, moving to stand beside you, broad shoulders slightly shielding you from view. “I’d rather it be me than some palace guard dragging you back.”
You glanced up at him, and for a heartbeat, you noticed the lines in his face, the quiet strength in his stance, and the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at you. You had always been aware of him, of course; his presence was impossible to ignore, but now you were noticing details you hadn’t before.
The night air was cool against your skin as you walked together, hidden among hedges and shadowed paths. There was a rhythm to the silence between you, comfortable but charged, the kind of quiet that made every accidental brush of skin feel electric.
He finally let go of your hand when you entered the palace. It felt more like a prison. You groaned and walked up the staircase leading to your room.
When you finally approached your door, you turned to look at Joel. “I’m surprised you’re not telling on me.”
“Think I’d get in even more trouble than you will.”
You smirked, stepping closer. “So… does that mean you’re willing to let me have a little fun?”
Joel’s jaw tightened. “I’ve been thinking about it,” he admitted, his eyes locking onto yours. “But you’re reckless, princess. One wrong step and—”
“And you’re worried about me, right?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.
He growled softly, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe.”
You took a breath, letting your gaze wander over the palace gates. “I want to see what’s out there. Not just the gardens… the world beyond these walls. I feel so trapped here. I know my father is doing what’s right to protect me, but…” You trailed off.
Joel’s eyes followed your gaze, and for a long moment, he was silent. His gaze caught yours as he noticed the tears welling up in your eyes. Then, finally, he let out a low sigh. “I’ll take you. Only if you promise me you’ll stick close.”
You gasp. “Really?”
He nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“Like… really, really?”
“Don’t make me change my mind.”
You smile. “Okay, okay. When, though?”
Joel shrugged. “Not sure, gotta figure out when the best time is. Can probably sneak you out once your curfew starts, just don’t know what day yet.”
It’s like the gods finally answered your prayers. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You squealed, pulling Joel into a tight hug. “I don’t know why you act so grumpy all the time; you’re such a sweetheart.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re welcome. Now, go to bed; it’s way past your curfew.”
—
A few weeks had passed, and you’d grown slightly agitated. Joel had yet to take you outside the palace walls.
Yet he never did.
You frowned, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Joel,” you said one morning, brushing past him as he kept pace, “don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about me wanting to see the world outside these walls.”
Joel’s jaw tightened slightly, though there was no surprise in his expression. “Forgot?” he asked, his voice calm and steady. “Princess, I’ve not forgotten a damn thing.”
You stopped, turning to look at him, the sunlight catching the determined lines of his face. “Then… why not? You’ve had weeks to take me out there.”
Joel’s dark eyes softened ever so slightly. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment,” he said, low and deliberate. “Not just for you to sneak out. For it to be safe. For us to do it right. You don’t just… wander the streets at night and hope for the best.”
You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “You… waited?”
“Yes. And since you won’t stop bothering me about it, we can go tonight. There’s a night market in the village square. You’ll just have to cover up a bit and look less... princess-y.”
“Yes, sir!”
Joel scoffed and turned around, walking away. “I’ll come get you at 9:30.”
After dinner you practically leapt to your closet, heart racing with anticipation. Cover up and look less princess-y, he’d said. Less princess-y? The very idea made a thrill run down your spine. You rifled through your wardrobe, tossing aside gowns and silks, finally settling on dark trousers, a fitted tunic, and a cloak with a hood to hide your hair. Practical… but still flattering. The thought of Joel seeing you like this made your cheeks warm.
By 9:25, you were pacing, tugging the hood over your face, trying not to fidget too much. Every nerve in your body was alert. He’s going to see me outside the palace… like this…
At exactly 9:30, there was a soft knock at your door. You peeked through and found Joel standing there, tall, broad, and as imposing as ever. His dark eyes swept over you, lingering longer than necessary on the curve of your shoulders beneath the cloak.
“Ready?” he asked, voice low and commanding.
“Yes, sir,” you murmured, letting a sly grin tug at your lips despite trying to appear serious.
Joel’s lips twitched, almost a smirk, though he quickly hid it. “Keep that grin to yourself, princess. Out there, people don’t know who you are. Don’t make trouble.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” you said, stepping closer than necessary, letting your hand brush against his as you took his offered arm. The contact sent a spark up your arm, and you felt him tense slightly under your touch.
Joel’s eyes darkened, scanning the palace gates before stepping outside. “Stay close,” he murmured, voice dropping even lower, almost a growl. “And don’t tempt me.”
Lanterns swayed overhead, merchants called out their wares, and townsfolk moved about oblivious to the princess wandering among them. But you barely noticed anything but him, Joel, walking just close enough to make your pulse race, hand occasionally brushing yours under the pretense of guiding you.
“You like it?” he asked suddenly, low and rough, his dark gaze catching yours across the crowd.
“It’s… incredible,” you breathed, letting your fingers brush against his just a fraction longer than necessary.
Joel’s jaw tightened, lips pressing into a thin line as he leaned slightly toward you. “Keep that up, princess, and I’ll have to take measures,” he murmured. The growl in his tone made your chest tighten, a shiver running down your spine.
“Measures?” you teased, biting your lip, letting the hint of a laugh escape. “Like what?”
He shot you a look that was equal parts warning and heat, and you felt it deep in your bones, then said nothing.
—
About an hour passed, and the night market was still alive with energy, though the initial rush had begun to fade away. You and Joel had explored most of the stalls, and you found yourself lingering at a small booth that sold intricate hand-painted masks. The masks were vibrant and colorful, each one unique and full of character. You picked up a mask adorned with shimmering gold and deep blue, the colors reminding you of a summer sky.
"These are beautiful," you murmured, tracing the delicate brushstrokes with your fingertips.
Joel leaned in, his shoulder brushing against yours as he examined the mask. "They are," he agreed, his voice low. "But I think this one suits you better."
He reached past you and picked up a mask with a playful, mischievous design, red and orange hues swirling together, creating a captivating pattern.
"You think so?" you asked, taking the mask from him and holding it up to your face. The mask fit perfectly, and you couldn't help but grin at the reflection in the booth's small mirror. "I do look a bit more... adventurous with this on."
Joel chuckled, a warm sound that sent a thrill down your spine. "Adventurous is good. It suits you."
You turned to him, the mask still in place, and felt a sudden, unexpected urge to tease him. "Maybe I should wear it all the time," you said, your voice playful. "To keep my true identity a secret."
Joel's eyes sparkled with amusement, and he shook his head. "I think you'd be recognized regardless. Your spirit is too vibrant to hide."
You laughed, the sound light and carefree, and placed the mask back on the booth. "You're right. Besides, I think it's time to head back."
Joel nodded, his expression softening. "Yes, it is. But before we go, there's something I want to show you."
He took your hand, his grip warm and reassuring, and led you through the winding paths of the market. You followed him curiously, trusting him completely. Finally, he stopped in front of a small, secluded area where a lone musician played a haunting melody on a flute. The music was enchanting, filling the air with a sense of magic and wonder.
As you listened, you felt a growing desire to be closer to Joel, to feel his presence more intimately. You leaned into him, your body pressing against his, and felt his arm wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. The music seemed to speak to your soul, and you found yourself turning to face him, your eyes locked on his.
Joel's gaze was intense, filled with a mix of desire and restraint. You reached up, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, and felt him lean into your touch. His hand moved from your waist to your back, pulling you even closer, and you could feel the heat of his body against yours.
"You're playing with fire, princess," he murmured, his voice low and husky.
You smiled, a slow, seductive curve of your lips. "Maybe I want to get burned," you whispered, your eyes never leaving his.
Joel's hand tightened on your back, and for a moment, you thought he might kiss you. But then, with a soft growl, he pulled away, his breath ragged.
"We can't," he said, his voice strained. "Not here, not like this. You deserve better than a quick moment in the shadows."
You looked at him, your heart pounding with a mix of desire and disappointment. "And what if I don't want better? What if I just want you?"
Joel's eyes darkened, and he reached out, cupping your face in his hands. "I want you too, more than anything. But not like this. Not until you're ready, and not until we can do it right."
You nodded, understanding his restraint, and leaned into his touch, savoring the moment. "Okay," you whispered. "Okay."
Together, you made your way back through the market, the memory of the music and the moment etched forever in your hearts. As you approached the palace gates, you turned to Joel, your expression serious.
"Thank you for tonight," you said softly. "For the adventure, for the music, and for being here with me."
Joel looked at you, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion that made your heart skip a beat. "It was my pleasure," he replied, his voice low and sincere. "Always."
—
You slipped back into your chambers, your heart still racing from the night's adventures and the intense moment with Joel. The palace was quiet, the only sound the distant hoot of an owl outside your window. You undressed slowly, your mind replaying every detail of the evening, the vibrant market, the enchanting music, and the electric touch of Joel's hands on your body.
As you lie in your bed, the soft sheets cool against your skin, and you can't help but think about him. The way his eyes had darkened with desire, the roughness of his voice when he spoke, and the strength in his touch. You closed your eyes, imagining his hands exploring your body, his lips pressing against yours in a passionate kiss.
It was past midnight when a soft knock at your door startled you from your thoughts. You sat up, your heart pounding, as you called out, "Who is it?"
"Joel," came the low, familiar voice from the other side.
You hesitated for a moment, then threw back the covers and padded to the door, opening it just a crack. Joel stood there, his expression serious but his eyes filled with a hunger that mirrored your own.
"Joel," you whispered, stepping back to let him in. "What are you doing here?"
He closed the door behind him, his movements swift and sure. "I couldn't stay away," he admitted, his voice low and husky. "Not after tonight."
You reached out, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the rough stubble against your skin. "I'm glad you're here," you murmured, your eyes locked on his.
Joel's hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you could feel the heat of his body against yours. His lips captured yours in a fierce, passionate kiss, and you melted into him, your body responding instinctively to his touch.
His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and line, and you arched into his touch, wanting more. You fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours, and he helped you, his movements urgent and needy.
As his shirt fell to the floor, you pressed your lips to his chest, tasting the salt of his skin, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. Joel's hands found the ties of your nightgown, and he loosened them, his fingers brushing against your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine.
You stepped back, letting the nightgown fall to the floor, and stood before him, naked and unashamed. Joel's eyes roamed over your body, his gaze intense and hungry, and you felt a thrill of power and desire.
"You're beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "So damn beautiful."
You reached for him, pulling him down onto the bed with you, your bodies entwined in a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses. Joel's hands explored your body, his touch both gentle and demanding, and you arched into him, wanting more, needing more.
His mouth trailed down your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin, and you gasped, your body arching into his touch. His hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, and you moaned, your body aching with need.
Joel's mouth captured one of your nipples, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak, and you cried out, your hands fisting in his hair. He sucked and nibbled, his other hand teasing and tormenting your other breast, and you writhed beneath him, your body on fire.
His hand trailed down your stomach, his fingers brushing against your most intimate place, and you spread your legs, inviting him in. He slipped a finger inside you, his thumb circling your clit, and you moaned, your body clenching around him.
"Joel," you gasped, your voice breathless and needy. "Please."
He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire, and slowly, deliberately, he slid another finger inside you, stretching you, preparing you. You moaned, your body trembling with anticipation.
"Is this what you want?" he asked, his voice low and rough.
You nodded, your body arching into his touch. "Yes," you gasped. "Please, Joel. I need you."
He withdrew his fingers, and you whimpered at the loss, but then he was positioning himself between your legs, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him on, and he slid into you, inch by inch, filling you completely.
You gasped, your body stretching to accommodate him, and he stilled for a moment, his eyes locked on yours. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice strained with effort.
You nodded, a slow smile spreading across your face. "More than okay," you whispered. "Don't stop."
And he didn't. He began to move, his hips thrusting in a rhythm that matched the pounding of your heart. You met his every movement, your body responding to his in a dance as old as time itself.
His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he drove into you, harder and faster, and you cried out, your body trembling with the force of your release. Joel followed soon after, his body shuddering against yours, his breath ragged and his heart pounding.
He collapsed on top of you, his weight a welcome pressure, and you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. As your breathing returned to normal, Joel rolled off you, pulling you into his arms, your bodies still entwined.
You rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling content and fulfilled. "Stay with me," you murmured, your voice soft and sleepy.
Joel pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. "Always," he promised, his voice low and sure.
—
The next morning, you woke to the soft light of dawn filtering through your window. Joel was still beside you, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist. You turned to look at him, a soft smile playing on your lips as you traced the lines of his face, memorizing every detail.
He stirred, his eyes fluttering open, and a slow, sleepy smile spread across his face as he looked at you. "Good morning," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.
"Good morning," you replied, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. "Did you sleep well?"
He nodded, his arm tightening around you. "Better than I have in a long time. You?"
You snuggled closer, resting your head on his chest. "Perfectly. I feel... different. Like something has changed."
Joel was silent for a moment, his fingers gently stroking your back. "It has," he said finally, his voice low and serious. "Last night... it wasn't just about the physical. It was about us, about what we feel for each other. I've never felt this way about anyone, and I don't think I ever will again."
You looked up at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears. "I feel the same way," you whispered. "I never thought I could love someone this deeply, this completely. You've shown me a part of myself I never knew existed."
Joel cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had escaped. "I love you," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "More than words can express. And I promise you, I will always be here for you, no matter what."
You leaned into his touch, your heart swelling with love and happiness. "I love you too, Joel. But… what about my father?"
He pulled you closer, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss, and you melted into him, your bodies pressing together, skin to skin. “Don’t worry about that right now,” he said. You could feel his desire growing, hard and insistent against your thigh, and you shifted, straddling him, feeling him slide into you with a groan of pleasure.
You began to move, your hips rolling in a slow, sensual rhythm, and Joel's hands gripped your waist, guiding you, urging you on. You leaned back, your hands braced on his thighs, and he sat up, his mouth capturing one of your nipples, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak.
You moaned, your body arching into his touch, and he sucked and nibbled, his other hand teasing and tormenting your other breast. You could feel your orgasm building, your body tensing, and Joel must have sensed it, because he reached between you, his fingers finding your clit, circling and teasing.
"Come for me," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "Let me feel you."
And you did. With a cry, your body shattered, waves of pleasure crashing over you, and Joel followed soon after, his body shuddering, his breath ragged.
You collapsed on top of him, your body slick with sweat, your heart pounding. Joel wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, and you rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
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