#Don’t let the cold bite!!!❄️❄️

[minnies-puppydoll]

{ Kinkmas Day 1: }

❄️ .*•snow bitten•*. ❄️

pairing: bangchan x reader

summary: you beg chan to play in the snow with you, but who knew it would be that cold? but don’t worry, he’ll always be there to warm up his favorite little girl.

warnings: daddy kink, caretaker roles, praise, comfort, manhandling, degradation, pussy eating, size kink/mentions of being smaller than chan, slapping, nipple play, let me know if i missed any!!

the snow fell peacefully on your face as you watched the white, foggy sky. days like these with chan are always the best.

you thoroughly insisted on coming outside to play in the snow, despite chan telling you its too cold and to wait for the thermal coats he bought to come in the mail. but, he knows his girl, always so impatient.

so you throw on a sweater and a thin jacket, obviously not enough to be let outside by chan, so you slowly open the cold doorknob and let your boots hit the snow.

you step around slowly, taking in how the ice cascades along the ground, covering all the the plush, green grass that once was. you scoop some up with your hands, the little crystals bite at your hands warmth, you forgot mittens.

despite your impatient disobedience, chan was an amazing caretaker to you. it’s like he knows everything about you. your fears, insecurities, and doubts, they’re all his now. always have been. chan enjoys having someone to take care of, he loves feeling needed, you both were made for eachother it seems.

you and chan have been dating for half a year now, yet sex was still a fresh topic. sure, you wanted to many times, but chan wants you to wait. you thought it was because he didn’t want you, but he quickly made sure to correct that.

“no no, sweet girl. of course i want you, but i want you to learn to feel safe and secure without feeling like you need to have sex with me, i don’t want you to do it for reassurance. can you wait for me? daddy wants you very much, little angel.”

waiting is hard. he’s evil using that nickname then telling you to wait. you know he’s right, but progress is nothing when you run your hands along yourself, pretending he finally decided to have you.

its easy to worry about things when you’re surrounded by such peace and silence, alone with your thoughts while chan isn’t there to take them all away like usual.

what if he abandons you? or maybe you’re just holding him back? what if always having to take care of you is a nuisance to him?

chan always said they were useless thoughts, and that he’ll always love you, but its hard to not overthink with everything that happened with the men in your life growing up.

..what if you’re dissapointing him right now by sneaking out into the yard? tears start to fill up your eyes.

“i’m sorry, chan.”

you mutter under your cold, visible breath to the image you made of him standing over you, his arms crossed with a fed up expression. but, when you turn around, you bump into something, no, someone warm with firm shoulders wrapped in a thick sweater.

chan greets your eyes with a smile when you open them, one that makes you melt despite the unforgiving snow, one that fills up that empty core inside yourself with safety and security, one that shows you no signs of irritance or resent, just pure, unconditional love. nothing like the chan your insecurities made in your head.

“enjoying the snow, my little angel? warm enough?”

the nickname washes your fears away, healing your upset mind. you can only look up at him innocently through your lashes, nodding your head and playing with the button on his coat.

“mhm. sorry i left. um..chan?”

“hm?”

“..you would tell me if i was too clingy? or just annoying sometimes, right? i know it’s a hassle to always take care of me or..stuff like that.”

you say avoiding his gaze and pouting, chan pets your hair, caressing his hand down to the back of your neck to cup your cheek softly with his big, firm hands. all of a sudden you don’t wanna play anymore, you wanna be with him.

“sweet girl..i know. im not upset with you at all. nothing you can do or say could ever stop me from loving you, remember?”

all of the feelings you wished you could’ve felt back then as a little girl poured into your head and spilled from your eyes and into chans chest as you pressed closer to him, nuzzling into his comforting scent and dependable chest.

he knows how vulnerable you can get when you feel like this suddenly, so chan holds you, placing his hand on the back of your head so you feel safe. when you pull away to look at him, he takes your small hand in his, stroking your skin with his thumbs. but, he stops when he notices you shivering. the snow soaked your clothes and left you wet and cold in his arms.

“..daddy?”

“hm?”

“i want to tell you something else..but i don’t want you to get mad at me.”

you say, chewing on your nail. chan smiles fondly at you.

“what is it? you know you i love you. more than anything in the entire world.”

“..i want..to start having sex with you. not for selfish reasons anymore, just need to feel you. is that okay?”

for a moment chan is silent, its a painful silence for you. please, say something. anything. then, chan starts giggling.

“..daddy?”

“im so proud of you. using your words for me, hm? need me inside you? need to feel my heart closer to you, baby? god, i think if i loved you anymore i might really explode.”

you hide your face in his chest again, burning with shyness. you didn’t think it be this easy, now you just wish he would stop teasing and fuck you already.

“feel better? come here. lets go inside and get you warmed up, silly girl.”

i guess there is a god.

chan sits you down on the large bed with thick, winter comforters cushioning you softly.

gently, but without delay, he begins to unbutton your coat. he gazes into your eyes with every soft clasp, as if you and him are the only ones in the universe..it hums an intimate fuzzing in your head, and an un-wholesome reaction between your thighs.

your coat is smoothly brisked off of your shoulders and discarded onto the floor somewhere, not that you really care about the details right now, as he quickly learns the hard way that you weren’t wearing much under that coat.

chan doesn’t seem that suprised, he simply takes notice of the pink, lacy bra you thought it was a good idea to wear outside and looks back at you with narrowed eyes..

“this is why you were so cold, huh? my dumb, baby..im suprised you didn’t freeze to death.”

you bite your lip when his warm hands roam around your cold breasts, circling his thumbs along the frills of the bra and your sensitive nipples just below them. he knows what he’s doing.

he teases you by leaving it on, running his hands down to your inner thighs, crouching down in between them.

“lay back for me, angel.”

he coos softly with a tender smile. he tucks his thumbs under your waistband, pressing your legs up and hastily peeling your thick, thermal pants off of your legs, revealing a matching set of pink lacy panties and fuzzy, winter thigh highs.

you hid your face as chan stripped you like a doll, then you giggled a bit as he smirks and sighs at your cold weather fashion choices.

“really, sweetheart? maybe you planned this , huh? thought about me stripping that pretty body? ..what am i going to do with you? such a little slut, even in winter.”

his firm hands caress your plush hips, before landing a smack to your thigh. you yelp and squirm in his overpowering grasp, before hes sticking his thumbs in the sides of your cute panties and slowly pulls them down, revealing your soft pussy with a string of arousal connecting to your underwear.

chan parts his lips and lets out a soft noise at the sight, biting his lip and pulling them off your legs. his hand is large over your tummy, the skin is rough in contrast you yours as his strokes his thumb over you sweetly.

“sweet thing. gonna let me take you? i’ll treat this pretty pussy so well as long as you go dumb for me.”

he brings his thumb up to your mouth, you suck on it lightly and bat your lashes at him.

“whore.”

his head is perched between your thighs, pressing soft kisses on your sweet skin.

when your eyes meet his, your stomach flips. just the visual of his mouth so close to where you need him most makes you whine and grind your hips up into nothing.

you have no choice. his arms are trapping your legs open, with his hands securely holding your hips in place. you try to squirm out of his grasp, and the feeling is delicious. you can’t move an inch.

“hm? can’t move, huh? that’s right. daddy’s got you.”

he coos, with a hungry tone in his voice. like he’s been waiting for this, for the moment he has his little girl all vulnrable and desperate for his body. his kisses to your thigh reach the lowest part of you, he comes to a halt and raises his head.

chan looks at you for a second, admiring and savoring the look of you before he gives you what you want. he bites his lip and smiles, revealing his sharp canines pressing on his plush lips.

he lowers his head closer to your twitching cunt, letting his breath tease you first. your red, puffy clit throbs at the denial of his sweet mouth wrapped around it.

“ahn- channiechannie please! can’t take it anymore. i’ll do anything just pleaseplease-“

“who?”

“fuck..daddy? daddy please.”

chan ignores you. he thinks your begs and cries are so adorable, but he already knows what he’s gonna do.

the first touch of his tongue sliding against your pussy feels like suffocating magic. but it doesn’t take long before your squirming and grinding your hips for more stimulation as the tip of his tongue circles just around your tortured little clit.

but you can’t move. and he won’t stop teasing you.

“ah! stopstop stop teasing please! jus’ wanna cum- wanna cum in your mouth, daddy-“

chan shuts you up quickly by wrapping his pretty lips around your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue along it, sloppily making out with your pussy like he really means it.

your back immediately arches off the bed, tossing your head back along with it. in between your legs feels like heaven, blanketing your mind with silky, glowing white as you let out an absolutely fucked out scream.

you hear a squeaky chuckle between your legs from chan, he cups your ass with his hands and pulls you in closer to his greedy mouth. his eyes meet yours again, there’s a haze of darkness that passes through his before he bites a little nip on your pussy.

you yelp and jolt up, trying to plead him to stop, but chan is quick to sooth your tortured cunt with two talented fingers working their way into his pretty dolly’s hole.

his fingering is fast paced, has you gripping his hands and squirting all over them in minutes. chan handles his girl so roughly, but he looks down at you so carefully and attentive, as if you’re really made of fragile porcelain. his gaze is full of love and adoration, letting out sweet little giggles at your reactions. he can’t help it, you’re just so cute to him!

chan crooks his fingers up to thrust into your g-spot, you already can’t take it, but you die a little bit when his idle thumb presses into your clit, thrusting in sync with the rest. the added stimulation sends soaring stars of pleasure up your squirming body, chan’s veins on his arms show as he fucks his fingers up into you harder, manhandling an orgasm out of your poor little pussy.

“g’nna cum, yeah? that’s all the dumb little dolly is good for, right? serving daddy?”

“daddy! daddydaddyfuck..! gonna cum-“

“ah, what do we say, pretty girl?”

“can- can i cum? please? ahn..gonna cum so good - ah! on your fingers, daddy…”

“such a smart girl. go ahead and cum, pup. daddy’s got you, hm?”

it only takes those words for the harsh orgasm you were holding back to burst free, soaking chan’s abs and hands. you pathetically wail as he continues the abuse your pussy, fucking you through your wet little orgasm, but you feel so safe. you know chan’ll always hold you safe and tiny in his arms in such a vulnerable headspace.

when you finally start to come down, he strokes your tummy, up to your cute breasts, and finally to your cheeks, where he plants a soft kiss to remind you he loves you.

chan stands up and wipes his mouth. you notice how he’s still completely dressed and you’re only in your slutty thigh highs. it’s a hot situation, but it won’t do for now.

you slide your foot along his belt buckle, pulling and tugging at while whining at him, wordlessly begging for him to finally fill you up.

“what do you want, pretty girl? tell me and i’ll give it to you.”

you don’t respond, you just blink up at him, going a bit non-verbal and fuzzy already, and it’s worse when chan leans down to grab your face.

“hey. you want daddy to fuck you? want daddy’s cock pressing into your tummy, baby?”

“mhm..”

“then use. your. words.”

chan almost growls in your ear, you feel the texture of denim grinding at your overstimulated clit, he’s frotting his hard cock against your pussy from the fabric, urging you to say what he ordered you to say.

“mm’fuck! chan yes!”

a harsh slap stings your cheek.

“you know my name, stupid slut. is that pretty head just for decoration, or can you actually use it?”

“m’sorry, so sorry..fuck. daddy, please fuck me? please? ill be such a good girl, such a good hole for you please-“

the more you talk the bigger the smile lights up on his face, you’re just the most adorable thing in his eyes.

“aw, who’s my good girl? is it you? fuck..that’s right, angel.”

chan takes your little fuzzy-socked foot in his hand and brings it up from his belt to his face, planting a kiss above your heel.

he places your foot over his shoulder and begins to undo his belt with hypnotizing metal clicks. you’re finally getting what you’ve wanted since you started dating chan.

his belt and pants come undone, and you finally get a view of his big, red cock. it throbs in the air just by looking at the reaction on your face, suddenly he’s a little shy, just like the channie you know. he let’s out a squeaky giggle and avoids your eyes as he pumps his cock lazily.

“you want it, hm? it’s leaking for you and those pretty hips.”

he says now biting his lip and spreading your legs back, trapping you in a mating press. his face rests near your collarbone, whispering filth desperately as far as you can hear it.

“fuck..can’t hold it anymore, need to sink into you..tight fucking pussy- need it squeezing me.”

with that, he’s spreading your folds and forcing his cock in with tiny little thrusts. the stretch is overwelming, but it’s pressing on the front of your g-spot perfectly.

when your pussy is filled all the way, he wastes no time at all continuing his pace with larger and more forceful thrusts inside you, one’s that have you breathlessly screaming.

you really can’t take it, it feels too good you don’t know what to do with yourself. you need him to slow down.

you can’t form sentences right now, so you try planting your hands on his abdomen to brace yourself, but chan swipes them up instantly, gripping your wrists together to use as leverage to pull you back down on his cock.

“fucking take it. stay still, you said you would be good, hm? this pussy’s too little to fit me?”

you’re going braindead you swear, his cock is mind-numbingly thick, it soaks your g-spot, while also being long enough to fuck spots you’re sure no dildo has ever reached before.

chan bounces you like that for a bit before taking one of your legs and lifting it up, holding it against his chest while he rolls his hips in your cunt. he’s lost in it, closing his eyes and placing plush kisses along your sock.

he brings his hand down to thumb at your clit messily, slapping it occasionally to get you there closer. he feels himself faltering in your pussy, groaning louder and leaning his head back at the feeling of you sucking him in.

“fffuck..good fucking girl..gonna make daddy cum? yeah? want me to spill inside this greedy cunt?”

“mn..mhm!”

he hears your meek response. chan places his hand on the side of your head, forcing you to hear him as he brings his face to the crook of your neck.

you don’t like this. you love the feeling of him fucking you more than anything, it makes you feel taken care of and safe, and closer to your boyfriend. but what you really need right now is his cum, and he isn’t cumming fast enough for you.

“gonna cum, yeah? look at what you’re doing to me- ah!”

chan tenses as you pull up his shirt to pinch at his nipples, rolling them in your fingers. his arms shake around you as he writhes, but he isn’t thrusting anymore.

“please..don’t stop, channie..you’re almost there, need your cum..”

he starts thrusting again, fucking you closer with him, the feeling of his cock inside you and your hands on his nipples has him throwing his head back, sending electric sparks of pleasure to his cock.

“mm’fuck can’t take it- oh fuck, cumming!”

you feel chan spraying warm cum deep inside your already messy cunt. the feeling of his warmth flooding inside you is what sends you over with him, his twitching cock still prodding at your g-spot desperately.

your orgasm is strong, you close your legs shut while cumming shakily around his cock till he softly pulls it out. you both rest for a second after cumming so hard, but chan’s shy laugh breaks the silence, covering his red face.

“oh my gosh..i cannot believe i just came from that!”

you can’t believe that this is the same man that just called you his whore unprovoked. you pull him down to lay on you, resting your face in his shoulder and wrapping your legs around him. chan instantly relaxes in your arms.

“…all warmed up now?”

“mhm..chan?”

“anything, sweet girl.”

“i love you. love you so much..thank you for doing this. i know taking care of me can be alot and-“

“ah, ah. i told you to stop saying that. never. it’s never a burden to make you happy. thank you for trusting me to give you what you need. i loved you then, i love you now, and ill love you forever. if you forget, then ill always be here to remind you, ill say it over and over again each time.”

his soft, lovely words paired with your exhaustion seems to be the perfect recipe for you to fall asleep in his arms. chan just hums and strokes your hair, he loves his girl.

“goodnight, sweet girl. ill be right here when you wake up too.”

tags!!

@estella-novella @thatonedarkskinnedsiren @theresstardustinmyblood @annafeebou @pancake-freckle @elizalabs3 @minniesverse @loxgirl2004 @mintymintmint251 @y-ur--i

[overadores]

⋆˙⟡ must be love.

⋆˙⟡ pairing: manon bannerman x 7th!member reader ⋆˙⟡ about: it’s supposed to be a simple trip—just you, the snow, and a board beneath your feet, but then manon joins and suddenly, the air feels warmer. the silence feels louder. she says she wants to learn, but you’re starting to wonder who’s really teaching who. ⋆˙⟡ genre: fluff fluff fluff ⋆˙⟡ wc: 1.2k ⋆˙⟡ tune in: must be love by laufey ⋆˙⟡ a/n: as promised a fluff! not my best one tho, but i tried to make one T-T. I'll make another one cuz im not really satisfied with this. oh and i'll try to start on my smau hehe, and try to make a sabrina or jenna fic :D

It started with a Weverse post.

Just a photo of the chalet, half-covered in snow like powdered sugar dusted over gingerbread, with a lazy caption that barely hinted at anything: “Back home for a bit. Time to fall on my face snowboarding again ⛷️❄️”

Meant as a joke. Meant as a “don’t forget I exist” kind of thing.

I didn’t expect the flood of comments, or the stream of DMs from our fans. But most of all, I didn’t expect Manon to come knocking on my door five minutes later—literally, not metaphorically—still in her pajama pants, holding her phone like it had personally offended her.

“You didn’t think to invite me?” she said, pouting like I’d just eaten the last cookie.

I blinked at her, rubbing my eyes. “Invite you where?”

“Switzerland. Snow. Boards. You. What do you mean ‘where’?”

I laughed, thinking she was just teasing. But Manon wasn’t joking. She crossed her arms, stubborn. “You’re gonna teach me how to snowboard. That’s what’s happening. You promised once. You said if I ever came with you, you’d teach me.” “I’m dead serious,” she said. “You promised”

“I did?” I asked, still groggy.

She nodded, determined. “You did. On the tour bus. In Tokyo. You said if I ever came with you, you’d teach me how to snowboard.”

Of course she remembered. I vaguely did too. I probably said it in passing, like I always do when I’m too tired to filter myself. Still, I didn’t think she’d actually take me up on it.

But now she stood there with her bottom lip sticking out and her eyes all wide and serious and a duffle bag already packed behind her.

So I said yes.

The flight was quiet, save for the moments she kept humming the melody from one of our unreleased songs, except for the moment Manon fell asleep on my shoulder and drooled a little bit , but I didn’t mind. I kind of smiled to myself, tugged the blanket higher over her, and let her sleep. Switzerland in late winter was pure magic. The kind of cold that wakes you up without hurting. 

My family’s vacation home sat tucked away in the Swiss Alps like a secret. The house was warm with pine-scented candles and the fireplace my mom insisted on lighting even if it wasn’t that cold inside. My brothers dropped by to say hi, and Manon charmed them within minutes, laughing at their jokes, stealing bites of fondue, slipping into our little world so easily it almost hurt. I watched her make my older brother laugh until he cried. That was new.

She always had this way of doing that. Blending in, but somehow shining just a little brighter than everyone else.

We hit the slopes the next morning.

“Okay,” I said, strapping on my board and tightening my gloves. “Are you sure you’ve never done this before?”

Manon looked up at me from where she was awkwardly trying to balance on her board, an innocent expression plastered across her face. “Not really, no. I mean, a little. I went skiing once. Does that count?”

“That’s not the same.”

“It’s slippery snow things. Same vibe.”

“Right.” I laughed. “This is going to be a disaster.”

It wasn’t, though. Or rather—it was, but in the best way.

Manon pretended to be clueless, but I caught her adjusting her stance just a little too well. And every time I gave her advice, she already seemed to know what I was going to say. She let herself fall a lot, though. Mostly into me.

“Oops,” she’d say, her laugh muffled against my jacket.

“You totally did that on purpose.”

“Nooo,” she’d drawl. “Never.”

But the way she looked up at me from the snow, grinning like a devil in a beanie, told me otherwise.

After a few hours and a lot of falling—real or otherwise—we collapsed near the edge of one of the quieter trails, just past a ridge where the snow dipped into soft rolling hills. The sky was blushing pink, the sun slow and syrupy as it slid behind the peaks. I pulled off my gloves, breath fogging in front of me, cheeks flushed.

Manon flopped beside me in the snow, still laughing from her last fall. “Okay,” she said, rolling onto her back. “You’re a good teacher.”

“Liar.”

“No, really. I only almost died three times. That’s a win.”

I chuckled and stretched out next to her, watching the sky change. Everything was quiet up there. No fans, no cameras, no pressure. Just cold air and the smell of pine and the sound of her breath beside mine.

She turned to me, her hair a mess of curls escaping her hat.

“You really love it here,” she said softly.

I nodded, squinting up at the sky. “It’s the only place that doesn’t feel loud. It’s quiet without being empty. You know?”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I do.”

We were quiet again, the kind that feels full instead of empty. I watched the sun kiss the snow golden. Manon was watching me.

Then she said it.

Not loud. Not dramatic. Just—

“You’re really pretty when you’re not paying attention.”

I blinked. “Huh?”

She sat up fast, panic flashing across her face. “Wait, I didn’t— That came out weird. I just meant— You look…happy. Here. It’s nice. You’re nice.”

I laughed. “You’re rambling.”

“I know,” she groaned, flopping back down. “Ignore me. It’s the altitude.”

But then, quieter: “I think I might be in love with you.”

The words were soft. No drama. No buildup. Just a quiet, accidental slip. Like she’d said it a million times in her head and finally forgot to keep it there.

I sat up slowly. My breath caught. “Wait, what?”

Her eyes squeezed shut. “I didn’t mean to say that. I mean, I did, but not like this. I know we say ‘I love you’ a lot in the group, but I don’t mean it like that. I mean—”

A pause.

“—not in a friendly way. I love you, and I didn’t plan on telling you, but you looked like that and it just sort of happened.”

I stared at her. My heart was thudding like a drum line in my chest.

She was looking everywhere but at me now, cheeks red—but maybe from the cold, maybe from everything else. I sat up slowly, brushing snow from my coat.

“Manon.”

She groaned. “Don’t. It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I’ll just—”

“I love you too,” I said finally.

Her head snapped up. She blinked. “Like—?”

“Like,” I added, shifting so I was facing her directly, “not in the group, we’re-besties kind of way. I think I’ve been trying not to think about it. Maybe I didn’t want to mess things up. Pretending it was something else. But it’s not. It’s you.”

Manon blinked. “Oh.”

For a beat, neither of us moved.

And then we were laughing again — breathless, snow-damp, joy bubbling up in our chests like we didn’t know where else to put it..

She leaned in, slowly, like she wasn’t sure if it was okay.

I met her halfway.

Our lips were cold, noses red, teeth clinking a little from nerves and cold. But it was still perfect. It was real.

Somewhere in the distance, the sky melted from pink to lavender. The stars were just starting to wake up.

Later, when we walked back to the chalet, Manon’s glove slipped into mine. 

We didn’t say much. 

We didn’t need to.

She leaned her head against my shoulder as we trudged through the snow.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel the need to post about it.

Some things, I think, are just for us.

[therogueflame]

Unlocked

Hi my little boobahs,

my feelings were hurt (over literally nothing) so i'm posting this one early. this one is based on a comment + response from this post. I did write a little drabble, but it deserved more (bc cregan is baby daddy #3 and im actually in love w brunette tom taylor). I'm giving all the credit and honoring this one to @ginarely-blog. thanks so much for supporting me!

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Summary: You’re brave in every sense, steady through storm and steel, but when he sees you, truly sees you, that courage slips. Beneath his gaze, something softer stirs, and for once, you don’t know where to put your hands.

WC: 4.3k

Warnings: 18+, angst, smuff, sex (p in v), fingering, creampie, no use of y/n or description of reader

Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader

MDNI!

The wind off the battlements has teeth, but you welcome the bite of it. The feast has long since faded into warmth and laughter behind you, tucked into the belly of Winterfell where wine and firelight keep company with those who know how to chase the cold away. You’ve always preferred the open air. Even when it hurts. Even when it cuts.

You lean forward on the stone ledge, hands bare, watching your breath curl into the night like smoke. The snow is light tonight, falling soft and steady, and you close your eyes for a moment just to feel it gather against your lashes. You don’t turn when you hear the footsteps behind you. You already know who it is.

Cregan doesn’t speak right away. He never does. It’s one of the things you’ve come to expect from him, that watchful quiet, like he’s measuring every word before it’s born. There’s no sound but the wind and the soft crunch of snow beneath his boots until he comes to stand beside you, not close enough to touch, not even brushing your sleeve. Just near enough to be known.

“Escaping?” he asks finally.

Your lips twitch. “The wine. The songs. The lord who tried to guess how many men I’ve killed.”

“And?”

“I didn’t correct him.”

He makes a soft sound. It might be a laugh. It might be something else. You don’t look over to check. There’s a steadiness to him that unsettles you, and tonight, with the snow catching in his hair and the sharp cut of his jaw barely visible in the moonlight, you feel it more than usual.

He’s watching you. You know that too. You feel it in the same way you feel the cold, slow and certain, creeping under your skin even when you try not to flinch.

“You don’t like the noise,” he says.

“I don’t like pretending.”

“You didn’t pretend in there.”

“No,” you murmur. “But they did.”

He doesn’t answer, and you let the silence stretch between you. It isn’t uncomfortable. You’ve never minded silence with him. There’s something about the way he holds it, makes room for it, that doesn’t feel like distance.

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” he says quietly.

You let that sit for a beat. “You’ve met strong women before.”

“Yes.”

“Sharp ones.”

“Yes.”

You glance at him then, catching the edge of his profile. “So?”

His eyes flick to yours. Calm. Steady. “None who looked at me like they expected me to flinch.”

Your smile is faint, but it reaches your eyes. “Maybe I wanted to see if you would.”

He doesn’t smile back. Not exactly. But something in his expression softens. “You’re used to men who want to prove something.”

“I’m used to men who can’t hold their own without asking what it makes them.”

“And me?”

“You haven’t asked once.”

He nods, just once, like that’s enough. And maybe it is. For a long moment, neither of you speak. The wind rises again, tugging at your hair, slipping beneath your cloak like it wants to remind you of the cost of being still too long.

You tilt your head. “Why haven’t you?”

His brow furrows. “Haven’t I what?”

“Made a move. Asked. Taken.”

He doesn’t look away, and neither do you. There’s something unspoken between you that’s no longer content to stay unnamed. His gaze drops to your mouth, just briefly, before he lifts it again.

“Because it’s not what you deserve.”

Your breath catches, just slightly. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I have.”

You swallow hard. “And if I wanted more than silence? If I wanted something real?”

His eyes search yours. You feel like he’s looking into the part of you that doesn’t speak often. The part you guard even when you don’t mean to.

“Then I’d give it to you,” he says, “like Northerners do.”

The words land deeper than you expect. Not loud, not sharp, but solid. Meant. You don’t need to ask what he means by them. You hear it in the way he says them. With purpose. With weight. Not for a moment. Not for sport.

You don’t say anything after that. You just nod. He watches you a moment longer, then steps back. Leaves without a sound.

You stay there long after the snow has soaked into your cloak and your fingers have gone stiff at the knuckles. You stare out into the dark where nothing moves, where the storm hasn’t touched yet, and you let the words settle into your chest like something you weren’t ready for but needed all the same.

Like Northerners.

You say it once, under your breath. It doesn’t sound the same in your voice. Softer. Warmer. Almost like a promise.

You don’t lock the door that night. 

You don’t leave it wide open either—just enough that the latch doesn’t catch, that if someone tried, they wouldn’t have to knock. You sit by the fire longer than usual, legs tucked beneath you, the crackle of the wood the only sound in the room. It’s nothing. It means nothing. That’s what you tell yourself. But you leave the candle burning lower than normal. You don’t dress for bed right away. You don’t sleep.

When morning comes, there’s no knock. No shift in the hall. No sign that the door ever mattered.

But everything else feels different.

You see him in the yard just after breakfast, sleeves rolled to the elbow, arms dusted with frost from handling a saddle still damp with melt. He doesn’t look at you right away, but when he does, it’s slow. Measured. Your breath hitches, only slightly. Enough to feel it. Not enough to show.

He holds your gaze a little longer than usual. Doesn’t speak.

You say something dry about the weather just to fill the air. He only nods. That’s when you feel it—he’s letting you reach. Letting you fill the space, see if you’ll close it. You hate how much you want to. You hate how much he knows it.

At midday, he passes you a wrapped bundle of cloth from a steward’s tray. Warm bread. You recognize the smell before you look down. His fingers brush yours when you take it, and your pulse kicks against your wrist like a warning.

“You’re not eating enough,” he says simply. Not unkind.

You lift a brow. “Is that your observation or the kitchens’?”

“Mine.”

You tear off a corner of the bread. He watches you chew. Doesn’t flinch. You’re the one who breaks eye contact.

The horse ride comes later. You haven’t ridden far, just a short loop along the outer edge of the walls, and when you return, the wind’s picked up and the path down into the yard is slick. He reaches up without asking. One hand to the reins, the other to your waist. He doesn’t pull, not really. Just steadies you. Guides you down as if he’s done it a hundred times, as if your weight is familiar, expected.

When your boots hit the ground, you don’t step back right away. His hand lingers. Your breath fogs in the space between you.

You try to laugh. “Should I thank you for that?”

He doesn’t smile. Just tilts his head slightly. “Do you want to?”

“No.”

“Then don’t.”

You walk past him without looking back. You feel his eyes on you the whole way across the yard.

You spend the afternoon trying to ignore it. The way your skin still remembers the shape of his hand. The way your name sounded in his voice this morning—like it didn’t need to be said any louder than that. You try to keep your mind on the letters you’re meant to send, the reports you’re meant to check, the frost creeping up the panes of your window. None of it works.

He hasn’t come to you. Not really. But he’s left you nowhere to hide.

By nightfall, the sky has darkened to a heavy gray, and the fire in your chambers crackles louder than usual. You change out of your riding clothes slowly, brushing snow from the hem of your cloak, setting your belt aside like it might delay the moment you can’t stop circling.

You hear footsteps once. Think you do. But nothing follows. No knock.

It’s nearly midnight when you step out into the hall.

You find him near the great hearth on the first floor, past the main stair, half in shadow. Alone. His cloak hangs loose around his shoulders, hair damp with melt, jaw set like he’s been standing there longer than he meant to.

You stop. Not close. Just near enough.

He doesn’t turn. Doesn’t speak.

“I don’t usually leave it unlocked.”

It slips out quieter than you intended, but you don’t take it back.

He looks at you then. Long enough that it starts to ache. Long enough that you think he might say something.

He just nods. Once.

You breathe in. “Then you know where to find me.”

You don’t wait for anything else. You turn and walk the same path back through the stone corridor, heart in your throat, steps careful. You don’t look over your shoulder. You don’t let yourself hope.

But you don’t lock the door.

You don't light every candle. Just a few. Enough to cast the room in a warm sort of haze. The storm outside presses against the walls like something alive, wind moaning low against the stones. The fire in the hearth crackles steadily, and you sit in front of it with your legs tucked beneath you, pretending not to be waiting.

You’ve done this before. Waited. Wanted. None of it ever felt like this.

The door stays closed.

You drag your fingers along the seam of your sleeve. Try to focus on the heat of the fire, the rhythm of the snow hitting the windowpanes, the ache in your spine from a day spent holding yourself too tightly. You don’t look at the door. You tell yourself you won’t look. Not until—

A knock.

Just once. Firm. Quiet.

Your breath slips out all at once.

You rise before you can talk yourself out of it.

When you open the door, he’s already looking at you. Not guarded. Not uncertain. Just there. Like the storm didn’t touch him. Like he knew you’d open it. His eyes search yours once. No question in them. No hurry either.

He doesn’t ask to come in. He waits.

You step back.

He crosses the threshold slowly, eyes still on you, and closes the door behind him with the same care he does everything. When he turns back to face you, the silence between you carries something heavier than it did before.

He doesn’t reach for you. Doesn’t speak.

You look at him for a long time. His hair’s still damp. Snow melts in tiny beads along the edge of his collar. You want to say something but nothing comes. There’s nothing to say. You already said it.

He watches you like you’ve never been looked at. Not as a challenge. Not as a reward. Like he’s seeing you for exactly who you are, and has no intention of looking away.

You don’t mean to look away, but you do. His hands are on your hips, firm and steady, the kind of touch that makes you feel like nothing outside this room matters. And when his mouth brushes over your shoulder, slow and reverent, you feel your breath catch in your throat. You’ve never been shy, not with him, not with anyone—but something about this quiet, deliberate closeness leaves you undone.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just watches you. You can feel it even when your eyes drop to the space between you, to the way his thumbs stroke idle circles against your skin. It’s too much. Not in the way you want to pull away, but in the way you want to lean in without thinking, without guarding a thing.

“You stand your ground like nothing could shake you,” he says after a moment, voice soft. “But here with me, you look like you’re afraid to breathe.”

You let out a quiet sound, half a laugh, half something unsure. “Maybe I am.”

He tilts your chin up with one hand, his touch gentle, patient. “Don’t be.”

You meet his eyes again, and it’s hard to look away. Not because of how intense they are, but because there’s something softer behind them. Something open.

“I like seeing you like this,” he says. “When it’s just us. When you let go.”

Your throat feels too tight to speak.

He kisses you once, carefully. It’s not hesitant. It’s steady, like he already knows what you taste like, like he’s been waiting for this and refuses to rush it. You lean into it before you mean to, hands fisting gently in the fabric of his shirt. The heat between you builds slowly. No rush. No grab. Just the sure slide of his fingers beneath the edge of your tunic, the press of his palm over your ribs.

When he pulls back enough to look at you, your face is already warm. You glance away again, but his hand lifts, fingertips brushing the edge of your jaw like he’s coaxing your gaze back to his.

“You’ve never backed down from anything,” he murmurs. “Why now?”

“Maybe I’ve never had reason to be nervous before.”

His expression softens. That faint curve of his mouth that never quite becomes a smile, but almost does.

“You don’t have to be.”

His voice is low, steady, full of something that steadies you too.

You nod once. It’s all you can manage.

He moves slowly, peeling your tunic over your head with a reverence you weren’t prepared for. His hands don’t rush. He doesn’t reach for more than you’re ready to give. And when you step out of your boots, your pants, everything else—when you’re bare in front of him for the first time—he just looks at you like he’s memorizing every part.

You move to cover your chest out of instinct. He stops you gently.

“Don’t,” he says. “Let me see you.”

You do.

He steps closer again, hands warm against your waist, and presses a kiss just below your collarbone. You shiver. Not from cold.

“You feel it too,” he says softly.

You don’t answer. You don’t have to.

He kisses you again, and this time you meet him fully. You kiss him like you want him to feel it in every inch of him, and he answers like he already does.

His hands explore every part of you with an attentiveness that makes you ache. You've known men before—quick, fumbling, eager to claim—but he touches you like he's learning you, like each sigh and shiver is something to remember. When his fingers trace the scar along your ribs, he doesn't ask where it came from. He just lowers his mouth to it, warm and careful, and you feel something unravel in your chest.

You reach for his clothes, impatient now where he is measured. He lets you undress him, watching your face as each new expanse of skin is revealed. The firelight catches on old wounds—a jagged line across his shoulder, the mark of an arrowhead near his collarbone. You touch each one without speaking, and he watches you do it, unashamed of what his body tells you about the life he's lived.

When he's finally as bare as you are, standing tall and unguarded in the dim light, you can't help but stare. There's a lean strength to him that speaks of purpose rather than show. Nothing excessive. Nothing wasted. Just like his words.

He steps closer, and the heat of his body meets yours like a promise. You tilt your head back to look at him, and for once, you don't try to hide what's in your eyes.

"You're beautiful," he says simply.

You've heard those words before, from men who wanted something from you. But never like this—like he's stating a truth he's known for longer than tonight.

"So are you," you whisper back, and his eyes darken.

He leads you to the bed without hurry, his hand warm against the small of your back. When you lie down, he follows, his weight settling over you like something you've been waiting for without knowing it. His forearms bracket your head, careful not to crush you, and when he kisses you again, it's deeper than before. More certain.

You arch into him without meaning to, your body seeking his like it already knows the shape of him. His hand slides down your side, over the curve of your hip, the outside of your thigh, and back up again. Mapping you. Learning you. You feel like you're burning up from the inside out, and when his mouth trails down your neck, you can't help the soft sound that escapes you.

He lifts his head to look at you, eyes dark with want but still so clear. So focused.

"It's all right," he murmurs against your skin. "You don't have to hold back. Not with me."

You swallow hard, pulse fluttering against his palm as he cups your face. "I'm not used to this."

"To what?" His thumb traces your lower lip, gentle but insistent.

"To feeling... seen."

Something shifts in his expression then, a softening around his eyes that makes your chest ache. He doesn't smile, not fully, but there's a warmth in his gaze that feels more intimate than any touch.

"I've seen you since the first day," he says quietly. "Even when you didn't want me to."

You close your eyes at that, overwhelmed by the truth of it. You close them against the sudden, undeniable rush of feeling that his words have unlocked. Against the relief of it. The honesty. But you don’t close yourself to him, and when his lips find yours again, you kiss him with a kind of fierce need that surprises you. It’s different than before—driven, desperate, almost insistent—and you can feel him answering with the same intensity. It’s as though his confession has stripped away the last of your defenses, leaving you open and wanting and his in a way you couldn’t have anticipated.

This time when he touches you, there’s a deliberate purpose to his movements. Like he's memorized every arch and sigh and knows what you need before you do. His hand slides between your bodies, confident and sure, and finds the heat between your thighs with unerring confidence. You gasp against his mouth, fingers digging into his shoulders as he strokes you with steady, knowing touches. He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t fumble. He’s so present, so unbelievably in tune with you that it’s almost too much.

“Tell me what you like,” he murmurs, his voice rough with restraint. “Show me how to please you.” There’s urgency there, but it’s not hurried. Not impatient. Just intense. It’s more than you’ve ever had. More than you knew to want. You’ve never had a man ask before. Never had a man who seemed to care about the answer. Your breath catches as his fingers circle and press, finding rhythms that make you tremble. That make you forget to breathe and forget everything but his touch.

“Just like that,” you whisper, and he watches your face as he follows your guidance, learning the patterns that make your breath hitch, that make your hips rise to meet his hand. Your heart is in your throat, hammering against his chest as he bends his head to kiss a line of fire across your jaw, your neck, the fragile hollow at your throat. You feel like you’re unraveling beneath him, like he’s pulling you apart and putting you back together with only his hands and his mouth and the feel of his skin against yours.

When he slides a finger inside you, then another, your back arches off the bed. You’re not used to this. To feeling like you’ll come apart at the seams. But here with him, you do. You feel exposed in ways that have nothing to do with being naked. It’s in the way he sees through you, the way he reads every flutter of your lashes, every catch in your throat. Every stutter of your pulse as he moves with deliberate care, curling his fingers just so, watching every reaction like it’s something precious. Something to remember.

“You’re close,” he says, his voice low, and it’s not a question. He knows. He can feel it in the way your body tightens around his fingers, in the quickening of your breath.

You nod, unable to find words, and he lowers his head to press his mouth against your throat, teeth grazing lightly over your pulse. The dual sensation—his fingers working steadily inside you, his mouth hot against your skin—pushes you over the edge. You come with a broken sound, something between a gasp and his name, your body arching into his touch.

He works you through it, gentle but relentless, until you're trembling. Only then does he withdraw his hand, pressing a kiss to your temple as you catch your breath. You feel vulnerable in ways you never have before—not unprotected, but exposed. Seen in ways that matter.

"Come here," you whisper, tugging him closer. You need to feel his weight, need the solid press of him against you.

He shifts above you, settling between your thighs, his control still evident in the taut line of his shoulders, the careful way he braces himself. You reach between you to guide him, and the first press of him inside you draws a sound from both of you. It's not rushed. Not hurried. Just the slow, inexorable joining of your bodies, and he watches your face the entire time, gauging every reaction, every flutter of your eyelids.

When he's fully seated within you, he pauses. Holds perfectly still. His forehead drops to yours, and for a moment, you just breathe together.

"This," he whispers, voice roughened with restraint, "is what I wanted."

You can't speak. Can't find words for the fullness you feel—not just physical, but something deeper. Something that's taken root in your chest and threatens to bloom into something dangerous. Something real.

He moves then, a slow withdraw and careful return that makes your breath catch. His rhythm is deliberate, unhurried, like he's savoring every sensation. Every inch of you. His eyes never leave yours, and in them you see everything he doesn't say. The want. The need. The certainty.

You lift your hips to meet him, and the angle changes, deepens. The sound he makes—low and strained—sends heat flooding through you. His control is slipping, just slightly, and you feel a fierce satisfaction at being the one to break it.

"Don't hold back," you murmur, hands sliding up his back to feel the shift of muscle beneath his skin. "I want all of you."

His eyes darken at that, something primal flashing in their depths. His next thrust is harder, deeper, and you can't hold back the moan that escapes you. He watches you with an intensity that should frighten you but instead makes you feel powerful. Wanted. Real.

"You have it," he says, voice rough with need. "You've had it longer than you know."

The admission cuts through you, sharp and sweet. You pull him down to kiss him, desperate suddenly to taste him, to feel the ragged edge of his breathing against your lips. His control begins to fray as your bodies move together, his pace quickening, his restraint giving way to something rawer. You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, and he groans against your neck.

"Stay with me," he whispers, and you're not sure if he means right now or something more lasting. Either way, you have no intention of being anywhere else.

You feel yourself building toward another peak, an intensity gathering strength inside you, coiling tighter and tighter with each movement. This time it's more than pleasure. More than heat. It's something deeper, wider, terrifying in its scope. You can feel it consuming you, the promise of it making you shudder, and you know he’s right there with you, chasing it. His movements grow more frantic, more desperate, the steady rhythm beginning to falter as his own release draws near. You feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles strain against the effort of holding back, barely restrained against the onslaught of sensation and need. It's almost painful to watch him unravel, but there's beauty in it, too. Beauty in knowing you could do this to him, be the one to break him open.

"Let go," you breathe against his ear. "I've got you."

Something breaks in him then—that final thread of control snapping loose—and he loses himself to the moment. His thrusts become harder, deeper, more erratic as he gives in to the need that stretches between you. You cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders, your bodies moving in a wild, almost frantic tandem. When he reaches between you with shaking hands and touches you where you’re joined, the pleasure is instantaneous and all-consuming. You shatter around him, the force of it making you cry out his name, your body clenching and tightening until you think you might break.

He follows you a moment later, a hoarse sound tearing from his throat as he spills into you. It's not quite a word, but you know what it means. You know it's the only thing he couldn’t give voice to before. He collapses against your chest, his weight heavy and real and so damn solid that you think it might tether you to the earth forever. You want that. You want the impossible promise of it. You want what he's given you.

You lie there just breathing together, your hands in his hair, his skin damp against yours. The air is still, quiet, and you wouldn’t change a thing. 

[shizuturnspages]

What if Diluc and Kaeya shared a darling? (both characters separate)

How would they react if that darling favored them over the other sibling? Would they notice or be unaware? Would they still feel jelly over the other one? Etc. (^v^)

"You're Mine, Not His"

Synopsis: Sharing a darling was never an option. As tensions rise between Mondstadt’s estranged brothers, Diluc moves in silence—protecting you from Kaeya’s deceptive grasp—while Kaeya weaves a web of sweet words and lingering touches to make you his alone. But no matter who you choose, one truth remains: neither will ever let you go. Pairing: Yan! Diluc x Reader, Yan! Kaeya x Reader

🔥 Diluc: The Protective Flame

Would He Notice? Yes. Diluc is incredibly perceptive, especially when it comes to you. If you favor him over Kaeya, he’d pick up on the small things—how you seek him out first, how your voice softens when you say his name, how you always seem to linger in his presence just a little longer. It would soothe him, reinforcing the idea that keeping you close is right.

His Reaction to Being Chosen Over Kaeya: A mix of relief and possessive satisfaction. Kaeya has always been unpredictable, someone he wants to trust but never fully can. So if you prefer him over his brother? It only solidifies his belief that you belong with him, that you see the truth.

Would He Get Jealous? Not outwardly, but deep down, yes. Even if you favor him, the idea of you spending any time with Kaeya unnerves him. He wouldn’t voice it directly, but his grip might tighten just slightly when you mention Kaeya’s name, his tone turning clipped whenever you bring up time spent with his brother. He’ll always see Kaeya as a threat—because Kaeya is too charming, too manipulative. If you ever waver, even for a moment, Diluc will be there to remind you why he is the only one you need.

What If You Preferred Kaeya Instead? Oh, that would break him. He wouldn’t show it outright, but something inside him would shatter. He wouldn’t lash out—Diluc doesn’t believe in recklessness—but he’d become even more protective, more possessive, more determined to make you see. He’d be colder toward Kaeya than usual, making it very clear that his patience is running thin. And if he starts noticing Kaeya getting too close? Well… accidents happen.

❄️ Kaeya: The Manipulative Frost

Would He Notice? Oh, absolutely. Kaeya is hyper-aware of emotions and relationships, always watching, always analyzing. If you favored him over Diluc, he’d drink it up. Every lingering glance, every stutter in your words when he teases you—it would be delicious.

His Reaction to Being Chosen Over Diluc: Pure, smug satisfaction. His dear brother always acts like he knows best, always tries to control things in the name of “protection.” But you? You chose Kaeya. That means something. It means you see through Diluc’s cold distance and recognize who truly understands you. He’d use it against Diluc every chance he gets, letting subtle, biting remarks slip. “Oh, don’t be jealous, Diluc. It’s not my fault they prefer me.”

Would He Get Jealous? Oh, Kaeya doesn’t do jealousy—at least, not in the traditional sense. He doesn’t get mad. Instead, he gets even. If you ever so much as entertain the idea of favouring Diluc, Kaeya will remind you why he’s the better choice. Subtly, of course. He’ll pull you into private moments, whisper words in your ear that make your heart race, fill your mind with little seeds of doubt about his brother.

What If You Preferred Diluc Instead? That… stings. More than he’d ever admit. But Kaeya doesn’t lose. If you think you prefer Diluc, then clearly, you don’t understand him yet. And that’s okay. He has all the time in the world to fix that. He’ll be patient, calculated. Slowly inserting himself into your life, subtly discrediting Diluc, ensuring that you second-guess everything you thought you knew. And when you finally turn to him instead? Oh, how sweet that victory will be.

[fuqnia]

Streetlamps

kenny mccormick x reader insert

(❁´◡`❁) | [A/N] hii, this is my sixth oneshot that's apart of my ficmas! this is also on ao3. ❤️❄️🎄

(❁´◡`❁) | Warning(s) : nothing

(❁´◡`❁) | Synopsis : [y/n] and Kenny share a simple yet magical Christmas Eve, with handmade gifts and a kiss under falling snow.

The knock on the door was familiar—three quick taps, the last one loud and cocky, like whoever was on the other side knew you’d be answering for them. You grinned despite yourself, already knowing who it was. You’d barely gotten the door open before Kenny McCormick leaned casually against the frame, looking up at you with that mischievous grin that always managed to turn your stomach to butterflies.

“Hey, babe,” Kenny said, his voice low and smooth, like he was letting you in on a secret no one else got to hear. “You ready for your Christmas surprise, or are you gonna leave me freezing my ass off out here?”

He looked like pure trouble—of course he did. Kenny always carried himself like he was halfway between starting a fight and finishing a drink. His signature orange parka was nowhere to be seen, replaced instead with a faded orange hoodie under a beaten-up black denim jacket, the seams frayed and the fabric worn soft. His jeans were ripped at the knees, and his boots were scuffed and caked with snow, evidence that he’d already walked halfway across town to get here. A few curls of blonde hair fell into his eyes, still damp from the snow that had started swirling outside.

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling as you leaned against the doorframe, mirroring his energy. “You’re late.”

Kenny let out a soft, teasing laugh, the kind that always made your pulse do something weird. “You’re lucky I showed up at all,” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. “You know, some of us are in high demand this time of year.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the way his presence already had you feeling lighter. “Yeah, I’m sure every teen on your block is devastated.”

Kenny smirked, pushing himself off the doorframe and taking a step closer. “What can I say? I’m a man of the people.” He tilted his head, his blue eyes sharp and amused as they studied you. “But I’m here with you tonight, babe. That counts for something, right?”

It was ridiculous how easily he could do this—flirt like it was second nature, every word out of his mouth perfectly balanced between charm and teasing. He knew what he was doing, and yet it still worked every time.

“Maybe,” you said, trying to sound unimpressed. You grabbed your gloves from the table and slipped them on. “But you’ve still got some convincing to do, McCormick.”

Kenny grinned, showing just the faintest hint of teeth, as if he relished the challenge. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered. It’s nothing fancy, but I figured we’d check out the lights downtown. The little holiday shit they put up—window displays, all that crap. Thought it’d be nice.”

The way he said it—so offhanded, like he wasn’t sure how you’d take it—made your chest tighten in the best way. Kenny didn’t do extravagant gestures or over-the-top plans. He couldn’t afford to. But that wasn’t what made him special. He always made things feel bigger than they were just by being himself.

“That actually sounds perfect,” you admitted, your voice softer now.

Something flickered across his face—relief, maybe—but it was gone just as quickly as it came. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket and shrugged, like he hadn’t just made your entire night better. “Figured you’d say that. You’re easy to please, babe.”

You snorted, shaking your head as you followed him out onto the porch. The cold air hit immediately, biting at your cheeks, but it was worth it just to see Kenny standing there under the glow of the streetlamp. The light reflected off the falling snow, casting soft shadows on his face as he turned to look at you, the smirk still tugging at his lips.

“Cold already?” he teased as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “You’re gonna love it downtown. Half the stores still think ‘turning on some string lights’ counts as holiday cheer.”

“Better than nothing,” you replied, falling into step beside him as you started down the snowy sidewalk.

Kenny snickered under his breath. “Barely. South Park’s like the Walmart clearance rack of Christmas towns, but hey, it’s home, right?”

You laughed, and Kenny shot you a sideways glance, his blue eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite place. “You’ve got a nice laugh, you know that?” he said suddenly, his voice quieter. “That’s probably the real reason I dragged you out tonight. I figured someone’s gotta make me look less miserable walking around this dump.”

You nudged his shoulder with yours, pretending not to notice the way your heart flipped in your chest. “You’re a real charmer, Kenny. I don’t know how I resist you.”

He grinned, leaning in slightly as he lowered his voice. “Spoiler alert: you don’t.”

You rolled your eyes again, but you couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face as the two of you continued down the quiet street. Snowflakes drifted down lazily from the dark sky, collecting on your shoulders and sticking to the ends of Kenny’s hair, making him look... softer somehow. Less like the sarcastic, sharp-edged kid everyone thought he was and more like the boy you’d known for years—the boy who, even when he didn’t have much, always found a way to make you feel like the luckiest person alive just to know him.

And as you walked together, the distant glow of South Park’s downtown lights shining ahead of you, you realized that, as simple as this night might’ve been, it was already perfect.

Downtown South Park was quieter than usual, most people already huddled inside their homes or crowded around fireplaces. The snow fell lazily through the air, blanketing the streets and softening the noise of passing cars. The sidewalks were nearly empty, the two of you practically alone as you wandered past the rows of shops and cafés, all decked out in their half-assed attempts at holiday cheer.

“You gotta love how South Park tries to look festive but still manages to scream ‘we gave up halfway through,’” Kenny said, his voice laced with sarcasm as he gestured at the string lights tangled over a street sign. A few bulbs flickered weakly, while others had already burnt out entirely.

You laughed, shoving your gloved hands into your coat pockets. “It’s charming in its own pathetic way.”

“Charming,” Kenny echoed, smirking as he glanced at you. “That’s one way to put it. I’m pretty sure half the lights they put up were salvaged from someone’s garage sale.”

He wasn’t wrong. One of the nearby lampposts had a plastic candy cane duct-taped to its side, and a sad, lopsided wreath hung over the entrance to Tom’s Rhinoplasty. Despite the haphazard decorations, though, there was something warm about it all—the way the snow settled softly on the garlands, the way the light glowed against the dark streets.

The two of you paused in front of a toy shop, its window display glowing brightly with reds and greens. Mechanical elves jerked awkwardly back and forth, as if powered by some barely functioning motor, while a plastic Santa turned his head slowly from side to side. The effect was less magical and more unsettling, but it made Kenny snort with laughter.

“Jesus, this is straight out of a horror movie,” he said, pressing his face close to the glass with mock intensity. “You think Santa’s checking his list, or you think he’s looking for his next victim?”

You stepped up beside him, your reflection in the frosted window blending with his. “Probably both. I think that elf on the left is possessed.”

“Oh, definitely,” Kenny said, leaning back and shoving his hands into his jacket pockets again. “I’d watch that movie. Killer Christmas.”

“Not gonna lie, I would too,” you replied, grinning.

Kenny turned to you, his blue eyes catching the glow of the window display. The smirk on his face softened slightly, the sharp edges dulling as he watched you for a moment. “I knew you’d be into that. That’s why you’re my favorite.”

The words caught you off guard, even if Kenny said it so casually it almost sounded like a joke. “Oh, I’m your favorite now?” you teased, hoping the heat creeping up your neck wasn’t obvious.

“Always have been, babe,” he replied smoothly, his grin turning cocky.

You rolled your eyes to cover the way your heart stuttered, turning back toward the next window as Kenny fell into step beside you again.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a while, the snow crunching softly beneath your boots. It felt surreal being out here with him, just the two of you, under the glow of flickering lights and neon shop signs. Kenny wasn’t the type to slow down often—he was always moving, always joking, always covering himself with layers of humor and bravado. But here, under the quiet fall of snow, he seemed calmer, more present.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, nudging your arm lightly with his elbow. “Check this out.”

You looked up to see him nodding toward another window display—this one a small bakery. Its front window was fogged from the warmth inside, but you could still see the carefully arranged gingerbread houses, sugar-dusted cookies, and little frosted cakes shaped like reindeer. Twinkle lights were strung along the edges of the display, the glow catching on the snow outside and making it look almost magical.

Kenny tilted his head, squinting at it. “Man, I’d kill for one of those cookies right now.”

“Didn’t you eat, like, two burgers earlier?” you teased.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t demolish a gingerbread man,” he replied, grinning. “You’d do the same. Don’t act innocent.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you turned back to the display. The warm glow from the bakery felt like a stark contrast to the freezing air outside, and for a moment, you almost suggested going in. But then you felt something cold hit your cheek—a single snowflake.

You tilted your head back slightly, blinking as more flakes drifted down from the sky, slow and steady. Kenny followed your gaze, his grin softening as he watched the snow fall around you both.

“It’s really coming down now,” you said quietly, almost to yourself.

“Yeah,” Kenny muttered, his voice low. “It’s nice, though. Peaceful.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the way his tone had shifted. Kenny rarely slowed down enough to just be. His grin was gone now, replaced by something quieter and more thoughtful as he looked up at the sky, the snowflakes catching in his hair and on his jacket.

“It’s kinda weird,” he said suddenly, his eyes still on the sky. “Sometimes I forget how... good this can look. You know, the whole Christmas shit. When you don’t have to worry about anything else—like money, or how you’re gonna keep the heat on. It’s nice to just... look at it for once.”

Your chest tightened at the honesty in his voice, a rare glimpse of the Kenny who lived beneath the jokes and smirks. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, he turned back toward you, his grin returning like a reflex.

“Don’t get all teary on me, babe,” he said, nudging you again. “I’m just saying, snow’s pretty. Sue me.”

You smiled, bumping him back lightly. “No lawsuits this time, McCormick.”

Kenny snorted, shaking his head. “Good. I’m broke.”

The two of you continued walking, the snow falling more steadily now, swirling in the glow of the streetlamps lining the sidewalk. There was something dreamlike about it—the way the lights reflected off the snow, the quiet stillness of the empty streets, and the easy rhythm of Kenny walking beside you.

He paused suddenly, pulling his hands from his pockets as he stopped under one of the streetlamps. Its light flickered faintly, the bulb buzzing like it was struggling to keep up with the night. Kenny looked at you, a strange, mischievous look on his face that made your heart skip a beat.

“Wait here,” he said, before slipping his hand into his jacket.

“What are you doing?” you asked, watching him warily.

Kenny didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled something small and wrapped from his pocket, holding it out toward you. It was clumsily done—brown paper folded haphazardly, held together with a single piece of tape—but it was clearly something he’d put together himself.

“Merry Christmas,” Kenny said simply, his voice soft but steady. “It’s not much, but I wanted you to have it.”

You turned the small package over in your hands, a smile tugging at your lips as you took in just how bad the wrapping job was. The brown paper was creased and uneven, one corner bunched up as if Kenny had given up halfway through folding it. The single piece of tape holding it all together was barely doing its job, and part of the paper had already started to peel up at the edges.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you. “Kenny, what the hell is this? Did you wrap this with your eyes closed?”

Kenny let out a breathy laugh, the sound warm against the cold night. He scratched the back of his neck, his grin lopsided and sheepish. “Hey, wrapping paper’s a scam. You’re lucky I didn’t just hand it to you raw. I spent a whole five minutes on that.”

“Five minutes well spent,” you teased, holding the package up and pretending to examine it like it was a work of art. “It’s very... authentic. Minimalist chic.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Kenny said, but his voice was light, his blue eyes soft as they watched you. “Just open it before you hurt my feelings, babe.”

You shot him a teasing look before carefully peeling back the tape and unfolding the paper—at least what was still intact. Inside was a small, handmade bracelet, its simple black cord threaded with a mix of little wooden beads and a single, worn copper charm shaped like a star. It wasn’t perfect; the beads were slightly uneven, and the charm had a faint scratch along one side. But somehow, that made it even better. It looked like Kenny, through and through—rough around the edges, simple but full of heart.

Your teasing smile softened as you held it up, turning it over between your fingers to get a better look. The charm caught the faint glow of the streetlamp, its surface glinting against the snowy night.

“Kenny...” you said softly, your voice catching just a little.

Kenny shoved his hands back into his jacket pockets, his gaze flicking away from yours like he was suddenly nervous. “I, uh... made it a while ago. Just some stuff I found lying around, you know? The charm was on this old necklace my sister used to have—she didn’t want it anymore, so I, uh, repurposed it or whatever.”

You looked back at the bracelet, your heart twisting as you traced your thumb over the little star. You could tell he was trying to play it off like it was no big deal, but you knew better. Kenny didn’t do grand gestures; he didn’t have the means to buy shiny things or pull off big surprises. But he put himself into what he could do, and that made everything he did mean so much more.

“I know it’s not some fancy gift or anything,” Kenny continued, his voice low as he stared down at his boots, his shoulders stiff like he was bracing for something. “But I thought... I dunno, you might like it. If you don’t, it’s cool. I’m just—”

“Kenny, shut up,” you said gently, cutting him off as you smiled and slipped the bracelet onto your wrist. It fit snugly, the charm resting just above the pulse of your hand. “It’s perfect.”

Kenny blinked, looking up at you like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, holding out your arm so he could see it better. “I love it. Really.”

For a second, Kenny just stared at the bracelet on your wrist, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face—softer than his usual cocky smirk, like this smile was just for you.

“Well, damn,” he said, his voice teasing but warm. “Look at you, making me feel all accomplished and shit.”

You laughed softly, your fingers brushing over the charm again as you looked at him. “You should. I mean it, Kenny. I love it.”

He watched you for a moment, his grin lingering, his blue eyes catching the flickering light from the streetlamp above. The snow fell softly around you both, collecting on his shoulders and sticking to the ends of his messy blonde hair.

“You’re something else, you know that?” Kenny said quietly, his tone softer now, like he’d forgotten to hide behind the jokes and the swagger.

You smiled, feeling your heart give that familiar, fluttering lurch in your chest. “Takes one to know one, McCormick.”

Kenny chuckled under his breath, but there was a gentleness in his expression that made your stomach flip. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The snow continued to drift lazily from the sky, and the flickering streetlamp above cast a golden glow over the two of you, like the whole world had stilled just for this.

You glanced down at the bracelet on your wrist, the little copper star catching the faint glow of the flickering streetlamp. You couldn’t help but smile as you turned your gaze back to Kenny. He was still looking at you, his grin softer now, almost nervous. Kenny McCormick—nervous. That alone was enough to make your chest ache.

“It’s snowing harder,” you said softly, more to fill the silence than anything else.

Kenny tilted his head back slightly, letting his gaze shift toward the sky. Snowflakes swirled lazily down from the dark, endless expanse above, catching in his messy blonde hair and clinging to his lashes. He stood still for a moment, his face tilted upward, his breath visible in soft bursts of white against the cold air.

“Guess it is,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost lost to the soft hum of the night. He lowered his head, looking at you again, and something about the way his eyes lingered on yours made the rest of the world feel distant, hazy—like you were the only two people here.

You shivered a little, though it wasn’t from the cold. Kenny noticed immediately, pulling his hands out of his jacket pockets and stepping closer. “You cold, babe?” he asked softly, the teasing lilt in his voice barely there now.

“A little,” you admitted, though you were barely thinking about the temperature. Not when he was standing this close, his face only a few inches from yours, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“C’mere,” Kenny said, his voice low and warm. He reached out and tugged you gently by the edge of your coat, pulling you just close enough that your breath mingled in the cold air.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You could see the flecks of snow caught in his hair, the way the faint light of the streetlamp turned the edges of his face golden. His eyes searched yours, his expression unusually open, like he was waiting—waiting for you to make the call.

Your heart pounded as you lifted your hand, brushing a few stray snowflakes from his hair with your gloved fingers. Kenny’s eyes fluttered closed at the touch, just for a second, before they opened again—soft, vulnerable, there.

“Kenny,” you murmured, not even sure what you were about to say.

He smiled faintly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Yeah?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you leaned in slowly, letting your eyes flutter shut as the distance between you disappeared. Kenny’s breath hitched softly, and then his lips met yours—delicate and hesitant at first, like he wasn’t sure you’d let him.

The kiss was soft and unhurried, the kind that made time feel like it had stopped. His lips were warm despite the cold, chapped from the winter air, but gentle against yours, like he was afraid to break something. Kenny’s hands came to rest on your coat, careful but steady, grounding you even as everything else seemed to spin.

Snowflakes landed lightly on your cheeks and melted instantly, the cold barely registering as you tilted your head, deepening the kiss just a little. Kenny’s lips moved with yours, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to memorize the shape of your mouth against his. His thumb brushed your sleeve absentmindedly, sending a faint shiver down your spine, and you let yourself melt into him, into the moment.

When you finally pulled back, it was only by an inch, your foreheads almost touching as you caught your breath. Snowflakes floated lazily between you, clinging to Kenny’s lashes and dusting the tips of his hair like frost. He blinked slowly, his breath fogging the space between you both, his lips curling into the faintest smile.

“Well, shit,” Kenny said quietly, his voice soft and husky. “That was... pretty nice.”

You laughed softly, still breathless, your cheeks aching from smiling. “Yeah,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “It really was.”

Kenny tilted his head, his grin widening into something closer to his usual mischief but gentler now, softened by the moment. “Don’t go falling in love with me, babe,” he teased, though his voice was warm. “I’ll just disappoint you.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling as you nudged his shoulder lightly. “Too late, McCormick.”

Kenny blinked at you, like he hadn’t expected that answer. His grin faltered, just for a second, before he chuckled softly under his breath and shook his head. “God, you’re something else.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you teased.

“Not at all,” Kenny replied, his voice low as he watched you. “Not at all.”

The snow fell heavier now, swirling in glowing spirals under the flickering streetlamp, but neither of you moved. Kenny stayed close, his hands still resting lightly on your coat, his smile lingering as he leaned in again—just enough to brush his lips against yours once more.

And for that moment, under the soft blanket of snow and the dim golden glow of the streetlamp, the rest of the world disappeared.

[yours-etc]

12 Days of Steddie-Mas

Day 1:

I’ll Have A Blue Christmas

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

The fresh snow crunches under his boots. Flakes fall from the sky, sticking to his hat and shoulders and eyelashes. A cloudy of mist fans out from Steve’s mouth when he gasps as he slips on a patch of ice. He grips the flowers tight in his hand as he regains his balance, the box of cookies he had falls from his grip and onto the ground. Luckily it stayed closed and the cookies mostly intact when he peaked in.

“God damn this fucking snow!” Steve exclaimed, kicking the white fluff in frustration. He loved Indiana, but Jesus Christ, he was so sick of Midwestern winters.

The cemetery is empty besides Steve, the headstones, and whatever ghosts of Christmas were lingering around.

Steve finds his was to the plot he was looking for. He lays out a blanket so he doesn’t have to sit directly on the cold ground. He takes the now dead and frozen old flowers from the small vase and replaces them with the poinsettias he brought.

“Hey Mom,” he breathes out, tracing the words Roasanne Harrington Loving Wife, Mother, Sister, and Friend.

“Sorry it's been a while, you know how I hate the cold,” Steve laughs out the second half, “But you always loved Christmas, so I had to come celebrate.”

There’s no response from the stone, but Steve doesn’t mind the silence.

“This isn’t the first Christmas without you, but it’s definitely the one that hurts the most,” he starts, “because I can almost pretend to be happy. There are moments where I forget you’re gone. And then there will just be a second, usually when I’m lost in thought, or when I’m watching everyone laugh, I just think about how much you’d love them all. I’m sorry you never got to meet them, my new family I guess you could call them. You would love Robin, she reminds me of you. Her love of the holidays, her sense of humor, the way she looks at the world,” Steve sucks in a deep breath trying to stop himself from crying, tears pricking at his eyes, “Oh mom, you would have adored her.” He loses his battle with his emotions. Tears flood from his eyes and sob shudders through his body.

“I’m sorry we never got to patch things up before you left. It- it felt like there— there for a moment, at the end— we were getting close to being able to. I think after the wedding we both realized how much we missed each other. And I want you to know I don’t blame you for sticking by Dad,” Steve didn’t acknowledge the headstone to his left that had his father’s name on it.

“You loved him, and I’m sure, at some point, he was good. It’s hard to let go of things sometimes.” Steve swipes away his tears with the back of his coat sleeve. He didn’t need them freezing on his lashes.

He opened the box of cookies and took a bite of one, “I never can get them to taste the same as how you made them, I’m convinced you purposefully left out an ingredient on the written recipe.”

Steve giggles as he remembered how protective his mother was of her recipes. He quite literally could not get his hands on them till she died. And like hell was he going to let Aunt Katie take them. They were more valuable than anything left to him in the will. After the accident Steve was left with a big empty house and a stack of note card recipes.

He sold the house and laminated the cards.

With the money from the old place, he was able to but his own quaint little home. With three bedrooms and two and a half baths, Steve had finally found a home. It was a fixer upper on the outside of town, but he needed a project to keep his mind busy.

He threw his heart and soul into painting the walls a soft cream color and tearing out the drab carpet to be replaced with ward hardwood floors and redoing the front porch to fit some chairs and a swing.

He had help from Dustin, Robin, and of course Eddie— Steve played with the ring on his finger at the thought of him— but the brunt of the work was done by him.

He wanted to make his dream home. And so he did.

On the day him and Eddie moved out of their shared apartment with Robin, lots of loving tears and hugs were shared and promises of a dinner party as soon as the house was properly set up were made.

The house was a bit empty at first. They only had enough to fill half an apartment, and now they had much more space to grow. Wayne had made them a kitchen table with four chairs as a house warming gift. More tears were shed that day when he dropped it off.

Slowly but surely they filled their home with cozy couches and pillows, music, and photos of their life.

Steve didn’t need to turn around to know the footsteps approaching behind him belonged to his husband.

Eddie leaned down to give him a warm kiss on the cheek. Steve leaned into his warmth, not realizing how cold he had gotten.

“Ready to go?” Eddie asks softly, “We have to pick up little Robbie from Chrissy and Robin’s before heading to Wayne’s for dinner.”

Steve nods and grabs Eddie’s outstretched hand to help him up off the ground.

Eddie gathers up the blanket and shakes it out before bundling up under his arms. He makes a swift dramatic bow to Rosanna’s stone, “Mrs. Rose, looking as gorgeous as ever,” He doesn’t look to the left, but throws up a middle finger to Robert’s grave, “Mr. Harrington, hope hell is awful as always.”

Steve laughs at his ridiculousness before giving his mom’s stone a small kiss. Leaning his forehead against the cold rock he wishers, “You really would have loved little Robin, she reminds me of you more and more everyday. Maybe I’ll bring her next time.”

He stands to his full height and walks over to Eddie lacing their fingers together and give their hands a squeeze. Eddie squeezes back. The two of them walk back to Eddie’s new mini van, which is “totally just as metal as the old one, Stevie.”

The radio plays Christmas music as they drive off to pick up their daughter from her first ever annual Auntie Christmas Eve Eve sleepover. And in the moment Steve feels content and maybe a bit lighter.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

HAPPY DECEMBER 1st!!

Throughout the month I will be posting 12 different Steddie Christmas/Winter themed ficlets!! Just short little things to bring on the Holiday fun. Now I know this one was a bit sad… I promise there will be Happy ones too!! Anyway I hope you all enjoy <3

Day: 1 2 3 4 5 6

[fanfics4all]

Icy Chill

Request: Yes / No No clue if this has been requested before but...temperature play with Leonard Snart??❄️Anon

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Leonard Snart x Fem!Reader 

Word count: 1449

Warnings: SMUT! Temperature play! 

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

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(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

The wind howled outside as snowflakes danced through the air, blanketing Central City in a soft layer of white. Inside our cozy apartment, Snart adjusted the thermostat, glancing over at me. I was curled up on the couch, a warm blanket wrapped around me. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows that played across the walls. 

“Are you cold, babe?” He asked, a teasing glint in his icy blue eyes as he approached me. I looked up at him, a playful smile tugging at my lips. 

“Not yet, but I might be soon.” With a smirk, Leonard knelt down beside me, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of the blanket. 

“Let’s change that.” He leaned in closer, his breath sending shivers down my spine. 

“I have a little game in mind… Temperature play.” My heart raced at the thought. I loved when he took charge, loved the way he made me feel both excited and safe. 

“Okay…” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath. His eyes darkened with desire. 

“You trust me, don’t you?” 

“Always.” 

“Good. Undress.” he said, his voice low and commanding. He slowly pulled the blanket away, exposing me to the cool air of the room. I started undressing as he watched.

“Let’s see how well you handle the cold.” 

With that, he stood and walked over to the freezer, pulling out a few ice cubes. I watched him, anticipation building as he returned, the ice clinking in my palm. He knelt beside me again, his fingers gently caressing my cheek before trailing down my neck, sending shivers through my body. 

“Close your eyes.” He instructed softly. I complied, my heart pounding in my chest. I could feel the coolness of the ice as he pressed it against my collarbone. The sensation sent jolts of pleasure mixed with a hint of discomfort through me. 

“Leonard…” I gasped, my body instinctively arching towards him. 

“Shh.” He murmured, I could hear the grin on his face. 

“Let me take care of you.” He continued to move the ice along my skin, exploring my shoulders, then down my arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. I could feel the chill creeping deeper, but it was paired with a warmth that radiated from the control I held. 

“You’re doing so well.” He praised, his voice smooth as silk. 

“Just relax and let the cold take over.” As he pressed the ice against my stomach, I quivered, biting my lip to stifle my moans. The contrast of the cold against my warm skin was intoxicating and I found myself sinking deeper into the sensation, surrendering completely to him. 

“Now, let’s add a little heat.” He said, his tone shifting as he tossed the ice aside and cupped my face in his hands. He leaned in, his lips brushing against mine. They were warm and inviting, contrasting sharply with the ice. I melted into him, the warmth of his mouth igniting my senses. Our lips moved together, and I could feel his hands trailing down my body, igniting every nerve ending as he explored my curves. 

“Do you want more?” He asked, pulling back slightly to look into my now open eyes. 

“Yes…” I breathed, my voice shaky with need. 

“Then I’ll give you what you crave.” He kissed me deeply, pouring all his dominance into the kiss as he pressed my back against the couch, his body hovering over mine. 

He reached for another ice cube, holding it against my thigh. The chill contrasted with the heat of his body pressed against mine. I moaned into his mouth, my body arching up as he dragged the ice along my skin, teasing and tantalizing. 

“Leonard, please…” I whimpered, craving more of the warmth and pleasure that only he could provide. 

“Please what?” He teased, his breath hot against my ear as he continued to play with the ice, moving it closer to my most sensitive spots. 

“Please… don’t stop.” I gasped, my body trembling with anticipation. With a wicked grin, he tossed the ice aside and focused on me. His hands and mouth explored every inch of my body, igniting a fire within me that melted away the cold. 

“Just let go.” He commanded softly, and I obeyed. I surrendered to the sensations as he worshipped me with his lips and hands, bringing me to the edge and back again. 

Leonard’s fingers, calloused yet precise, brushed against my thigh sending a ripple of goosebumps across my skin. He held the glistening ice cube between his thumb and forefinger, its edges already softening from the heat of his touch. 

“You’re trembling. His voice was a low rumble that vibrated through the stillness. 

“Let’s see how much you can take.” With deliberate slowness, he trailed the ice upward, the cold biting into the tender flesh of my inner thigh. My breath hitched, a sharp gasp escaping my lips as the sensation teetered between pleasure and sting. He paused, hovering just shy of where I ached most, his eyes locking onto mine with a wicked intensity. 

“You ready for this, babe?” He murmured, the faintest hint of a challenge laced into his tone. Before I could answer, he pressed the ice cube against me, slipping it past my folds with a deft, teasing nudge. The shock of cold hit me like a jolt, my hips bucking involuntarily as the ice settled inside, melting against my heat. 

“Leonard!” I cried out, my voice a raw mix of surprise and need, my fingers digging into the couch. 

“Shhh, just feel it.” He soothed, though his grin betrayed his delight at my reaction. He shifted closer, his knees sinking into the couch as he positioned himself above me. His dark jacket hung open, revealing the taut lines of his chest beneath a fitted black shirt, the fabric clinging to his frame like a second skin. His hands gripped my hands, steadying me as he leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. 

“You’re so damn perfect like this.” He growled, the words dripping with possession. With a fluid motion, he unfastened his belt, the metallic clink echoing in the quiet room. His jeans slid down just enough to free himself, his cock already hard and straining, the tip glistening faintly in the firelight. He didn’t rush, he never did. Instead, he dragged the moment out, letting the anticipation coil tighter inside me. The ice was melting fast now, a cool trickle seeping out, mingling with my own slickness as he pressed himself against me. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” He muttered, almost to himself, his voice rough with hunger. 

Then he thrust in, slow and deep, the heat of him clashing with the fading chill of the ice. I moaned, loud and unrestrained. My body arched to meet his as he filled me completely. His hands slid up my sides, thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts, before a palm flattened against my stomach, pinning me in place. 

“That’s it.” He rasped, his pace quickening, each thrust deliberate and forceful. The wet sounds of our bodies colliding filled the air, underscored by the crackle of the fire and my ragged breathing. His lips parted, a low groan escaping as he watched me writhe beneath him. 

“You feel that?” He asked, his voice a husky whisper. 

“Hot and Cold, all at once, just for you.” He shifted his angle, hitting deeper, and I felt the pressure build, a delicious ache that spread from my core outward. The melted ice dripped down my thighs, pooling on the couch, its faint chill lost in the overwhelming heat of him. 

“Leonard, I-” My words dissolved into a whimper as he drove harder, his grip tightening on my hips. 

“Don’t hold back.” He commanded, his tone sharp and urgent. 

“Let me hear you.” His thumb found my clit, circling with a roughness that sent sparks through me and I shattered, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crashed over me. He didn’t stop, riding me through it. His own breath grew jagged until he followed, a guttural ‘Fuck’ spilling from his lips as he came. His release was hot and thick inside me. 

He collapsed forward, bracing himself on his forearms, his chest heaving as he pressed his forehead to mine. The fire popped beside us, casting golden flickers across his sharp features. 

“You’re something else.” He murmured, a rare softness breaking through his usual edge. His fingers traced lazy circles on my thigh, smearing the mix of ice water and us into my skin as if marking me as his. The storm raged on outside, but in here, with him, the world was nothing but heat and shadow. 

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @madammarvellous-blog1 @amnesiacompleta @liz-owl @bruisedfists-and-splitlips

[hekateinhell]

Thank you so so much to everyone who contributed to and supported my little event! 🥹 Because I hosted this via my personal blog and not an event blog, I thought it would be nice to throw together a masterpost of all of our creations to have in one place to showcase everyone’s talent and efforts. Armandblr, you really are the best! ♥️

The Tumblr tagging system is far from perfect, so please let me know if I missed you somehow!

𝖋𝖆𝖓𝖋𝖎𝖈

*some of these were written specifically for ArmandShipFest from beginning to end, while others are multi-chapter fics where a specific chapter was written for this event—with that in mind, I’m listing the fics in their entirety so they can be enjoyed as they deserve!

ARMAND/MARIUS

A blending of sadness and simple grace [M | 1.9k | VC & AMC]

ARMAND/LESTAT

revealed at the ball. [M | 1.1k | Genderswap | VC]

tied together. [T | 332 | Genderswap | VC]

So Pretty In Your Pain [E | 3.2k | Genderswap & Human AU | VC]

Men of Honor [M | 3.1k | Human AU | VC]

I loved him, I knew it [G | 3k | VC]

Down Where The Church Bells Cry [E | 2.2k | AU | VC]

Untitled Lesmand Elf Fic [E | 2.3k | AU | VC]

ARMAND/LOUIS

Let Me Get Close to You [G | 1.7k | VC]

Crucible of the Flesh [M | 5.5k | VC]

ARMAND/DANIEL

Hold tight to me [G | 384 | VC]

Cold to the Touch [T | 1.3k | VC]

Glass Towers, Spring Flowers [M | 3.3k | VC]

ARMAND/OTHER

A Dog With No Bite [M | 9.1k | Armand/Nicolas | VC]

Venus and Adonis [E | 1.8k | Armand/Bianca | VC]

a laughing boy [M | 2k | Armand/Denis | VC]

A Mother’s Love [E | 1.1k | Armand/Allesandra | VC]

Untitled Denis Fic [M | 5.3k | Armand/Denis | VC]

The Path to Peace [T | 11.8k | Armand/Nicolas | VC]

MUTLISHIP

You took my blood and it made you my slave [M | 1k | Armand/Lestat, Armand/Marius | VC]

On the Grave of Our Old Love [E | 2.9k | Armand/Lestat, Armand/Marius, Armand/Lestat/Marius | VC]

Farewell My Fallen Idol [G | 6.6k | Armand/Marius, Armand/Daniel | VC]

All Grown Up | [E | 16.7k | Armand/Daniel, Armand/Marius | AU | VC]

DRABBLE COLLECTIONS

A Little Night Music [E | 850 | Armand/Marius, Armand/Riccardo, Armand/Antoine, Armand/Claudia | VC]

"so innocent, so passionate, so brilliant!" [M | 3.2k | Armand/Everyone | VC & AMC]

𝖋𝖆𝖓𝖆𝖗𝖙

ARMAND/MARIUS | VC

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

ARMAND/LESTAT | VC

1, 2

ARMAND/LESTAT | AMC

1, 2

ARMAND/LOUIS | VC

1, 2

ARMAND/DANIEL | VC

1 (+ Marius), 2

ARMAND/OTHER | VC

1 (Bianca), 2 (Sybelle)

𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖘

ARMAND/MARIUS | VC

1, 2, 3, 4

ARMAND/LESTAT | VC

1, 2, 3, 4

ARMAND/LESTAT | AMC

1

ARMAND/LOUIS | VC

1, 2, 3

ARMAND/DANIEL | VC

1, 2, 3, 4, 5

ARMAND/OTHER | VC

1 (Pandora), 2 (Santino), 3 (Riccardo),

𝖈𝖔𝖘𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖞

ARMAND/MARIUS | VC

1, 2

ARMAND/LESTAT | VC

1, 2

ARMAND/LOUIS | VC

1

ARMAND/DANIEL | VC

1

Re: late submissions - I’m trying to cut back on my Tumblr time for the rest of the month due to the holidays and having to figure out some real life work stuff, but I’ll be checking the #ArmandShipFest tag sporadically.

Thanks again, my loves! Happy Holidays and don’t forget to check out @vamptember’s 12 Nights of Christmas Event! ❄️♥️

[just-an-emily-existing]

❄️The Snowflakes of The Ice❄️

❄️Facts and Silly Things❄️

Ice engines aren’t all the powerful, they’re just the cold version of water, and it’s a symbol of rigidity, frigidity, the waters of the earth as opposed to the fresh and living WATER of the fountain of Paradise.

It is coldness, absence of love, difficult and unexplored territory not conducive to human life and life in general.

They’re not unpredictable at all during battle, in fact they’re quite slow cuz of how cold they are, but they can make you very cold if you do get caught by them and they will NEVER let you go after that, so be careful and it’d be wise not to let your guard down around them, they’re good manipulators and tricksters.

Much like Elsa from Frozen, if they strike you in the heart, you’re done for, but if you get struck in the head, it’ll knock you out for a few hours, and a fire engine will have to melt the ice in your head.

The Ice engines have cold chokers, but as engines, it turns into an ice ring around the lip of their smoke-box, but they’re engines that can handle the cold so they don’t care.

They can also turn themselves into ice structures for protection and can unfreeze, except for their victims who won’t be able to unless the ice engine says so.

But if they get struck in the heart, only an act of true love will unfreeze them. (Like Anna and Else from Frozen).

❄️Now onto their Prowess (Abilities)!❄️

Ice Manipulation: The power to control ice at will.

Ice Generation: The ability to create ice from thin air, their fingertips, or the ground.

Ice Embodiment: The ability to become an ice statue.

Ice Statues: The ability to make ice sculptures.

Freeze Breath: The ability of freeze things with their breath.

Freeze: The ability to freeze anything they touch on command.

Frostbite: The ability to create huge ice fangs and bite their prey.

Snowflake Blade: The ability to create huge snowflakes and throw them at their prey, like a shuriken.

Absolute Zero: The ability to freeze an area until it reaches a state of zero energy.

Chill Target: The ability to stun an enemy with ice and slow their movements, mental and physical.

Avalanche: The ability to cause a massive avalanche and bury their enemy in snow.

Blizzard: The ability to cause horrible blizzards and leave the are covered in snow and ice.

❄️What sets them apart from the other Elements?❄️

Their hands, forearms, feet, lower legs and nose will be pure ice, their element sucks up the heat in their body, leaving the ends of their body cold as ice. Just pretend the blue areas are ice lol.

❄️Stained Glass❄️

❄️Halberd: Ice's Signature Weapon❄️

❄️Tapestry❄️

❄️Roller Skate Mechanics❄️

❄️Sigil Of The Ice❄️

[bymooniemoonsims]

In San Myshuno, snowflakes drift lazily from the sky, blanketing the city in a soft, quiet white. The usual hum of the city feels muffled, peaceful even, but Nyon barely notices. He stands on Queenie’s patio, his breath forming clouds in the frigid air.

The cold bites at his skin, but it doesn’t bother him. His mind is too busy racing, spinning over and over again with Queenie’s words, the truth she’d finally shared.

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩’𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘯. 𝘙𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯’𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘦. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵.

Queenie steps quietly onto the patio, her boots crunching against the layer of snow. Before she can speak, Nyon’s head tilts slightly. Slowly, he turns around, his eyes meeting hers. There’s a storm of emotions there but he masks it quickly, slipping on that guarded expression she’s come to know.

“You don’t have to sneak up on me,” he mutters, his voice low but not unkind.

“I wasn’t sneaking,” Queenie replies softly. “You just… seemed like you needed space.”

Nyon’s gaze drops for a moment before returning to her. “Yeah… I did. But I’m glad you’re here.”

"My sister already had the kid. Cedric. That’s what Astrid told me, anyway.”

“Were you expecting her to text you? When you’re not even talking to her?” Queenie huffs in frustration. Nyon chuckles under his breath. “Yeah, exactly.”

“I have reasons not to talk to her.”

“I get it. You’re mad about how she brought it up, how she exposed everything in front of everyone. But I don’t think she meant to hurt you. She saw the birthmark, panicked, and reacted. Honestly? I probably would’ve done the same if I were in her shoes.”

“You look extremely calm for someone who might have his whole life flipped upside down.”

“Trying not to get ahead of myself. But… I decided I need to talk to my mother.”

Queenie’s eyes widen. “You’re serious?”

He nods. “Yeah. If anyone has answers, it’s her.”

“I hate that you have to go through this,” Queenie mutters.

Nyon lets out a deep sigh. “I’m okay. You, on the other hand, are having a worse time. Talk to Harper. 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦. I can see how much this is tearing you up inside. It’s making you miserable, and it makes me miserable seeing you like this.”

Queenie stays silent, her eyes fixed on the falling snow.

“What are you thinking?” Nyon asks gently.

“You don’t want to know.”

“I didn’t know you could read minds now,” he teases, but Queenie doesn’t even crack a smile. His grin fades. “Queenie,” he says softly.

She swallows hard, her throat tight, but the words come out anyway. “I’m thinking that… maybe this was a mistake. Letting myself care this much. About you. About all of this.” Her voice cracks slightly. “Giving you the power to break my heart.”

“I wasn’t planning on falling for you,” he admits. “That day in the park? I was going along with it because, yeah, you caught my eye. And you were the first date who actually challenged me, who gave me some real intellectual attraction. But, Queenie… I’m already in love with you.”

“I think you need to realize you’re the one holding all the power to break my heart. And let me tell you, it’s a pretty poorly mended one. I’d probably die.”

Queenie lets out a soft chuckle despite herself. “I’m no killer.”

Nyon smiles. “Good. Because I’m not sure I’d survive it if you were.”

Queenie leans in, her fingers still gently holding Nyon’s chin. Their eyes meet, filled with fear and hope, before she closes the gap. The kiss is soft at first, hesitant, but quickly deepens with unspoken promises and raw emotion, a mix of vulnerability and undeniable connection.

They play in the snow for a while before heading back to the apartment ❄️ Laughter rings through the crisp air, their footprints scattered across the fresh powder as they chase each other, breathless and giddy. Cheeks flushed, hands frozen, but hearts warm.

Queenie gained the cheerful trait after this moment 🥹♥️ It’s like the happiness was too strong not to leave a mark on her!

[luckegirlyako]

Doughnut season Jィ ִ ꕤ 🌨️🎀 🍧 ݂ ꒷꒦ ❄️ ۪ ᘐ ˙

Misaki + Eimi (／▽＼)

a short story I wrote for my oc’s last December, hope you enjoy !

Background: Eimi and Misaki has been best friends since middle school, on the graduation of their 3rd year, Misaki soon died from a car accident, ever since then she was reborn a cupid !!!

(I’ve made a whole series about this so if your interested in the storyline and lore and want to know more DM me or tell me to pose more stories about Misaki and Eimi and more of my Ocs !!!! 😇🤗🤗) Also sorry for the spelling mistakes !

𝇋♡︎�� Eimi’s favorite time of the year, sharing it with her favorite person in the world. (〃∇〃)

Misaki, who isn’t so joyous about the freezing cold, and hardly even comes outside during the winter. Only came outside because Eimi asked her too ! (๑•́ ₃ •̀๑)

The pigtailed girl, abruptly sat on the bench, rubbed her hands together and blew on them to make sure they were warm. “So… Cold ! (;´Д`)”

“Misaki,” Eimi called out, the girl charmingly smiled at the sight of her best friend. “You came !”

“Duh, you called !” Misaki snorted, as she got up from the bench tucking her hands in her pocket.

“Even though I know how much you hate the cold ? Wow, your making me feel reeeeally special. (=^ ◡ ^=)” She teases, as she takes her scarf off to wrap it around Misaki’s neck, the taller girl (M) crouches down and lowers her head to let Eimi wrap it around.

“No wonder your freezing, your practically naked in this weather !” Eimi puts her hands on her hips as she examines Misaki’s outfit. Who wore an off shoulder knitted sweater,a ruffled skirt and boots high to her knees.

“I need to look fashionable even in this awful weather ! (ФоФ)”

“Fashionable my ass.” Eimi rolled her eyes.

“Anyway, where’d you wanna go to ?” Misaki curiously asked, the girl tilted her head like a cat. “We’re getting doughnuts, Y（・ω‐）Y” Eimi looked back at Misaki with a playful wink.

Misaki’s eyes shimmered at the saying doughnuts. “Your right, that totally sounds good right now !” She beamed with drool coming down your mouth.

“Close you mouth, fattie !” Eimi cringed at the sight of Misaki. “I’m not a fattie !（￣□￣；）” The latter snaps back.

❄️

“A strawberry sprinkle and chocolate fudge doughnut please,” Eimi ordered.

“Chocolate fudge is soooo good !” Misaki gushed. “You eat so much chocolate a day, why are you so thin…” Eimi scrunched her eyebrow.

“It’s my super power ! ♪♪♪ ヽ(ˇ∀ˇ )ゞ” Misaki proudly stated with a wink.

“Your order is ready !” The worker announces.

Eimi walks up to the pick up order section and hands the chocolate fudge to her friend.

“We should eat them at the park across the street.” Eimi suggested. “Kay !” Misa beamed.

❄️

The swing stays motionless as the two girls munch on their doughnuts. “It’s freezing outside, but it’s worth it because this doughnut is so yummy !” Misaki talks with her mouth full, her legs moving up and down.

“Gross…” Eimi cringed before taking a bite out of her doughnut.

“I say we should have a swinging contest ! ＼（＾▽＾）／” Misaki exclaimed, already done with her doughnut. “You shouldn’t start swinging after eati—” Eimi scolded, but Misaki already go to swinging her legs back in forth. The shorter girl huffed a sigh.

“Bet you can’t beat me ! （・∀・）” Misaki dared as she smiled ear to ear.

“Fine, but if end up feeling sick don’t say I didn’t warn you !” Eimi says, as she starts to move her swing faster than Misaki.

Misaki snorts, “Yeah, right !”

Three minutes in, Misaki falls off the swing as she feels light headed. “I feel… sick.” She mersibally muttered.

“Told you so.” Eimi stuck her tongue out.

“Need… Water… (๑ↀᆺↀ๑)✧”

“Dramatic much,” Eimi commented. “I’ll be right back, wait here, try not to throw up and disturb the peace !” Eimi told Misaki before quickly running to the store.

“Kay…” Misaki muttered, feeling green.

❄️

“Thanks for saving me back there !” Misaki smiled. “Yeah, whatever.” Eimi rolls her eyes with a sigh, the two girls wait for the bus on the sidewalk.

“Yayy ! I can’t wait to see your mom again !!! (／▽＼)” Misaki cheers, lifting her arms up in excitement while Eimi looked so done. “Your more excited to see my mom than me ??” Eimi teased, sounding heart broken.

“Well your moms hot !” Misaki proudly stated, causing Eimi to kick her in the back of the leg without another word. “Owie…”

Two minutes later the girls get on the bus, Misaki sitting near the window area of course. Misaki yapped her head off half of the time, talking about random funny moments that had happened.

Eimi pretended not to listen but was really listening to every single word that came out her mouth. Then not too long ago the pigtailed girl fell asleep laying her head on Eimi.

”What’s the point of sleeping on my shoulder if you have the window side…” Eimi muttered in annoyance, but didn’t dare to move not even an inch to make sure Misaki was peacefully sleeping.

Eimi moved a strand of her curls from the sleepy girls face, Misa softly snored, causing the shorter girl to giggle a bit— her sleeping face looked so stupid !

Trying to hold on her laugh so she wouldn’t interrupt the restless girl, she went out the window to see snow falling. “Woah— I didn’t know it’d but that cold !” She muttered to herself, as she leans closer to the window in surprise.

‘The snow is so beautiful.’ She thought.

Minuites later they get off the bus and have a two minute walk home— Also a two minute rant about how freaking cold it was from the one and only Misaki. Eimi pretended to look irritated but fondly smiled at her when she wasn't looking. ‘What an idiot,’ She smiled.

“Snow is so freaking annoying!” She rants, trying not to get her foot stuck in the snow as she walks.

“I disagree, snow is so pretty, and just the icey cold vibe is super soothing. (๑ ́ᄇ`๑)” Eimi expressed. “Besides, when it super hot in the summer, you complain a lot— pick a side or shaddup !” Commented Eimi, lightly chopping Misaki on the head.

“Ow— Well my rants are totally reasonable ! I hate it wether is super hot, or super cold! Seasons like spring and fall are the best.“ Pipped Misaki, as she childishly folds her arms.

“Weirdo— Those two are just filler seasons !! ｏ(*￣o￣)ｏ” Responded Eimi.

A moment of silence before the girls burst out into laughter and giggles. “Filler— ??” Misaki snorted.

“I said what I said !” Eimi chortled.

It took Misaki a while for her to end her giggle fit. “A-alright— Can we go inside now, I think I might get frostbite.” Misa wiped her tears before pointing to the door in front of them”

“Oh, right.” Eimi said, digging in her pocket for her keys and unlocking the door.

“Good to see you, Miss ! (ʃƪ〃ﾟ3ﾟ〃)” Cooed Misaki, as she greets Eimi’s mother. “Ah, you get cuter and cuter every time I see you Misaki !” Em’s mother squealed, fondly putting a hand on her cheek.

Eimi stared at the twos interaction with irritation. “Alright, mom. We’re going upstairs.” Eimi’s dragged Misa away. “Byebyee ! (・ω<)” She waves.

“I'll bake you guys some munchkins while you're up there !” Her mother announced.

“Yay !” Miss cheered.

The two girls walk up stairs to Eimi’s room. “I miss this room ! ヽ(^O^)ノ” The pigtailed girl explained as she jumped on Eimi’s bed. “Hey— Do you have any manners !!?” She snapped, dragging Misa by her leg. “No, It’s so comfortable !” She whines.

“It’s so warm, I love it ! Ｏ(≧▽≦)Ｏ” She expressed, as she playfully rolled on the bed. Eimi huffed a sigh, joining Misaki.

“The sheets are pretty soft…” Eimi muttered, lying beside Misaki. “I know right, It’s nice finally being somewhere warm after a cold day ! (p^-^)p”

“Agreed. q(^-^q)”

“Coming in! I have you guys’s munchkins.

｜ω・）” Eimi’s mother slides through the door.

“Thanks miss !” Misaki bubbled.

“Thank you, mom.” Eimi thanked, as she placed the tray on the bed stand.

Misaki throws one in her mouth, making a drool fall down her lip. “Delicious, (=^ ◡ ^=)” She said muffled.

“Gross.” Eimi cringed before nibbling on her munchkin. “Hey— don’t only eat the chocolate ones ! (ง ˙o˙)ว” The girl yelled.

“But they’re so good !”

“Stop being fat, I also want the chocolate ones !!!”

The girls start to fight over the last chocolate munchkin and Misaki stuffs it in her mouth. “Spit it out !” Eimi snapped as she held Misa’s shirt. The pigtailed girl quickly chewed and shook her head.

“Ugh! Fine, I’m eating the rest !! ε-(‘ﾍ´○)┓” Eimi huffs, letting go of her shirt. “Aha ! (ゝ∀･)” Misa giggles.

About half an hour passed of them watching random videos off the internet, the two friends lay beside each other on the bed.

“Hey Eimi,” Misaki starts. ‘Em hums.

“I’m starting to notice a pattern ! Every time it’s winter, all I see you eat are doughnuts. (・∀・)”

“I really like doughnuts, especially in the cold.” Eimi answered, causing Misa to snort.

“And how come you hang out with only me during the winter ?” Misaki curiously asked, pointing at herself.

“Because you're my best friend and you make me happy ??” Eimi scrunched her brow, showing Misa a look of ‘Duh ??’

“The winters’ my favorite time of the year, doughnuts are my favorite snack, and I’m with my favorite person… （・⊝・）”

“You're like a munchkin !” Eimi calls out, putting her index finger up. “Hah ??” Misaki looked at her with scrunched up eyebrows.

“And I'm a doughnut, a munchkin is whole in the doughnut so that means they are apart !!! But when we're together theres no hole in the doughnut… So that means it isn't so empty anymore without the munchkin.. Stupid right ??” Eimi nervously laughed.

“It's not stupid ! (´A｀*)･ﾟ｡” Misaki expressed, as her eyes watered. “I mean that much to you, Eimii !!?” She cried out, attacking her best friend with a hug, practically choking the girl.

Eimi makes her grip lighter before letting out a giggle, as she hears the taller holler ‘I love you’ about 10 times.

“I love you too, Misaki ! （　´∀｀）” Eimi smiled.

”Eimi, promise me every year during the winter we’ll hang out in the city and eat doughnuts— It’ll be our tradition ! （*＾ワ＾*）” Misaki beamed, as she put her pinkie out in front of Eimi.

Eimi giggled again. “Your so childish, （＞ｙ＜）Promise.” She smiles, their pinkies then intertwined.

❄️ Time Skip ❄️

It's already been a few months since Misaki passed, and it’ll be the first winter without her…

Eimi planned to stay home and rot in her bed that winter, but of course her mother forced her to go out to walk in the city.

Eimi slides on her boots and puts on her coat before walking out the door, the winter is hardly the same anymore for the girl. Although it's her favorite time of the year, how can she look at it the same ??

Walking on the sidewalk, two girls who looked like best friends walked past her. Eimi can't help but be reminded of Misaki and her when they were only first years in high school.

Eimi frowned and turned away, trying to distract herself by looking at the objects in the window of the shops she passed.

The girl stumbled upon a teddy bear, “Misaki would totally want this as a present,” She bitterly laughed, her smile slowly faded from her lips. Eimi buried her hand into her pockets walking away from the window of the shop with her head lowered.

Eimi won't be eating doughnuts this year, she’d just be reminded of the past. So it's best to go back home and rot in her room !

Eimi miserably snacked on gingerbread cookies as she watched a classic christmas movie, her mother making a bowl of popcorn in the kitchen.

Em’s mom walks in the living room, placing the bowl on the counter. She softens her eyes. “Honey, it's christmas, cheer up okay ?” She calmly asks, playing with her face cheeks and stretching her lips into a smile— Which fell back into a frown.

Eimi groaned, turning away. ‘It’s Christmas and my best friend isn't here.’ Eimi thought, sinking into the couch cushion. “Oh don't be so depressed, I know you miss Misaki but she wouldn't be so happy seeing you with that look on your face ! （‐＾▽＾‐）” Her mother teased as she pinched Em’s cheek, it's like she could read her mind.

“I know,” Eimi sighs.

The doorbell then rings, “Mom, did you invite guests ?” Eimi asks, lifting herself up from the cushion. “Not at all !” She chirps. The doorbell then starts to repeatedly ring.

“Coming !” Eimi yelled, rushing at the door.

Eimi opened the door to see no one, she looked around confused, she then looked at the floor and saw a box. Eimi tilted her head in curiosity. She opened up the box to see dozens of doughnuts, but they weren't just normal doughnuts.

They were doughnuts without holes in them, and a note was left in the box that read

‘Even when we're not together,

We stay linked. Love, M.’

Tears roll on Eimi’s cheek without noticing it herself, the girl trys to wipe her tears but they kept going, she sobbed badly she couldn't breathe, she missed her best friend so much, she missed her to death—

She felt so relieved, she knew that was Misaki, it had to be ! She's the only one who knows about their tradition.

“I miss you, I miss you so so much.” Eimi cried.

The End. ♡

Merry Christmas ! 🎄🎀🍩

December 10-24, 2024

[darcydarlingdabbles]

At Mid Winter ~ Part 10

RadioApple❄️Human Au/Age Gap✨Top!Dom!Alastor

✨Divorced Dad!Lucifer❄️Explicit~

On the Tenth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: the skies like starlit seas.

❄️✨☕✨❄️

☕ On Ao3✨Become my Arc Reader✨On Tumblr ☕

The transition was jarring. 

The biting cold air hit them like a wall, crisp and sharp. Lucifer gasped involuntarily, the icy wind searing his lungs and cutting through the fog of panic that had enveloped him. 

The din of the gala faded abruptly, replaced by the soft whisper of wind and the distant crunch of snow.

“That’s it,” Alastor encouraged softly, his breath forming small clouds in the frigid air. “Just breathe, my dear.”

The rooftop stretched before them, a pristine blanket of snow glittering under the inky night sky. 

Lucifer’s eyes swept across the landscape, drinking in the stark beauty of the winter scene. The distant mountains loomed like silent sentinels, their peaks barely visible against the star-studded horizon.

Lucifer took a shaky breath, his hands trembling as he gripped the icy railing at the edge of the roof.

“I…I couldn’t get any air in there,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Alastor moved closer, his warmth a stark contrast to the frigid air as he leaned his chest against the older man’s back.

“You’re safe now, Lucifer. She can’t reach you here.”

The muffled sounds of the gala drifted up from below, a faint reminder of the world they’d left behind. 

Lucifer closed his eyes, focusing on the crisp air filling his lungs. But the shame came creeping in with every inhale.

“I used to be better,” Lucifer murmured, more to himself than to Alastor. He opened his eyes, gazing out at the snow-covered landscape. “I used to be…so much more …than this.”

Alastor’s hand found Lucifer’s, his fingers intertwining on the metal railing. “You are more, Lucifer. Don’t let her poison seep back in.”

Lucifer turned to face Alastor, torment etched across his features. “But what if she’s right? What if I’ve changed too much? What if I’m not—”

“Stop,” Alastor interrupted gently, cupping Lucifer’s face with his free hand, not leaving an inch between their bodies.

"I'm sorry," Lucifer whispered, humiliation coloring his words. "I shouldn't have let her get to me like that."

Alastor's hand moved to Lucifer's back, a warm, reassuring weight. "You have nothing to apologize for," he said firmly.

Lucifer opened his eyes, watching his breath form misty clouds in the frigid air.

The vastness of the star-studded sky above made him feel small, insignificant. But Alastor's presence in front of him was a tether, keeping him from drifting away entirely.

"I feel so…exposed," Lucifer admitted, his voice barely audible above the whisper of falling snow. "Like she saw right through every defense I've built."

Alastor was quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the distant mountains as he let Lucifer bury his head in his black satin shirt.

When he spoke, his words were measured, careful. "Lilith has a talent for finding weaknesses…I could see it in her as easy as I use it myself.”

Lucifer clutched at the jacket over his shoulders, just now realizing that it was Alastor had draped it over him. And the younger looked stunning still.

Alastor grabbed him by the shoulders again, making him look up.

“But remember, Lucifer—your vulnerabilities are just one part of who you are.”

The older man took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling the icy air fill his lungs.

Slowly, gradually, the frantic pounding of his heart began to ease.

Alastor's hands remained steady on Lucifer, a grounding presence amidst the swirling snow and Lucifer's tumultuous emotions.

The warmth of his palm snuck under Alastor’s jacket and Lucifer’s underneath it, a stark contrast to the biting cold surrounding them.

“I can feel you trembling.” Alastor murmured, his voice low and soft, barely audible above the muffled sounds of the gala below. "Breathe with me, Lucifer,"

Lucifer closed his eyes, focusing on the rhythm of Alastor's breathing against him. He tried to match it, inhaling deeply through his nose and exhaling slowly through his mouth.

The cold air burned in his lungs, but there was something cleansing about it, as if it were washing away the suffocating panic that had gripped him earlier.

He was supposed to be stronger than this, more composed. And yet here he was, falling apart on a rooftop, relying on Alastor to keep him together. A man half his age.

"That's it," Alastor encouraged softly, his thumb tracing small circles on Lucifer's back. "You're doing well."

Lucifer opened his eyes, meeting Alastor's steady gaze.

In those dark eyes, he saw no judgment, only concern and something deeper, something that made his heart skip a beat despite the lingering anxiety.

"I'm sorry," Lucifer whispered, his voice hoarse. "I don't usually…I mean, I'm not…"

Alastor shook his head, cutting off Lucifer's stammered apology. "You have nothing to be sorry for. We all have our moments of vulnerability, Lucifer. Even me."

Lucifer nodded, his breath visible in small puffs as he exhaled.

His breathing had steadied, but a fine tremor still ran through his hands. He pulled his hands from the icy railing, trying to still the quivering as he gripped to Alastor’s shirt.

He’d have to buy the brunette an entirely new suit. And that would be a herculean effort—the younger gave no protest to Lucifer buying his own clothes, toys, and other things. But getting gifts for Alastor was like pulling teeth.

Lucifer’s gaze drifted past Alastor, focusing on the swirling snow beyond.

The flakes danced in the moonlight, hypnotic and soothing.

"It's beautiful," Lucifer murmured, his voice distant. He wasn't entirely sure if he meant the snow or the man before him. Perhaps both.

Alastor shifted, changing places with the older man. He leaned back against the railing, pulling the blonde into his chest, his proximity a comforting barrier between Lucifer and the rest of the world.

Alastor linked his arms around Lucifer, tucking him under the brunette’s chin, and Lucifer felt a warmth bloom in his chest, pushing back against the chill of the night.

"How are you feeling now?" Alastor asked, his voice low and intimate in the quiet of the rooftop.

Lucifer considered the question, taking stock of his emotions.

"Better," he admitted. "Still shaken, but…grounded. Thank you, Alastor."

A small smile played at the corners of Alastor's mouth. "Always," he replied simply.

Alastor's expression grew serious, his eyes searching Lucifer's face. "Whatever she said," he began, his tone firm but gentle, "you don't have to carry it. You're more than her words, Lucifer. You're…more than even you realize."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning.

Lucifer felt a lump form in his throat, emotion threatening to overwhelm him once more. He wanted to believe Alastor, to see himself through the other man's eyes. But Lilith's cutting remarks still echoed in his mind, sharp and unforgiving.

Lucifer shook his head, his golden hair catching the moonlight.

When he spoke, his voice trembled, barely above a whisper. "She's right, though. I'm…I'm a mess."

The admission felt like a weight lifting from his chest, even as shame burned through him. He couldn't meet Alastor's gaze, instead focusing on the intricate patterns of frost forming on the railing behind the younger.

What must Alastor think of him now?

To see him so thoroughly undone by a few cruel words, reduced to this shivering, insecure shell of himself. He half-expected Alastor to agree. To finally see him for the fraud he was underneath.

Alastor tilted his head, the movement catching Lucifer's attention.

Their eyes met, and Lucifer found himself unable to look away from the intensity in Alastor's gaze.

"I’ve never asked you to be perfect, just to be mine.”

When Alastor spoke, his voice was soft, but it carried a quiet strength that seemed to cut through the chill of the night air.

“And I'll remind you of that, as many times as you need to hear it."

The words hung between them, simple yet profound. He searched Alastor's face for any hint of mockery or pity, but found only unwavering certainty.

The concept was almost too much to comprehend in his current state.

"I…" Lucifer began, then faltered, unsure how to respond.

His fingers tightened on the railing, anchoring himself against the swirl of emotions threatening to overwhelm him once more.

The weight of Lilith's cutting remarks still pressed heavily on his shoulders, but as he held Alastor's steady gaze, he felt something shift within him.

A tiny spark of warmth ignited in his chest, fragile but undeniably present.

"You really mean that, don't you?" Lucifer finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Alastor's lips curved into a soft smile, devoid of his usual sharp edges. "Every word, my dear."

The sincerity in Alastor's tone washed over Lucifer like a soothing balm.

He exhaled slowly, feeling some of the tension in his body release. Lilith's words still echoed in the back of his mind, but they seemed less potent now, as if Alastor's presence was acting as a buffer against their sting.

Just then, the faint strains of music from the gala below drifted up to the rooftop.

A soft waltz filtered through the cold night air, its gentle melody a stark contrast to the turmoil of emotions Lucifer had been grappling with moments before.

"Listen," Alastor murmured, his head tilting slightly as he caught the tune. "Quite lovely, isn't it?"

Lucifer nodded, allowing the music to wash over him.

It was as if the melody was weaving itself around them, creating a cocoon that separated them from the rest of the world.

In that moment, with Alastor's steadying presence beside him and the music swirling through the air, Lucifer felt…safe.

Like he'd found an anchor in the storm.

Alastor straightened suddenly, his posture shifting from comforting to purposeful.

He extended a hand towards Lucifer, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Dance with me," he said, his voice an invitation and gentle command.

Lucifer blinked. His mind, still raw from the earlier confrontation, struggled to process the abrupt change.

"Here? Now?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

He glanced around the empty rooftop, suddenly acutely aware of their solitude. His breath misted in the frigid air, a visible reminder of the biting cold surrounding them.

There was something undeniably romantic about the idea, even if it was entirely impractical.

"I…I'm not sure I'm in the right state for dancing," Lucifer admitted, his voice quieter now. He could feel the tremor in his hands, a lingering effect of his earlier panic.

The thought of trying to coordinate his feet when he could barely trust his own balance seemed daunting.

Alastor's smile softened, his eyes warm with understanding.

` "Why not?" his voice a gentle caress against the night air. "No one's here but us."

His hand remained extended, an invitation and a promise wrapped in one simple gesture.

Lucifer felt his hesitation wavering.

There was something in Alastor's expression, a patience and affection, that made the cold night seem a little less dispiriting.

He hesitated, but another part, the part that craved connection and comfort, whispered…maybe this was exactly what he needed.

With a small nod, Lucifer reached out, his hand quivering as it met Alastor's.

The warmth of the contact sent a shiver through him that had nothing to do with the cold. Alastor's other hand settled at Lucifer's waist, the touch light but grounding.

"I don't know if I remember how to do this," Lucifer murmured, his voice barely audible above the faint strains of music drifting up from below.

"Just follow my lead," Alastor guided him gently into the rhythm, his movements fluid and assured. "Like you do so well."

Lucifer couldn’t help it. He chuckled at that.

As they began to sway, Lucifer found himself relaxing incrementally into Alastor's embrace.

The world around them seemed to fade, leaving only the soft crunch of snow beneath their feet and the distant melody guiding their steps.

Lucifer's feet tangled, and he stumbled, nearly losing his balance. A flush of embarrassment crept up his neck as he steadied himself against Alastor's chest.

"I'm rusty," he muttered, averting his gaze. His fingers tightened on Alastor's shoulder.

But Alastor's grip remained steady, his expression softening.

"Then let me teach you," he said, his voice a soothing balm laced with both patience and warmth.

There was no judgment in Alastor's eyes, only gentle encouragement. Lucifer swallowed hard, fighting the instinct to pull away.

"I don't know if I can," the blonde whispered, vulnerability seeping into his words.

Alastor's hand at his waist tightened slightly, reassuring. "You can," he murmured. "Trust me, Lucifer. You can."

Lucifer inhaled deeply, forcing his tense muscles to relax. He surrendered to Alastor's lead, allowing himself to be guided across the snow-dusted rooftop.

With each step, the rhythm of the distant waltz seeped into his bones, his body remembering long-forgotten movements.

"That's it," Alastor murmured, his smile widening as Lucifer fell into sync with him. "You're a natural, my dear."

The biting cold nipped at Lucifer's exposed skin, but the warmth radiating from Alastor's body kept the chill at bay. Their closeness created a bubble of heat, a stark contrast to the frigid air swirling around them.

Alastor's movements were fluid and confident, each turn executed with graceful precision. Lucifer found himself mirroring that assurance, his initial awkwardness melting away like snow in sunlight.

"I'd forgotten how this felt," Lucifer admitted softly, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips.

Alastor's eyes sparkled with something akin to pride. "Dancing?"

"Yeah, that," Lucifer replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

The world around them seemed to fade into a soft blur of starlight and gently falling snow.

The muffled strains of music from the gala below became their own private symphony, guiding their steps across the rooftop.

Lucifer's earlier anxiety melted away, replaced by a profound sense of peace in the silent night.

Alastor's steady presence anchored him, keeping the intrusive thoughts of Lilith and the gala at bay.

For a precious moment, Lucifer allowed himself to exist solely in this bubble.

As the last notes of the waltz faded into the night air, their movements slowed. Lucifer found himself reluctant to let go, savoring the closeness for a heartbeat longer.

But as they stilled, the biting cold of the night rushed back in, causing him to shiver involuntarily.

Lucifer pulled Alastor's jacket tighter around his shoulders.

"We should go back in," he said, his breath visible in the frigid air.

Alastor shook his head slightly, his eyes never leaving Lucifer's face. "Actually, let’s not," he said softly. "Let's walk around the lodge. We'll stay outside—it's quieter, and no one will see us."

Lucifer hesitated, torn between the sanctuary of isolation and the growing chill seeping into his bones.

The thought of returning to the gala, of facing Lilith's cutting gaze, or the curious stares of the other guests, made his stomach churn.

But…

"I…" Lucifer began, his voice catching. He swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. "What if someone notices we're gone?"

Alastor's hand found Lucifer's, giving it a gentle squeeze. "They won't," he assured him. "And even if they did, does it matter? You're allowed to take a breather, Lucifer."

Years of carefully cultivated public persona warred with the older man’s desperate need for respite. He took a deep breath, the cold air stinging his lungs.

"Okay," he finally agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. "A walk sounds nice."

As they moved towards the roof access door, Lucifer found himself unconsciously stepping closer to Alastor, seeking both his warmth and his steadying presence.

The thought of separating, even for a moment, sent a spike of irrational panic through him.

Don’t ever leave.

He couldn’t say it. The words stuck in his throat.

Instead, he tightened his grip on Alastor's hand, hoping the gesture conveyed what he couldn't bring himself to voice aloud.

Their footsteps crunched softly in the freshly fallen snow as they circled the perimeter of the lodge. Alastor's hand rested lightly on Lucifer's back, a constant, reassuring presence guiding him through the darkness.

"The stars are quite clear tonight," Alastor murmured, his breath visible in the frigid air.

Lucifer glanced upward, the vast expanse of the night sky momentarily stealing his breath. "They are," he agreed, his voice hushed.

The glow from the lodge's windows spilled onto the snow, creating a patchwork of warm light and deep shadow.

As they walked farther from the entrance, the cold seemed to intensify, biting at Lucifer's exposed skin.

He shivered, pulling Alastor's jacket tighter around himself. "It's getting colder," Lucifer observed, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. “Wait, aren’t you cold?”

“I know what I can handle.” Alastor's hand moved from Lucifer's back to his shoulder, pulling him closer. "But we can go back in, and warm up by the fire in our room.” he offered.

“Yeah, okay.”

They continued in companionable silence, the muffled sounds of the gala growing fainter with each step. Lucifer found himself leaning into Alastor's warmth, grateful for the anchor he provided.

❄️✨☕✨❄️

As they approached the lodge's side entrance, Alastor guided Lucifer with a gentle hand at the small of his back.

The warmth of the interior hit them like a wave, thawing their frozen extremities. Lucifer's teeth chattered as his body adjusted to the sudden change in temperature.

"This way," Alastor murmured, leading them towards a discreet service elevator. He pressed the button for the top floor, where their suite awaited.

The elevator ascended silently, and Lucifer found himself leaning heavily against Alastor, exhaustion from the emotional turmoil finally catching up with him.

Alastor's arm wrapped around his waist, supporting him without comment.

When they reached their floor, Alastor produced the key card from his pocket with practiced ease.

The door to their suite swung open, revealing the spacious living area dominated by a large stone fireplace.

Embers still glowed in the grate, casting a warm, flickering light across the room.

"Let's get you warmed up," Alastor said softly, guiding Lucifer towards the hearth.

He settled Lucifer in front of the fire on the plush before kneeling to stoke the fire.

Lucifer watched, mesmerized, as Alastor added logs and coaxed the flames back to life. The fire crackled and popped, sending a rush of heat across the room.

And, also, maybe through Lucifer, too. A little guiltily as he watched his partner bending over in front of him.

Alastor often teased him for his sex drive, especially at his age, but how exactly was Lucifer supposed to resist his gorgeous partner in those tight burgundy suit pants.

Alastor disappeared briefly into the closet, returning with an armful of thick, soft blankets. He draped one around Lucifer's shoulders, tucking it carefully around him.

The weight and warmth of the blanket seemed to seep into Lucifer's bones, chasing away the last of the chill.

"There," Alastor murmured, satisfaction evident in his voice. He settled himself on the thick rug in front of the fire, leaning Lucifer back against his chest.

Lucifer's fingers, still cold, found their way to Alastor's hands, curling through his fingers. Alastor leaned into the touch, a contented hum escaping him.

The crackling of the fire filled the comfortable silence between them.

Lucifer found his gaze drawn to the dancing flames, their hypnotic movement soothing his frayed nerves. The warmth from the fire slowly seeped into him, chasing away the last vestiges of cold from their rooftop excursion.

☕ On Ao3✨Become my Arc Reader✨On Tumblr ☕

[hotmalefashioncity]

That’s Not My Color And That’s A Lil’ Bit Too Blue For Me, But It Looks Good 👍 On You! I Hope That Alligator/Crocodile…Whatever He Is…Doesn’t Bite Up Your Back. You Look Like A Rich 🤑 Kid!

In The Words Of Bell Biv Devoe “Why You Ain’t Got That Hat On Your Head? Why You Ain’t Got On Those Sneakers? Where’s Your Jacket? It’s Cold 🥶 Outside!” (LET ME KNOW SOMETHING)

WINTER ❄️ IS OFFICIALLY HERE! DON’T BE CHEAP AND STUPID AND MESS AROUND AND CATCH PNEUMONIA! FUCK A PLAYSTATION 5!

[fuqnia]

Meteor Whispers

craig tucker x reader insert

(❁´◡`❁) | [A/N] hii, this is my tenth and final oneshot that's apart of my ficmas! i wanted craig to be my final oneshot, because I don't really know how to write Craig at all, but I love his character sm ❤️❄️🎄 this is also on ao3!

(❁´◡`❁) | Warning(s) : none

(❁´◡`❁) | Synopsis : Craig takes you stargazing to escape the holiday chaos, and under the meteor shower, you share an intimate moment.

The car rattled softly as it rolled down the snow-covered road, the low hum of the engine blending with the occasional crunch of ice beneath the tires. South Park’s absurd holiday glow was finally behind you, the neon Santas and overdone decorations now just a faint blur in the rearview mirror. The air felt cleaner here, quieter. Like the world had decided to take a breath.

Craig, sitting hunched over the steering wheel, looked about as impressed as ever. His hand rested loosely at the top of the wheel, his other elbow propped on the window ledge as his fingers tapped an uneven rhythm. The glow from the dashboard painted his face in pale shades of green and blue, and his eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead, sharp and focused in that way they always were, even when he seemed completely uninterested in what was happening.

“Christmas sucks,” he muttered suddenly, breaking the silence in his usual flat tone.

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “That’s the opening line you’re going with tonight?”

Craig didn’t look at you, his gaze still locked on the road. “Just thought I’d set the mood. Y’know, festive and all.”

You grinned, shaking your head as you leaned back in the passenger seat. “You’re a real holiday poet, Craig. Truly inspiring.”

“Don’t start,” he warned, his tone light but laced with that familiar dryness. “I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking. No one actually likes this shit. They just like pretending they do so they don’t feel bad about how miserable they are the rest of the year.”

“Wow,” you said, unable to keep the laugh out of your voice. “Way to ruin Christmas in one sentence.”

Craig shrugged, unfazed. “It’s a gift.”

The car hit a patch of uneven road, jostling you slightly. Craig didn’t even blink, keeping the wheel steady with one hand as the other stayed firmly propped on the window. You caught his profile in the dim light, the sharp line of his jaw and the faint twitch of his lips that might’ve been a smirk—or maybe just a reaction to the cold air seeping into the car. He was impossible to read, as always, but there was something about the way he was sitting, the way his fingers gripped the wheel just a little tighter than usual, that gave him away.

“Okay, but seriously,” you said after a moment, breaking the silence. “If you hate Christmas so much, why are we doing this? You’re not exactly the ‘watch-the-stars’ type.”

Craig let out a soft scoff, finally glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Because being stuck in town right now would be worse. Do you have any idea how many inflatable Santas are in my neighborhood? It’s like walking through a goddamn nightmare.”

You snorted, biting back a laugh. “Inflatable Santas, huh? Truly terrifying.”

Craig rolled his eyes, shifting slightly in his seat. “And don’t even get me started on Randy Marsh. That asshole’s been shouting about his ‘award-winning lights’ for two weeks. Like anyone gives a shit.”

“Pretty sure he’s just yelling into the void at this point,” you said, smiling. “But, hey, maybe he’ll figure out how to power the lights with a backup generator this year. Progress, right?”

Craig snorted softly, the sound almost a laugh, though he’d never admit it. He turned the wheel as the car veered onto a smaller road, lined with snow-draped trees. The glow of South Park was gone now, replaced by the stillness of the forest and the faint outline of stars beginning to peek through the clouds.

The quiet settled between you again, but it wasn’t awkward. It never was with Craig. He didn’t fill silences just for the sake of it, and you’d learned to appreciate that. Still, there was something about this moment that felt different—heavier, maybe. Like he’d planned more than he was willing to let on.

“You’re quiet,” you said softly, breaking the silence again.

Craig shrugged, his gaze still fixed ahead. “What’s there to say? We’re out of South Park. Mission accomplished.”

You smiled to yourself, leaning your head against the window as snowflakes drifted lazily past. “Yeah,” you murmured. “I guess it is.”

For a while, the only sound was the car’s engine and the occasional rustle of branches as the wind picked up. The stars were brighter now, scattered across the dark sky like tiny pinpricks of light, and you could feel the air shift as the road narrowed into a clearing. The trees opened up, revealing a wide stretch of untouched snow, the world quiet except for the faint hum of the engine as Craig pulled the car to a stop.

“We’re here,” he said simply, cutting the ignition.

The silence that followed was almost deafening, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that wrapped around you like a warm blanket, heavy but safe. You glanced at Craig, who was sitting back in his seat now, his fingers drumming idly on the wheel as he stared out at the clearing. His expression hadn’t changed—blank and bored, the same as always—but there was something softer in his posture now, like the weight he always carried on his shoulders had eased just a little.

“Better than South Park,” he said, his voice quieter this time.

You smiled, pulling your scarf tighter around your neck as you reached for the door handle. “Yeah,” you said softly. “Way better.”

Craig didn’t say anything, but as you stepped out into the snow and felt the cold bite at your cheeks, you thought you saw the faintest hint of a smile on his face. Just for a second.

The air was sharp and still, wrapping around you like a silent reminder of how far away you were from the chaos of South Park. Snow crunching underfoot as you walked around to the trunk, the stars overhead clearer now, scattered across the inky black sky. The clearing was wide and open, the trees framing it like a picture-perfect holiday card. If Craig wasn’t here, he’d probably scoff at how "picturesque" it all was.

The trunk creaked as Craig popped it open, rummaging through the blankets and thermoses he’d packed with an air of complete nonchalance. He slung one blanket over his arm and handed you another without a word, grabbing a thermos like this was a chore and not something he’d clearly planned.

“Wow,” you said, smirking as you adjusted the blanket in your arms. “So prepared. It’s almost like you care.”

Craig glanced at you, “Don’t get weird about it.”

“I’m just saying, you didn’t have to go all out like this,” you teased, nudging him with your elbow. “Blankets, cocoa, the perfect spot for stargazing—it’s suspiciously thoughtful.”

He rolled his eyes, slamming the trunk shut. “Yeah, well, if you freeze to death, I don’t wanna hear about it.”

You snorted, following him as he trudged through the snow toward the middle of the clearing. His boots left deep tracks in the untouched snow, the rhythmic crunch of each step filling the quiet. He didn’t say anything else, just spread one of the blankets out on the ground, motioning for you to sit down like he hadn’t just trekked you out here to the middle of nowhere in the dead of winter.

You settled onto the blanket, pulling the one he’d given you tightly around your shoulders. The thermos was warm in your hands, the faint scent of cocoa wafting up as you unscrewed the lid. Craig sat beside you, his legs stretched out in front of him as he leaned back on his elbows. His breath fogged in the cold air, but he didn’t look cold. He looked comfortable, in his element. Which, of course, made no sense, because Craig Tucker didn’t have an element.

“So,” you said after a moment, breaking the quiet. “Do you have some big speech planned, or are you just gonna sit there and brood all night?”

Craig glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. “Big speech? Who do I look like, Kyle?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Definitely not. But seriously, this is really nice. Thank you for dragging me out here.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, staring up at the sky. His tone was flat, but you noticed the way his fingers tightened around his thermos, the faint twitch of his brow. “Literally. Don’t.”

“Got it,” you said, smiling. “No heartfelt thank-you speeches. I’ll stick to sarcastic remarks.”

“Good,” he said, deadpan. “Wouldn’t want you to ruin the mood.”

The two of you lapsed into silence, the kind of quiet that felt natural instead of awkward. The stars above were brighter now, pinpricks of light scattered across the vast black canvas of the sky. Every so often, one would streak across the horizon, a tiny burst of light that disappeared as quickly as it came.

“Pretty cool, huh?” you said softly, tilting your head back to take it all in.

Craig shrugged. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

“Just fine?”

“What do you want me to say?” he muttered, glancing at you. “That it’s magical? That I’m moved? That I suddenly believe in holiday miracles?”

You smirked, sipping from your thermos. “You could try ‘it’s beautiful.’ Or maybe just admit that you’re enjoying yourself.”

Craig scoffed, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting off a smile. “Don’t push your luck.”

You both fell quiet again, the faint whistle of the wind through the trees the only sound. Craig leaned back further, his face tipped toward the sky, and for a moment, he looked completely relaxed. No snark, no eye rolls, no sarcastic remarks—just Craig, quiet and still, the glow of the stars reflected faintly in his eyes.

“You know,” he said finally, his voice softer than usual, “this isn’t… the worst way to spend a night.”

You turned to him, surprised, but his expression didn’t waver. He wasn’t looking at you, just staring up at the sky like he hadn’t said anything at all.

“High praise coming from you,” you said, smiling.

Craig didn’t respond, but you thought you saw it again—that faint, fleeting curve of his lips. And for a second, it felt like the quiet around you wasn’t just the absence of noise. It was something deliberate. Something that made the stars feel brighter and the cold less sharp, like the world had shifted just enough to make room for this moment.

The clearing stretched wide and open, the snow untouched except for the faint tracks left by Craig’s boots. The stars overhead were clearer than you’d ever seen them, scattered like pinpricks of silver across an ink-black canvas. The silence here was different—not the awkward kind, but the kind that made you feel small in the best way.

Craig leaned back on the blanket he’d spread out, his head tipped toward the sky, thermos cradled in one hand. He’s completely silent now, his usual snark giving way to something softer, almost thoughtful. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him like this—focused, steady—but it always caught you off guard. Like you were seeing a different side of him, one he didn’t show often.

Another meteor streaked across the sky, bright and fleeting. You couldn’t help but gasp softly at the sight, watching as it burned out against the dark.

“Cool, huh?” Craig said, his voice breaking the quiet. It wasn’t sarcastic this time, just calm and matter-of-fact.

“Yeah,” you said, glancing at him. “It’s beautiful.”

Craig didn’t look away from the sky. “The Geminids are one of the best showers. You can see like a hundred an hour if the conditions are good. No moon, clear skies—it’s pretty much perfect tonight.”

You smiled, wrapping the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “Okay, that was suspiciously informative. You’ve been holding out on me.”

“Not holding out,” Craig said, shrugging. “I just don’t talk about it because people are idiots. They don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

He turned his head slightly, his gaze cutting to you for just a second before flicking back to the sky. “How huge it all is. And how small we are. It freaks people out, so they act like space is just some science class trivia. But it’s not. It’s…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely upward with his free hand. “Everything.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “That’s… actually kind of poetic. Are you feeling okay?”

Craig shot you a look, his expression deadpan. “Don’t ruin it.”

You laughed, settling back beside him. “Sorry, sorry. I mean, you’re right. It is kind of insane to think about. Like, right now, there are planets out there we don’t even know about.”

“Yeah,” Craig said, his voice quieter now. “Or stars that died millions of years ago, but their light’s still traveling to us. The Geminids are dust from a comet that’s probably not even around anymore. It just… lingers.”

You stared at him, caught off guard by the way he said it—calm and unbothered, but with a certain weight behind his words. Craig had always been a bit of a mystery to you, but moments like this made you wonder just how much more was hiding under his usual sarcasm and shrugs.

Another meteor burned across the sky, long and bright, leaving a faint trail in its wake. Craig watched it with the same quiet intensity he gave to everything he cared about, his eyes steady, his expression almost serene.

“You’re really into this, huh?” you said softly.

“Yeah,” he admitted, not bothering to deflect. “I’ve been into space since I was a kid. Probably because it’s quiet. No dumbasses yelling or screwing things up. Just stars and planets doing their thing.”

“Sounds lonely,” you said, tilting your head.

Craig smirked faintly, his lips quirking up at the corners. “Yeah, well, people suck. The stars are consistent. They don’t screw you over.”

The silence stretched again, but this time it felt lighter, more open. You let your gaze drift back to the sky, watching as more meteors flashed overhead. You could feel Craig’s presence beside you, steady and warm despite the cold pressing in around you. He wasn’t a big talker, but when he did open up, it felt like something rare. Something you wanted to hold onto.

“So,” you said after a while, your tone light, “if you weren’t here with me, would you be watching this alone?”

Craig let out a soft scoff, taking a sip from his thermos. “Probably. Or maybe not. Depends on if I felt like dealing with the cold.”

You smirked, nudging his arm. “But you’re dealing with it for me, right?”

He gave you a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t flatter yourself. You just make less noise than most people.”

“Aw, thanks, Craig. You really know how to make someone feel special.”

“Yeah, it’s a gift,” he muttered, but there was no bite in his tone.

Another meteor streaked across the sky, brighter than the ones before. Its light spread across the clearing, casting a fleeting glow over the snow and trees. You turned your head slightly, your gaze catching on Craig. He didn’t move, his shoulders still brushing yours, his head tipped back just enough for the light of the meteor to catch in his eyes.

There was a kind of stillness to him that you couldn’t place, like the world had slowed just enough to let him breathe. His usual tension—the set of his jaw, the way his shoulders always seemed braced for something—was gone. He didn’t look over at you, didn’t fill the silence with one of his usual sharp remarks. He just sat there, his face tipped toward the sky, and something about it made your chest ache.

“Hey, Craig,” you said, your voice quiet, almost hesitant.

He turned his head, his brow lifting slightly, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “What?”

You hesitated, the words caught somewhere between your chest and your throat. The cold seemed sharper suddenly, biting at your cheeks and the tip of your nose, but it was nothing compared to the heat building inside you. “Can I…” You took a shaky breath, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “Can I kiss you?”

Craig blinked, his face shifting just slightly—not startled, but not entirely unaffected, either. His gaze dropped to the blanket between you, and for a second, you thought he might deflect, make some sarcastic comment to break the tension. Instead, his fingers twitched against the fabric, and he nodded once, barely enough to notice. “Yeah,” he said, his voice softer than usual, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours. “If you want.”

You felt the air leave your lungs, the moment heavier than you’d expected. Slowly, carefully, you leaned in, testing the waters. Craig didn’t move right away. He stayed still, his eyes on you, like he was trying to decide how to respond. But when your lips finally brushed against his, he didn’t pull away. He leaned in, just enough to meet you, his breath catching as your hand brushed against his on the blanket.

The kiss was soft at first, barely more than a tentative touch. Craig’s lips were warm, a stark contrast to the cold biting at your skin. He hesitated, like he wasn’t sure what to do next, but he didn’t pull back. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss just enough to let you know he was with you. There was no rush, no urgency—just the quiet, unspoken understanding between you.

His breath hitched when you shifted closer, the movement drawing a fleeting sound from him that you didn’t think he realized he’d made. His hand brushed against yours again, this time more deliberate, the faint pressure sending a spark through you. The kiss wasn’t perfect—hesitant, a little unsure—but that only made it feel more real. More him .

Craig kissed the way he did everything else: carefully, with purpose, even when he wasn’t entirely certain. There was a steadiness to it, a quiet intensity that made your chest ache. He didn’t push, didn’t fumble or try to rush through the moment. It was like he was letting himself feel it, letting you in, one step at a time.

When you finally pulled back, the world seemed quieter, the cold sharper against your skin as your breath mingled with his in the air between you. Craig stayed still, his face flushed—not just from the cold, you realized—as his gaze dropped back to the blanket. His fingers flexed slightly against the fabric, like he was grounding himself.

“That was…” He trailed off, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes lifted to meet yours, hesitant but steady. “Good.”

Your chest warmed at the quiet sincerity of his words. “Yeah?” you asked, your voice just as soft.

Craig nodded, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. “Yeah.”

You leaned back slightly, giving him space, but you didn’t move far. His shoulder brushed against yours, and he didn’t shift away. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable—it felt warm, like the moment had settled into something solid. Another meteor streaked across the sky, long and brilliant, and Craig tilted his head to follow it, his face calm again.

“You don’t do this much, do you?” you asked quietly, the question slipping out without much thought.

Craig huffed softly, but there was no edge to the sound. “No,” he admitted, his voice steady but low. “Not really. It’s not… something I think about.”

You smiled, your heart softening at the honesty in his tone. “Well, you’re not bad at it.”

Craig glanced at you, his expression unreadable for a moment, before the corner of his mouth twitched. “Thanks,” he said dryly, but there was a faint warmth in his voice that wasn’t usually there. “I’ll add it to my resume.”

You laughed quietly, leaning into his shoulder just enough to feel the warmth radiating from him. He didn’t pull away, didn’t say anything to break the moment. Instead, he just leaned back on his hands, his eyes drifting to the stars.

“I’m glad we came out here,” he said softly, almost like he didn’t realize he was speaking.

You turned to look at him, your chest tightening at the way he said it—simple, understated, but real. “Me too,” you said.

Craig didn’t respond, but he nodded, his gaze fixed on the endless stretch of sky above you. The stars glittered, meteors streaking across the dark expanse in quiet bursts of light. And for the first time all night, Craig looked like he didn’t have anything to guard against. Just him, you, and the stars.

[calebx1as]

Hi hi!! I'm the anon who requested the Kiyoomi buying something for you when he wasn't supposed to. I absolutely loved it, it's so cute!! And thank you for saying that! I'm actually honored to be the first ask hehe

If it's possible, could I request for a cheeky gremlin Omi who had a long dah just swoops in and holds something hostage and won't give it back until you kiss him but he won't say it out loud?

Could I also be ❄ anon?

Again, stay safe and take care of yourself! Give yourself a bit of a break every now and then, okay?

hello again sweetheart!! i’m very glad you liked the req, and of course !! i’m glad to have such a sweet first anon

and ofc, i personally love cheeky omi, he’s just too much. i hope you enjoy my dear ❄️ anon , and please do be kind to yourself as well <333

PHONES AT THE DINNER TABLE.

[ K. SAKUSA.]

it was muggy as kiyoomi drove home. the hard drizzle of rain pattered against the car window and the cold air bit at his pale skin- even with the windows up. this atmosphere was not good to his already dampened spirit seeing as practice didn’t go well today. he kept hitting the ball into the net and his syncing was way off. it really put him into a bad mood, and now with the weather, he swore you could see a grey storm cloud following him everywhere overhead.

he pulled into the driveway of your shared home and sluggishly pulled his duffle bag from the passenger seat. it took him three minutes to unlock the door, because it kept slipping out of the key hole. this adding to his annoyance. he felt his temper bubble in his chest and bleed into his throat, threatening to spill until he saw you.

you were setting out all his favorite food onto the dinner table, hair a mess and so absorbed in your task that you hadn’t noticed kiyoomi come in. he quietly toed his shoes off, making his way to you. a devious thought popped into his head.

you took your phone out your pocket to take a picture of the pretty lay out of food you made for your lover, when it’s snatched up from behind you. you yelp, twisting to find your 6’4 boyfriend sporting a boyish grin.you smile at his breathlessly , still a bit surprised from his appearance but hug him anyway. your lover’s arms wind around your waist, and you feel every bit of tension melt off his strong shoulders. giving his back a few rubs and the base of his neck a few squeezes, he sighs happily. he truly did miss you.

he pulls back and peers down at you. you smile up at him, “ how was your day, kiyo? sit down, you must be hungry,” you say, ushering him towards a seat. he does so, moving his hair from his face. you pat your pockets, then laying your eyes on him and letting out a breathy laugh. “ baby, my phone,” you tell him. he laughs slightly. giving him a bored look, you move to take it from him, but he simply stands and you’re all of a sudden no match for him. he’s enormous. you huff, “ kiyo, give me my phone,” you instruct.

he laughs. “ what will you do if i don’t , huh? bite my ankles?” and at that, you scoff. you make another reach for your device, thwarted by his long arms. “you’re so mean, kiyo, i literally made you food and this is how you repay me? little biTCH-“ he doesn’t allow you to finish your sentence. he swiftly tucks the phone into his pocket and picks you up- your thighs caging his waist as he holds them to support you. instinctively, your arms find a place around his neck. “‘m not mean, baby, im just teasing,” he mumbled , kissing your face, “had a long day, and you’re cute when you’re upset,” he giggles to you. this brings a smile to your face, cheeks nearly crushing your eyes when you give him a big, wet kiss. he feigns disgust but does little to wipe his mouth or tell you to stop. “ maybe if you had just told me how your day was, instead of stealing my phone, you would’ve felt better by now,” you deadpan playfully. he pouts at you , tilting his head, “ hmm, maybe you’re right but,” he gets real close, “ i wouldn’t be holding you then, would i?” he whispers. you’re flustered momentarily.

it’s silent between you two for a second. the close proximity urges you to kiss him- so you do. cupping his pale cheeks and nose bumping his, he feels his heart swell at the tenderness you handle him with. his lips move languidly against yours, effortlessly, as if that’s what they were made for. to kiss you. just for you. only you. he puts you down when you break away, handing you your phone.

“let’s eat,” he says, sitting again. he sees your raised brow and hand-on-hip pose, shaking his head with a small chuckle. “ and i’ll tell you about my day, you big baby.”

[little-diable]

Merry Christmas - Klaus Mikaelson (smut)

❄️It’s officially Christmas time on my Tumblr. ❄️

Requested by my love @shrekaliciouz Hope this is what you had in mind for your Christmas Drabble. The prompt is written in bold. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, shower sex, slight breeding kink

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x fem!reader

He was waiting for her to return, legs stretched out, hand clamped down on his glass of bourbon. Silence engulfed him, forced him to swim in his thoughts, not used to being away from her, not used to taking a breath as snow began to cover the ground.

“Klaus?” (Y/n) called his name, shaking the snow off her shoulders, stepping out of her coat and boots. The cold nibbled on her limbs, desperate for a hot shower, to find comfort in the heat - preferably with Klaus near. He met her in the living room, pulling her into his chest with his lips pressed against her forehead, “Don’t ever leave me for this long again.”

“I was gone for two hours, Klaus. Don’t be dramatic,” (y/n) shifted her weight onto her toes, kissing him with her cold lips meeting his warm ones, “Come on, I need a hot shower.”

With their fingers interlaced they walked into their bathroom, sharing kisses every now and then - between undressing one another. The hot water cascaded down their bodies, pulling them tighter together, holding one another close. (Y/n)’s eyes fluttered shut, basking in his body heat, moaning “I missed you too” as his hands cupped her behind. She felt him growing against her thigh, desperate to feel her walls wrapped around his cock.

Her hands grasped him, carefully pumping him as her lips ghosted over his, “Merry Christmas, I didn't have time to get you a present, so you will have to accept me as your gift.” The sound of Klaus chuckles got drowned out by her lips clashing against his, swallowing his sounds, the moans that rumbled through him. (Y/n)’s hand began to pick up its pace, pumping him faster, taking care of him.

Klaus tugged her against the cold showertiles, hand gripping her thigh to lift it off the ground. Carefully he pushed her hand away from his cock, grasping his length to bring it closer to her dripping cunt. Moments from this morning kept on replaying in their minds, how she had moaned his name against her pillow, biting into the fabric as he fucked her from behind, celebrating this years Christmas morning.

Water splashed off their bodies, letting the drops stroke along their limbs, their muscles, pulling them tighter together. Klaus let his head drop down to her chest, kissing her skin, showing her nipples some love - while he kept on teasing her entrance with his cock, “You look divine, love. I should paint you, naked and wet for me.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes at his praises, pulling on his roots, moving her lips against his. She was growing impatient, hoping that he would cut his teasing short, needing to feel her tightness contracting around his cock. Without another warning, Klaus pushed into her, leaving his cock swimming in her tightness, getting lost in the feeling, “That’s it, darling. Breathe for me.”

Even in moments like these, Klaus always found the right, soothing words to care for her. He cupped her cheek, eyes boring into her soul as he began to pull out of her, only to thrust into her more ferociously. (Y/n) had to bite down on her lip, silencing her moans, mind focused on the feeling of his cock pushing further into her tightness, “You feel so good, Klaus. Fuck.”

A grin pulled on his lips, heart swelling in his chest. Her fingernails left shapes on his shoulders, clawed into his skin to keep herself grounded. She began to tighten around him, hoping that he’d stay buried inside of her forever, till the world would fall. Klaus seemed to battle the same thoughts, mesmerized by her, the way her body reacted to his touch, how her skin felt beneath his fingertips. She was his everything.

“‘Want you to cum inside of me,” (y/n) babbled, head thrown back against the tiles, giving Klaus enough space to kiss down her throat, sucking on the thin skin as he kept on fucking her. The sound of his hips snapping against hers filled the bathroom, soon enough they would give into the calling, the coil inside of her would snap as he’d fill her. Her legs trembled, struggling to support her, having to rely on Klaus to catch her before she could lose her balance.

“Gonna fuck you full of my cum,” it was a promise he intended to keep. (Y/n) was the first one to let go, calling out his name as electricity buzzed through her folds, making her walls flutter around his cock. Klaus clung to the feeling, chasing his own high with his lip pulled between his teeth. His cum painted her walls white, clinging to her skin as he kept on fucking her, thrusts no longer ferocious and rough, though slow and sweet.

She felt his release leaking from her, running down her legs, watching it disappear down the drain with a tired smile on her lips. Both stayed in the shower with their limbs tangled and her heart racing, basking in the silence.