#sleepless in snowy night

[gtgbabie0]

-Vi x Wife!Reader

Synopsis: {A cozy, snowy morning with Vi and your daughter}

For my other works my Masterlist is here <3

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“Mm, five more minutes,” Vi mutters from behind you, the words whispered into the nape of your neck with one arm draped over your waist and the other stuffed under your pillow. She had said the same thing about ten minutes ago and still wasn’t ready to let you go from her warm embrace.

You chuckle softly, the sound slightly muffled into the silken fabric of the pillows, which brings a smile to Vi’s lips— her rough palm moving to rest over the curve of your hip, rubbing soothingly in a not-so-subtle attempt to keep you in bed and pressed up against her.

“I gotta prepare bottles, she’ll be awake soon.” You tell her with a tender voice, melting back into her chest as her hand gently caresses over your tummy, slipping beneath the fabric of her shirt you’re wearing.

Your daughter had a very specific routine that the pair of you had already grown accustomed to after many sleepless nights and teary breakdowns—all of which Vi had soothed you down through.

“Mhm, can’t have her screaming the house down.” Vi sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to the space behind your ear as you hum in agreement. Yeah, you both had learned a while back not to sleep in when you got woken up by Harper’s cries one fatal morning.

With that you’re pushing yourself up, rolling your shoulders in an attempt to wake your bones up. A small sigh escapes you as Vi’s hand rubs your back slowly— admiring the way the low morning sun casts a muted light through the room and over your pretty face from behind the curtains and it takes everything in her not to pull you back down into her arms.

“You’re so pretty, my pretty girl.” She drawls, a sleep-laden tone with a certain roughness that shoots a slight shiver down your spine— and the fact that she was still trailing her fingertips along the small of your back certainly didn’t help.

She sits up, immediately pressing her nose into the back of your neck with a small hum as she breaths you in deeply— you could feel her smile against your skin. “Violet.” You warn her, though your resolve is weaker than sugar paper when it comes to her and the way her lips feel along your bare shoulders.

“Mhm?” She hums, running the tip of her nose along your jaw.

“It’s already half nine—”

“Alright, alright, I’ll go make a start on the coffee,” Vi announces, with a playfully dramatic groan, bumping her shoulder into yours softly.

“Mm, thank you. I’ll wake up sleeping beauty.” You turn to face her, leaning into her hand as she brushes a lock of hair behind your ear.

“M'kay gorgeous.” She smirks, pressing a kiss to your cheek then another and another and another until they get slobbery and you have to physically push her away with a giggle.

The homely scent of coffee fills the house with wisps of some festive candle— spiced berries and cinnamon or something like that— Vi had picked out the last time you went shopping, she has a knack for picking the best smells at the cost of her completely forgetting the shopping list and becoming distracted by everything.

You were standing by the window, admiring the white fluffiness that has coated the shrubbery and pavement— ice frosted over the windows in intricate swirls. Harper was cuddled up in your arms, in that ridiculous reindeer onesie that was a little too big for her— one of Vi’s marvellous finds as you wait for her bottle to finish warming up.

“Wow, she’s a chatterbox this morning.” Vi chuckles warmly, standing up behind you with a hand splayed across the small of your back— snaking around to settle on your hip, her other reaches to twirl a curl of Harper’s hair around her finger as she continues to blabber nonsense and blows raspberries up at you.

“I think she wants to go out in the snow.” You smile, turning your head to the side to look at Vi as your daughter fists at the fabric of your shirt— still making nonsensical noises.

Your wife catches the glint in your eyes, the way they sparkle up with a playfulness she’s grown to adore— it gives away your real intentions.

“Yeah, does she now, or is this just you using our daughter as an excuse to go play out in the snow?” You nod at her words, a sheepish giggle bubbling up from you, as she pulls you into her, kissing your temple. “You big child.” She adds, giving your warm cheek another peck.

Vi couldn’t lie, it did look tempting as much as she hated the cold and the way the winter air always made her nose run— she’d endure just about anything to see you and Harper smile.

“We’ll take her out after breakfast,” Vi promises, glancing over to the snowy scenery outside— her soft lips ghosting over your jaw as she speaks. A small hushed, celebratory “yes” escapes your lips in response as you bounce Harper in your arms excitedly and your daughter shares your elation in complete unawareness.

The sound of the bottle warmer pinging causes Harper to let out a tiny squeal, her eyes going all wide and glossy as if she knew exactly what the noise meant, food— and you had no doubt that she did.

“C’mere peanut, give momma’s back a break.” Vi coos softly, taking Harper from your arms— “Go get something to eat, I’ll feed her.”

You smile at her in appreciation, a tender look settling over your face as you watch your little one nuzzle into Vi’s shoulder. Her tiny hands fisting into your wife’s hair in fascination with colour to which she gently tries to pry them away, persuading her daughter with a delicious bottle of warm milk— she happily takes it.

You pop some bread into the toaster, knowing that the pair of you really shouldn't eat cinnamon rolls for the fourth morning in a row— despite how Christmassy you felt, Vi had a “figure to maintain”

The twinkling lights of the Christmas tree paint a pretty glow through the living space and into the attached dining room— decorations stretched across the ceiling in colours of reds, golds and greens an endearing tackiness to them that made it feel oh so cosy.

Your socked foot rubs against Vi’s ankle as the pair of you sit at the table— a mix of strawberry and peach jam toast and coffee between you whilst Vi feeds Harper, who is staring up at the ceiling decks with wide curious eyes that flicker around, the festive tunes on the radio were clearly intriguing her.

“Love you,” Vi winks, pushing her foot against your own beneath the table as you take a big bite of jammy toast— you swear she does this on purpose, waiting until your mouth is full before talking to you just to watch you flush and panic.

“Mhm, love you too.” You finally manage to get out, wiping the corners of your mouth as a warm smile stretches over your face at the sight of her leaning down to press a kiss against Harper's forehead— what a tender way to spend your mornings.

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[pupkashi]

satoru loves yapping [to you]

satoru was always chatty, shoko could definitely attest to that statement, subjected to too many conversations she definitely did not care about.

“isn’t it hotter than usual? i swear last year it was colder around this time of year-” he began, continuing to talk as shoko tried to focus instead on healing an injured itadori in front of her.

it seemed that his chatty characteristic only amplified when you were around, his eyes would visibly brighten, practically gleaming when you appeared in his eyesight.

“sweetheart! how are you? staying cold in this heat?” you can help but smile at him, walking straight into his already outstretched arms and squeezing his waist a bit, pressing a soft peck to his cheek before pulling away.

“heat? it feels so good out today!” you sigh happily, waving yellow to shoko and itadori, “it is hotter than last year though I’ll tell you that,” satoru grins at your words, turning to shoko with a flint in his eyes before turning back to you.

“that’s what I said! global warming is getting too severe-” the two of you walking out hand in hand, the taller man still talking as you listened intently.

satoru never felt the need to be quiet around you, always finding things to talk about no matter the task or the hour.

“and so you would think that since they were doing so bad they would think of making changes right?” you nod along, humming so he knows you’re listening, “but no! they keep going with same stupid strategy and it’s so frustrating as a fan to see, i just want him to achieve his dreams,” he sighs sadly.

“can you pass the salt?” you ask, taking it from his much larger hand, thanking him before speaking up again, “why does he keep resigning if they always treat him so poorly?” you ask, satoru smiles, heart warming at the fact that you really do pay attention to him.

“he’s always wanted to win with Ferrari- let me take you back to the beginning” he begins, giving you a summary of charles leclerc’s life as you finish cooking dinner.

you could always tell when he got a bit insecure of how talkative he was, but you’d always smile at him, urging him to go on. “and then what? why’d you stop talking?” you’d say, making him smile widely before quietly starting again.

“I’m listening, angel boy,” you mumble in between dreams, listening to him talk about how orange juice isn’t the same as it was when he was growing up and how the new game he downloaded was more complicated than it seems.

it could be nearing 2 in the morning but you wouldn’t mind, satoru would be discussing how and why wombats have cube shaped poops and how koalas eat eucalyptus and pandas have half a brain cell they don’t bother to use.

“it has no real nutritional value and that’s why they have to eat so much of it,” he mumbles, eyes drooping as he cuddles closer to you.

“aren’t they made to digest meat?” you whisper, head tucked into the crook of his neck, your breath running a chill down his spine.

“think so, dunno” he mumbles back, breathing evening out before he’s fully asleep.

your eyes open slowly as you crane your neck, his pink lips slightly parted as he takes soft breaths, snowy hair pointing every which way.

you can’t help but smile at your lover.

“goodnight pretty boy” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, “my little yapper,” you chuckle to yourself, already looking forward to what he’d talk about tomorrow.

masterlist

a/n: hi friends ! just a quick little something i put together bc i miss satoru so bad lately </3 he’s def a yapper and i want to hear him talk all day and night

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @sat6ru @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi

[hananoami]

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ILLUSIO MASTERLIST

As detailed in my original post I was taking Illusio requests from July 15th to August 1st 2024. Thank you to all who requested and enjoyed those precious kindled memories. I was happy to able to share those special moments with you. I am also doing this for Version 3.0 - Cosmic Encounter .ᐟ.ᐟ Currently accepting requests From January 22nd to February 07th! For any Illusio references, you can view my memory + outfits catalog here. [Version 2.0] During this limited-time event I've done: *⁀➷ 67 total unique ILLUSIO recordings *⁀➷ 11 kindled memories of XAVIER *⁀➷ 09 kindled memories of ZAYNE *⁀➷ 08 kindled memories of RAFAYEL *⁀➷ 02 kindled memories of SYLUS [Version 3.0] During this limited-time event I've done: *⁀➷ ## total unique ILLUSIO recordings *⁀➷ ## kindled memories of XAVIER *⁀➷ ## kindled memories of ZAYNE *⁀➷ ## kindled memories of RAFAYEL *⁀➷ ## kindled memories of SYLUS *⁀➷ ## kindled memories of CALEB [Verson 2.0] A grand total of 02 hours 27 minutes 57 seconds. [Version 3.0] tbd. You can view all the memories I've recorded below.

UPDATE: All of Version 2.0 Illusios have been cross uploaded onto my youtube channel. Version 3.0 will be slowly added over time. Thank you for your patience!

「 ✦ 𝑿𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑹 ✦ 」

FAINT SENSATION ✧ [steamy] ✧

FLUFFY TRAP ✧ [steamy] ✧

FRAGMENT OF TIME ✧ [academy uniform] ✧

HEARTSTRING SYMPHONY ✧ [crescent dawn] ✧ [moonlight glimpse] ✧

MIDNIGHT RAINFALL ✧ [steamy v.1 ; steamy v.2] ✧

MIDNIGHT WHISPERS ✧ [butler's rule] ✧ [gentle sunlight's path] ✧ [midnight vigilance] ✧ [steamy] ✧

MISTY SILHOUETTE ✧ [steamy] ✧

NO RESTRAINT ✧ [crescent dawn] ✧

OUTCAST'S VOYAGE ✧ [dawn's traveler] ✧ [polar odyssey] ✧

PRECIOUS BONFIRE ✧ [academy uniform] ✧ [bunbun panda] ✧

ROMANTIC AFTERNOON ✧ [academy uniform] ✧ [bunbun panda] ✧

SILVERY POLYPHONY ✧ [dawn's traveler] ✧ [polar odyssey] ✧ [white rose's elegance] ✧

TENDER NIGHT ✧ [crescent dawn] ✧ [moonlight glimpse] ✧ [steamy] ✧

UNIQUE AFTERTASTE ✧ [academy uniform] ✧ [crescent dawn] ✧ [moonlight glimpse] ✧

21 DAYS ✧ [academy uniform] ✧ [dawn's traveler] ✧ [steamy] ✧

「 ✦ 𝒁𝑨𝒀𝑵𝑬 ✦ 」

ABSOLUTE ZEAL ✧ [aqua tones] ✧ [cascading clouds] ✧ [obsidian clouds] ✧

BUSINESS TRIP ✧ [aqua tones] ✧

COZY AFTERNOON ✧ [academy uniform] ✧ [aqua tones] ✧ [bunbun panda] ✧

DRUNKEN INTIMACY ✧ [aqua tones] ✧ [cascading clouds] ✧ [obsidian clouds] ✧ [ode to glory] ✧ [schade's mercy] ✧

EXCLUSIVE TUTORIAL ✧ [aqua tones] ✧

GENTLE TWILIGHT ✧ [academy uniform] ✧

FLUFFY TREATMENT ✧ [cascading clouds] ✧ [obsidian clouds] ✧

FOREVER SEALED ✧ [aqua tones] ✧ [midnight silence] ✧

HEARTSTRING NOTES ✧ [bunbun panda] ✧

MOONLIT DREAM ✧ [cascading clouds] ✧ [obsidian clouds] ✧

SNOWFALL EMBRACE ✧ [ode to glory] ✧ [schade's mercy] ✧

SNOWFALL ENCOUNTER ✧ [ode to glory] ✧ [schade's mercy] ✧

SNOWY SERENITY ✧ [aqua tones v.1 ; aqua tones v.2] ✧ [cascading clouds v.1 ; cascading clouds v.2] ✧ [obsidian clouds v.1 ; obsidian clouds v.2] ✧ [ode to glory v.1 ; ode to glory v.2] ✧ [schade's mercy v.1 ; schade's mercy v.2] ✧ [shadowfall dawn v.1 ; shadowfall dawn v.2] ✧ [shadowfall dusk v.1 ; shadowfall dusk v.2] ✧

「 ✦ 𝑹𝑨𝑭𝑨𝒀𝑬𝑳 ✦ 」

BEFORE SUNRISE ✧ [dawn tides] ✧ [sandy dreams] ✧

BLOSSOMS ✧ [academy uniform] ✧

FIREWORKS VOW ✧ [enveloping] ✧ [heat-up] ✧

FLORAL PROMISE ✧ [enveloping] ✧

INTERTIDAL ZONE ✧ [misty trail] ✧ [precise control] ✧ [radiant night] ✧

TAILWAG MOMENT ✧ [passionate flame] ✧ [passionate flame: sleepless] ✧

TIPSY INVITATION ✧ [dawn tides] ✧ [enveloping] ✧ [heat-up] ✧ [sandy dreams] ✧

UNFORGETTABLE ADVENTURE ✧ [bunbun panda v.1 ; bunbun panda v.2] ✧ [enveloping v.1 ; enveloping v.2] ✧

WHISPERS ✧ [enveloping] ✧ [heat-up] ✧

YOUR FRAGRANCE ✧ [enveloping] ✧

「 ✦ 𝑺𝒀𝑳𝑼𝑺 ✦ 」

CAPTIVATING FLAVOR ✧ [tenderly entwined v.1 ; tenderly entwined v.2 ; tenderly entwined v.3] ✧

GRASSLAND ROMANCE ✧ [azure whim] ✧ [scarlet ardor] ✧

NIGHT OF SECRECY ✧ [azure whim] ✧ [scarlet ardor] ✧

NO DEFENSE ZONE ✧ [crimson veil: torn] ✧ [tenderly entwined] ✧

「 ✦ 𝑪𝑨𝑳𝑬𝑩 ✦ 」

Featured clips were uploaded by me, but I do not claim ownership of any the intellectual property (IP). Feel free to use them for your enjoyment. All recordings were pulled directly from the game, Love and Deepspace. © INFOLD PTE. LTD.

signal boosting: @hunters-association

[harryssyndrome]

Snow on the Beach | h.s

summery: the day Harry found the inspiration for his debut album.

Word count: 1.1k || Masterlist 🌊❄️🩵

Posted on: November 16th, 2024

A small cutesy one-shot with pre-hs1 era from my draft🤭 so many more are coming out soon! REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

The beach stretched out before Harry Styles, quiet and blanketed in snow. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this kind of stillness, this freedom. For years, his life had been a whirlwind of cities, stages, and sleepless nights. The demands of One Direction had consumed every moment, leaving little room for simple pleasures—like a walk on a winter beach.

But now, with the band on hiatus and the relentless pace of tours and interviews behind him, Harry had finally allowed himself to breathe. He had driven for hours, away from the chaos of the city, to find this hidden stretch of coastline. Snow on the beach was a rare sight, and something about it felt like poetry waiting to be written.

Clutching a cookie in one hand, Harry wandered along the shore, his boots crunching against the icy sand. He needed this—needed the quiet, the solitude, and maybe, just maybe, a spark of inspiration. His debut album was looming, the weight of it pressing on his chest. It was meant to set the tone for his solo career, the foundation for who he would become beyond the boy band. And yet, the words and melodies refused to come.

Harry trudged along the beach, his coat buttoned up tight, the cold biting at his cheeks. In his hand, he held a half-eaten cookie, savoring its sweetness as he gazed out at the frozen horizon.

He didn’t see the seagull coming.

With a flurry of wings and an indignant squawk, the bird swooped down, snatching the cookie right out of his hand. Harry jumped back with a startled yelp, the audacity of the bird leaving him wide-eyed and breathless.

“Oi!” he shouted, stepping back in surprise as the bird soared off with its prize. He stood there for a moment, wide-eyed and a little shaken, before a burst of laughter reached his ears.

Not far away, a girl sat on a rock, bundled in a scarf and hat. Her laughter rang out, light and melodic, the kind that warmed the coldest winter air. Harry turned to her, his initial indignation fading into something softer as he took her in. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, her eyes sparkling with mirth, and he couldn’t help but feel a pull in his chest.

She tried to stifle it, raising a gloved hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she called out, her voice still tinged with amusement. “I know I shouldn’t laugh, but that was—” She broke off, laughing again.

Harry couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his lips. “Yeah, laugh it up,” he called back, brushing the crumbs off his hands. “Clearly, the seagulls here have impeccable taste.”

She tilted her head, feigning seriousness. “You think they prefer cookies to chips?”

“Apparently,” Harry said, walking toward her. “And they have no concept of personal boundaries.”

He reached the rock and hesitated for a moment before sitting down beside her. The cold surface seeped through his coat, but he didn’t mind. Up close, he noticed her cheeks were pink from the cold, her eyes bright and curious.

“I’m Harry,” he offered, holding out his hand.

“YN,” she replied, shaking it. Her gloves were thick, but her grip was firm.

“So, YN,” Harry began, tilting his head with a smirk. “Do you always make a habit of laughing at strangers, or was I just particularly entertaining today?”

She smiled, her eyes sparkling. “It’s not every day you see a man lose a cookie to a seagull. You’ve got to admit, it was kind of funny.”

Harry chuckled, leaning back on his hands. “I suppose it’s one of those ‘laugh so you don’t cry’ moments.”

For a while, they sat in companionable silence, the waves lapping softly against the shore. Harry glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, noting the way she seemed perfectly at ease, as if she belonged here.

“What brings you to a snowy beach?” she asked suddenly, her voice curious but gentle.

Harry hesitated, unsure how much to say. “I haven’t been to a beach like this in years,” he admitted. “Life’s been… busy. But now I’ve got some time off, and I figured I’d see what I’ve been missing.”

YN nodded, sensing there was more he wasn’t saying. “And? What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” he said simply, his gaze drifting to the horizon. “Kind of surreal, though. Snow on the beach—it’s not something you see every day.”

“No, it’s not,” she agreed, her voice soft. “It’s like the world is trying to remind us that even the unexpected can be beautiful.”

Her words struck a chord, and Harry found himself wondering if this moment, this chance encounter, was the kind of inspiration he’d been searching for.

“What about you?” he asked. “What brings you here?”

YN shrugged. “I come here when I need to think. Something about the snow and the sea—it clears my head.”

Harry nodded, understanding more than he could say.

They talked for hours, their conversation flowing effortlessly. They joked about seagulls, shared stories of places they’d been, and speculated on what kind of music snow would make if it could sing. By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the beach in hues of gold and pink, Harry felt lighter, as if a weight he hadn’t realized he was carrying had lifted.

As the first stars blinked into the evening sky, YN pulled out her phone, glancing at the time. “I should probably head back,” she said reluctantly, standing and brushing the snow from her coat.

Harry stood too, not quite ready to let the moment end. “Wait—let’s exchange numbers,” he said, pulling out his own phone. “You still owe me a cookie, remember?”

YN grinned. “I did say I’d consider it, didn’t I?” But she handed him her number anyway.

He typed it in, then held his phone up. “I’ll text you, just to make sure you didn’t give me a fake one.”

She laughed. “And I’ll respond, just to make sure you’re not a seagull in disguise.”

As they said their goodbyes, Harry felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the weather.

“Promise me we’ll see each other again?” he asked, his voice softer now.

YN smiled, her gaze steady. “I promise.”

And as she walked away, her figure disappearing into the snowy twilight, Harry knew this wasn’t the last time their paths would cross.

Sometimes, inspiration came from the most unexpected places. And sometimes, it came with a seagull, a stolen cookie, and a girl named YN.

[kaleidoscopecth]

Something for the Pain

MDNI

pairing: luke hemmings x reader

summary: a splitting headache has you looking for something, anything, to stop the pain. luckily for you, luke is always willing to help.

warnings: oral (f receiving), dirty talk, subby luke, mommy kink, desperate and needy luke, happy ending massage (?)

word count: 5.4k

a/n: happy new year pookies! i honestly can’t begin to describe how thankful i am for all of the support my writing has received since i started posting on here. hopefully i can get more blurbs out— and soon, that calum fic. anyway, this was a request, but i took some liberties since i wasn’t super excited to write period sex (don’t think i ever will ngl) but i still hope u enjoy!!

as always, thank u for reading and to my two friends who helped me come up w the plot for this. you know who you are ;)

Copyright © 2025 kaleidoscopecth. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Every breath you took, every blink, sent a fresh wave of pain ricocheting through your skull. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it started. Maybe it was during the final descent, the plane’s cabin pressure clawing at your temples. Or maybe it was the hours leading up to it—the sleepless night, the lack of water, or the mounting exhaustion of the journey.

By the time you stepped off the plane with your friends, the faint pulse of a headache had already begun to bloom behind your eyes. But what started as a dull ache soon unraveled into an all-encompassing, throbbing migraine.

Now, you sat slumped in the bed of your hotel room, blinds drawn tight against the snowy glare outside. Your eyes remained shut as you wrestled with the unrelenting pain, trying to block out the world beyond the pounding in your head.

It was Calum’s birthday trip. This whole escapade had been meticulously planned by an overly eager Ashton and Luke, who’d insisted on the novelty of a winter getaway. You and Michael had been swept along in their enthusiasm, though neither of you had much interest in winter sports.

“Ashton thinks Calum needs a change,” Luke had reasoned during the endless group chat debates. “He’s always had summer birthdays. Let’s give him a proper winter wonderland for once.”

It wasn’t exactly a bad idea—on paper, at least. But the journey to the hotel had been its own kind of trial. Fans swarmed the boys at the terminal, their excitement only amplified by the festive mood. Luke and Ashton handled the crowd with ease, chatting and signing autographs, while Michael managed a few tired smiles. You, however, could barely keep your grimace at bay as each flash of a camera sent fresh jolts of pain behind your eyes.

You worried that your mood might be misinterpreted. The last thing you needed was people twisting your obvious discomfort into something malicious, another rumor or misstep in the public eye. But for now, none of that mattered. All you wanted was a moment of quiet to try and claw your way back to some ounce of normalcy.

You fell back on your bed, forcing your mind to think of ways to ease the pain. You had already tried some ibuprofen, but your mind failed to come up with more alternatives.

Luke had noticed something was wrong, he always noticed when something was wrong. His eyes would get all worried, glazed over with anxiety as he tried to figure out why you were in such a foul mood. He was always so attentive when it came to you, so sweet.

You met the band when they signed your shoegaze group to their record label. Although the deal didn’t last, the friendship that came out of it certainly did. You played bass—a fact that, for some reason, seemed to strike a chord with Luke from the start.

What followed was an unusual friendship. Luke gravitated toward you in a way that was hard to ignore, and you were more than sure he had a crush on you. Subtlety was never his strong suit, after all.

It started small—just little frowns tugging at his pink lips whenever someone mentioned another guy’s name or the lingering glances he’d send your way. But slowly, it escalated. The frowns turned into sharp quips about their character, jokes veiled as casual observations about how no one seemed good enough for you.

Then came the parade of girls—each one with the same eye color, the same hair, the same biting wit. They never stayed long, thankfully. Still, it felt ridiculous to think Luke Hemmings, of all people, might actually want you—a shy bassist in a band still struggling to take off. And yet, the thought burrowed into your mind like an itch you couldn’t scratch, always there, always nagging.

When it was just the two of you, it was different. Luke seemed mesmerized by you, his eyes tracing the movements of your fingers over your bass strings, hanging onto your words like they were rare treasures. It was flattering. It was terrifying.

He’d tried to follow you to your room earlier offering to keep you company. But the thought of him seeing you so raw, so vulnerable, was unbearable. You forced a fake smile, brushed aside the dull ache in your chest, and politely declined.

It wasn’t ideal, not by any stretch. You craved company—craved him—but the weight of your misery felt too heavy to share.

So, you decided to lie down, all the blinds drawn shut, and hope—pray—for the ibuprofen to finally kick in. Sooner or later, you were certain, the pain would ease. In the meantime, you busied yourself by mentally planning your outfit for the birthday dinner you still hoped to attend.

You weren’t exactly sure how much time had passed since you first collapsed onto the hotel bed, but the knock at the door shattered the fragile quiet. Squeezing your eyes shut, you willed yourself to ignore it, hoping whoever it was would go away.

But the knock came again, louder this time, insistent.

Your eyes snapped open, staring at the darkened ceiling as another knock echoed through the room. “Y/N?” Luke’s voice cut through the quiet, sharp and clear, sending a fresh wave of pain ricocheting through your skull. Wincing, you pushed yourself upright in bed.

“What do you want?” you called out, not bothering to mask the irritation in your tone. Luke was a puppy—probably the kindest, most caring person you’d ever met. Even if your annoyance slipped through now, he’d likely shrug it off, understanding the circumstances later.

But instead of his usual easy response, silence followed. A beat passed, long enough for a twinge of guilt to creep in. Regret began clouding your thoughts as you replayed what you’d said, wondering if you’d gone too far.

“Are you okay?” Luke’s voice finally broke the stillness, softer now, almost cautious. You could picture him perfectly: standing just outside the door, biting the corner of his lip where a lip ring once sat, waiting in tentative silence.

With a defeated sigh, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and padded softly to the door. Cracking it open with caution, you winced as the bright hallway light pierced through the darkness of the room, intensifying the ache in your head.

Luke’s eyebrows shot up the moment he saw your expression, concern etched into his features. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes darting across your face, searching for any clues that might explain your obvious discomfort.

You closed your eyes and leaned your head against the doorframe. “I have a headache from hell,” you muttered, rubbing at one eye with your knuckle.

“Damn,” Luke murmured, his voice low with sympathy. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

Pushing off the doorframe, you shuffled back to the bed and collapsed face-first onto the mattress. The sudden movement made the throbbing in your skull even worse. You heard Luke’s footsteps draw closer, then felt the bed dip as he laid down beside you.

Slowly, you turned your head to look at him. His wide blue eyes were full of concern, his blonde curls falling messily against the bedspread. Up close, you could see the faint stubble dusting his jaw and cheeks, and your fingers itched with the impulse to reach out feel it beneath your fingertips.

“Since we got to the airport,” you admitted. “It’s been getting worse all day. By the time we got here, I was barely able to stand.”

Luke let out a quiet huff through his nose, his fingers tapping absentmindedly on the mattress. “What about tonight?” he asked gently. “Do you think you’ll be able to make it?”

You let out a bitter laugh, immediately regretting it as another sharp ripple of pain shot through your skull. “Thank God Calum’s birthday isn’t today, because at this point, I don’t even know if I’d make it.”

Luke’s lips twisted into a concerned frown. “Have you tried anything to make it go away?”

“Luke, do you really think I’m choosing to suffer like this?” you scoffed, shaking your head. “I took some ibuprofen earlier, but it didn’t help much. I’ve been wracking my brain for home remedies, but nothing’s working.”

Luke hummed thoughtfully. “I heard drinking water can help,” he suggested, a hint of optimism in his tone. “Or maybe a massage? I think I even read somewhere that eating almonds helps.”

You let out an irritated breath and shifted onto your side, pillowing your head on your arm. For a brief moment, you thought you caught Luke’s eyes flick down to your chest, slightly more on display from your position, but the glance was so quick you couldn’t be certain.

“I’ve been drinking water,” you mumbled dejectedly. “Hate almonds. But a massage sounds… nice. Don’t really feel like hunting down spa services, though.”

Luke was quiet for a moment, staring down at the mattress. He shifted slightly before mumbling something, his voice too low for you to catch.

You raised an eyebrow. “Lu, I can’t hear a word you’re saying.”

He let out a loud huff and repeated himself, this time louder but still hesitant. “I said… I could give you the massage.” His voice wavered slightly, and he avoided meeting your gaze.

His offer caught you off guard. For a few beats, you just stared at him, unsure if he was serious. But with your head pounding relentlessly, you couldn’t see any reason to refuse. “Alright,” you finally said, clearing your throat. “There’s lotion in my carry-on bag. Go grab it.”

Luke’s eyes widened a fraction, but he nodded quickly and scrambled off the bed in a flurry of gangly limbs. He switched on the lamp by the bedside table—thankfully not too bright—and rummaged through your bag with fumbling hands. After a few failed attempts, he finally pulled out the bottle of lotion. “Got it!” he announced, a triumphant grin tugging at his lips.

“Good.” You sat up in the bed and shot him a pointed look. “Now turn around.”

Luke blinked, his grin faltering. “Why?”

You motioned toward the lotion in his hand. “Because I’m taking my shirt off?”

His cheeks flushed a vivid pink, and his mouth fell open slightly in surprise. “What?”

“You heard me,” you said, raising an eyebrow as you caught the sudden flustered state Luke had taken on. “Did you really think a massage would work if I kept my shirt on?”

Luke swallowed hard, shaking his head. “N-no,” he stammered. “I guess not.” His hand shot up to scratch the back of his neck, the flush spreading from his cheeks to his ears.

“Good,” you replied with a small, teasing smile, rolling your eyes. “Unless that’s an issue for you?”

His eyes widened as if you’d accused him of something. “No!” he blurted, then winced at how loud he sounded. “I mean… no, it’s not a problem.”

You bit back a laugh, too entertained by how flustered he was, and motioned for him to turn around. With a sheepish nod, Luke spun on his heel, facing the wall. Once he was out of sight, you pulled the hem of your shirt up and over your head before lying back down on your stomach.

“Alright,” you called softly, glancing over your shoulder. “Come on.”

Luke turned back around hesitantly, his gaze flickering between your face and the bed as he stepped closer. His cheeks were still rosy, but he managed to set the lotion bottle down on the nightstand without fumbling.

“Where should I start?” he asked, his voice quieter now. His eyes lingered for a moment on the strap of your bra before darting away, and you appreciated the fact that he seemed to be making an effort to remain respectful.

You shrugged slightly, resting your head on your arms. “You’re the one who suggested this, remember? Maybe my shoulders? Anywhere that might distract me from the headache.”

Luke nodded, though you could see the tension in his jaw as he picked up the lotion and squirted some into his hands. You closed your eyes, feeling the shift of the bed as he knelt beside you.

When his fingers finally touched your skin, they were tentative, almost featherlight. You suppressed a shiver at the warmth of his hands but couldn’t help the small hum of appreciation that escaped your lips.

“You can press harder,” you murmured, opening one eye to glance back at him.

Luke met your gaze, and the sight of him made your breath hitch. His cheeks were still flushed, his mouth slightly parted, and his baby-blue eyes had taken on a darker, more intense hue. “Okay,” he said softly, his voice nearly a whisper, as his fingers pressed more firmly into the muscles of your back.

You sighed blissfully, letting your eyes drift closed. He worked with surprising skill, easing the tension in your shoulders with slow, deliberate movements. But then his fingers brushed against the strap of your bra, and you heard him suck in a sharp breath.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice shaky. “I— I’m sorry, but—”

You turned your head slightly, meeting his uncertain gaze. “What’s wrong?”

Luke bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes flickering between your back and the mattress. “Your bra,” he mumbled, barely audible. “It’s kinda… in the way.”

You raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smirk at his hesitation. “So take it off,” you said simply, your voice soft yet firm.

Luke let out a small, choked sound, his ears turning crimson. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Luke,” you assured him, turning your head away again to give him permission.

You felt his hands tremble slightly as he reached for the clasp, carefully undoing it with a soft click. There was a strange, charged silence as he worked, as if both of you were hyperaware of the situation.

Awkwardly, you shimmied the straps off and tugged the bra free without exposing yourself, tossing it aside. The cool air against your skin made you shiver slightly, but Luke’s hands returned quickly, steady and warm.

“Better?” you asked quietly, your voice softer than before.

“Yea—yeah,” Luke murmured, pressing harder on your back.

The ache in your head was still there, but it had faded enough to be manageable. Luke's breathing had grown heavier, and his hands lingered a little longer as they moved over your skin. You could feel the press of his knee against your hip, and though you couldn't see him, you could picture the concentrated look on his face—the flush still painting his cheeks, the way his lips parted as he breathed.

A warmth began to build inside you, unexpected and entirely uninvited. It was startling to feel this way with a headache still dulling your senses, but given the circumstances—being half-naked with Luke's hands roaming your back—it wasn't entirely shocking.

That's when you remembered a little fun fact about orgasms relieving pain. A ridiculous idea briefly bloomed in your mind before you immediately shot it down. You focused instead on clinging to your composure, determined to let Luke finish the massage without letting your thoughts spiral any further.

But then he pressed on a particularly tense spot near your shoulder blade, and a soft moan escaped your lips before you could stop it.

Luke's hands stilled on your back instantly, his breathing audibly heavier. The air in the room seemed to shift, tension crackling in the silence.

Neither of you spoke, and just as you started to second-guess your reaction, Luke's hands began to move again. His touch was slower now, more deliberate, and the curiosity bubbling inside you became harder to ignore.

Deciding to test the waters, “Luke,” you let out a soft sigh with his name. “That feels good.”

His hands froze again, and you heard him exhale shakily. “Yeah?” he asked, his tone raw and breathless.

His fingers resumed their movements, but this time they dipped lower, brushing just above the waistband of your sweatpants.

“Mhm,” you hummed, letting your eyes flutter shut, fully aware of the effect you were having on him.

His hands hovered over the small of your back, and his touch grew more needy by the second. He seemed almost desperate, pressing down on the spots that had made you let out soft contented sighs as if he were searching for more.

Every time you gave in, let out little moans accompanied by his name, you could feel him begin to work harder— desperately doing anything to hear you sigh his name. It was undeniable now, the heat that pooled in your lower stomach as he continued.

“Lu,” you said softly. “I was thinking.”

Luke’s hands didn’t falter, nimble fingers working out the knots in your muscles. “About what?” his voice was strained with what you hoped was desire, tinged by the heavy breathing.

“Orgasms are known to be a pain reliever,” you turned back to face him, not missing the way his eyes widened. He was still blushing, and when your eyes took in the rest of him, you didn’t fail to notice the way he strained against his pants.

He didn’t reply, but you didn’t need him to. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?” You asked breathlessly, biting your lip as you let your eyes linger on the tent in his own sweatpants.

Luke’s eyes followed your gaze, and he yanked his hands back to cover himself. “Y/N, oh my God, I am so sorry—“

Your throat went dry, watching as Luke scrambled to get away from you. You slid up from your position on your stomach, sitting on your knees as you reached for Luke’s hand. His eyes immediately flickered down to your exposed chest, and you gripped his wrist.

“Were you thinking about it, Luke?” You asked softly, looking up at him through half lidded eyes. “Were you thinking about touching me… making me come? Did all my little noises help your fantasies baby?”

Luke swallowed thickly, his gaze darting away before meeting yours again. “Fuck.”

You scooted closer to the edge of the bed, taking his hand. “When I took off my bra, I knew you got worked up. You wanted to see me, hmm?”

The way Luke’s eyes had glazed over was intoxicating, his eyebrows furrowing into an almost pained look as he nodded slowly. You took this as a sign to continue. “You wanted to touch me?”

Luke nodded.

“Say it baby,” you whispered.

Swallowing thickly, he nodded rapidly. “Fuck— yeah,” his breath hitched as you slowly moved his hand closer to your chest. Your heart beat rapidly as you met Luke’s gaze.

“Show me how you wanted to touch me,” you instructed, letting go of his wrist. His hand hovered over your breast, and Luke licked his lips before tentatively touching your skin. The second his fingers brushed against your soft flesh, he let out a strained moan, squeezing slightly, his fingers grazing over your nipple.

Your head fell back, a soft moan slipping from your lips as you guided Luke's other hand to your chest. His wide, blue eyes were heavy with desire as he gasped, “Fuck, Y/N, you're so hot.” His voice was laced with need. “Can I-?”

You nodded, and he didn't hesitate. Leaning down, he wrapped his lips around your hardened nipple, his groan muffled against your skin. The sensation sent a shiver through you, and you moaned his name as his tongue swirled expertly, teasing and soft.

Slowly, he lowered you onto the bed, his mouth switching to your other nipple while his fingers pinched and rolled the one he'd just left, making your back arch.

“You wanna help with my headache?” you teased, your voice breaking into soft moans.

Luke let out another muffled groan, his mouth never leaving your chest. “Make me come,” you added with a smirk, tugging gently at his curls.

That was all it took. A low, desperate sound left him as he pushed you back down onto the mattress, his large hands trembling as they roamed over your body with unrestrained hunger. “Please let me taste you,” he whimpered, his voice breaking into your collarbone as he kissed and sucked at the delicate skin, leaving marks with each pass of his mouth.

You gazed down at him, tugging harder on his curls and making him whimper against you. “Make this headache go away, baby boy,” you whispered, your words electrifying him. His reaction was instant—he slid your sweatpants down your legs with feverish urgency.

“I'm gonna make you feel so good,” he murmured, almost incoherently, his breath hot against your skin. “Fuck, I'll make that headache go away, I swear.”

You watched, breathless, as he tugged your underwear down, leaving you completely exposed beneath him. His gaze was heavy with devotion and lust, and you let your head fall back against the pillow, commanding softly, “tease me a little.”

Luke whimpered at your words, his desperation palpable as he leaned down, dragging his tongue in a long, deliberate stripe along the inside of your thigh. The warmth of his mouth left goosebumps in its wake, your body trembling under his touch. When you looked down, his eyes were nearly black, pupils blown wide, glazed with arousal.

“Now kiss your way there,” you said, your voice a sultry encouragement that had him obeying immediately. His lips trailed reverent kisses across your folds and inner thighs, his breath fanning hotly against your skin. You could feel his restraint faltering, his need undeniable.

“Please,” he begged, looking up at you, his features twisted in desperation. “Please let me taste you. I-I need to.”

Your breath caught when you noticed one of his hands had drifted between his legs, palming himself through his sweats as he begged for permission. The sight made your stomach tighten with want. Without a word, you grabbed a fistful of his hair and guided his mouth to the aching heat between your legs.

Luke's lips wrapped around your clit, and the sensation was immediate and overwhelming. You let out a sharp moan, your back arching off the bed as his tongue worked against you with fervor. His muffled groans vibrated against your sensitive skin, and his eyes fluttered shut, as though he was savoring every second of having you like this.

You could hear Luke groaning against you, low and desperate as you writhed beneath him. His sounds were mainly muffled by your body, his tongue working on you eagerly and leaving you breathless. He gripped your tights, keeping them open for him as he worked.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby,” youcooed, your voice trembling as a moan escaped your lips. The praise spurred him on, his licks growing faster and more desperate. His shoulders shook with effort, and you could tell his hands weren't just idle —he was touching himself, his movements frantic, his muffled moans vibrating against you.

Luke's eyes fluttered open, locking with yours. His pupils were blown wide with lust, and the sight of his flushed face, lips slick and busy against you, made your breath hitch. He never broke contact, taking your clit into his mouth and sucking gently, the sensation so intense it sent tremors through your legs. His blush deepened, his hand moving even faster, completely lost in his desire to please you.

The sight of him like this—Luke, who always carried himself like he was larger than life, now utterly undone before you—sent a jolt of power and pleasure through you. His need, his complete surrender, was intoxicating. He whimpered against you, his hand wrapped around his cock as he devoured you, and it was a vision you never dared to let yourself dream of before.

Your fingers tangled in his curls, tugging just enough to guide his movements. He let out a needy whine at the pull, his eyes fluttering closed as if your touch alone was enough to send him over the edge. His name fell from your lips in a breathless gasp as your back arched. ”That's it, baby,” you encouraged, your voice heavy with pleasure. “You're making me feel so good.”

Luke whimpered again, the sound shaky and desperate, his hips rocking against the bed as though he couldn't help himself. “You taste so good,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible, muffled against you. “I can't—I need—“ His words dissolved into a whine as his tongue moved faster, his hand gripping your thighs as though he were afraid you might pull away.

You watched as Luke's other hand-—the one wrapped around himself-began moving faster, the desperation evident in every stroke. Your grip on his hair tightened, and you bit your lip as a low whine escaped your throat. Leaning back on one elbow, you adjusted to get a better view of him falling apart beneath you.

His free hand slid up to your chest, kneading the sensitive flesh feverishly as if he couldn't get enough of you. “Oh, fuck,” Luke moaned against you, his voice trembling with need.

“Y/N, fuck, l'm gonna—” His movements faltered momentarily, and then his entire body tensed. A long, muffled whine spilled from his lips as he buried his face between your legs, taking your clit into his mouth as though it were the only thing grounding him. You moaned, the sound mixing with his as you watched his eyes flutter shut, his body shivering under the intensity of his release.

Heat coiled deep in your belly at the sight of him—at the realization that he had been so consumed by pleasuring you that he couldn't even hold back. He had touched himself to the sheer thought of making you feel good, and that fact alone sent a thrill through you.

“Look at you,” you purred, your tone drenched in satisfaction. “Such a good boy for me, making a mess for mommy.”

The word hung in the air, heavy and electrifying. For a moment, Luke froze, his breath catching audibly in his throat. Then, with a deep, shuddering exhale, a broken whimper escaped his lips, his cheeks burning crimson as the flush spread down his neck. His body trembled, every muscle taut, as though the word had unraveled him entirely.

“Gonna make a mess out of you, mommy,” he whined, his lips latching on to your clit again. He worked tirelessly, licking and sucking at your skin. Your body vibrated with pleasure as you arched your back, letting out a crescendo of whimpers.

“You're doing so good, Lu,” you moaned, grinding your hips up against his mouth, desperate for more friction. Luke, catching on to your need, slid his hands up your thighs, steadying you before he slowly slipped a finger inside.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasped, the words spilling out before you could stop them. The stretch sent a shiver through your body, your legs trembling as your eyes fluttered shut. He curled his finger just right, hitting that perfect spot, the motion perfectly timed with the flicks of his tongue against your clit. The combination made your head spin, stars dancing behind your eyelids.

Luke seemed completely lost in you, his own eyes shut tight, savoring every sound and movement you made. His tongue worked you with precision, his devotion clear in every flick and stroke.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly, and he let out a muffled groan against you. The vibration sent a new wave of pleasure through your body, making your back arch. “Just like that, baby,” you whispered, voice shaking. “Don't stop.”

“Never,” he groaned. “I wanna make you come, mommy.” His pace quickened, his finger curling in deeper as he added another one, making your entire body tense.

“Fuck, Luke,” you whimpered, tightening your grip in his hair as your hips continued to buck against him. Each time they did, he let out a small whimper. His tongue never faltered, though, swirling and flicking over your clit in ways that made your eyes shut tightly.

His free hand roamed your body, kneading at your hips and ass, exploring the length of your stomach and reaching up to your chest. When his fingers closed around your nipple, you couldn’t help but cry out.

Luke’s movements were desperate and needy, as if he were worshipping every inch of you. God— the sound she made. Each of his whimpers, the broken moans, the soft sound of his lips as they sucked at your clit or the flicks of his tongue, all drive you closer to the edge.

“Look at you,” you managed to get out, forcing your eyes open to meet Luke’s. “You’re such a good boy for me, such a good little toy for mommy.”

Luke’s eyelashes fluttered as he looked up at you, the look of his blissed out face almost sending you over the edge completely. He had beautiful lips, that was just a fact, but you didn’t know how much you’d enjoy the sight of them working on you— glistening with both you and his spit.

“You’re so good at this,” you praised, the tremor in your voice only proving your point. “Such a good boy, always making me feel so fucking good.”

His moan vibrated through you, and you felt him press harder against your core. His fingers picked up speed, creating a delicious friction that made the coil in your belly tighten, your breathing growing erratic.

“Oh baby, I’m so close,” you gasped, your own hand coming to play with your chest in an effort to facilitate your release. Your tights were trembling against his head, and he groaned in response. His tongue worked tirelessly, his fingers curling in just the right way. “Please don’t stop, don’t you dare stop.”

You watched as Luke shook his head slightly, a muffled, “I won’t,” escaping his lips as he latched on to your clit yet again. This time, he sent you over the edge.

Your back arched with the force of your release, your legs shaking violently as a loud moan ripped from your throat. Your thighs clamped around Luke’s head, keeping him in place as you rode out your high. His hands held you firmly, savoring every bit of your release on his tongue.

As your breathing steadied and your body relaxed, Luke pressed a tender kiss to the inside of your thigh, his gaze shy as he looked up at you. “Did I do okay?” he asked softly, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “Is your headache gone?”

“Fuck,” you said, letting out a breathless laugh, tugging him up by his curls until his lips met yours. The kiss was messy and heated, and you could taste yourself on him as your fingers tightened in his hair. Luke let out a quiet groan, kissing you back feverishly, his hands sliding to your waist to pull you closer.

“Headache's gone,” you murmured against his lips, brushing a stray curl from his face. His cheeks were flushed, his gaze wide and filled with awe as he looked at you. “You did so well for me, baby. I'm proud of you.”

His lips curled into a bashful smile, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, peppering kisses along your skin. “I've had a crush on you for the longest time,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

A soft hum escaped you as your hands ran soothingly over his back. “I know,” you said simply, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his brows lifting in surprise. “You knew?”

You nodded, letting your palm rest against his cheek. “Of course, I did,” you replied gently. “How could I not? I can’t say I don’t feel the same way, especially when you're so eager to please and look the way you do. But it's more than that, Luke. It's you—just you.”

The blush that spread across his face was endearing, painting his cheeks and the tips of his ears a deep pink. He bit his lip and let out a soft, nervous giggle, his eyes briefly darting away before coming back to yours.

Your gaze shifted downward, and the sight of him still painfully hard stirred a pang of sympathy-and desire-in you. Leaning closer, you brushed your lips against his ear, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “Tell you what,” you murmured, trailing your fingers lightly down his chest. “You were such a good boy for me, Luke. When we come back later, how about we take care of that little problem you've got between your legs? What do you say, baby?”

His breath hitched, and he let out a small, needy whimper, nodding eagerly. “Y—Yes, please,” he stammered, his voice trembling with anticipation.

You smiled, kissing him again. “Good.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

hope u enjoyed 😁🫶 might make a pt 2 to this using another request but idk

[peachiejeongin]

Sleepless Storytimes | Jeongin

Day 5 of the 12 Days of Staymas!

Synopsis: Jeongin cannot sleep on Christmas Eve, so you read him a bedtime story to help him doze off.

Pairing: bf!Jeongin x reader

Genre: Fluff!

Warnings: None!

Notice: Hello, darlings! Welcome to day 5! Enjoy this cozy story, and make sure to go check out the other fictions!

Snow fell softly outside, blanketing the darkened world in a layer of stillness that could have lulled anyone to sleep. Yet, Jeongin was not just anyone - not tonight, at least. He sat curled up against the headboard, his legs tucked under the red-and-white plaid blanket. He had a faint pout plastered upon his lips, which was illuminated by the overhead light of the ceiling-fan.

He traced patterns onto his pajama pants absentmindedly, his fingers moving as if they had no other place to reside. The weariness in his eyes contrasted the playful grin he had beamed all day as he helped decorate the Christmass tree, snuck cookies from the kitchen, and hummed Christmas carols under his breath.

You stood in the doorway, watching him for a moment. He did not notice you; he was too caught up in his silent battle against insomnia.

"Innie?" you called softly, breaking the silence. His head snapped up, his dark, tired eyes meeting yours.

"Oh," he replied, his voice just above a whisper. "Hey." You stepped inside of the room, the wooden floor chilled under your socks; you gently glided to the bed.

"Still can't sleep?"

Jeongin shook his head, his hair falling messily over his forehead. He looked almost younger like this, as if he was a vulnerable, innocent child.

"I don't know why," he admitted, the pout in his voice matching the output of his lips.

"Well, you'll never fall asleep just sitting there," you teased, perching on the edge of the bed. "Scoot over."

"What are you-"

"Just scoot!" you insisted, grabbing a book from the nearby shelf as Jeongin reluctantly made room for you. You slid under the blanket beside him, the warmth immediately seeping into your skin. The two of you fit snugly together, and the faint scent of Jeongin's shampoo drifted towards you; it was fresh and soft, like pine needles dusted with snow.

"What are you doing?" He looked at you with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

"Hopping into bed with you," you responded innocently, cracking open the book. The cover gleamed faintly in the fluorescence: 'The Night Before Christmas.'

"You think a story will help?" Jeongin quirked an eyebrow.

"Absolutely," you retaliated, settling into the covers. "Now, hush. I'm doing this for your sake."

Jeongin huffed, but leaned against you nevertheless, his head resting on your shoulder. As you began to read, your voice soft and steady, his body relaxed bit by bit. The story wove a cozy spell around you both, every word painting vivid pictures of sleigh bells, snowy rooftops, and a quiet household.

At some point, Jeongin had shifted, draping an arm lazily across your lap.

"You're warm," he mumbled, his tone heavy with drowsiness.

"You're clingy," you teased playfully, though you did not pull away. His cheek pressed against your chest as he turned, and your heart stuttered at the feeling of his breath ghosting over your collarbone.

"Not like you care," he murmured, a faint smile washing over his lips.

You sighed, threading your fingers through his hair without thinking. It was softer than it looked, and you could feel the tension melting out of him with every pass. The weight of him against you was comforting, grounding, as if he was anchoring you in this silent moment.

The story continued, your voice filling the silence, but you were not sure he was even listening anymore. His breaths were slower now, his body was slack against yours, and his lashes were resting against his cheeks. His expression was so peaceful, and it made your heart speed up.

"Baby?" you whispered, not wanting to wake him but feeling an urge to check. He hummed in response, his arms tightening slightly around your waist.

"Don't stop reading," he uttered, half-asleep.

"You're already asleep." A soft laugh escaped you.

"Mm-mm," he protested weakly, nuzzling impossibly closer to you. "Almost, though."

It was impossible not to smile as you fixed the comforter overtop the both of you, tucking it around his shoulders. The lights cast a halo around his face, highlighting the soft curve of his lips and the faint flush on his cheeks. You traced an imaginary pattern along his back, marveling at how perfectly he fit there, curled up against you like a missing puzzle piece.

Outside, the snow continued to fall, muffling the world in a peaceful hush. It felt like nothing else mattered - not time, not the place - just the two of you cocooned together in warmth and solitude.

As Jeongin's breathing finally evened out, you leaned down to press a feather-light kiss to his temple.

"Merry Christmas, Innie," you whispered gently, caressing his cheek softly.

His lips curled into the faintest smile, and though he did not reply, the way he held onto you said everything he could not.

You stayed like that for the rest of the night as the comfort of darkness wrapped you both in its embrace. You glanced down at Jeongin once more before you yourself fell into dreamland.

He was silent, perfect, and entirely yours.

[riririnnnn]

I wonder if Rin gets nightmares about that snowy night.

I wonder if he wakes up in the middle of the night all out of breath, sweating, anxious and scared. Does his chest feel tight, almost as if something was crushing it? Does he get afraid to fall asleep again? If yes, then how many sleepless nights he has been through?

What he does in his dream anyway? Does he fights again in hopes of fixing everything again? Or he simple relives everything everytime?

Underneath all those layers, he is just a little kid after all.

He is too young for the kind of pain he is carrying, you know.

It's pretty heavy.

And that's just sad.

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 5: Touch-Starved

A Gentleman and A Scholar | @Taymarpigeon Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,963 Main Tags/Warnings: Human Castiel (Supernatural), Human Dean Winchester, Alternate Universe, Soft Castiel/Dean Winchester, Needy Dean Winchester, Dom/sub Undertones, Silver Fox Castiel, References to childhood trauma, References to past abuse, Praise Kink, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff and Smut, Comfort Sex, Comfort No Hurt, Touch-Starved Dean Winchester, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Age Difference, bottom Dean Winchester/top Castiel Summary: As you approach your fifties you expect life to slow down, worries and concerns ebbing as you set out on the next stage of your life. Not for Castiel though. Oh he's settled down for sure, married to a hot twenty-seven-year-old that certainly keeps him young at heart, financially stable and well-respected amongst his peers. However, his husband led a turbulent life before Castiel rescued him, the scars of it showing through in private moments and snowy days. When it comes to Dean Winchester there is nothing Castiel won't do, no thought of flight when it's Dean he's being called to fight for. Not that violence is on the cards today, no. Today Dean doesn't need Castiel to be his knight in shining armour, he needs him to be his lover, his attentive, affectionate, softly dommy husband that enjoys nothing better than having Dean curled up in his lap. Castiel would argue this is how anyone should hope to spend their life, regardless of age.

The Liminal Moment | @blessyourhondahurley Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2,552 Main Tags/Warnings: alternate universe, massage, meet-cute Summary: After he throws out his back, Dean gets sent to a mysterious location...

An Angel Is Passing By | @melancholictearz Rating: General Word Count: 3,412 Main Tags/Warnings: AU - Castiel Meets Faith!Dean, Selectively Mute Dean, Deaf Castiel, Guardian Angel Castiel, Comfort, No Angst, Sign Language, Holding Hands, Cuddle for Warmth, Fluff Summary: SILENCE WAS HIS WORLD. THEN CASTIEL REVEALED A NEW ONE. In French, "an angel is passing by" is the literal translation of a saying used as silence sets in after a conversation. The kind of awkward seconds hanging in the air whenever someone speaks to Dean and the words won’t come out of his throat despite how much he wants to be heard. Meeting the angel Castiel doesn’t give him much more faith nor resolve the curse of his mutism either. But for an entire night, locked in a church and on the edge of death, Castiel’s tender eyes make Dean feel like he is listened to. Between them, the world goes quiet in a way Dean never experienced.

The First Language We Speak | @blessyourhondahurley Rating: General Word Count: 4,955 Main Tags/Warnings: alternate universe, autistic castiel, massage, touch-starved castiel, fluff, cheeseburgers Summary: A news article about the importance of touch leads Castiel to realize some uncomfortable things about himself and his life. These realizations lead him to Dean, a masseur, who becomes his friend and then more.

One Light In One Room | @notastupidbird Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6,926 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Season/Series 05, Post-Episode: s05e22 Swan Song (Supernatural), Fallen Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Touch-Starved Castiel (Supernatural), Touch-Starved Dean Winchester, First Kiss, First Time, Anal Sex, Coming Untouched, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Porn with Feelings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sleep Deprivation, Insomnia, Pining, POV Castiel (Supernatural) Summary: After losing his brother in the showdown at Stull Cemetery, Dean has gone into self-imposed exile. He's plagued by insomnia, and the only way he seems to get any sleep at all is when Castiel puts him out with a single touch. When this still doesn't prove enough to bring Dean any real relief from his grief and sleeplessness, Castiel wonders if what Dean really needs is another type of comfort altogether.

Asterism of an F-Series Ford Pick Up | @disabled-dean Rating: Mature Word Count: 17,408 Main Tags/Warnings: Road trip, case fic, ambiguously set in season 12, ptsd, recovery, hell trauma, unresolved sexual tension, unresolved romantic tension, touch starved Dean Winchester, touch adverse Dean Winchester, Cas drives his truck for a case and Dean is incredibly horny about it, only one truck bed, stargazing, sex dreams, nightmares, mild body horror, implied top!castiel, implied bottom!dean winchester, the truck is a metaphor, Dear God Is The Truck A Metaphor Summary: When you've been to hell, desire is isolating and ugly. Or: Cas drives his truck for a case and Dean is exceptionally horny about it. “Once on a hunt when he was a teenager, Dean had been caught too close to an explosive when it had gone off. There had been the moment when the projectile hit, and the moment when it had detonated. And just before it had, there had also been a moment when he had believed that maybe it wouldn’t. He had thought about that moment for years, over and over again, until something else had taken its place. And the way that that moment was quiet, the way it was still- that is how this feels. To lie beside Cas in the bed of his truck, their shoulders barely touching.”

Profound Kisses | @verobatto Rating: Explicit Word Count: 20,729 Main Tags/Warnings: Pining, slow burn, top!Dean/bottom!Castiel, firsts, Destiel kisses, canonverse Summary: Dean knows he's screwed. He discovers he is in love with Castiel in Purgatory, and now he can't even have the angel in front of him, because he knows it's a one sided love. It’s Valentine's day and Dean tries very hard to hook up as always, but he can't get Cas out of his mind. So he drives back to the motel, drunk, and he finds Castiel trying to help him. Then, when Dean asks Castiel for some experimental kisses and the angel accepts, Dean starts a very dangerous game… finding in Castiel's kisses the most delicious experiences, but also, his own perdition. Will Castiel fall in love with him? Or will he stay emotionless as always?

[slowstorms]

the moon had made her journey through the sky with her lover hours before, leaving you to rely on the stars and dim street lamps filtering through your bedroom window to memorize satoru’s sleeping form next to you.

as rare as it is for gojo satoru to sleep much at all, it’s rarer for you to look at him the way you are right now. you’re over half a year into your relationship with him at the present, but he still manages to reduce you to a shy puddle without much effort.

so, your hope this sleepless night is to learn by heart every minuscule yet beautiful detail he’s comprised of.

from his soft, snowy hair to his flawless skin; his pretty eyelashes to the rosy apples of his cheeks. the slight rise and fall of his chest, plush lips slightly parted; the way he falls asleep holding you, but withdraws in his unconscious state.

(you gather that, deep down, satoru does this because he’s still not used to intimate touch – it’s never been something you fault him for, and you’re proud of his progress. still, you can’t help but feel sad that this is something permanently etched into his soul, though it’s nothing you and satoru can’t endure together).

you think of the endearing bedhead he wakes up with, flecks of gold from the early morning sun spattered across his white tufts. you think of how his eyes are the first to greet you when you wake. though the glances he gives you are always matching his outwardly lighthearted personality, there’s an exhaustion that’s hidden deep beneath it all.

seeing how soundly he rests, you send up a prayer hoping that, come morning, at least some of that exhaustion will lift.

the serene look on satoru’s face makes your heart twist in your chest, leaving you almost breathless. you wonder how someone as perfect as him could even exist.

he always looks as if he was created by god’s most talented angels, an aura of elegance and splendor surrounding him even in his not-so-elegant moments, which you believe to be few and far between. even when that look of craze takes over him during a fight; even when he returns home from a gruesome battle, covered in blood and guts; even when he breaks down, letting out feelings and emotions he has to bury in order to carry out his duty effectively – his head pressed to your chest as he cries and cries and cries. even then.

your thoughts wander off now into questions of how it was destined that satoru would end up with you. to touch him, to hold him, to care for him, to worry for him, to give him love, to give him patience, to give him understanding. to simply know him – it’s all nothing short of the most honorable blessing the universe could present you with.

while lost in your reverie, you fail to notice satoru stirring beside you. his sleepy daze and the near complete darkness of the bedroom doesn’t stop his six eyes from honing in on you, a habit of his to do the second he wakes up, to make sure you’re still next to him. to make sure you’re still safe.

and there you are, propped up on your elbow, facing him as your mind floats away, miles and miles up into the atmosphere.

a bleary whisper of your name pulls you back down to earth. “what are you doing up, hm?”

“did i wake you?” concern laces your voice, and you reach out to hold satoru’s cheek. your thumb grazes his skin gently, an unspoken apology.

“you didn’t, don’t worry,” he grabs your hand from where it rests, holding it in his own as he turns on his side to face you. “what’s got you thinking so hard this late at night, sweetheart?”

in a moment of bravery, you answer simply and without thought. “you,” your voice is strained slightly, like you may crumble from all the love you feel if you’re not careful as you speak. “just, everything about you.”

“is that so?” in the darkness, you make out the tired yet amused smile on satoru’s face. “like what?”

your moment of bravery proves to be just that – a very fleeting moment. heat rises in your cheeks as your mind races at a mile a minute trying to find the right words to give him an answer without turning into a mumbling mess.

what am i even supposed to say to you? you think. that i think you’re the most ethereal person i’ve ever seen, inside and out? that you’re my first thought the second i wake up, that you’re my last thought before i fall asleep? that when i can’t fall asleep, i’m helpless as i drown in thoughts of nothing but you?

a beat passes. then another. you hear a soft chuckle in front of you, the sound of it full of adoration. “that’s okay, baby,” satoru says, running his thumb along your knuckles. “you can tell me in the morning, how about that?”

you nod wordlessly as you both settle back into bed. he pulls you close again, and you melt into his arms. with your head on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat is the only thing to finally lull you to sleep, to pull you into dreamland – where all you see is satoru, satoru, satoru.

[lovekia]

[see-arcane]

“You know,” Dracula hums by the fireplace, the flames a shade dimmer than his own eyes. “I do believe I am becoming paranoid in my old age. Yet I keep my things in such precarious order, all things where they must be.” A log pops. His eyes flash. “Where they should be. And so I have noticed that my own bedroom was disturbed during the day.”

“Oh?” Voice level, Jonathan. Voice steady, Jonathan. Surprise. Concern. “How so? I was under the impression the door was locked.”

“So it was. And yet, I can tell something was...” His nails drum on the mantel, the click of claws, “...different. Meddled with somehow.”

Something between foolishness, sleeplessness, and a smoldering kernel of ire sparks in Jonathan’s chest. Its embers travel up to his tongue.

“Nothing was stolen, I hope. I admit I had a mild scare some time ago, when I realized I couldn’t find certain things in my luggage. Only it occurred to me that your servants must have already taken them away to clean and hold aside for my departure.” A smile so easy it borders on suicidal curls on his face. It feels like a rictus. Maybe it will see him dead right then. “The people here are the most discreet I’ve ever encountered.”

Dracula raises a snowy brow.

“That they are. As discreet as spiders minding their web.” Then, a sudden swerve out of the growing cloud. He oozes mirth. “Have you seen any here, my friend? Spiders?”

“None.” He hadn’t. Dust, motheaten holes, but no spiders.

“That is because of my people as well. More, it is the work of local aid.” His grin has too many teeth. “The bats quite love them. Whenever I or my servants come across a spider indoors, we save it for them. All those that would dare to come crawling along the outer walls?” He snaps his fingers. “They are eaten before they can spin their first thread. It is a most lucrative exchange.”

Jonathan fights not to swallow, not to acknowledge the cold twisting in his stomach.

“I’m certain.”

“A hypothetical question for you. Which would you rather be, my friend? Of the two, I mean.” Dracula’s hand is on him again, itself a titanic white spider. Cold and immovable from his shoulder. It squeezes just short of bruising. “A spider or a bat?”

“I wouldn’t know, Count. Neither is the best choice."

“No?”

The hand is tighter.

“No.” Under the table, Jonathan crosses his fingers. “The best choice is a cat.”

The grip lightens and amusement sketches a change in the Count’s expression.

“Why a cat?”

“They can get away with much more,” Jonathan’s traitor tongue flies. He bites it. “If only for the fact of their comparative harmlessness as they serve their masters as they entertain and accompany. This, while it provides a more handy service in hunting pests of all sorts, be it spider and bat or beetle and rat. In exchange for doing the dual work of tending to the home and being pleasant and defenseless, the more powerful keeper ensures they’re housed and,” he gulps down glass, hot coals, acid, “and loved. A cat can only do so much, but it does just enough.”

Dracula shakes his head.

“Enough to get themselves in trouble, perhaps. No, my friend, if we must leave the smaller creatures behind, I must say a wolf is the better choice. He eats all in his path and has no master at all.” The cold hand gives another squeeze, the nails dimpling cloth and skin...then relaxes. Strokes. “But cats have their place as well. If kept in their proper place...”

The night goes on in this way for endless hours. And still Jonathan’s fingers are crossed out of sight. He has a fondness for cats. Even for spiders. He appreciates all creatures who take it upon themselves to hunt and cull those things that infest or take lives by little bites. But more than either, he has always had a fondness and fealty to dogs.

As the moon drags itself slowly across the sky, he imagines he hears their barking and baying meeting the wild cry of the wolves, and shepherd teeth sinking deep into bloodthirsty throats.

[pupkashi]

satoru sees two cats cuddling on a windowsill as the two of you walk hand in hand and he smiles, nudging you slightly and pointing at the window, “that’s us in another life,” there’s a giddy smile on his lips and his blue eyes sparkle behind his sunglasses.

you smile and nod, pressing yourself against his side a bit more, “we’d definitely hold tails when we walk around.”

you see two butterflies fluttering in the wind, the spring breeze brining a freshness and liveliness that both satoru and you indulge in, laughter filling the air as you toss grapes into each others mouths.

“‘toru look!” you smile, pointing at the butterflies with a giddy look on your face, “me and you as butterflies!” you can see the smile form on his face almost immediately, tackling you to the ground in the tightest hug he’d ever given you.

there’s two birds singing outside the window as the two of you wake up, golden rays sneaking in through the cracks of the curtains, landing almost perfectly on your lovers relaxed face. his snowy hair is sticking in every direction, lips slightly parted as the softest snores leave him.

you can help but stare, in your half asleep state you only think of how angelic he looks, how the birds must be singing for him and the sun overjoyed to be able to touch his all too perfect skin.

he twitches a bit, waking up slowly. satoru furrows his brows, feeling for you besides him, i furrowing his brows when he pulls you closer, yawning as he open his eyes to meet yours. “morning sweetheart,” he mumbles, voice raspy and deep.

“g’morning angel boy,” you whisper, the birds continue to sing, and you smile as he hears their melody.

“me and you as birds if we were early birds,” the chuckle that leaves his lips has you blushing, shaking your head and laughing as you cuddle closer to him.

the two of you find each other in everything; two gummy bears stuck together, the only clouds in the sky, the first two stars at night, dogs licking each other, swans swimming side by side, penguins waddling together, bees flying with each other, flowers growing together.

“me and you,” the two of you would say, giggles following immediately after, gentle kisses or a squeeze of the hand as you both continue on with whatever you were doing.

it was simple, maybe it was silly. but the two of you loved it, knowing you were always thinking of each other. knowing your love transcended matter and form.

it was always him and you, you and him. it always would be.

a/n: this is just a cute thought i had if this is all over the place and messy and doesn’t make sense I’m sorry I’m drunk please forgive

masterlist

taglist (send and ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @sat6ru @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi

[yeeetmeoutside]

Like you were a dream

Can’t you tell I’m desperate?

Cant you tell I’m cheap?

You don’t gotta love me, we don’t have to speak

I’ll see you in the morning, if you gotta leave

I’ll see you when I see you

Like you were a dream

tags: slight angst, Childe smut, alcohol mentions, protagonist is not a goody-two-shoes, jealous Childe, Diluc is an ex, happy ending

Y/N was a Fatui commander. Her mission required her to station herself in Mondstadt and gather information about the Dark Knight of Mondstadt. The best way to do that, was enter into a relationship with him. Things fell apart when Y/N realised she was in love with Diluc and decided to abandon her post, faking her death and going MIA for almost a year, living out a blissful life with her beloved. However, the Fatui found out about her transgressions, Childe, in particular, and demanded her to return by threatening her family. Heartbroken, Y/N left silently, leaving a two-sentence note for Diluc with no further explanations.

———————————————————————— Childe couldn’t believe it. It was surreal, having her sitting next to him in his carriage. Even after that bastard, Diluc showed up with his pleas, to return with him to Mondstadt and start their life together again. 

What made her say no?

Childe sat quietly in contemplation. He was partially the reason why Y/N had to run from Mondstadt in the first place. Everything after that, call it fate. 

Y/N arrived in Snezhnaya with a label on her head: traitor. Her family was drowning in debt and Childe could only see this playing out one way or the other - either she accepted her deserved punishment and her family got robbed of all their possessions for the untimely payment of their debt, or, she married Childe and have him take care of everything. 

Ever since they were kids, one thing he has always admired about her was that she was smart. 

So now, after almost a year of being away from Diluc, when he showed up at the Annual Fatui Ball unannounced, begging Y/N to let him take care of her, Childe was perplexed as to why she didn’t immediately agree to his proposition. 

He had been observing her for two months now. 

All Y/N did was wake up and go back to sleep. When she finally had the chance to return to her life, she outright refused. 

He knew because he followed her as Diluc led her to a secluded corner on the second floor. 

They kissed. Childe’s blood boiled in his veins. 

He had been in love with her ever since he could remember. The only reason he even suggested getting married was to have her closer to him. So it didn’t help his case when another man was kissing his wife so… hungrily. 

Diluc’s face was ragged, a result of countless sleepless nights of searching for his beloved. He had a dense unkempt beard and shaky breaths trying to take in all of Y/N’s scent before he had to leave her again. 

“I need you to leave, Diluc,” she had said. 

Diluc had almost fainted. 

“We’ll run away.”

“What about the winery?”

“Forget the winery. It’ll just be us two. I’ll come at midnight-“

“No.”

That ‘no’ travelled through Childe’s body like a lightning strike. 

“Please. Leave.”

And she turned around the corner, returning to the party, without sparing him a second look. 

Y/N was quiet on the way home. Childe kept glancing at her, trying to figure out what was going on in that pretty little head of hers. 

‘She’s hurting.’

It was a cold night. 

He gently took her hand in his, wrapping it up entirely with his huge fingers. In one way or another, he wanted to provide her with some warmth. 

Y/N’s gaze didn’t shift from the window of the carriage. It was pitch black on this particular snowy night. She was staring into nothing. 

They reached their house a little while later, with Childe gracefully opening her side of the carriage door and allowing her to descend by leaning on him. 

She took his outstretched hand, a blank look on her face as she stared into the thick blanket of snow in the driveway. 

Childe tipped his driver and bid him goodnight, before prancing through the snow himself and following his wife inside. 

She was wearing a maroon corseted dress. He could only imagine how hard it must be to breathe in that thing. The servants had been dismissed for the night, with the Annual Fatui Ball falling on the eve of Yuletide.

Y/N proceeded to rip off her dress as hurriedly as she could, the corset falling onto the floor with a light thud. The ruffles of her dress surrounded her figure like roses in a bouquet, with the prettiest in the centre. She stripped off her gown till she was left in her maroon innerwear that reached to her mid-thigh and walked into the wine cellar beneath the kitchen. 

Childe hadn’t tried to force her into being intimate after the wedding. He would never do anything to hurt her. Ever. 

The first week was… rocky. Y/N never left her room. She had her meals delivered to her doorstep and at night, a tray of empty dishes lay at the side of her entrance. 

At least she was eating. 

Childe brought her gifts from far and wide in an attempt to get her to talk to him. To look at him.

They all remained untouched on her dressing table. 

He had dreamed of marrying her to the point of madness. And after everything, when he finally had her all to himself, she didn’t want anything to do with him. 

He sneaked into her room once when she went to visit her parents. And under her mattress, were almost a hundred letters, all addressed to Diluc. Childe tried reading one but the rage in his eyes blinded him to everything. 

That night was the first and last time he raised his voice at her. 

He yelled at her for holding onto the hope that Diluc would come to save her. If he wanted to, he would’ve come the week after she went missing. 

He thought he had broken something in her that day. So out of shame for his actions, he posted one of her letters. 

And that led to today’s encounter. 

But after everything… why didn’t she agree to go with him right away?

Childe stood in the living room, staring at her crumpled gown when Y/N returned with a bottle of wine in her hand. She made her way to the balcony, the only other place he had ever seen her enter in this house. 

She removed the cork with her teeth and leaned against the railing of the balcony, looking out at the mountains that graced the house. 

‘She must be freezing.’

Childe sat down on a chair, having abandoned his warm coat and suit jacket in the living room as well. 

Y/N took a swing at the bottle, still looking out. 

Childe couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Why?”

A half-turn.

“Why didn’t you leave with him?”

Y/N placed the bottle down on a table. Childe prepared himself for whatever she was about to say. He didn’t delude himself by believing that Y/N stayed for him. 

“I can’t be selfish anymore.”

He waited for her to continue.

“My actions affect not only me but my family. If I leave, Archon knows what the Fatui would do to them. I can’t.”

‘Ah.’

Childe had only ever seen her drink wine. He felt he knew the reason. 

He was tired from the ball and wasn’t about to let that hundred thousand wine go to waste.

“Can I have a chug of that?”

Y/N turned. She locked her eyes with his and took another swing of the wine. But she didn’t gulp it down. 

Instead, she walked over to him, straddling herself over his muscular thighs and pressed her lips to his. 

Childe couldn’t breathe. Instinctively, his hands went to her hips to support her and he felt the warm rush of wine enter his mouth and down his throat. A stray drop lingered near the corner of her lip which travelled down the side of her neck. 

Childe pulled back, bewildered at her actions until he saw her face. Shivering brows, empty eyes. And it clicked. 

She needed a distraction. Something to spare her from this immense pain in her chest. Something that would make her feel anything but miserable. 

He would be that for her. He would let her use him the way she saw fit. 

Childe’s body lit up on fire as he licked the drop of wine from her neck to her lips. He kissed her as if he were a dying star taking its last breath. 

He stood up from the chair, strong hands wrapping her legs tighter around his waist and brought her inside the warmth of the house and kept kissing her as he climbed the stairs to his room. 

There were so many things Childe wanted to tell her. Show her. So much to do with her. But for now, this will suffice. 

Y/N’s hands roamed all over him. Her fingers scrunched his hair and then made their way down to his broad shoulders. They finally rested on his neck, her thumbs caressing his cheeks as she looked at the man before him. 

He was so different from Diluc. She couldn’t believe how she went from staring into those rich, deep eyes to the icy, blue ones which surprisingly held so much emotion. 

She knew Childe loved her. She had known it since they were children. So when Childe asked her to marry him, she knew she’d be safe. 

It was for the best even if it meant burying her heart deep into the bottomless pits of hell. 

Childe reached his bed and laid her down gently, kneeling by the bedpost. He pulled her closer to him by her heels and kissed her with such fervour that Y/N’s mind blanked out. She could only focus on his perfume, the way his hair tickled her forehead, his veiny hands resting on her waist and his soft lips engulfing her own. 

Y/N was ready to abandon her humanity. 

She couldn’t handle seeing Diluc so abruptly. He came out of nowhere. She had made her peace with never being able to see him again to some extent. And all of it went down the drain the second she spotted that familiar red tuft of hair. 

Childe didn’t want to give her even a second to think. He lifted her satin inner and pulled her lace panties down gently, eyes locked with hers. 

A nod. 

That was all the confirmation he needed. 

Childe dove in straight into her luscious folds, his tongue swirling over her clit as his finger curled inside of her. Y/N groaned into the back of her palm, eyes shut as Childe worshipped her womanhood. 

He pulled her even closer to himself, her innerwear now pooling around her waist. He rested her legs on his shoulders and continued to lap her up like a thirsty dog. Y/N groaned again and this time, Childe looked up. 

The view from his position was magnificent. Y/N’s face was contorted with pleasure, her breasts falling to the sides and her back arched. He felt the front of his trousers tightening. 

“Don’t hold it back,” he huffed out and went down on her again. 

Y/N’s nails scratched his scalp in the right places, making shivers run down his spine. He thrust another finger inside her, his tongue and wrist working in sync to make her reach the high. 

Childe drank down all her essence when she came but he didn’t stop there. He continued to suck at her clit, and then proceeded to kiss her up her body. He didn’t want to leave even an inch untouched. 

He bit down on her waist and Y/N screamed his name. The most divine form of melody to his ears. 

He licked through her valley, reaching her collarbone where he left countless bites and marks, all while having two fingers inside of her. 

He had a feeling Diluc would return. And he wanted him to know that Y/N belonged to him and only him. 

He reached her neck, leaving purple bruises everywhere. He knew he hit a sensitive spot when her walls tightened around his fingers and he made sure to treat that spot with special attention. 

Childe reached her mouth and thrust his tongue inside which she readily received. Her own hands were intertwined in his hair, pulling and toying with his ginger locks. 

So many nights, he had used a stolen bottle of her moisturiser and fisted himself imagining just this. This was heaven to Childe. 

He was determined to make her feel good. His ears were being blessed by her unholy moans as she came onto his fingers. He brought them up and ran them over her lips before sucking them himself. 

Y/N almost came again just by seeing that. 

Childe didn’t miss her expression. The shock and awe in her face. 

‘That’s right. Forget about him. I’ll take you to heaven myself.’

The quiet, winter night had turned into a snowstorm. The windows and doors of the house rattled but neither occupant paid any attention as they were rather preoccupied with the storm which had been brewing between themselves. 

Y/N relieved the pressure in his pants by unzipping them. Childe stopped his motions to slip off his trousers while Y/N kneeled on the bed and made quick work of his shirt buttons. Childe lifted off the remaining clothing from Y/N’s body and the two of them stared at the other's naked form, before pouncing back on each other again. 

His erect member ached to be swallowed whole by Y/N’s warmth. He guided himself to her entrance and gently lifted her hips to allow himself deeper access. Y/N couldn’t control the noises coming from her throat, her nails digging into her husband’s back. 

Childe loved the pain. He could feel the hot red streaks extending down his back. He bit her lower lip in rebellion, pulling himself back just enough to stare into her eyes. 

‘Fuck. I will die for you.’

The previously hollow night was now filled with moans and ragged breaths, as the headboard banged against the wall with every thrust of the Fatui harbinger. 

Y/N took this time to properly notice all the muscles bulging in his arms and the chiselled abs. She knew Childe was built but his bare chest made any air she had in her lungs rush right out. 

Round after round after round, it went on, till the couple found themselves winded on the bed, exhausted and parched. Childe got up after a while, put on his robe, and walked down to the kitchen to get his wife some water. 

By the time he came back, she had resigned herself back to her room. 

He sighed and placed the jug of water on his nightstand. The aftermath of their exercise made him proud. The servants would have a field day tomorrow. 

Overall, it was a step forward in their relationship. In the following days, every sexual encounter they had was initiated by Y/N. Every time she was overwhelmed by Diluc’s memories, she fucked her husband. 

Whether it was at home or in his office; be it day or night. But Childe never protested. He was more than happy to just be in the embrace of the woman he loved. 

Diluc didn’t return. At least that’s what Y/N thought. Childe was the one who knew the reality, who had seen Diluc back away from the driveway when he saw Y/N riding Childe on the balcony. 

That night, Childe brought her a diamond set and then fucked her beneath the stars. 

Things had gotten better. They had light conversations about books and how Y/N wanted to go back to work. It took a little manipulation but Childe was able to slide her back into her previous job, except for on-field assignments. That was off the table. 

Eventually, Y/N had started smiling again. The first time she did it was when Childe had spilt some coffee on his morning paper during breakfast. It was breezy; a simple exhale through the nose and a stretch of her lips. 

But it was enough for Childe to fall in love with her all over again. 

At work, they came together and left together. Y/N had started staying in bed after sex too, allowing Childe to cuddle her to sleep. Somehow, she had pieced herself back together, slowly returning to her original self. 

Y/N would sometimes catch herself staring at the wedding band around her finger. It wasn’t as bad as she had thought, this life with Childe. 

However, wine was still her choice of drink.

Y/N moved into Childe’s room three months later. “We’re married. It’s only logical to sleep in the same bed.”

“Yes, yes it is,” Childe had replied. 

The winter was gone and spring had befallen Snezhnaya, and with it, a new beginning for Childe and Y/N.

[aller-geez]

Snow Daze (part 1)

Written & illustrated by allergeez

Spent 3 days struggling to draw a cover for this series and I can’t say that I love it, but I couldn’t handle trying again right now so it may change for Part 2, but we’ll see~ Part 1 of a new series, (first Vaelyn series 🖤) 6k words, cold denial at a ski resort, starts out with only Vee sneezing, but eventually turns into a group sick fic 🖤 (I’m not as funny as @thekinkyleopard tho so don’t expect miracles.😂 this’ll be my first group fic so I hopefully you enjoy it 🖤) Part 2 is almost finished already, so it’ll be posted a bit later~

As always, Kezzi owns Kalypso 🖤

The studio had become a warzone over the past six months, its once-vibrant energy now stifled by tension and exhaustion. Empty cans of energy drinks littered every available surface, and the sharp tang of stale coffee permeated the air. Rexar’s guitar lay abandoned in one corner, a testament to the countless nights where inspiration had stubbornly refused to strike. The whiteboard that usually bore bold, scribbled lyrics and ambitious song structures now held a few frustrated lines scratched out so violently the marker had almost bled through.

Vaelyn sat hunched over his guitar, fingers absently plucking at the strings. His blue eyes, usually sharp and vibrant, were dull and shadowed from sleepless nights. Across the room, Rexar paced like a caged animal, his grey-and-red eyes flashing with irritation every time Vaelyn muttered a half-hearted suggestion.

“You call that a riff?” Rexar snapped one night, his voice dripping with frustration.

Vaelyn’s jaw tightened. “You got something better, front man?”

Their arguments had grown sharper, less playful over time. It wasn’t just creative differences anymore; the stress of delivering a career-defining album had sunk its claws into them both. Even their last-ditch effort—a chaotic acid trip that ended with Rexar setting the studio curtains on fire—had produced nothing but more frayed nerves.

Kriia had watched the downward spiral from the sidelines, her patience dwindling with each passing week. She was the glue that kept them from tearing each other apart, but even she had limits. After another screaming match between the two left her shaking her head in exasperation, she knew something had to change.

Late one night, armed with her laptop and a glass of wine, Kriia scrolled through endless vacation deals in a desperate attempt to find something—anything—that might salvage their sanity. That’s when she found it: a honeymoon package at an upscale ski resort tucked away in the snowy mountains. The photos were stunning—cozy cabins with roaring fireplaces, gourmet dining, private hot tubs, and panoramic views of snow-drenched peaks.

It was perfect.

“This is it,” she muttered to herself, clicking through the details. “Luxury, relaxation, and no studio in sight. They can’t argue in paradise, right?”

There was, however, one glaring problem: the honeymoon deal was strictly for couples. Kriia had no issue dragging Rexar along as her partner—it wasn’t the first time she’d posed as his wife to get what they needed—but Vaelyn was only sort of taken…

He was going to have to bring Kalypso.

The thought made her stomach churn. Kalypso, with her dramatic flair and endless scheming, was the last thing this fragile group needed, but there was no way around it. If the band was going to survive—and finish their album—Kriia had to make peace with inviting the chaos agent herself.

The tension in the studio was thick enough to cut with a knife. Rexar had his arms crossed, leaning against the wall with his sharp grey-and-red eyes narrowed in defiance, while Vaelyn sat slouched in his chair, absently tapping his guitar pick against his knee. The two were seconds away from another eruption when Kriia stormed in, laptop in hand and her green eyes blazing.

“Alright, enough!” she snapped, cutting through their brewing argument like a whip. “I can’t listen to another second of you two bickering over chord progressions or whatever the hell this fight’s about. You’re both impossible, and frankly, this album is driving all of us insane.”

Both men fell silent, Rexar quirking an eyebrow while Vaelyn rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I found something that’s going to fix this,” Kriia continued, planting the laptop on the table. “We’re going away this weekend. All of us. No studio, no album, just snow, mountains, and some much-needed space to not hate each other for a few days.”

She clicked open the details of the ski resort, the screen filled with images of plush cabins, roaring fireplaces, and luxurious buffets. Rexar’s mouth tugged into a smirk as he leaned over to get a better look.

“Snowboarding? Hot tubs? Hell yeah, I’m in,” Rexar said, already imagining carving down the slopes with the wind whipping past his face.

Vaelyn perked up slightly, though he remained guarded. “I mean… sure. Could be nice,” he muttered, trying to mask his curiosity.

Kriia folded her arms. “Good. Because you’re both going, no arguments. You need this, we need this, and we’re doing it together.”

The two exchanged a glance, their shared enthusiasm for snowboarding softening their usual edge. For a moment, the tension in the room began to dissolve—until Kriia dropped the other shoe.

“There’s just one thing,” she said, a little too nonchalantly. “It’s a… honeymoon… package.”

Rexar’s smirk turned into a full-blown grin. “Oh, this just gets better. Kriia and I get to spend a weekend soaking up the perks of being fake married, and Vee—oh man, Vee gets to bring Kalypso.”

Vaelyn’s head snapped up, his face contorting with immediate horror. “No. Absolutely not. There’s no way I’m bringing her. Do you have any idea how exhausting that’s going to be? I’m supposed to relax, not babysit.”

Rexar burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the studio. “You’re the one who’s dating her, dude. Sounds like a you problem.”

Kriia’s patience had worn razor-thin. “Listen, Vaelyn,” she said sharply, her tone brooking no argument. “You’re the one who decided to date Kalypso, so you can deal with her for a few days. I don’t care how annoying she is. We’re doing this, and you’re not backing out.”

Vaelyn groaned loudly, running a hand through his already messy hair that fell around his shoulders freely. “Fine. Whatever,” he grumbled, yanking out his phone and shooting Kalypso a quick text.

Vee:

Yo. Want to go to a ski resort this weekend? 😒😒

He didn’t elaborate, didn’t mention the “honeymoon” detail. She would find out sooner or later, but that was a problem for future Vaelyn to deal with. For now, he just needed to survive the fallout from this forced vacation.

Rexar leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head, a rare look of contentment softening his sharp features. “Man, I can’t wait for this. Just think about it—snow, slopes, hot chocolate, and actual quiet time. No riffing, no deadlines, just Kriia and me in full honeymoon mode.”

Kriia raised an eyebrow at him, though her lips quirked into a smile. “Honeymoon mode? Don’t get too comfortable, babe. You’re still going to have to deal with Vee and Kalypso.”

“Yeah, but watching those two argue is like its own form of entertainment,” Rexar said with a laugh. “Plus, Vee’s gonna have to shred the slopes with me. You know, when he’s not busy trying to keep Kalypso from going full drama queen.”

Kriia shook her head fondly, while Vaelyn let out an annoyed huff from the other side of the room, his attention flicking to his phone as it chimed with a notification.

The screen lit up with Kalypso’s response:

Kalypso:

Duh, what kind of a question is that? 😒 But what’s the catch?

Vaelyn groaned loudly, running a hand down his face. “Of course,” he muttered, his thumbs flying over the screen.

Vee:

“There’s no fkn catch, Kal. Just don’t be TOO annoying. We’ll pick you up at 9 am. And don’t make us wait hella long on your ass AND DON’T expect me to carry 1200 pounds of YOUR luggage. Pack appropriately.*

He hit send and tossed the phone onto the table, sinking back into his chair with a sigh that practically oozed frustration. “Why do I do this to myself?” he muttered under his breath.

Rexar, ever the opportunist, couldn’t resist. “Because you secretly like the chaos. Don’t worry, Vee. I’m sure this will be the romantic getaway you’ve always dreamed of.”

Vaelyn shot him a glare sharp enough to cut steel, but Rexar only grinned wider.

“Rex,” Kriia chided gently, placing a hand on his arm to pull him back. “Be nice.”

Rexar shrugged, his smirk softening slightly under Kriia’s amused gaze. “Alright, alright. I’ll save the teasing for the car ride. Plenty of time for it then.”

Vaelyn rolled his eyes but didn’t bother responding, already resigned to the chaos this trip was about to bring.

The morning greeted Vaelyn like a sledgehammer to the skull. He groaned as consciousness crept in, his body aching as though he’d been dragged through gravel. His head throbbed with a dull, relentless pressure, and his sinuses felt like they’d been stuffed with cement. A damp sniffle escaped him, wet and miserable, and he wiped at his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie, only to feel the fabric grow uncomfortably damp.

His throat burned with each swallow, raw and scratchy, and his limbs felt leaden as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The old springs creaked under his weight, the sound echoing in the stillness of his room. He pressed his fingertips into his temples, trying and failing to ease the congestion pressing against his skull.

“Vee, you up?!” Kriia’s voice rang down the hall, too chipper for how early it was.

Dragging himself to his feet, Vaelyn stumbled toward his closet, his balance wobbly from the lingering dizziness. He grabbed random clothes and stuffed them haphazardly into his suitcase, pausing every few seconds as his nose twitched violently. He barely had time to lift his elbow before the sneezes overtook him.

“Hhh—Eishh!-ishh!-ish!-’shh! …hehhHH! -EEISSHHuh!!” Each fit bent him forward, his lanky frame trembling with the effort. The sound was harsh, echoing off the bare walls of his room, and left him gasping for air.

A sharp knock on the doorframe made him glance up, his bloodshot blue eyes meeting Kriia’s concerned gaze. Her dark purple eyes narrowed as she leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice soft but laced with worry. “You sound awful.”

“Fine,” he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. He cleared his throat, wincing as the action sent a fiery scrape through his raw vocal cords. “Suitcase is just dusty,” he added, waving her off with a dismissive hand.

“Uh-huh,” Kriia replied skeptically, her gaze lingering on his red, swollen nose and the way he swayed slightly when he moved. She didn’t push, though, letting it slide as Rexar’s booming voice erupted from the living room.

“C’mon, Princess! The car’s not loading itself!”

Vaelyn’s jaw clenched at the nickname, and he shoved his suitcase shut with more force than necessary. “Hilarious,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing the handle and dragging it down the hall.

In the driveway, Rexar leaned casually against his hummer, his sharp grey-and-red eyes gleaming with amusement. He gestured toward Vaelyn with a lazy flick of his hand as the guitarist stuffed his suitcase into the back.

“Bless you, by the way,” Rexar quipped, his smirk widening. “Hope you’re not coming down with something, or this trip’s gonna be real romantic for Kal.”

Vaelyn shot him a withering glare, his reddened nose twitching ominously. He paused, sniffled thickly, and then barely managed to growl, “Shut up, Rex, you know she likes my sneezes anyway…” before his breath hitched again.

“Hhh—hhH’EISSHHHhhuhh! ” The sneeze doubled him over, leaving him clutching the side of the hummer for balance.

Rexar chuckled, patting Vaelyn on the back. “You know, Princess, I think she’ll get over that reeeeal quick if this is any premonition…”

Vaelyn’s muffled groan was all the response he could muster.

The bitter winter air stung his flushed, feverish cheeks, and he could feel the congestion tightening behind his eyes like a vice. With every step, his boots crunched against the icy driveway, matching the soft hiss of his strained breathing.

The ride to Kalypso’s house was nothing short of torture for Vaelyn. The hum of the engine felt like it was reverberating directly through his skull, amplifying the dull, relentless pounding in his head. Rexar’s voice, normally loud but tolerable, felt grating today as he chatted away with Kriia in the front seat. Every joke, every laugh, felt like sandpaper against Vaelyn’s already raw nerves.

Slumped against the window, his dark green hair spilling messily over his face, Vaelyn let out a soft groan as another tickle bloomed deep in his sinuses. He sniffled uselessly, his red nose twitching against the itch. He scrubbed at it with his sleeve, muttering a faint, “Ugh… just kill me now,” under his breath.

When they finally pulled up to Kalypso’s house, Vaelyn forced himself to move. His legs felt like lead, and his joints ached with every step as he trudged to the front door. He muffled a couple of wet, itchy coughs into his elbow, wincing as the motion sent another wave of dizziness washing over him. His knuckles rapped against the door, the sound sharper than he intended, and he instantly regretted it when a sharp throb rippled through his temple.

The door flew open in record time, revealing Kalypso in all her gothic glory. Her jet-black hair, streaked with vivid lime green, fell in choppy layers around her pale, angular face. Her emerald green eye gleamed with its usual sharpness, but the moment her gaze landed on Vaelyn, her smile faltered.

“Jesus, you look like dog shit,” she said bluntly, her tone matter-of-fact as she leaned against the doorframe, one hand on her hip.

"Good to see you too," Vaelyn muttered back, his raspy tone doing little to hide his irritation as he turned on his heel to start walking back towards Rexar’s waiting vehicle without waiting for her. His throat was burning, every word scratching painfully, and he had half a mind to just shove her back inside and leave her there.

Kalypso grabbed her bag and followed, closing the door behind her with a loud click. Sliding into the back seat, she didn’t bother hiding her amusement as she leaned back, crossing one leg over the other.

“Sup,” Rexar greeted her with a lazy nod from the driver’s seat, his sharp grey-red eyes flicking to her briefly before returning to his phone.

Before Vaelyn could follow her in, his nose surged to life once more. He froze mid-step, head tilting back as his breath hitched wildly. “Hh-! Hh’ISCHHh! EISHhh! H’ISHHhh! —ish! shh! —sh! ………………hh’EISHHhhhuhh!” The sneezes tore through him, rapid and relentless, each one sapping the little energy he had left.

Finally, a soaked, waterlogged sniffle followed that did nothing to clear his sinuses, Vaelyn sighed to himself, exhaustion settling deeper into his bones. His red nose was practically glowing against the pale flush of his skin as he opened the hummer door and dropped into his seat like a puppet with its strings cut.

He leaned his head back against the seat with a groan, wiping his nose with the edge of his hoodie sleeve.

Kalypso wrinkled her nose, scooting an inch farther away from him. “You better not get me sick,” she warned, her voice dripping with exasperation, but her eyes told a different story as she smirked in slight arousal.

Vaelyn gave her a sidelong glare, resting his temple against the cold glass of the window. “I’b dot sick.” Vaelyn croaked, his voice hoarse and heavy with congestion. “By suitcase was id the back of by closet and was dusty as fugk. I have allergies if you rebebber.”

Rexar chuckled from the front, glancing at Vaelyn in the rearview mirror. “Yeah, okay Vee. We definitely believe you.”

Vaelyn shot him a glare, his reddened nose twitching with the ghost of another sneeze. “Shut the fugk up, Rex.”

With a grin, Rexar hit the gas, and they were off, the car filled with a mix of groans, sniffling, and Rexar’s relentless commentary. Vaelyn closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pounding in his head and the constant tickle in his throat. The trip was already shaping up to be exactly as miserable as he’d expected.

The ski resort was every bit as picturesque as Kriia had promised. Snow blanketed the rolling hills and pine trees like a perfect postcard, and rustic yet luxurious chalets dotted the landscape. The main lodge stood proudly in the center, its towering stone chimney sending plumes of woodsmoke curling into the icy air. Inside, guests lounged on plush couches by roaring fireplaces, sipping steaming mugs of hot chocolate or nibbling on an assortment of gourmet pastries from the buffet. It should have been paradise.

For Vaelyn, it was pure hell.

The moment he opened the car door, the icy air hit him like a freight train, biting into his fevered skin and making his already-clogged lungs seize painfully. A sharp cough rattled out of him, and he wrapped his arms tightly around his torso as he stepped out into the snow.

Kalypso, who had to hop down from the high seat of Rexar’s Hummer, landed with a dramatic bounce, brushing invisible snowflakes from her black jacket. Behind them, Rexar and Kriia climbed out as well, giggling quietly about something Vaelyn was too sick and too annoyed to decipher.

The cold wasn’t the only thing weighing him down. As Rexar opened the trunk and started pulling out their suitcases, Vaelyn muffled yet another violent sneezing fit into the neckline of his hoodie.

“Hhh! Hhh’EISHhh! Ishhh! hh—shh! …hhehh—hh’EESHHHHuhh!”

The wet, marshy sound was enough to make him grimace, his bare chest damp where he’d pressed the fabric to his face. He swiped at his raw, angry nose, sniffling miserably as he tried to regain some semblance of composure.

When he finally looked up, Kalypso was standing in front of him, her emerald green eye gleaming with amusement as she held out the handles of her two enormous bags.

“Still holding to the ‘it’s allergies’ excuse?” she asked with a smirk, shaking the bags slightly to get his attention.

Vaelyn sighed loudly, his aching shoulders already screaming at the thought of carrying anything heavier than himself. “Yes. It was fuckigg dusty,” he snapped stubbornly, grabbing her bags along with his own. The combined weight nearly knocked him off balance, and he had to take a moment to steady himself before trudging toward the lodge.

The warm air inside the lodge was almost too much after the biting cold, and it immediately set off another round of sneezing.

“Hhhhh-! Hihhh—godda… sdeeze! Hh’ISCHHh! EISHhh! H’ISHHhh! —ish! shh! —sh! ………………hh’EISHHhhhuhh!”

The sound echoed embarrassingly through the grand lobby, drawing a few glances from other guests. Vaelyn bent forward, bracing his hands on his knees as he rode out the fit, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

Rexar, who was collecting the room keys from the front desk, raised an eyebrow and muttered loud enough for only Kriia to hear, “You sure he’s not patient zero for a new plague?”

Kriia shot him a sharp look, elbowing him in the ribs. “Rex,” she hissed before turning her attention back to Vaelyn. Her voice softened with genuine concern. “You okay, Vee?”

“Peachy,” he croaked sarcastically, though his voice was barely audible over the congestion clogging his sinuses. His feet dragged as they followed Rexar toward the elevator, and he swayed slightly with each step, his body teetering dangerously close to giving out.

The elevator ride up was silent save for the occasional sniffle or cough from Vaelyn. Kalypso leaned against the mirrored wall, clearly more interested in scrolling through her phone than acknowledging his misery. Kriia, on the other hand, kept stealing worried glances his way, but she knew better than to press him.

When they finally reached their rooms, Rexar handed out the keys, flashing Vaelyn a pointed look. “Try not to die before we hit the slopes tomorrow, yeah? I don’t feel like carrying your ass back up the mountain.”

Vaelyn glared weakly at him, fumbling with the key card before muttering, “You’d let be freeze for a laugh and you dow it.”

Rexar just grinned. “Yeah, but I’d take a great picture first.”

Kalypso rolled her eye, grabbing her bags from Vaelyn’s shaking hands and pushing her way into their shared room. “Try not to sneeze all over everything while I’m unpacking,” she called back with a laugh.

Vaelyn didn’t even have the energy to retort. He leaned against the doorframe for a moment, his head pounding and his chest tight, before finally dragging himself into the room, already dreading the hours to come.

As he stepped through the doorway and closed the door behind him, Vaelyn winced as another powerful fit ripped through him, his entire body snapping forward at the force. “Hhh… Hh—Hh’EISSHHhh! hh’EISHHHH! —shhh! ...hhh’IESHHHuhh!” His breath hitched at the tail end, as if daring him to endure another round, but he managed to stave it off for a few precious seconds. Bracing himself against the edge of the fireplace mantle, he clung to it like a lifeline, his knuckles white against the smooth wood. His red-rimmed eyes were watery and distant, and his nose was an angry shade of pink, throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Every shallow breath rattled through his chest, heavy and wet, as if his lungs were wading through molasses.

Kalypso’s single emerald eye fixed on him with a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “God, can you stop for five seconds?” she snapped, her voice as biting as the winter wind outside. She sat perched on the couch’s armrest, her black nails tapping an impatient rhythm against her thigh.

Vaelyn groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Stob complaiding,” he shot back, though his voice was hoarse and broken, making his retort sound far less intimidating. “You’re dot the ode—hh—IESHhh!—sufferigg here.”

Another sneeze barreled out of him mid-sentence, interrupting his words with a desperate, breathless gasp. His knees buckled slightly, and he leaned harder against the mantle to steady himself, blinking furiously to clear his vision. The humiliation of his own body betraying him made him bristle even more.

Kalypso shot up from her seat, her chains clinking with the movement. “Jesus fucking Christ, Vaelyn! Just lie the fuck down already!” Her tone pitched higher as her frustration boiled over. “You’re walking around sneezing like a goddamn germ factory! I swear to god, you’re so fucking useless!”

Vaelyn blinked at her outburst, too caught off guard—and frankly too sick—to respond with his usual snark. He looked like he wanted to argue, but his shoulders slumped in defeat, the exhaustion weighing on him. “Wasn’t askig for you to babysit,” he muttered under his breath, though his congested voice robbed the words of any bite.

Kalypso threw her hands in the air. “Yeah, well, too bad!” she snapped, grabbing a plush pillow from the couch and hurling it toward the bed. “Instead of enjoying the hot tub or actually relaxing on this stupid trip, now I have to deal with your dumb, germy ass. You’re a fucking nightmare, Vee. Just lay down before you pass out or something. And if you do, I’m not calling for help—I’ll leave you here.”

Vaelyn sighed dramatically, muttering curses under his breath as he shuffled toward the bed. Every step felt like dragging himself through wet cement. He collapsed onto the comforter like a marionette with its strings cut, his long frame sprawling awkwardly. Kalypso stalked after him, glaring down at him with her hands on her hips.

“Happy dow?” he rasped, turning his face into the pillow to stifle a harsh, chesty cough that left him wincing.

Kalypso rolled her eye and grabbed the tissue box from the nightstand, tossing it squarely onto his chest. “Ecstatic,” she muttered dryly. “Now blow your nose before you drown in your own snot, dumbass.”

Vaelyn groaned but complied, blowing his nose into a crumpled tissue with a wet, gurgling honk. The action left him lightheaded, and he slumped back against the pillows with a dazed expression. “This trip… is gonnuh… hh—godda sdeeze… hhH—hh’IESHhh! hh’EISHuhh!” He barely managed to grab another tissue in time before dissolving into a fresh fit.

“God, you’re exhausting,” Kalypso muttered, stalking toward the kitchenette. She yanked a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and shoved it into his hand. “Drink. You look like you’re about to keel over, and I’m not dealing with you dying on me.”

“Thadks,” Vaelyn muttered, though his tone dripped with sarcasm. He sat up before cracking the bottle open with trembling hands, taking a small sip as Kriia poked her head into the room.

“Everything okay in here?” she asked cautiously, her deep purple eyes scanning the scene with a mixture of concern and amusement.

Kalypso threw her hands up in exaggerated exasperation. “Oh, yeah, totally fine! Just playing nursemaid to this walking biohazard instead of soaking in the hot tub like I planned!”

Kriia smirked knowingly, turning her gaze to Vaelyn. “Vee, you good?”

He waved a hand weakly, his fever flushed cheeks standing out among the eggshell colored bed linen. “Alive,” he croaked, though his voice cracked painfully.

Kriia chuckled softly. “Well, that’s something.”

Kalypso flopped dramatically onto the couch, grabbing her phone and muttering loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m charging him for this emotional labor.”

Vaelyn’s lips twitched with the faintest hint of a smirk before he buried his face in another tissue, sneezing again with a force that made Kalypso groan audibly from the couch.

Kriia sighed, giving Vaelyn one last concerned glance before shaking her head and standing. “Alright, well, try not to die before dinner,” she teased lightly, stretching her arms over her head. “We’ve got reservations in a few hours, and I’d rather not have to explain to the hotel staff why my roommate perished from self-inflicted stubbornness.”

Vaelyn grumbled something unintelligible into his pillow, punctuated by a sluggish sniffle. Kalypso barely spared him a glance as she scrolled through her phone, her legs stretched out comfortably along the couch.

Rexar, who had been uncharacteristically quiet up until now, finally spoke up from behind Kriia, arms folded behind his head. “Man, I can’t wait to see you attempt to be a functioning human at dinner.” He smirked. “It’s gonna be like watching a zombie try to blend in at a five-star restaurant.”

Vaelyn groaned and sat up just enough to glare at him, his blue eyes watery and rimmed with exhaustion. “I’b fide,” he muttered, voice barely above a congested rasp. He wiped his nose against his hoodie sleeve—much to Kalypso’s audible disgust—and slumped back against the pillows.

“You’re so not fine,” Kriia corrected, rolling her eyes as she grabbed her bag. “But whatever, it’s your funeral. I’m gonna go get ready. Try to make yourself at least look alive before we leave.”

Rexar stretched with a dramatic groan, cracking his neck. “Yeah, yeah. Guess I’ll make an effort too. Gotta look good for all the rich tourists.” He shot Vaelyn a teasing wink. “You, though? Maybe just invest in a lot of concealer.”

Vaelyn lifted a middle finger in his general direction before turning onto his side, burying his face back into the pillow.

Kalypso, still stretched out across the couch, gave a lazy sigh. “Well, I guess I should get ready too.” She glanced toward Vaelyn’s miserable heap of a form and smirked. “You need help picking out an outfit, Princess? Or do you just wanna roll up in that hoodie, all sniffly and tragic? I hear pity gets you free drinks.”

Vaelyn let out a weak, muffled groan that was quickly swallowed by another harsh sneezing fit. Kalypso yelped, dramatically recoiling as if he’d just unleashed a biohazard into the room. “Oh my God, you’re a disaster,” she griped, running a hand down her face.

Vaelyn grinned lazily, eyes half-shut, barely listening. “Fuggk you,” he rasped, sniffling damply into the tissue he barely bothered using. “If I suffer, you suffer.”

As Kriia and Rexar left the room to go get ready, Kalypso tossed another tissue box toward Vaelyn’s head, which he barely managed to catch. “At least try to contain yourself before we go.”

Vaelyn exhaled heavily, rubbing at his sore, twitching nose with the back of his wrist. He sniffled again—so deep and murky it made her physically recoil.

Kalypso huffed, dragging herself up from the couch and grabbing the remote off the nightstand. The room was already suffocating under the weight of Vaelyn’s sniffling, coughing, and dramatic, wet sneezes, and if she had to listen to another one echo off the walls like a goddamn shotgun blast, she was going to smother him with a pillow.

With a sharp click, the massive flatscreen flickered to life, flooding the dim room with artificial light. She flipped through the channels quickly, searching for something—anything—to drown him out. Antiques Roadshow filled the room, the refined voice of an elderly appraiser describing a “rather exquisite 19th-century silver tea set.”

Perfect. Boring. Unbearably dull.

Behind her, Vaelyn was doing his absolute best to be as obnoxious as possible.

First came the exaggerated sniffles, loud and congested, dragging through his sinuses in a long, drawn-out snnrrffk that made Kalypso’s eye twitch. He followed it up with a few pitiful little coughs, as if testing the waters, before escalating to full-on dramatic wheezing.

“Oh my God,” she groaned, pressing the volume button until the television nearly shook with the sound of an auctioneer rattling off bids. “Could you not?”

Vaelyn barely looked up from where he was sprawled across the bed, his long limbs tangled in the blankets like a man who had fully accepted his slow, miserable demise. His blue eyes—bleary and heavy-lidded with exhaustion—flicked toward her, glinting with pure mischief beneath the mess of his overgrown bangs. Utterly unrepentant, he slumped back against the pillows, his lips parting as he blinked dazedly up at the ceiling. His breath hitched softly again, teasing another fit, and Kalypso braced herself for another obnoxiously loud assault on her eardrums.

Instead, he sighed—deep, stuffy, and pitiful. “I cad’t stop,” he groaned, His voice was a wreck—hoarse and strained, thick with congestion. “Feels like a billiod bees crawled up by dose add are havigg a party.” He croaked, dragging the back of his hand against his red, irritated nose. “I’b just… hh—hhiihhh… suffering.”

Kalypso turned up the volume again.

The booming voice of an elderly man filled the room, his tone enthusiastic as he gestured toward a faded porcelain vase on the screen. “This fine specimen dates back to the Qing Dynasty and is valued at approximately—”

Kalypso smirked, dropping the remote onto the nightstand triumphantly. There. If Vaelyn was going to make her life hell, then she was going to bore him into submission.

But to her absolute horror, Vaelyn perked up.

“Ohhh, dude, that’s actually sick,” he muttered, sniffing sharply as he propped himself up on one elbow.

Kalypso blinked. “Wait. What?”

Vaelyn cleared his throat, scrubbing at his nose with the edge of his hoodie sleeve. “Look at the detail od that vase,” he continued, his voice thick and nasally. “The glazi’g is idcredibly well preserved—Dt’ISHHh! Ishh! Ish! Ish!—shh! —sh! …… …Hehh’ISHHHhew!”

The sneezes burst out of him in rapid, itchy succession, folding him at the waist where he sat. His shoulders tensed as the last one left him gasping, and he clumsily pawed around for a tissue with his free hand, eyes fluttering as the aftershocks of the fit shivered through his sinuses.

Kalypso rolled her eyes. “Okay, that’s it, I’m turning it off.”

“Wait—do’d’t!” Vaelyn whined, snatching the remote before she could reach for it. His voice was breathy and uneven, still tangled in the aftermath of his fit. “You hadda start it—hhHh! Hh’ISCHHh!—so we gotta see what it’s worth.”

Kalypso let out an exaggerated groan and flopped back onto the couch, rubbing her temples. “You are such a loser, oh my God.”

His brows furrowed slightly in concentration, his mouth parted just enough to suggest actual, genuine curiosity. He was watching the screen like it held the secrets of the universe.

And then, right when she thought he had finally shut up, he pointed at the desk being appraised and muttered, “Dude, I’b telling you—that’s worth at least forty-five grand.”

Kalypso blinked. “…what?”

Vaelyn sniffled, wiping his nose halfheartedly on the sleeve of his hoodie before jabbing a finger toward the screen. “See how the ha’dles are carved? That’s high-quality shit, Kal. Bet you adythigg—hhehh… Hhhiihhh... eishh!-ishh!-ish!-’shh!... —hehh’HH-EESSSHHHhhuh!—nnngh… fuggk.” He sniffled again, swiping at his nose. “I bet you it’s—Hh’ISCHHh! EISHhh! H’ISHHhh! —ish! shh! —sh! …ugh!”

Kalypso groaned, kicking at his leg. “Geezus, Vaelyn. Would you just finish sneezing before you start making bets?”

Vaelyn let out a weak little wheeze of a laugh, rubbing furiously at his irritated nose as he sniffled again. His lashes fluttered, lips parting slightly as if the tickle wasn’t quite done with him yet.

Kalypso watched, exasperated, as he hovered on the edge, breath hitching lightly—waiting, waiting—before his face crumpled and—

“hh—huhhh—HHHIESHHHHhhuhh!!”

It was violent, his body snapping forward with the sheer force of it. His hair, already a wild mess, flopped into his face as he barely caught the sneeze against his wrist.

He flopped back into the pillows with a congested, miserable groan. “Fuggkid’—dew that was godda be a big ode…”

Kalypso shook her head, unable to suppress her smirk. “You are so dramatic.”

Vaelyn lifted a lazy middle finger. “Add you love it.”

Kalypso would have argued—should have argued—but instead, she snorted, giving his shin a halfhearted kick. “Shut up.”

Despite herself, she found her gaze drifting back toward the screen.

“—so, given its pristine condition, I would estimate this piece at… forty-two thousand dollars.”

Vaelyn let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Shid, I was close! That’s insade,” he muttered, pressing a tissue to his nose with a congested sniff.

Kalypso groaned again, though there was less bite to it this time. “Great. Now you’ve infected me with your nerdiness.”

Vaelyn smirked sleepily. “It’s just the adtiques getti’g to you.”

They fell into a rhythm after that—an uncharacteristic truce forged in the fires of pure boredom and mutual disdain for moving. Kalypso, despite herself, started throwing in snarky commentary every time some rich idiot gasped at the worth of an old clock. Vaelyn, for his part, got more animated the longer they watched, pausing only to sneeze or blow his nose before launching into another half-baked analysis on “just how sick that carvigg techdique is, Kal, you dod’t get it.”

And—against all odds—Kalypso actually found herself laughing, tossing in occasional commentary that had Vaelyn snorting through his congested nose. And, surprisingly, the more they joked, the more relaxed she felt.

It was subtle at first—a scoff here, a smirk there—but as the minutes stretched into an hour, she found herself shoving his arm lightly when he said something particularly dumb, or shaking her head with a half-smile when he barely managed to get through a sentence before another sneezing fit tore through him.

He was so fucking pathetic, but somehow, it was starting to get… kind of endearing?

She shook the thought away as quickly as it came.

Vaelyn, too sick and tired to keep up his usual bravado, leaned into her warmth without hesitation, his fever-flushed skin hot against her shoulder. His sniffles never quite ceased, his breath hitching every few minutes as his nose betrayed him over and over again, forcing him to press his face into his hoodie sleeve with another helpless, “hhh-HHhh—! Eh-hh! EISHHh! —ISSHHh! ISHH!-ish!-’shh!... HH—……HH’EISSCHH’uhhh!”

Kalypso, who had been deeply irritated by the sneezing at the start of the night, found herself less and less bothered as the evening stretched on. Maybe it was the fever that made him so compliant, or the way he melted against her shoulder every time she bumped into him, but something about the way his body jolted with each sharp, breathless release made her stomach twist in a way she didn’t quite hate.

And maybe—just maybe—she didn’t actually mind the way he leaned against her, warm and pathetic and entirely at her mercy…

To be continued…

[kanerallels]

The Christmas song for the Ghost Crew please if you've got some time

ON IT BOSS:

Ezra used to hate winter. The snowy, ice cold season only meant it would be harder to survive on the streets than it usually was. On top of the ever present need to find food was added a need for warmth and proper shelter, and his tower only really provided the shelter part. There had been more than one sleepless night as Ezra had desperately waited for the sun to rise, terrified that if he fell asleep, he’d never wake up again.

But now…he had a home. He had food and warmth and an actual bed where he could sleep without fear, strange though it felt. And, when he stumbled out of his room one morning to Kanan and Zeb installing a fake Life Day tree with muttered curses, he discovered something else to love.

He’d never really celebrated Life Day. Ezra vaguely remembered some kind of celebration—with candles and chocolate and his mother making a thousand different kinds of food—but it had been years since that. Now, he was discovering the traditions and joys the rest of the crew had built together. The Lasat tradition of roasting chestnuts—surprisingly tasty—and the Mandalorian’s favorite pastime of intense snowball fights followed up by hot tea, cider, or cocoa.

And when Life Day came and he found a stocking of his own hanging up with the others, and even a few presents under the tree, he thought his heart might burst. Kanan seemed to understand as he stood next to him—putting a hand on his shoulder, he said quietly, “Merry Life Day, kid.”

“Thanks, Kanan,” Ezra said, and hoped he knew just how much he meant it.

[velvateen]

snow and mistletoe - zoro x reader fluff!

gn reader, no pronouns!!

literally just a fluffy little thing i wrote before work bc i kept reading mistletoe prompts and i had to hop tf on that train. enjoy!!!

no warnings for this one, happy holidays everyone!!

You groaned as you rolled out of bed, the cool winter air hitting your feet as they landed on the wooden floor of your bedroom. another sleepless starless night, the gentle rock of the ship failing to lull you back to sleep. you ran a careless hand over your face as you opened the door and made the short yet cold trek to the ships kitchen.

You’d gotten into the habit of trying to move around on nights when you couldn’t sleep, and the kitchen was ripe with peace and warmth. so you pulled the door open and promptly shut it to prevent any more cold air from seeping into the room.

The kitchen was decorated in holiday lights, a small Christmas tree settled in the corner with a few small gifts laying under it. You smiled as you walked to set a kettle to boil, the notion of hot chocolate sounding especially appealing considering the mood.

You stirred the coco mixture into the warm milk and poured it into a mug. Digging in the fridge for the can of whipped cream, you almost missed the sound of the kitchen door opening and being pushed shut. It must’ve started snowing since you’d entered the kitchen, because Zoro nearly didn’t notice you either , too distracted by ruffling the snowflakes out of his hair.

His footsteps alerted you to his presence as he sat down heavily at the table. You turned around, having finally found the whipped cream.

“Oh, hey. Didn’t know you were still up,” you said.

He let out a small huff, stretching his neck so slightly.

“Just got done training. Didn’t know anyone else was awake.” You hummed, turning to the cupboard to grab another mug.

“You’re lucky I measure with my heart.” You poured the remainder of the hot chocolate into the mug and pushed it his way. Zoro opened his closed eyes and hooked a finger around the handle.

“Why are you even up anyways? Got night watch or something?” he inquired.

“Nah, just couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d come here and soak up some Christmas cheer while I still can.” You picked up your mug, noting the way the steam felt on your cold nose. You took a sip, unaware of the careful eyes watching as your tongue peeked out between your lips to wipe away any remaining whipped cream.

“I don’t think I’ll stick around though, I can already feel this putting me back to sleep,” you spoke through a yawn, heading towards the door.

“I like the way you think,” Zoro spoke, and you two made your way to the door.

He pushed it open, and you started to walk through before something above you caught your eye.

“Oh,” you pointed upwards. Zoro followed your gaze.

“Oh, oh yeah.”

You’d forgotten all about that mistletoe that Sanji had no doubt hung in the doorway.

“Well, no one’s here to enforce it and it’s just a stupid tradition anyways so who says we really have t—“ Before you could finish your sentiment Zoro had promptly cut you off.

The cold from the snowy weather outside was hardly a match for the warmth that bubbled up from your chest as Zoro gave you the briefest of kisses, just long enough to feel the heat of his chapped lips and the touch of his nose against your cheek.

“Merry Christmas,” he mumbled as he walked towards his room, still shakily holding the mug of hot chocolate.

Maybe that was why the kiss was so sweet.

*.• merry christmas and happy holidays everyone i’m so sorry ive been actually MIA that’s my b lol 😖 hope you enjoyed this !!!!! meow meow