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selswift23 · 5 months ago

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The Icy Pond

Peter Sutherland x Reader

Warnings: Icy pond, non sexual nudity, Kissing, minors dni

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The wind whispered a warning through the leafless trees as we approached the pond. It was a cold, moonless night, the stars above shivering in the inky sky. Peter and I, two agents of the night, were tailing a target that had led us on a merry chase through the quiet suburban park.

"Remember, Y/n," Peter had said earlier that evening, his breath frosting in the frigid air, "the ice isn't thick enough to hold us. We stick to the path."

I nodded, my eyes gleaming with the thrill of the pursuit. Peter's words echoed in my mind, but the path was longer, and every second counted. The target was slipping away. We had to move fast.

Crunching through the snow, I spotted a shortcut—a frozen pond, glistening under the distant street lamps. It was a risk, but one I was willing to take. I knew Peter would follow.

Without a second thought, I bolted onto the ice. It groaned under my boots, but held firm. The cold bite of the wind stung my cheeks as I gained ground. The target's footsteps grew clearer in my mind, the thrum of my heart drowning out the creaks of the ice beneath me.

But the universe has a cruel sense of humor. Just as I reached the pond's center, the ice let out an ominous crack. I felt the world tilt, and suddenly, I was plunging into the icy abyss.

The cold water slapped me like a giant's hand, stealing the air from my lungs. Panic swirled through me, thick and paralyzing, as the freezing water closed over my head. I thrashed, my legs kicking uselessly, searching for a foothold that wasn't there. The world was muffled, my thoughts racing like a rabbit in a snare.

Then, a hand—warm, strong, and reassuring—closed around my arm. Peter. His face was a blur through the water's surface, but the fierce determination in his eyes was clear. He'd seen me fall, had rushed to my side without hesitation. The ice creaked and groaned, but he didn't care. He was going to pull me out.

My teeth chattered as he hoisted me onto the unsteady ice. It took everything I had to roll away from the treacherous edge. The cold seeped into my bones, turning them to lead. I gasped for air, my breath coming in ragged puffs that painted the night air white. Peter knelt beside me, his own breathing heavy, his eyes searching my face for any sign of injury.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice tight with concern.

I nodded, my voice lost to the cold. My body trembled violently, and my teeth chattered so hard they hurt. Peter peeled off his own winter coat, wrapping it around my shivering frame. His warmth seeped into me, bringing a semblance of comfort.

"We need to get you warm," he said, his voice gruff. "We can't risk hypothermia."

He helped me to my feet, and we stumbled back to the path, leaving the pond and its treacherous embrace behind us. The chase was forgotten for the moment, overshadowed by the stark reality of survival. We had to find shelter—and fast.

As Peter scooped me into his arms, the warmth from his body was like a beacon of hope in the frigid night. He began to sprint, his long legs eating up the ground as he carried me away from the icy trap. Each step felt like a small victory, a defiance against the biting cold that threatened to claim me.

My eyes fell shut as the world spun, the only thing anchoring me to reality was Peter's steady breathing and the rhythmic thump of his heart against my chest. I could feel the heat of him seeping into my frozen bones, a gentle warmth that spread through me like a balm.

The jolting motion stopped, and I heard the crunch of snow underfoot followed by the sound of a door opening. The sudden influx of warm air was like a warm embrace, and I was vaguely aware of Peter carrying me into a dimly lit cabin. The scent of pine and woodsmoke filled my nose, a stark contrast to the icy pond.

He laid me down on something soft—a couch, I realized as it creaked beneath my weight. The heat from a nearby fireplace wrapped around me like a warm blanket. I couldn't feel my hands or feet, and my teeth chattered so badly it hurt to breathe. Peter's eyes searched my face, a mix of fear and concern.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice gruff and low. "I've got to get these wet clothes off you."

With trembling hands, he began to unbutton my shirt. I tried to help, but my fingers felt like they were made of ice. He peeled the soaking fabric away, revealing my shivering skin. He worked with a gentle urgency, his movements precise and efficient. His eyes never left mine, seeking silent permission.

As my clothes came off, the warmth of the room began to seep into me, but it was a battle against the icy grip of the water. Peter's touch was firm, yet tender, as he stripped me of the sodden layers. Each piece of clothing that fell away was a victory against the cold, but the process was painfully slow.

"Thank you," I managed to murmur through chattering teeth.

"It's okay," he said, his own teeth clicking together. "We've got to warm you up."

Without a moment's hesitation, Peter removed his own shirt and wrapped it around me. It smelled faintly of gunpowder and mint—his scent—and was surprisingly warm. He hovered over me, his own breathing ragged, his eyes searching my face for signs of improvement.

The warmth began to spread through my body, chasing the cold back into the shadows. I felt a surge of gratitude for his quick thinking, his selflessness. Peter had always been like that—reliable, strong, and unyielding. But now, in this moment of vulnerability, I saw a different side of him. A tenderness that made my heart ache in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

The cabin was small, but it was a haven. Peter had lit a fire that roared in the hearth, casting a warm glow across the wooden walls. He crouched beside me, peeling away my frozen boots and socks, his eyes never leaving mine. He rubbed my icy feet with his calloused hands, trying to bring the feeling back.

"You're going to be okay," he said, his voice steady and calm. "Just hold on."

He pulled me closer to him, his bare chest pressed against my icy skin. His warmth was like a beacon, a lifeline that I clung to desperately. His heart thudded against my ear, a reassuring rhythm that echoed the promise of survival. His arms were a warm cocoon around me, his chest a furnace that chased away the cold.

"I'm sorry," Peter whispered, his breath warm against my cheek. "This is the best way."

He began to rub my arms and legs vigorously, trying to generate heat. His skin was like a warm embrace, and I could feel the chill retreating from my body inch by inch. The warmth grew, spreading through me like a wildfire. The tremors in my body began to subside, the cold receding from the fiery warmth of his touch.

"Your core temperature is dropping too fast," Peter said, his voice tight with worry. "We need to warm you up."

With a gentle yet firm grip, he turned me onto my side and began to rub my back. The friction created a delicious heat that spread through me, thawing the ice that had taken hold of my very essence. His touch was sure and methodical, each stroke bringing a little more warmth to my frozen limbs.

As the cold loosened its grip, a new sensation began to creep in—pain. It was a dull ache at first, a distant whisper that grew louder as the blood returned to my extremities. I winced, but Peter didn't miss a beat. He simply tightened his grip and continued rubbing, his eyes never leaving mine.

"It's okay," he murmured. "You're safe now."

The pain grew, but so did the warmth. I focused on Peter's eyes, the way they crinkled at the corners when he was worried, the way the firelight danced across his features. His touch was a promise, a silent vow that he'd never let go. And in that moment, I knew I could trust him with more than just my life—I could trust him with the secrets of my heart.

The chill of the night was forgotten, replaced by the warmth of Peter's arms. His skin was a lifeline, a bridge between life and the cold embrace of the pond. Each rub, each press of his hand brought me back to the world of the living. I could feel my heart slowing, the panic of the fall receding like the tide.

"You're okay," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "You're going to be okay."

I nodded, the tremors in my body slowly fading away. The cold had been vanquished by his warmth, his care. We sat there, wrapped in the warmth of the cabin and each other, the fire crackling a comforting lullaby.

For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. There was only Peter, his warmth, and the fierce beat of his heart—a rhythm that matched my own. And in that moment, I knew that no matter what the night had in store for us, together, we could face it.

The chase was on hold, the mission forgotten. Our priority was simple: stay alive and warm. And as Peter's hands continued their tireless work, as the warmth of the fire wrapped around us like a comforting blanket, I couldn't help but feel that for the first time in a long while, we were truly alive.

"I'm sorry," Peter said again, his voice thick with apology. "I know this isn't the time for it, but I had to get you out of the cold."

He was apologizing for invading my space, for the intimacy of his actions. But all I felt was a profound sense of gratitude. Without him, I'd be lost in that icy embrace, my life snuffed out like a candle in the wind.

"Don't be," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I'd do the same for you."

His eyes searched mine, looking for the truth behind my words. I held his gaze, willing him to understand. The bond between agents was unbreakable, a silent vow to have each other's backs. And in that moment, as I sat there shivering in his arms, it was clear that Peter took that vow to heart.

He nodded slowly, the tension in his jaw easing slightly. "If anything had happened to you..." His voice trailed off, the unspoken words hanging heavily in the air.

The fire crackled and spit, casting flickering shadows across the cabin. The warmth was finally reaching my core, and with it, the realization of just how close I'd come to the edge. Peter had saved my life. He'd risked his own to pull me out of the water, to warm me up, to keep me alive.

"Nothing happened," I said, my voice a little stronger now. "You're here, and so am I."

He offered a small, tight smile, his eyes never leaving mine. The room was quiet except for the hiss of the fire and the sound of our breathing—his steady and warm, mine still ragged from the cold. The weight of the night's events began to settle over us, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

We sat there, wrapped in the warmth of the cabin and each other's presence, until my shivering had ceased and the color had returned to my cheeks. The fire had turned from a ravenous beast to a gentle companion, licking at the wood with lazy tongues of flame.

"We should get you some dry clothes," Peter said finally, his voice still low.

He rose, the movement sending a shiver down my spine despite the warmth of the room. He moved to a closet in the corner and rummaged through the contents, his back to me. He returned with a pile of clothes—sweatpants and a thick sweatshirt that looked like they'd swallow me whole.

With shaking hands, I took the clothes from him, our fingers brushing in a way that sent a jolt through me. He turned away, giving me privacy, as I slowly changed, each movement sending a fresh wave of pain through my frozen limbs. The clothes were too big, but they were warm, and that was all that mattered.

When I was dressed, I looked up to find Peter watching me, his expression unreadable. He handed me a mug of steaming tea, the warmth of it seeping into my cold hands.

"Thank you," I said, my voice a little stronger now.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. We sat in silence for a while, sipping our tea and watching the fire. The night outside was still and cold, a stark contrast to the warmth of the cabin. But we were safe, at least for now.

As the warmth of the tea spread through me, I felt the last of the chill retreat. The tremors in my limbs subsided, and the ache of the cold was replaced by a gentle glow. I leaned into Peter, my head finding a natural resting place on his shoulder.

He tensed for a moment before relaxing, his arm slipping around my shoulders. "You scared me," he murmured.

I knew he meant more than just the fall into the pond. He'd seen the recklessness in my eyes, the thrill of the chase that had led me to ignore his warnings. But I had trusted him to save me, and he had come through without a second thought.

"I know," I said softly. "I'm sorry."

He didn't respond, just held me tighter. And in that moment, I knew that our friendship had shifted, had grown stronger in the face of the cold.

Then, without warning, Peter's hand cupped my cheek, turning my face towards his. His eyes searched mine for a second, looking for permission, for reassurance. And when he found it, he leaned in and kissed me.

It was gentle, a soft press of his warm lips against mine. The kiss was filled with all the unspoken words of the night—his fear for me, his relief at finding me alive, his concern as he warmed me up. It was a declaration of more than friendship, a promise of protection that went beyond our job descriptions.

I leaned into the kiss, the warmth of his mouth a stark contrast to the icy water that had tried to claim me. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer, and suddenly, the cold was forgotten. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as if we were trying to banish the chill that still clung to my skin.

Our breaths mingled, hot and desperate, as we broke apart. Peter's eyes searched my face, looking for any sign of doubt or regret. But all I felt was the warmth of his kiss spreading through me, thawing the last of the ice that had lodged in my heart.

"Y/n," he said, his voice raw with emotion. "What are we doing?"

"We're alive," I replied, my voice just as shaky. "And I'm not going to let this moment pass without telling you how I feel."

His thumb brushed my cheek, wiping away a tear that had escaped my eye. "I've felt it too," he confessed. "But we can't let it interfere with the mission."

I nodded, understanding the gravity of his words. Our job was dangerous, and distraction could mean the difference between life and death. But in the quiet of the cabin, with the fire whispering to us in a language of warmth and comfort, it was hard to remember the world outside.

"I know," I said, my voice a little steadier. "But we're not on the job right now. We're just Peter and y/n."

He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling against me. Then, with a nod, he leaned in for another kiss. This one was slower, more deliberate. Our tongues danced together, exploring each other as if for the first time. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, until it was all I could feel.

The world outside the cabin walls faded away, and all that remained was the warmth of Peter's body, the scent of mint and pine, and the steady rhythm of his heart. His hands roamed my back, tracing the curves of my spine, sending shivers down my body that had nothing to do with the cold.

We pulled back, both panting, our eyes locked. The tension in the room was palpable, a living thing that crackled in the air like static. Peter reached out, brushing a strand of wet hair from my forehead. His touch was feather-light, but it sent a jolt of electricity through me.

"We can't," he said, his voice strained. "We have to focus."

I nodded, reluctantly breaking the spell. The mission was important, and we couldn't afford to let our emotions cloud our judgment. With a deep sigh, I leaned back into the couch, the warmth of the tea and Peter's body a comfort against the cold that still lingered in my bones.

"You're right," I said, taking another sip of the tea. "But for now, let's just be Peter and y/n."

He nodded, his arm still around me, and we sat in silence, watching the fire. The flames danced and played, casting shadows that painted our faces in a warm glow. It was a brief reprieve from the world of espionage and danger that we both knew was waiting for us outside.

As the warmth of the cabin seeped into me, I felt the weight of the night's events begin to lift. The chase, the fall, the kiss—it all felt like a dream, a moment out of time. But Peter's arm around me was real, his heartbeat a steady reminder that we were in this together.

We had survived the pond, and we would survive whatever the night had in store for us. The mission would go on, and we would be stronger for it. But for now, we were just two people, finding warmth in the cold embrace of the night.

Author’s note: Eeeeeep I can’t believe I’m finally posting writing. I’ve been a long time reader and enjoyer of fanfiction, but never a writer so this is all very new to me. If you have any advice or edits, please let me know!

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