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paige1722 · 1 day ago

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Bah Humbug

Summary: instead of playing nice with the village that chooses to sacrifice you, you get revenge!!! This is an alternative to Silent Night.

Pairing: Krampus!Konig x GN!Reader

Warnings: major death, gruesome, Krampus, attempted sacrifice, mentions of hell

I hope this is what you were looking for, it starts out kind of similar but I made the characters a little more cruel towards the reader. I hope you like it!!! @melimelisworld

The village you live in is small and quite quaint; everyone knows everyone, and nothing stays secret for long. Growing up here, you recall how loving everyone was to each other, people constantly stepping up to help others. Now that all seems like a distant memory, as the never-ending blizzard that plagues your town causes food and trading shortages, everyone has become bitter and cruel towards one another, willing to do anything just to save themselves.

As you looked out of the window of your small cottage towards the center of town, where in years past, you would be able to see streets filled with people walking around with their loved ones, children, and their parents playing out in the snow together, laughter filling the air, but now the streets are empty nothing but the white snow covering the stone paths throughout the village. The harsh wind caused the window panes to groan, and the snow kept piling up more and more. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as a figure marches their way through the thick snow from your neighbor's house towards your front door.

You walk to your front door just in time to hear a harsh knock. When you open it, you see Philip, the assistant to the village leader. Moving back so he can enter, he makes his way inside, tracking snow throughout your house. Once inside, he makes his way towards your fireplace, placing his hands in front of the fire.

“Philip, what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” you asked, closing the door behind him and moving to stand in the middle of your living room. Feeling a bit uneasy at the sight of him in your house, nothing good ever comes from one of his visits, usually trying to con people out of food rations for himself, saying it is for the good of the village.

He turns around, placing his hands around his back to keep them in front of the fire, his eyes scrutinizing you, a small sneer on his face. The fire casing an ominous shadow over his frame, and you are now able to get a better look at him. The food shortages obviously have no effect on him. At the same time, most people in your village, yourself included, are forced to ration their food just to make it through the week. He and Shepherd, the village leader, constantly have full plates, never once having to starve, wondering where their next meal is coming from. His expensive fur jacket looked more pristine than ever, and nothing on his outfit was out of place.

“Yes, I have been tasked with letting everyone know that at six tonight, there will be an emergency village meeting in the church. It is mandatory for everyone to be in attendance.” He sounds as if this task is below him, but he will do whatever Shepherd tells him to do.

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and you feel skeptical about the emergency meeting. “Oh, okay. By any chance, do you know what the meeting will be about?”

At your innocent question, Philip squints his eye, looking at you up and down suspiciously, clenching his jaw and taking quick steps towards you. He points an accusatory finger in your face, causing you to step back at his fast approach. “It does not matter what the meeting is about. You are required to be in attendance, understand?”

Your back hits the wall separating the living room from the kitchen; setting your hands on his chest, pushing him back from you, he stumbles back, grabbing hold of your wrist, disgust clear on his face. His breath hits your face, “have some respect for your village leaders.”

Ripping your hand from his grip, you walk towards the door, open it, and motion for him to leave, venom clear in your voice, “You are just the assistant, not the town leader. You can leave now. You told me about the meeting.”

Smoothing down his jacket and giving you one of his signature smiles, Philip chuckles and walks back toward the front door. He pauses to stare at you, a strange look in his eye. “I look forward to seeing you at the meeting then,” he winks as he walks out the door and back into the snow.

You shut the door behind him, sliding the lock into place. You let out the breath you had been holding, wishing that things could go back to normal in the village. What does it matter if you were not going to attend the meeting? Though with his reaction at the thought that you were not going had him acting like that, you fear to think of what he would actually do if you failed to make an appearance. Not to mention, you are very curious as to the details of this emergency meeting; perhaps it was about food rations or the never-ending blizzard.

You place your head against the door; a headache begins to form with all the frantic thoughts running through your head. Opening your eyes, you see the trail of snow Philip tracked into your house. Cursing him under your breath, you move to the kitchen to grab a towel to clean up the mess before it ruins your floors.

—----

You glance at the small hand-carved clock on your wall. Seeing that it is almost time for the meeting to start, you make your way to your front door, putting on the thickest coat you own, your gloves, and winter boots. Opening the door and closing it behind you, you wrap your coat tightly around you, pulling up the collar to cover the bottom half of your face as you venture down the snow-covered stone path that leads throughout the village. You see your neighbors already making their way inside the church. Two men stand outside wrapped in thick fur jackets and hats, each holding lanterns to signal the start of the meeting. You trudge through the thick snow, carefully walking up the ice-covered steps to the entrance. The two men, who you now recognize as Simon and Johnny, the town’s butchers, open the massive doors. You mumble a quick thank you to the men and make your way inside the warm church.

Looking around the massive sanctuary, a long line of lit candles operas on either side of the pews gives the room an almost eerie glow. You realize you are one of the last villagers to arrive, seeing as most of the pews are already filled to the brim with people waiting for the meeting to start; whispers could be heard throughout the room, filled with hateful gossip about one another. You decide to sit in the back, where there is still a little bit of space left, sitting in one of the only empty spots left.

You take off your thick jacket and hang it on the back of the pew you were sitting on, and continue looking around the room. At the front of the pulpit stands Philip Graves, talking in hushed tones to the village leader, Shepherd. They look to be arguing, judging by the looks on their faces. Philip turns his head, looking near the door; when he makes eye contact with you, he turns back to Shepherd, whispering in his ear, a sinister grin appearing on their faces.

The front doors slamming closed behind you cause you to jump a bit. You turn around in your seat to see Johnny and Simon standing inside the church, placing the lanterns on the golden hooks on either side of the doors. They move to stand behind the pew you are sitting on, making you feel uncomfortable, but before you can ask them about it. A throat clearing causes you to turn your attention back to the front of the church, where Shepherd now stands behind the podium with Philip by his side.

“Thank you all so much for joining us today for this emergency meeting. We know that things have been tough recently for us all. But fear not; we have come up with a solution that will surely save us all from this torment.”

Everyone perks up at the news, excited at the thought of ending their suffering. For some reason, you feel a sense of dread overcome by this news. Something about this whole situation does not sit right with you. Something in your gut telling you that nothing good is going to come out of this meeting.

“Now, I know you all must be wondering as to what the solution to our problem is. Philip and I have found who is responsible for our suffering it is none other than the demon Krampus. He must be growing bored with punishing children and is looking to torture the innocent people of this village.”

Gasps echo around the room; Shepherd raises his hand up to silence the murmuring, “To appease his wrath, we must give him an offering; then I am certain we will be saved.”

Your heart starts to pound in your chest, an offering? What could anyone in the village possibly possess that would be good enough to use as an offering to a demon to appease them? Shepherd locks eyes with you, “I know what you all must be thinking: we have no material possessions good enough for such a beast. We will give the demon a human sacrifice!”

The room suddenly becomes too hot, sweat beads down your face. Johnny and Simon come up behind you and pull you out of your seat. They begin dragging you, kicking and screaming, to the front of the church. You try to pull your arms from their grip, but is it no use, kicking your feet, trying anything to free yourself. Tears flow freely from your eyes. You look around at the people of your village, pleading with them, hoping that someone, anyone, will help you, but they just all sit there watching, doing nothing. Reaching the front of the church, Philip grabs you from the grip of the two butchers, placing a rough hand over your mouth to silence your yelling.

Your back is pressed against Philips's chest, his arms wrapped tightly around you, keeping you in place; you struggle in his grip, causing him to tighten his grip on you. His grip bruises your arms, but you refuse to give up. Ignoring your efforts, he says, “Tomorrow, everything will be back to normal once the demon has his offering! Return to your homes and await the glorious rewards that will be gifted upon us all!” He yells out, his chest rumbling against your back.

As you watch, everyone slowly rise from their seats and make their way toward the entrance of the church, leaving you to your demise. You bite the hand covering your mouth as you let out more screams for help, “Please don’t do this, there must be another way!!” you yell out desperation clear in your voice, but all you get in return is a slap across the face from Philip.

“Bitch just bite me, hand me the gag. I can’t stand to hear any more of this pathetic screaming.” Simon reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gag before harshly shoving the cloth in your mouth and tying it around your head.

Once the door slams, such as the last of the villagers returning safely to their homes, Shepherd grabs a rope from his pocket and stands in front of you, “Ah, fear not. Think about the good your sacrifice will bring to the people of this village, all the lives you will save.” He pulls your wrists together in front of you and binds them tightly together, the rough rope digging into your skin.

Philip unwraps his arms around you and grabs the rope around your wrist, dragging you towards the front doors of the church, the rope squeezing your wrists, causing you to let out a pained gasp that is muffled by the cloth in your mouth. What was about to happen to you setting in, causing you to dig your feet into the carpet of the church trying to free yourself. Tears flow down your face, muffled screaming, as you try desperately to escape.

“Alright, I can’t deal with this the whole way to the forest. We got to do something,” says Philip, annoyed by your constant struggle.

Johnny walks back to the podium and pulls out more rope; he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, handing the rope to Simon, “Tie their feet together. It will probably just be easier to carry them.”

Simon takes the rope from Johnny, grabs both of your kicking feet and ties them together as tight as he can, making it more difficult for you to free yourself.

With you bound tightly over Johnny's shoulder, the group makes its way to the front of the church. Simon and Johnny retrieve their lanterns from where they had been left earlier. The heavy church doors open, and they begin their journey toward your death, the flickering flames casting long, eerie shadows in the snow. Your muffled screams echo through the village. Through blurred, tear-filled eyes, you catch glimpses of people watching from behind their windows, doing nothing to help you.

—-

They have been carrying you farther and further into the forest, walking for what seems like hours. The light from the moon can be seen through the trees; the only source of light for miles is the lanterns. Your throat is sore from all the screaming, and you're pretty sure your wrists and ankles are now bleeding due to the rope rubbing against your skin from your flailing around. As you all reach a clearing in the middle of the forest where only a single twisted tree stands in the darkness, everyone stops walking; Johnny throws your body on the ground, the harsh impact knocking the breath from your lungs.

Philip yanks you up from the rope around your wrist, dragging you through the snow towards the tree, the fear flooding your body, giving you a new rush of adrenaline, trying to dig your feet into the ground but with your ankles tied together, making it near impossible. Shepherd is already standing underneath the lowest hanging branch of the tree, holding one end of a rope that has been tied around the branch. They tie the rope through the rope on your wrists, hoisting your arms above your head until your arms are straining and your toes are barely scraping the ground. You let out muffled groans of pain and cursing them as best you could.

All four men are standing in front of you; no sympathy for what they are doing to you can be seen on their faces. Shepherd gives one last look at your body hanging from the tree, “This is where we leave you. Thank you for your sacrifice.” he says smugly before turning with the others and leaving you to your death.

As you watch them all walk away, the light from the lanterns slowly fades away until you can no longer see it, leaving you in the dark forest alone. You begin to try to free yourself from the tree. Tears run down your face and neck. You try and scream to the best of your ability, but the cloth in your mouth muffles your shouts. Flailing around, trying to somehow untie the ropes on your wrists, all you end up accomplishing is tightening the knots, burying the rope farther into your skin, and blood from the open wounds on your wrists running down your arms.

Your body quickly runs out of energy from your constant struggle, crying, screaming, and the cold. You begin to feel tired, struggling to keep your eyes open, thinking to yourself that you really don’t want to die, especially not for the people of the town who did nothing to help you; they all just watched. Until, from the darkness, you begin to hear the distant sound of bells jingling closer and closer. Looking all around you in the darkness, you see the glow of a lantern with an outline of a huge figure. You automatically think it is probably someone who is out hunting, so you begin screaming as loudly as you can through the gag, trying to gain their attention. The figure pauses walking, turning towards the sound of your screams, and begins walking in your direction.

A huge figure emerges from the trees, standing nearly seven feet tall with twisted horns protruding from the mask peeking out from under the hood, his eyes shining through the darkness, the mouth carved onto the front of the mask was open with sharp teeth and a long red serpent-looking tongue, underneath the dark red hood covering his face and body. With every step it draws closer to you, you catch small glimpses of the jingling of bells hanging on a chain wrapped around his torso from underneath the red cloak glimmering in the light from the lantern.

Frozen in fear at the person walking towards you but still in the back of your head, you are hoping that they will set you free. He stops right in front of where you are hanging from the tree, even dangling in the air, the top of your head barely level with his chin. The soft glow from the lantern gives off an eerie glow to whoever is standing in front of you. You swear that you can see his eyes staring right through you. You let out a muffled “help.”

“Warum bist du hier draußen?” The demon in front of you utters, reaching for the gag tied around your head. He pulls the fabric out of your mouth, letting it hang around your neck.

Your voice hoarse from all the hours you spent screaming for help, you manage to croak out a gasped, “What?”

He eyes you curiously, looking at your bound hands and feet. He reaches inside the large red cloak and pulls out a sharp hunting knife. Wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you from falling to the ground. He cut the rope around your wrists, your numb arms falling limply to your sides. Lowering you to sit on the snowy ground, he moves down to the rope around your ankles, cutting the rope. You rub your wrist, trying to bring feeling back into your body, the blood flowing through your arms causing a tingling sensation.

Still crouched down in front of you, he places the hunting knife back inside his cloak and pulls out a small water skin, holding it out for you to take. You eye him cautiously before grabbing the water skin and taking big gulps of water, the cool water soothing your raw throat. As you hand him back the half-empty water, he says, “Now, let's try this again, ja. Why are you out here?”

Sniffling due to the cold, anger courses through your body at the memories of the past few hours. You hiss. “They said I was supposed to be some kind of offering to save the village from Krampus’s wrath. They tied me up and dragged me out here against my will.” You take a deep breath, pulling your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them before continuing your voice much softer this time, “No one even bothered to help me. I was screaming at them, but they wouldn’t listen.”

The man in front of you lets out a hum, “I have no need for an innocent sacrifice. Where do people get these silly little ideas from.” he says, scoffing and shaking his head in disbelief.

You squint your eyes at him, looking him up and down from the way he is sitting in front of you, causes his cloak to open a bit and allowing you to see the chains wrapped around his torso more clearly. On the chains are the little golden bells engraved with small intricate designs. You can barely make out the cursive ‘Krampus’ written across them. Come to think of it, his cloak, mask, the bells remind you of the description of Krampus from the old stories people in your village used to tell children to keep them from misbehaving or else the demon would arrive and punish them. You look up into his eyes, and seeing him already staring at you, you ask, “You are Krampus?”

“That’s me. Though you can call me Konig.” He stands up to his full height, holding his gloved hand out for you to grab, “come, let’s go.”

Taking his hand, allowing yourself to be pulled to your feet, swaying slightly due to the feeling not completely coming back to your legs. “Where are we going?” you ask, tilting your head back to look at him. Still holding his hand, following him deeper into the forest.

He looks down at you, his voice dripping with disdain as if the answer should be obvious. "Back to your village."

"My village? Why?"

Konig stops in his tracks, turning to face you fully. His eyes rake over your face, a calculating look in his eyes. "I am Krampus. I punish those who are bad."

You furrow your brows in confusion. Is he really suggesting that he's going to punish your village for you? And what does he mean by "punish"? Scare them? Or… something worse?

His gaze lingers, reading the flurry of thoughts playing out behind your eyes. After a moment, he adds, his voice low and heavy with dark promise, "I assumed you'd want revenge. It is your choice. After all, you are the one they wronged. Though I should probably warn you, many will not survive."

The memories of your village’s betrayal flood back—how they ignored your pleas for mercy, how they bound you and left you to die in the forest. It is no longer the same village you grew up in. You nod in a slow, deliberate motion. "I want revenge."

Even with the mask hiding his face, you can see the faintest crinkle at the edges of his eyes, a wicked gleam catching the faint light. He lets out a low chuckle, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "Let’s go then," he murmurs, continuing walking. "It’s been a long time since I let my elves have any real fun."

—--

You stand at the outskirts of your village with Konig, his elves circling the perimeter, waiting for him to give the word. The streets are empty; everyone is already in their houses, settling in for the night. Rage courses through your veins at the thought that while they left you to freeze to death hanging from a tree, they were all snuggled up safe and sound in their beds without a care in the world.

Konig’s elves were dressed similarly to him, standing tall in the darkness, though none of them were as tall as Konig. They wore terrifying masks with twisted and crooked horns protruding from their foreheads demonic-looking faces carved into the wood of their masks. Their gloved hands gripped jagged tools that clinked along with the bells wrapped around them as they moved. The air around the village seemed to thrum with a dark, malevolent energy.

Konig places a hand on your shoulder, “Stay with me. I do not want you to get hurt.” You nod your head in response, grabbing a hold of the chain around his torso, which is now on full display. His cloak sits wrapped around your shoulders to protect you from the harsh weather.

“Hinterlasse keine Überlebenden.” His thick accent echoing in the darkness. The elves take off their maniacal laughs and pounding footsteps, announcing the chaos that was about to ensue.

He trails behind them, you in tow, gripping tightly onto the chain wrapped around his torso, struggling to keep pace with his long strides as he makes a beeline straight toward the church where all of this began.

Screams pierce the stillness of the night as the elves burst into homes, ripping people from their beds. Some set fire to houses, others destroy everything in sight, their chaos unquenchable. Simon stumbles out of his front door, drenched in blood, not making it very far before an elf hurls a bola at his feet. The cord wraps tightly around his ankles, sending him crashing face-first into the snow.

When Simon sees you walking alongside Konig, he tries crawling toward you, desperation in his voice. “Please! Help us! We’re being attacked!”

You don’t even spare him a glance as you keep walking, your pace steady as Konig leads the way. Behind you, you hear the sound of the elf dragging Simon away back into the madness. No one had come to your rescue when you screamed and begged for mercy. No one here will get any sympathy from you. They deserve this.

You both reach the church and with a single, powerful kick, Konig sends the locked doors crashing to the ground, causing some of the candles near the door to extinguish the smoke traveling to the ceiling. The wood splinters violently under the sheer force of his strength. He enters the church, ducking to clear the doorframe. His gaze sharpens as he spots Philip and Shepherd huddled in fear before the pulpit.

Konig rolls his shoulders back, making himself seem more menacing and threatening as he approaches them, his heavy footsteps echoing throughout the church. With every step, the bells make a small chime. Each jingle is a reminder of their impending doom. Shepherd and Philip stand unmoving as Krampus now stands before them, towering over their trembling forms.

He stands tall, the shadow created from the lit candles throughout the room, causing him to look more and more like a demon, but you are not scared, knowing that you are not the one receiving his anger. His eyes glow with a burning hatred and promises of pain. You let go of the chain around his torso, moving to stand beside Konig, wanting to see them suffer as they made you suffer.

Shepherd tries to appear unfazed, staring Konig right in the eyes. “What is the meaning of this? We gave you a sacrifice to save us, not kill us all!” he says, raising his voice at the end and pointing a finger toward you. Both men gave you disgusted looks as if it was your fault that all of this was happening to them.

“You thought sacrificing someone who has done no wrong would put an end to your suffering?” Konig growls, his accent thick, “I am the one who brings retribution to the wicked.”

With a flick of his wrist, using his dark magic, a rope slithers down from the rafters of the church, wrapping itself around Philip’s and Shepherd’s wrists and hauling them up until they were dangling in the air much like how you were when Konig found you. They let out groans of pain, trying to free themselves from the rope, but the more they continued to struggle, the tighter the rope wrapped around their wrists.

Konig rips one of the bells from the chain, a sinister glow now emitting from the bell, the intricate details now shining a dark red. He tosses the bell on the ground at the men’s hanging feet. As soon as the bell makes contact with the floor, the ground begins to shake and split open, revealing a deep, fiery pit.

They both look down, seeing the entrance to hell open up beneath them, causing Shepherd to frantically try and plead with Konig to let them go, “Please, let us go. We are sorry, don’t do this.”

Philip looks at you, screaming profanities at you, “This is all your fucking fault, bitch. Stop him! Set us free!”

Tired of hearing their useless pleading, Konig waves his hand, and a gag appears over their mouths, muffling their angry shouts. Konig turns to you, his eyes softening, reaching his hand again for you to take, “do you still wish to do this?”

Placing your hand in his and moving closer to lean into his side, you look up at his masked face, “do it.” you whisper.

Konig looks back to where the two men hang from the ceiling, both of their wrists bleeding from where the ropes have become embedded into their skin from their constant struggle. "You failed to show mercy," Konig growls, his voice low and guttural. "Now you shall receive none."

The rope snaps, causing both men to fall into the fiery pit, screaming, descending into what you can only assume is hell, both of their souls destined to be tortured forever. The light from the pit begins to dim until all that’s left is a deep hole in the ground with a single bell in the middle of the pit.

The village is silent once more. There is no more screaming coming from outside the church. Following Konig back out into the snow, you see your once beautiful village in ruins, homes burnt to the ground, and everything destroyed, but you don’t feel any sadness or regret for what happened here. The elves are now nowhere in sight. If it weren’t for the damage, you would have never even known they were here in the first place.

You walk hand in hand with Konig back into the forest, a sense of relief falling over you. The people of this village tried to sacrifice you for their own survival, not caring about you at all, but in the end, you got your revenge.

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giphit · 1 day ago

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dude whatever you think about moffat's ability when it comes to showrunning or crafting a concrete narrative, there is no doubt that he is the absolute best at creating crazy cool sci-fi concepts for doctor who.

like...

healing nanobots that pick up a damaged child looking for his mother as the template, proceeding to spread that template to any human they come into contact with

a spaceship that has weird inconsistent time windows into pre revolutionary france

statues that only move when you're not looking. when they touch you, you get transported back in time so that they can leech off of your life energy that, now in the current time, is fully depleted

not just the vashta nerada which are terrifying but also in the library episodes is a concept where a character's communicator, which works via neural link, creates echoes of the character's personality and voice that you can hear for a period after they die(the scene where they first show this is still one of the most heartbreaking and messed up concepts i've seen in the show)

heaven sent

a super huge colony spaceship whose time is dilated by a black hole, causing top of the ship to move slower in time than the bottom of the ship leading to the bottom levels of the ship having lived multiple generations in what would be hours for the top of the ship

river song's entire life

and most recently, a hotel that creates time windows into hotel rooms from various periods across time, allowing residents to pick and choose any time period to stay in as a tourist

there are a lot more but these are the personal highlights for me.

the man is also just generally a genius at using time travel to tell stories.

#doctor who #dw #dw spoilers #doctor who spoilers #steven moffat #sci-fi #the empty child #the girl in the fireplace #blink #silence in the library #heaven sent #world enough and time #joy to the world

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amethystarachnid · 2 days ago

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Hello! Could I ask for Steve Rogers for your Marvel Christmas specials? Number 23 (Santa’s Little Helper – You and your character end up volunteering together at a local holiday charity or helping out in a Christmas toy drive.) please.

I don't know why, but I think he's the perfect match for something like volunteering for charity, especially if it were for kids in need. Just some sweet sweet fluff, I know the kids would love to play around with him (climbing all over him y'know)

A PLACE TO STAY - part I

⤷ STEVE G. ROGERS

ᯓ★ Pairing: Steve G. Rogers x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff, some angst, more fluff at the end

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 9k (I told you the fic wrote itself)

ᯓ★ Summary: Steve and y/n decide to buy some gifts for the kids in an orphanage, what they don't expect is to have a little girl attached to the hip. how will they leave now?

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of abandonment and abandonment issues

ᯓ★ I'm so sorry I know you asked just fluff but I swear the fic wrote itself, and I will sure as hell write a second part where Steve and Y/n adopt Olivia because I'm crying.

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The soft hum of Christmas music plays from the speaker tucked into the corner of your apartment, filling the room with warmth and a sense of the season. Outside, snow falls lazily, blanketing Brooklyn in a pristine sheet of white. Inside, the two of you are curled up on the couch, a fuzzy throw blanket draped over your legs and a half-empty mug of cocoa forgotten on the coffee table.

Steve’s arm is slung over your shoulders, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your upper arm through the fabric of your sweater. It’s a lazy December evening, the kind where the world feels a little slower, a little softer, and you can’t think of anywhere else you’d rather be than here, in this little pocket of warmth with him.

“You comfortable?” he asks, his voice low and rumbling, a touch of amusement in his tone as he looks down at you. You’re nestled against his side, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Mhm,” you murmur, not bothering to lift your head. “I could stay like this forever.”

His chuckle vibrates through you, deep and rich. “Not a bad idea. We can hibernate till spring.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, catching the teasing glint in his blue eyes. His hair is slightly mussed, one of your favorite looks on him, and his sweater—a soft navy one you’d insisted he get because it matched his eyes—clings to him in a way that makes you want to tug him even closer.

“I think you’d get stir-crazy after a day,” you say, smiling. “You’re not built for sitting still, Rogers.”

“Maybe,” he concedes, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “But if I’ve got you here with me, I think I could manage.”

Your heart squeezes at the way he says it, like it’s the simplest truth in the world. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the way Steve looks at you, like you’re the most important thing in the room, in his life. You reach up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead, letting your fingers linger against his temple.

“I love you,” you say softly.

He doesn’t answer right away; he never rushes when he looks at you like this, like he’s savoring every second of it. Then he smiles, that slow, sweet smile that makes your knees weak even when you’re sitting down. “I love you, too,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

For a moment, you let yourself sink into the quiet comfort of it all—the faint crackle of the fireplace app on your TV, the weight of his arm around you, the glow of the tiny Christmas tree you both decorated a week ago. Then Steve shifts slightly, his hand moving from your arm to rest on your thigh, and you catch the thoughtful look in his eyes.

“What’s on your mind?” you ask, tilting your head to study him.

He hesitates, which is rare for him. Steve’s always been the type to speak his mind, but you’ve learned that sometimes he takes his time when it’s something that really matters to him.

“There’s something I’ve been thinking about,” he says finally. “Something I wanted to ask you.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, sitting up a little so you can face him better. “What is it?”

He runs a hand through his hair, glancing toward the window as if he’s searching for the right words. When he looks back at you, there’s a softness in his expression that makes your heart ache a little.

“You know how much I love Christmas,” he begins, a small smile tugging at his lips. “And not just the lights and the music and all that. It’s always been about... giving back. Doing something meaningful.”

You nod, already feeling a warmth spread through you at the direction this is going. “That sounds like you,” you say, your smile matching his.

“Well,” he continues, his fingers brushing against yours, “I was thinking. This year, maybe we could do something together. Something for kids who don’t have as much. Like in orphanages, or shelters. We could bring them gifts, spend some time with them. Make their Christmas a little brighter.”

Your chest tightens at the sincerity in his voice, the way his eyes hold yours like this idea means the world to him. He’s always been like this—big heart, bigger dreams. And he’s always thinking about how to make the world a better place, one person at a time.

“That’s a beautiful idea, Steve,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Of course I’ll help. I’d love to.”

The way his face lights up is enough to make you forget the chill outside, forget everything but him. “You mean it?” he asks, like he can’t quite believe you’d say no but still needs to hear you confirm it.

“Of course,” you say, squeezing his hand. “We’ll make it happen. Whatever you need.”

For a moment, he just looks at you, his smile soft and grateful. Then he leans in, cupping your face with one hand as he kisses you. It’s slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that makes your toes curl under the blanket and your heart feel like it’s trying to escape your chest.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and you can’t help but smile at how close he keeps you. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he murmurs.

“I try,” you tease, though your cheeks are warm from his words.

He laughs, a sound that feels like sunshine breaking through the snowstorm outside. “We’ll need to start planning soon,” he says. “I was thinking we could make it a mix of things—gifts, maybe some activities. And definitely food. Can’t forget the food.”

You nod along, already picturing the two of you wrapping presents and brainstorming ideas together. “Sounds perfect,” you say. “And you know I’m good with organizing stuff. Just tell me what you need.”

Steve’s grin widens, and he pulls you back against his chest, holding you close like he can’t quite let go yet. “What did I do to deserve you?” he asks, half to himself.

“You saved the world a couple of times,” you reply with a grin, earning another laugh from him.

“You make it sound so casual,” he says, shaking his head.

You just smile and settle back into his embrace, letting the warmth of him and the moment wrap around you like a second blanket. Outside, the snow keeps falling, and inside, you know this is going to be a Christmas to remember.

The following weekend, after a week of planning and buying supplies, you and Steve are seated together at the kitchen table in your Brooklyn apartment, an array of colorful gift bags, wrapping paper, and toys scattered around you. The room is cozy, the hum of the heater mingling with the faint sound of the radio playing a Christmas song. It’s the perfect kind of atmosphere, warm and inviting, for the task you’ve set out to do.

You unwrap another toy—a little plush giraffe—and place it carefully into one of the gift bags. Steve does the same with a toy truck, grinning as he reads the label on the back. “I’m just saying, I’d be pretty excited if someone gave me one of these,” he says, giving the truck a little shake as though testing it out.

“You’re 100% a kid at heart,” you reply with a laugh. “But yeah, I think they’re going to love these.”

Steve shoots you a sideways glance, eyes glinting with mischief. “Are you calling me immature?”

“Not at all,” you tease, sticking your tongue out at him. “I’m just saying you’re very easy to shop for.”

He pretends to look hurt, dramatically clutching his chest. “Ouch, that cuts deep.”

You can’t help but giggle at his theatrics, your heart swelling as you watch him. You’ve always known Steve had a playful side, but it’s moments like this that remind you how much you love his ability to make even the most mundane tasks fun.

The two of you have spent the last few hours going through the kids’ wishlists, some of which were surprisingly simple, while others tugged at your heart. One little girl, age seven, asked for a "doll with long hair." Another boy, maybe around ten, wrote that he wanted "a toy airplane, but one that could fly like a real one." You’re constantly amazed by the purity of their wishes, the things they dream of that seem so small yet are filled with so much hope.

“That’s a pretty big ask for a toy airplane,” you say, looking over at Steve. “What do you think? Should we get him something that flies, or...?”

Steve rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Something that actually flies?” He grins at you, his eyes twinkling. “You know I’m always down for a challenge, but I think we should stick with something more realistic. How about a remote-controlled one? They’re fun, and it’s not like the kid’s asking for a jet.”

You nod, smiling at his practicality. “Good call. We’ll grab one of those.”

After a few more hours of sorting through toys, checking and double-checking the lists, you and Steve are finally finished. You stretch your arms over your head and look at the pile of wrapped gifts you’ve managed to create. It’s a satisfying sight—brightly colored paper, neat bows, and the satisfaction of knowing these toys are going to bring joy to kids who might otherwise go without.

“I think we’re done here,” you say, smiling at Steve, who is just finishing the last bit of wrapping on a small box.

“I think you’re right,” he says, glancing around at the festive chaos of wrapping supplies scattered across the table. “This is actually kind of fun. We should do this every year.”

You beam up at him. “Agreed. And next year, we’ll probably need a bigger table.”

After packing everything up into several large bags, Steve helps you load them into the back of his car. The trunk is already half-filled, and as you stand side by side, looking over the pile of gifts, Steve wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“You’re pretty amazing, you know that?” he murmurs.

You glance up at him, your smile softening. “Right back at you. You came up with this idea, remember?”

“Yeah, but you’re the one who made it happen,” he says, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His touch is gentle, his gaze soft as he studies you. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you forget about the gifts, the plans, everything except Steve’s presence. “I love you,” you whisper.

He smiles, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “I love you, too.”

The drive to the orphanage is peaceful, the streets of Brooklyn decorated with twinkling lights and signs of holiday cheer. You both chat about your plans for the rest of the day—maybe grab a coffee afterward, or walk around the city—but the closer you get to your destination, the more your thoughts turn to the kids and what they might be like. You wonder if they’ll be excited, nervous, or shy. It’s all a bit of an unknown, but you’re both determined to make it special for them, no matter what.

As you pull up to the orphanage, a large, older building with a faded red brick exterior, you can see children peeking out from behind the windows, their curious faces illuminated by the soft glow of the Christmas lights draped across the building. You grab the bags of gifts from the trunk, and Steve takes the lead, walking toward the entrance, holding the door open for you.

The building’s interior is warm, with a low hum of activity—kids running around, laughing, some playing with older toys, others reading books in the corner. You both stand in the doorway for a moment, taking it all in.

A woman who must be one of the caretakers approaches, her face lighting up as she sees you both. “You must be Mr. Rogers and Miss Y/n,” she says warmly. “Thank you so much for coming. The kids are going to be so excited!”

Steve smiles, a little bashful as always, but his voice is confident. “We’re happy to be here. We’ve got lots of gifts for them.”

The caretaker’s eyes flicker between you and Steve, and you can see a hint of surprise, though she hides it quickly. “It’s really kind of you,” she says. “We don’t get many visitors, especially not ones with such... generous hearts.”

“We’re just glad to help,” you reply with a smile, adjusting the strap of your bag.

With the gifts handed off to the staff, you’re introduced to the children. There are a lot of them—some shy, others enthusiastic, but all of them curious about the strangers in their midst. You and Steve work together to hand out the presents, and there’s something magical about seeing the kids’ faces light up as they unwrap their gifts. A shy little girl squeals in delight as she pulls a stuffed unicorn from her gift bag, and a boy nearly trips over his feet in excitement as he gets his remote-controlled airplane. The joy in their eyes makes the whole experience worth it.

But there’s one little girl who stands out from the crowd.

She’s tiny, maybe three years old, with soft, curly brown hair and big, brown eyes that never seem to leave you. She’s holding a teddy bear close to her chest, and when you kneel down to give her a gift, her gaze flickers between you and Steve, her lip trembling.

“Hi there,” you say softly, offering her a brightly wrapped present. “This is for you.”

Her eyes widen as she takes it, clinging to her teddy bear with one hand while carefully unwrapping the paper. You watch her closely, noticing how she seems a little unsure of everything—her speech not quite clear as she murmurs something unintelligible under her breath. You don’t mind, though. You’re in no rush. You’re here for her, for all of them.

Steve squats down beside you, his large hand hovering just above her shoulder in a quiet show of reassurance. “What’s your name, little one?” he asks gently.

The girl looks up at him, her eyes wide as she shifts her gaze from you to him. After a beat, she gives a little shrug, her brow furrowing as if she’s unsure how to respond. You smile softly and tilt your head toward her.

“It’s okay,” you say, your voice gentle and soothing. “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to. But we’re really happy you’re here.”

Her eyes stay fixed on you, still uncertain but drawn to the calmness in your voice. She pulls the ribbon off her gift, her tiny fingers fumbling with it for a moment before she manages to untie it, revealing a small, colorful doll.

A smile tugs at the corners of her lips, and she looks up at you, her eyes a little brighter. Her voice is soft, but you can just make out the words she stumbles through. “Doll... for me?”

You nod, your heart swelling. “Yes, sweetheart. That one’s all for you.”

She hugs it close to her chest, glancing back and forth between you and Steve, before shyly reaching out for your hand. You gently take it, your heart swelling at the small but trusting gesture. She might be too shy to speak much, but her little hand in yours speaks volumes.

Steve’s gaze softens as he watches the interaction, his hand resting lightly on her head. “She’s got a good grip for someone so little,” he murmurs.

You nod, smiling at the way the little girl is clinging to you, her eyes softening as she curls into your side. “She’s a sweet one,” you say, your voice low as you kneel down beside her, letting her feel safe and calm in your presence.

As the day goes on, the room fills with more laughter and joy, and the connection with the children deepens. But it’s this little girl, the one so small and yet so full of trust, who tugs most at your heartstrings. She doesn’t speak much, but when she reaches for you or Steve, you know she’s found a quiet comfort in both of you.

The morning slips by in a flurry of laughter, bright eyes, and the shuffle of little feet. The toys you and Steve brought are scattered all around the orphanage’s common room, and the kids are absolutely absorbed in them—trucks zooming across the floor, dolls being tucked into makeshift beds, and a few kids giggling as they watch the remote-controlled airplane soar through the air.

Steve, of course, is in his element, kneeling down beside the boys to help them maneuver their toy trucks. The grin on his face is enough to make anyone believe he’s reliving his own childhood. You can’t help but watch him, feeling that familiar warmth spread through you at the sight of him. He’s so good with the kids, so patient, so kind. He’s always been a hero, but in moments like this, you see him in a new light—he’s not just Captain America; he’s just a man who wants to make the world better, one small moment at a time.

As he engages with the boys, you turn your attention back to the little girl who’s been quietly following you. She’s still clutching her doll close to her chest, her eyes a little unsure, but there’s something in the way she watches you—something soft, something tentative, that tells you she’s starting to feel a little less guarded. You smile gently, crouching down to her level, and the moment your eyes meet, she ducks her head shyly, clutching her doll even tighter.

“Hey there,” you say softly, trying to coax her out of her shell. “You like your new doll?”

She looks up at you then, her dark eyes wide, as if she’s not quite sure what to make of your question. Slowly, she nods, her gaze flickering between you and the doll. Her little fingers run over the fabric of its dress as she hugs it to her chest.

“Pretty,” she murmurs in a soft, childlike voice, the words almost too quiet to hear.

You smile, feeling a warmth spread in your chest at the sound of her voice. “Yeah, she’s pretty. Just like you.”

The girl doesn’t respond, but she looks up at you again, her lips curling into the faintest of smiles. It’s enough to make you feel like you’ve won a small victory. The quiet way she’s speaking, the way she’s reaching out to you, is a sign that she’s starting to trust you, even if only a little.

You reach out slowly, letting her take her time. “Do you want me to hold her for a while?”

The girl hesitates, looking down at the doll and then back at you. Slowly, she reaches out and hands you the doll, her fingers brushing yours. It’s a small gesture, but it means so much to you. You cradle the doll in your arms, and for the first time, the little girl seems to relax a little, stepping a fraction closer to you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice full of quiet admiration for how brave she’s being.

Just as you’re about to say something else, a loud burst of laughter rings out across the room, and you turn to see Steve kneeling on the floor with the older boys, showing them how to make the remote-controlled airplane do loops in the air. One of the boys is cheering, clapping his hands in excitement, while the others are watching with wide eyes.

The sight of Steve interacting with the other children seems to pull your attention away for just a moment, and when you glance back at the little girl, you’re surprised to find her standing right next to you, her gaze fixed on Steve with a mix of curiosity and wariness.

“Steve’s fun,” you say, offering her a gentle smile. “He’s really good at playing.”

The girl looks up at you with a small frown, still holding onto her doll but inching closer to you. “Steve?” she repeats softly, as if testing the name on her lips.

“Yeah, Steve,” you affirm, your voice gentle. “He’s a good friend.”

Her gaze flickers toward Steve, who’s still helping the kids with their toys. His laughter rings out, so easy and light, and the girl takes another step closer to you, her fingers tentatively reaching for your hand. You smile softly, taking her hand in yours.

“That’s Steve,” you say again, nodding toward him. “He’s nice.”

At first, the girl hesitates, but after a few moments, she seems to relax a little, still clinging to you, but her eyes on Steve now. It’s like she’s testing him in her own way, trying to decide if she can trust him, too.

“Play?” she asks in a tiny voice, pointing toward Steve. Her words are still so soft, and her speech is still uncertain, like she’s not yet comfortable with the world around her. But there’s an openness in her that makes your heart ache a little.

“Do you want to go play with him?” you ask, kneeling down to her level again. “You can. I bet he’d love to play with you.”

The little girl looks at you, and for a long moment, it seems like she’s not sure. But then, she takes another step closer to Steve, her doll still firmly clutched to her chest. You watch her with a quiet sense of hope, feeling your heart swell with the tiniest bit of pride. She’s trusting you. And now, it seems like she’s starting to trust Steve, too.

Steve catches sight of her moving toward him and offers a warm smile. “Hey there, little one,” he greets her softly. “You want to play with us?”

The girl looks at him for a moment, her eyes still uncertain, but she nods slowly, taking another cautious step toward him. Her tiny hand reaches for his, and Steve gently takes it, kneeling down so he’s at her level.

“Want to fly the airplane with me?” he asks in a calm, kind voice.

The girl looks at the airplane, her gaze lighting up for just a moment before she looks back at you. She’s still holding onto her doll, but she’s looking at Steve now, waiting for his next move.

“It’s really easy,” Steve continues, gently guiding her to sit beside him. “You just press the button here, like this.” He presses a button on the remote, and the airplane zooms into the air.

The girl watches, eyes wide with awe. She turns to you, her gaze searching for approval.

“It’s safe,” you assure her with a smile. “Steve’s really good at it. You can try it, if you want.”

After a long pause, she turns back to Steve, a little more confident now. “Try?” she asks, her voice a little stronger this time.

“You bet,” Steve says, his voice full of encouragement. “I’ll show you how. Just press this button.”

With a tentative hand, the girl reaches out, her tiny fingers brushing the remote. Steve guides her hand gently, and when the airplane soars into the air again, her face lights up with joy.

You watch the interaction with a quiet sense of happiness, but at the same time, there’s something pulling at your heart. The little girl is so small, so fragile, and yet she’s starting to trust not only you but Steve as well. It’s like she’s blossoming before your eyes, and it feels like a privilege to witness it.

But as the day goes on, a small pang of worry starts to creep into the back of your mind. You know how these moments go. You know that sometimes, when kids get attached, it can be hard for them to understand why people leave.

As you’re helping a few of the younger children color pictures, one of the caretakers—an older woman with kind eyes—approaches you. She’s got a solemn expression on her face as she quietly pulls you aside. Steve’s still busy with the other kids, so he doesn’t notice the exchange.

“Miss Y/n, Mr. Rogers,” she begins, her voice low and cautious. “I’m so grateful for the gifts and for everything you’ve done for these children today, but… there’s something you should know about the little girl who’s been sticking to you.”

Your stomach tightens. “What’s wrong?”

The caretaker looks over at the little girl, who’s still playing with Steve, her focus entirely on the remote-controlled airplane. “Her name is Olivia,” she says quietly. “She’s been here since she was about one, and… well, she’s had a hard time with attachments.”

Your heart sinks a little. You try to keep your voice calm. “What do you mean?”

The caretaker hesitates for a moment, glancing at the girl again. “She was abandoned. Left at the hospital when she was a baby. And ever since, she’s had a difficult time trusting people. She gets attached easily, but when people leave her, she—” The woman trails off, clearly not wanting to say it out loud.

When she speaks again, it’s with a quiet sense of warning. “She’s just starting to open up to you two. But if she gets too attached, if she starts to think of you as her… family, it could break her when you leave.”

You look at the little girl—Olivia—playing with Steve. She’s so innocent, so sweet, and the idea of her being hurt is almost unbearable.

“I understand,” you say softly, feeling a knot form in your throat. “We’ll be careful.”

But as you glance back at Olivia, sitting on Steve’s knee, her eyes wide with wonder, you know that it’s already too late. She’s already attached to you both in a way that no one can truly predict, and as much as you want to protect her, you know there’s nothing you can do to stop the inevitable heartbreak. The heartache that will come when she realizes you’re not staying.

And yet, despite the warning, despite the ache in your chest, you find yourself taking another step toward her, watching her smile up at Steve, her tiny hand resting in his. Some part of you knows that whatever happens, whatever heartbreak comes next, this moment, this tiny piece of joy, is worth everything.

As the day continues, the laughter and excitement in the orphanage grow louder, the sound of children’s voices mingling with the cheerful chime of Christmas music in the background. The toy airplane flies through the air again, spinning in dizzying loops, and Steve’s gentle voice guides Olivia’s small hands as she tries to control it, her grip still unsure but filled with an eagerness to learn.

You watch the two of them from the corner of the room, your heart swelling as you see how Steve is patiently showing Olivia how to work the controls, guiding her small hands with the same careful attention he always gives everyone. Olivia, in turn, seems captivated, her wide eyes focused solely on the airplane as it soars and dips. She lets out a small giggle when it flies low, and you can see a flicker of something like trust beginning to settle in her features.

A soft pull at your sleeve draws your attention, and you turn to find Olivia standing right beside you again, her big brown eyes wide and expectant.

“Y/n,” she says in a soft voice, and the way she says your name makes your heart ache. It’s still so fragile, so tentative, but there’s a quiet confidence behind it. “Pick up?”

You blink, surprised. For most of the day, Olivia has been content to stay a few steps away, observing, watching as you and Steve interacted with the other children. She hadn’t made any real attempt to get closer to either of you, and the fact that she was now reaching out in this way is a small but significant shift. Your chest tightens as you realize what this means.

“You want me to hold you?” you ask, your voice soft and full of tenderness.

Olivia nods, her tiny hands reaching up toward you, and there’s a quiet plea in her eyes—one that says she’s seeking comfort, seeking warmth in the middle of the excitement, something that’s just for her.

Without hesitation, you bend down, scooping her up gently, being careful not to disturb the doll she’s still clutching. Her tiny body relaxes as she’s lifted into your arms, and she nuzzles against your chest, her head resting on your shoulder. You feel the weight of her trust settle in your arms, and for a moment, you close your eyes, savoring the feeling. She’s so small, so fragile, and yet she has placed her trust in you so completely.

“Is this okay?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as you hold her close.

She responds with a soft, contented hum, her little hand wrapping around your neck, clinging to you as if she’s afraid you might disappear. You tighten your hold on her, making sure she feels safe in your embrace.

From across the room, Steve watches the two of you, a soft smile on his lips as he continues to play with the other children. But his gaze flickers back to Olivia now and then, his protective instincts flaring in ways you can only imagine.

You shift slightly, carrying Olivia toward the group of kids Steve is playing with. As you approach, Steve looks up and gives you a quiet nod, his smile widening when he sees how Olivia has settled into your arms.

“She’s getting more comfortable, huh?” Steve says, his voice soft, but there’s a hint of both pride and concern in it.

“Yeah,” you reply, your tone full of quiet wonder. “She really is.”

Olivia doesn’t say anything, but her fingers curl around your shirt, her head still resting on your shoulder. It’s as if she’s found a place she can finally feel safe—something that, up until now, might have felt impossible for her. There’s something in the way she’s clinging to you that makes your heart ache with a mixture of love and fear. She’s so little, and the world can be so big and unpredictable, but right now, in this moment, she’s holding on to you with everything she’s got.

Steve moves closer, kneeling down to be at her eye level. He reaches out a hand, gentle and steady. “Olivia,” he says softly, his voice full of warmth. “You want to play some more? We’ve got a lot of fun toys.”

Olivia looks up at him with big eyes, her small face still somewhat wary. For a moment, she seems unsure. But then, she surprises you both by shifting her little body in your arms and turning toward Steve. There’s a softness in her gaze now, a hesitant trust that wasn’t there before.

“Play,” she says in that tiny voice, her words still so soft but filled with a quiet determination.

You let out a small breath of relief, your grip on her loosening just enough for her to be able to step away from you. But even as she moves toward Steve, she reaches back for you with a small, almost imperceptible gesture. Her fingers brush yours, seeking that connection.

You smile, touching her hand briefly before letting her go to Steve. It’s a small step, but it’s one that means everything.

Steve, ever the patient one, offers his hand to Olivia, guiding her toward a small table where the other kids are building with blocks. As he walks with her, his smile never fades, even as she seems to shy away slightly from the other children. He gives her space, letting her explore on her own terms.

“You wanna help me build a tower?” Steve asks her, his voice warm and encouraging.

Olivia looks up at him, her lips curling into a shy smile. “Tower?” she repeats, sounding out the word carefully.

“Yeah, a big one,” Steve affirms. “I think you’re gonna be great at it.”

She nods, her focus now entirely on the colorful blocks in front of her. She picks one up carefully, turning it over in her small hands. You watch her from where you’re standing, a quiet sense of pride swelling in your chest. This little girl, who had been so withdrawn just hours ago, is now actively participating, engaging with the world around her.

As you step back, you join the other children who are sitting on the floor, coloring pictures or playing with dolls. You try to keep an eye on Olivia without hovering too closely, giving her the space she needs to grow and trust on her own terms. It’s not easy, though, because your heart keeps pulling you back to her. You can’t help but worry about her, about what’s going to happen when the day comes to an end and you both have to leave.

For now, though, you try to focus on the present. The kids around you are still deep in their own activities, and there’s a sense of joy in the room, one that you can feel radiating from them. It’s infectious, this energy, and it makes you grateful for the opportunity to spend this time with them, to give them a small piece of happiness.

Olivia, it seems, is growing more comfortable with Steve. She’s fully immersed in building a tower now, and when she picks up another block, she looks up at him for reassurance. “More?” she asks, and Steve chuckles, nodding.

“Of course, more. We’ll make it the biggest tower ever.”

Her eyes light up, and she enthusiastically starts stacking more blocks, the tower growing taller and taller with each passing moment. Steve doesn’t rush her, doesn’t push her to go faster. He simply watches her, offering encouragement when needed, making sure she feels proud of every little step she takes.

The sun is beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the orphanage as the day winds down. The cheerful chaos of children’s laughter and playful chatter starts to quiet, the toys being gathered up, the Christmas music fading to a gentle hum in the background. The once-bright room is now filled with a soft, melancholy glow, signaling the end of the day.

You can’t help but feel the bittersweetness of it all. The day has been filled with so much joy—so many smiles, so much laughter. And yet, as the clock ticks on and the children begin to gather their things, a heavy weight settles in your chest. You know what’s coming. You know that the moment you and Steve walk out the door, you’ll be leaving behind a part of yourself, a piece of your heart, with these children, especially with Olivia.

As you stand near the door, watching as the children slowly start to gather their jackets and shoes, your gaze drifts to Olivia. She’s standing near the coat rack, her tiny hands reaching for her jacket with the same determination you’ve seen in her all day. Her wide, trusting eyes are fixed on you, and for a moment, you forget to breathe.

Steve is at your side, his expression equally heavy, his hand resting on your shoulder as you both watch the little girl from a distance.

“I think she’s getting ready to leave with us,” you whisper, your heart aching as you see Olivia struggling to put on her coat, her movements clumsy, her tiny fingers fumbling with the buttons. It’s like she’s already made up her mind that you’re going to take her home with you.

“Yeah,” Steve replies quietly, his voice rough, filled with a quiet pain that mirrors your own. “She’s really attached.”

You take a deep breath, but it feels like there’s a lump lodged in your throat. The promise you’d made to her—to come back and see her again—feels almost impossible in this moment. How can you leave a little girl who’s already started to trust you, to care for you, when all she wants is to stay with you?

Slowly, you step toward her, trying to keep the tears at bay. Olivia has finally managed to get her jacket on, and now she’s walking toward you, her small legs moving with a determined little waddle. When she reaches you, she lifts her arms up, holding her jacket out to you with a hopeful look on her face.

“Go now?” she asks, her voice small but insistent, her lips trembling with the effort of saying the words.

You kneel down to her level, your heart hammering in your chest. You swallow hard, forcing yourself to meet her eyes. “Olivia, sweetheart,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper, “we can’t take you with us right now.”

Olivia blinks up at you, her eyes wide and confused. “But go now?” she repeats, her little hands clutching at her jacket, her expression one of complete innocence and trust.

Steve crouches down next to you, his own heart breaking as he reaches out to gently rest a hand on Olivia’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, we can’t take you home with us today,” he says gently, his voice full of warmth but tinged with sorrow. “You have to stay here for now. But we promise we’ll come back. We’ll see you again soon, okay?”

The words come out easily, but the promise feels like it’s weighing a ton on your heart. You know she doesn’t fully understand, not in the way an adult would, but she’s heard the word "promise" before, and she’s holding on to it as though it’s the most important thing in the world. Her face scrunches up, and her small lips tremble.

“No,” she says, shaking her head frantically. “Stay with you. Please.”

Your heart cracks at the desperation in her voice, at the sheer helplessness in her small form. You reach out, wrapping your arms around her in a gentle embrace, holding her close as her body trembles in your arms.

“Oh, baby, I wish we could,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I really do.”

Olivia clings to you, her little arms wrapped around your neck in a tight hug, as though she’s trying to hold on to you for dear life. The small, helpless sob that escapes her lips pierces your heart, and for a moment, you feel like you’re going to break. You rub her back gently, trying to soothe her, trying to tell her everything’s going to be okay.

But it’s not okay. It’s not okay for her. Not when she’s so desperate for love, for safety, for someone to hold her and take her home. The tears in her eyes are a reflection of all the things she’s been through, all the abandonment, the fear, the loneliness. And now, she’s finally found something she can hold on to, someone who loves her, even if just for a short while. And the idea of losing that… of losing you… is too much for her to bear.

“Please,” she whispers again, her voice cracking as she pulls away slightly, looking at you with tear-filled eyes. “Don’t leave me.”

You feel your own tears begin to fall, and you quickly swipe them away, trying to be strong for her. “Olivia, we’ll come back,” you promise again, your voice breaking slightly. “We’ll come back and see you. We won’t forget about you, okay?”

But even as the words leave your lips, you can see the doubt in her eyes. She’s been abandoned before, left alone by the people who were supposed to take care of her. Your promise feels like just another thing she’s heard before, another empty promise that’s been broken. And that realization, the understanding that she’s already been through so much and still doesn’t trust that anyone will come back for her, makes your heart break even more.

Steve kneels down beside the two of you, and for a moment, he doesn’t speak. His hand rests on Olivia’s back, and his eyes are filled with the same sorrow that you’re feeling. He doesn’t know how to fix this, how to ease her pain. All he can do is be here, offering her comfort, offering her warmth in this moment.

“I know it’s hard,” Steve says softly, his voice filled with quiet tenderness. “But we’ll come back. We’ll be here again, and we’ll make sure you’re okay. You’re not alone, Olivia.”

But the little girl doesn’t seem to hear him. Instead, she pulls away from you completely, her small hands pushing against your chest as she backs away, her sobs growing louder.

“No, no!” she cries, her voice shaking with the force of her emotion. “I want to go with you!”

The sound of her tears rips through you like a blade, and you’re not sure how to react. You want to hold her, to comfort her, to make everything okay, but you know that this is a hurt you can’t fix. Not right now. Not in this moment.

Steve stands up, his hand reaching for you as he gives Olivia one last, long look. You see the same look in his eyes—one of helplessness, one of sorrow. You know he’s feeling the same thing you are: the ache of leaving this sweet, innocent little girl who’s finally found something to hold on to.

“We’ll be back, Olivia,” you say one last time, your voice breaking. “I promise.”

The words sound hollow even to you, and you know that the moment you leave, she won’t understand. You can only hope that in time, the promise will mean something to her.

With a heavy heart, you turn away from Olivia, feeling as if you’re leaving a piece of yourself behind. Steve follows you, his hand brushing against your back as you both make your way to the door.

The sound of Olivia’s sobs follows you all the way to the exit, echoing in your ears as you step out of the orphanage. And with every step, it feels as though your heart is breaking just a little bit more.

When you finally get to the apartment, the silence feels deafening. The weight of the day, the weight of Olivia’s tears, is still heavy in the air. You try to focus on something else, anything else, but all you can think about is the little girl you had to leave behind. The little girl who just wanted to be loved.

You sit down on the couch, your hands shaking as you remove your coat, and Steve follows you, sitting beside you, but there’s a coldness in the room now, an emptiness that wasn’t there before. You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes, and you try to hold them back, but the weight of it all is too much.

“I don’t know how we’re supposed to do this,” you whisper, your voice trembling as the tears finally fall.

Steve pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you as you bury your face in his chest. His hand strokes your hair gently, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. There’s nothing to say, really. The pain is too raw, too fresh.

“I know,” Steve says quietly. “I know. It’s hard. I don’t know how we’re supposed to do this either.”

But as you hold each other, you know there’s nothing else to do except try to keep your promise. To keep coming back. To keep showing up for Olivia, even if it means facing this heartbreaking reality every time.

For now, though, you let the tears come. And when you close your eyes, you can still see Olivia’s face, the way she cried, the way she reached for you, and you know, deep down, that she’ll stay with you in your heart. Forever.

The days following that heart-wrenching goodbye at the orphanage were difficult, but in a way, they also brought a sense of purpose. After the promise to Olivia, you and Steve began returning to the orphanage as often as you could, every other day, just as you’d said you would. It wasn’t always easy to make time for those visits, but seeing Olivia’s face light up the moment she saw you both made everything worth it.

Each visit began to feel like part of your routine. The orphanage became a second home of sorts. You and Steve would walk through the doors, already expecting to be met by the eager eyes of the other children. But it was Olivia who always sought you out first, her face breaking into a wide, joyful smile the moment she spotted you.

“Y/n! Steve!” she would call, running to meet you with her arms wide open. The joy in her voice was unmistakable, the sparkle in her eyes shining as brightly as the Christmas lights still twinkling above the doors.

Every time you saw her, you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell. She was growing more comfortable with you both, more trusting. You would spend hours with her, building towers, drawing pictures, playing with the toys you’d brought, anything that made her happy. And in return, her love for you both seemed to deepen with each passing visit.

There was something undeniably special about Olivia—something that pulled you in every time you saw her. The way she would snuggle into your arms for comfort, the way she’d tug on Steve’s sleeve when she needed help, and the way her face would light up when either of you showed her affection. She had an innocence that you couldn’t help but protect, something about her that made you feel like she deserved all the love the world could give.

One afternoon, as you and Steve walked into the orphanage, you immediately spotted Olivia sitting on the floor, playing with a puzzle. She looked up when she heard your footsteps, and her face broke into a delighted grin.

“Y/n! Steve!” she called excitedly, rushing over to you both. Her little arms stretched wide, and you both knelt down to meet her, your arms open as she threw herself into your embrace.

It had become a comforting routine. Every time you walked in, the other children would eagerly welcome you, but it was always Olivia who seemed to run to you the fastest, her need for connection clear.

You and Steve made it a point to always be there, every other day. Sometimes, you’d bring toys, other times you’d just spend time with her—drawing, building things, or even just sitting and watching her play. It felt like the more time you spent with her, the more you understood her. The more you could see the layers of hurt and fear in her small eyes, but also the joy and hope that began to bloom in her as she spent time with you.

She had learned to trust you. And you had learned to love her.

One of those days, after spending the afternoon together, you and Steve walked with Olivia as she held your hand tightly, her small fingers curling around yours with a confidence she hadn’t had when you first met her.

“Are you ready to go home, sweetheart?” you asked her gently, your voice soft as you knelt down beside her.

She nodded eagerly, her face lighting up. “Home!” she repeated, the word a simple declaration that seemed to hold all the hopes and dreams of a little girl who had never truly known what it was like to have a place to call her own.

And in that moment, it hit you—the weight of it all. The idea that Olivia was waiting for someone to take her home. To give her a real family. You hadn’t expected it, but you had grown attached to her, deeply and irrevocably. The thought of her leaving the orphanage, of her being taken away by someone else, made your heart ache in a way you didn’t fully understand.

You looked at Steve, your heart in your throat. He was watching Olivia too, his eyes filled with the same love and tenderness that you felt for her.

“You okay?” you asked softly, your hand brushing against his.

He nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving Olivia. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I just… I don’t know. I feel like we’re doing the right thing. Being here for her.”

You didn’t need to say anything more. You both knew what you meant.

The visits continued. Every other day, you found yourselves back in that small, brightly lit room with Olivia, spending hours just playing and talking with her. She was growing so much, and you could see the progress in her. She had become more confident, more comfortable. And every time you saw her face light up with that smile, you couldn’t help but think about her future.

As the weeks passed, you and Steve found yourselves more and more immersed in the routine of visiting Olivia. The orphanage had become a place of warmth and hope. You both began to talk about her future more—what she needed, what she deserved. You both had formed such a deep bond with her, and yet there was a nagging feeling, a longing, that neither of you could ignore.

One evening, as the winter air settled over Brooklyn and the two of you sat on the couch in your apartment, a quiet moment of stillness passed between you. The Christmas lights twinkled softly in the corner, casting a warm glow across the room.

Steve was the first to break the silence.

“Y/n,” he began, his voice low and contemplative, “I’ve been thinking a lot about Olivia lately.”

You turned your head to look at him, your heart beating a little faster. His eyes were filled with the same seriousness that you’d seen before, but this time, there was something else there—an undercurrent of hope, a quiet kind of yearning.

“I know,” you said softly. “I’ve been thinking about her a lot too. I think about her every day.”

Steve took a deep breath, his hands resting on his knees as he leaned forward slightly. “What do you think about… about becoming her parents?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you weren’t sure you heard him right. You looked at him, trying to read his face, searching for any sign that this wasn’t what it sounded like.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I mean… adopting her,” Steve said, his words slow but firm. “I can’t stop thinking about how much she needs us. How much she needs love. And I want to give that to her. I want to give her a family. I want to be her father. And I know… I know you’ve felt the same way about her.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of his words sinking deep into your heart. You had thought about it too, many times, but the reality of it, of truly becoming her parents, seemed so overwhelming. There were so many things to consider, so many uncertainties. But the thought of it—of giving Olivia a family, of offering her a real home—made your heart swell with an emotion you couldn’t describe.

“I… I do,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “I love her, Steve. I love her like she’s my own. I just didn’t know if we could actually do it.”

Steve’s expression softened, and he reached for your hand, his fingers lacing through yours. “I know it’s a big step. But I think we can do it. Together. We’ve already built such a bond with her. She trusts us. She’s already looking to us for that love and security. We can give her that. We can be her family.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him. You never imagined that this was where your life would lead—to a point where you could offer a child the one thing she needed most: love and stability. And yet, as you looked at Steve, you realized that it was the one thing you both were ready for. To build a life together, with Olivia at the center of it all.

“I want to do it,” you said, your voice breaking. “I want to give her everything. I want to adopt her. I want to be her mom.”

Steve’s face lit up with the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen. He pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you with a sense of finality. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice soft, full of love and relief.

“I’m sure,” you whispered, clinging to him as if your life depended on it. “I’m sure, Steve.”

And in that moment, as you held each other close, everything else faded away. The doubts, the fears—they didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was the love you both had for Olivia, and the life you were about to build together.

“Yes,” you said again, more firmly this time. “I want to adopt Olivia.”

Steve pulled back, his eyes shining with happiness and gratitude. “We’re going to be her parents. I can’t wait to give her the family she deserves.”

You smiled through your tears, your heart full of hope. This was the beginning of something beautiful, something real. A family, a future—together. And you knew, with all your heart, that this was just the beginning of the rest of your lives.

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kissedloveletters · 1 day ago

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IN A WINTER WONDERLAND . ۫ ꣑ৎ . christmas activities w’ them

(˶ ˘ ³˘)ˆᵕ ˆ˶) warnings. fluff、fell-hard boys、gn!reader、established relationship、mild mention of burial [dazai]、minor ooc maybe .. [ jouno + atsushi]、vulnerability(?) ໒ ᩧ꒱ characters. akutagawa ryunosuke、dazai osamu、atsushi nakajima、ranpo edogawa、jouno saigiku、tetcho suehiro ♥ made with lots of love! / wc 3.1k

AKUTAGAWA RYUNOSUKE + MOVIE MARATHON

you knew akutagawa’s density of his general health and specifically his lungs is somewhat weak, he has a sensitive health so it’s bad for him to go outside when it was such cold weather and air. he still insists he has a strong health, he doesn’t want you to view him as weak or incapable.

putting that into thought you recommended a movie, though he actually enjoyed the thought. he urge you pick the movie and he can make the snacks, cue being he asks you what food or snacks you want and he gets or makes it.

you get a little conflicted about which movie you would choose, akutagawa notices this and suggests a random Christmas movie in which you hastily agree to choose and start playing it.

he doesn’t even know what the movie even is, he just overheard his coworkers talking about it T^T..

you both started watching the movie with your arms intertwined and a blanket on the both of you as you lean onto akutagawa’s shoulders, the snacks laid out on the coffee table in front.

you tilt your head up slightly to see akutagawa watching the movie with a blank expression, you know that stupidly cute doe-eye face he makes in bsd wan? he’s making that one.

you tried to fight the urge to ask him if he’s enjoying the movie or not, you let the question slip unfortunately and you’re replied by a strangely flustered akutagawa protesting he enjoys it, picking one popcorn and eats it

“are you…enjoying the movie ryu?” “I AM.”

he was caught off guard when you giggled and squeezed his arm once more and leaned back on his shoulder, the movie catching your attention again. he bites back a sigh and rests his head on yours.

when the movie is over—and his snarky comments—the credits starts rolling out in the screen; signaling you to get up, akutagawa is strangely quick to gently pull your arm back with a silent wait. you look surprised, mouth and eyes go slightly agape, he is also himself but doesn’t show it physically.

the small gesture was unusual for akutagawa. you’d think he isn’t fond of physical touch, maybe from others, but you’re not them. the thought is probably the reason why he likes your cozy touch so much, giving him the relaxation he never quite had since forever.

the words i love you flew out of his lips before he can stop it, he hates how his voice almost cracked. there was slight vulnerability in his voice if it was silent enough. his eyes that were once firm soften only-so-slightly, he bite the back-inside of his cheek on habit. the way your smile and eyes softening gets him every time.

“I love you too, ryunosuke”

DAZAI OSAMU + PLAYING IN THE SNOW

you firstly wanted to spend more time with you boyfriend, it’s the winter time so what’s more better than messing around with him in the snow?

apparently it seemed like dazai enjoyed it at first, he even went out of his way to find a way to annoy kunikida. which is to put—stuff—snow in kunikida’s locker (probably threw one or two snowballs at him when he’s caught), gets behind you when kunikida chases him out of the agency because he’s literally covered in snow ( he did so many snow angels, even one on the road? ) and made little puddles.

dug in the snow and made a literal burial, makes it dramatic and tells you he has a surprise and shows you it with a cheeky smile on his face, also does that thing when you revealing something with your arms and waving your hands. while you’re there looking like you’re sulking at your boyfriend he’s rambling on how great his creation is…

“feast your eyes belladonna!—” then there’s white noise for you after that…

you two did a snowball fight and he may or may not literally climbed on the tree like a animal. he’s basically holding the thick tree branch for his life, he looks so stupid.. whines in a dramatic tone how you’re torturing him..?

after some time, unfortunately, he’s now being more dramatic about being cold and faking his chattering teeth, lot of “my belladonna hates me. she wants me to die in the cold.” emphasizing the hate and die in the sentence while his hands are on both sides of his upper-arm as like he’s trying to warm himself with a pout on his face and a slightly red nose and cheeks.

you couldn’t help but chuckle at him, how couldn’t you when he looks so cute? (you tried to press on both of his cheeks when your hand was somewhat covered by snow and then he swats your hand away like it was hot iron) he looks at you with fake offense and starts whining about how you’re mocking him.

catering his needs, you both went inside. it was almost immediately when he tries to shake off the snow and make a brrr sound accompanying it, earning a major side-eye from you

(un)fortunately you found yourself later sandwiched between a clingyzai and the soft mattress, the cuddling would’ve been a warm moment if his weight wasn’t crushing on you. squeezing you more if you try to get up, you feel as if you’re dying, literally.

your hand found his soft, but moist, hair and started to caress his head. he leans in your hand more and visibly gotten more relaxed (and loosely let his vice grip on you)

you found sleep somehow and you both rested, when you woke up he’s snoring in your ear and drooling on you? you also had to wake him up because he was literally suffocating you.

ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA + BUILDING A SNOWMAN

atsushi had wanted to play in the snow since his childhood, he knew how childish it was, it’s because the orphanage didn’t allow for children to play out in the cold while it or after it snowed. the rule prevented the children to get sick but also leaving them yearning to do something simple like playing in the snow.

so, it was no surprise atsushi still wanted to do the activity, it’s even better when you’re with him. you both could see your own breaths, atsushi offers you his coat since he can use his ability to prevent him from freezing.

the two of you started rolling the snow and it slowly starts to pile on each other, it takes awhile but you swore it was longer than it felt.

atsushi (after awhile tried to do something to maybe impress you idfk ) tried to, like, form it with his tiger hands like it was sand?? T-T it was contrary to what he thought it would be like. it came out ok, but really bulky with lot of bumps and, okay it was not ok it was misshaped; it looked like a oval

kinda got embarrassed from that with you consoling him “it looks good babe, don’t worry!” and that got him feeling better but somehow more embarrassed? ( possibly from the pet name… )

the body was complete (and looked like a disaster) and it was just the head, atsushi was in charge with trying to find rocks and two sticks for the arm, face and buttons. you were making the head which looked like a gigantic snowball.

and then, wallah, the snowman is done! atsushi wanted to put his scarf and hat on it, being the good partner you were like “aren’t you gonna get cold?” and he was puzzled for a millisecond “yeah, you’re right..” you swore that was the most accidental dramatic sigh he let out

news-flash he still did and he got a cold the next day

RANPO EDOGAWA + BAKING COOKIES

ranpo was really just hungry and wanted an excuse to spend time with you, there’s many options to choose from when he needs both of these needs to be taken care of… then the very awesome idea crashed down at him, he was going to make christmas-y cookies with you!

ranpo really sometimes judges how things taste based the way they look, if a cookie is extraordinarily decorated he’ll assume it’ll taste as good as it looks, but simple goods as glazed donuts he enjoys so it doesn’t imply this for all sorts of baked goods, just perfectly in the middle…

he brought up the idea towards to you, and who knew, you of course would liked to! key word, liked.

most of the time you were the one baking it and he was… rambling about all of the cases he’s solved, poe’s recent mystery novel, the people that he called out as the perpetrator declining it idiotically and whatever comes to his mind.

while he was doing that, he ate most of the snacks he gotten yesterday and this morning, sometimes holds the chip bag in front of you as an indication for you to take one if you’d like, same with his half-eaten and wet lollipops…? which met him with a scrunch of your nose as an ew, he casually shrugs and puts it back in his mouth.

oh also eats the cookie batter when you’re away, when you caught him he declares it as taste testing as he takes another scoop of it with his finger and licks it ..

he eventually got bored of the routine and made (badly attempted) hot chocolate, it was a bit bitter than you expected but you’re glad it’s not overly sweet that your teeth would fall off… he putted those sweeteners in his cup

it was awhile when you two were chatting while the cookies were in the oven, the conversation was ranpo mostly doing he talking… per usual maybe? then gets the very bright idea to play in the snow… that may or may not be the best choice.

seconds later after your agreement he literally dashed to get his jacket, snow boots, mittens and hat (also yours dw). impatiently waits by the door tapping his feet while you’re putting on your jacket… “any day now” smh

he goes dashing out with your hand in his in the snow, literally trips and brings you down with him… makes so many snow angels with you it’s hardly countable, comes screaming to you later showing you his snowman, unfortunately … “looks like frosty the snowman’s child if it had a birth defect”

ranpo has the urge to check the cookie again, and again, and again until it was finally done. gets too distracted by the beep of the oven he forgot to put those oven gloves on and gets it anyways without it, but you literally slapped his hand away and handed them to him T_T.

defiantly eats the majority of them when your both done decorating, he also made one that he attempted to look like you and takes a fat bite out of it..?

theres many opportunities that ranpo could do this honestly, he just never found that much of the motivation or point if he got the store-bought ones, but he thinks the way you made it, even if the batter and all came from a recipe, he thinks yours is better than any pastries he tasted

JOUNO SAIGIKU + GINGERBREAD HOUSE

jouno’s eyes twitch in annoyance and grumbles when he got frosty on the wrong place again, he hates this. why would you choose out of any oh-so-festive activities out there in the world? he continues to let out a soft dramatic sigh every so often.

you wanted to spend some time with your boyfriend on christmas, he hates the snow (because it messes up his senses and his hair or something… and you make him do all the snow shoveling) so you recommend such a fun activity to do even though you had the possibility he would hate it, what a good partner you are!

the ugly sweater you basically asked ( forced ) to wear itches at his skin, he keeps shuffling on the wooden seat he’s sat at, uncomfortable. from the radius he’s at from the fireplace that’s no farther away than seven feet, he’s practically sweating from his sensitive senses. it’s taking his all to not ripe himself out of that hand-made sweater you made specifically for him…

you notice this, and he knows that. he pretends to imply he hate this, in result you feel a little guilty for making him do this, even if you ask him about it he’ll dismiss it anyways for whatever reasons…

“sai… you look sweaty an’ annoyed, wanna stop?” “no, it’s alright” “oh—okay!”

having such-a soft spot for someone like he has with you is something he never experienced, his tone changes when taking to you compared to his companions, his smile ever so widening and being softer if you look close enough when he hears your familiar heartbeat and smell.

even if it takes all of the strength in his body to protest what you ask of him, he couldn’t bring himself to.

unfortunately, he got frosting over his sweater… shit, guilt and annoyance tugging at his soul, he furrows his eyebrow, he ignores the feelings and tries to wipe it off with a nearby napkin. grimaces slightly when he hears your snort, looking back up at you like a mad kitten, only fueling you more to laugh.

he ends up taking off the sweater, leaving him in the plain white t-shirt, matching the frosting that he was outlining the house with.

there was no doubt that his house looked like a disaster, the white frosting sprawled everywhere on the architectural creeks. the way the house look so… silly made you giggle in your seat as you reach out to get another house set up and put it in front of him.

you sat closer to jouno, shoulders brushing each-other. you leaned in closer, basically sitting apart of his seat, your hands ghosting over his as you rest your head on his shoulder blade. instructing him silently for him to follow your movements.

you didn’t notice the way he tensed up when you brush your fingers against his and whisper in his left ear “just follow my lead, m’kay?” the mhm and nod of his head was slow and untimed.

there weren’t many, actually, no times where jouno was nervous, this was an expection. his heart quickens the way you’re so close to him, he forgot about this stupid gingerbread house making. all he’s focused on is you, only you. not the way you tried to push the plastic bag for the white frosting, only the way you intertwined your hands with his while doing it.

it feels shorter than it actually was, unfortunate for jouno. he grimaces silently when you let go of his hand, returning them back to your lap as you sat up, looking over slightly at the almost-decent gingerbread house, he made—no, you both made together

he lets out a snarky remark and sighs, leaning on the table with the backside of his hand. “are we finally done with this” he says, turning his head to you. you huffed, the yes you let out indicates him something, he gladly lets out a relieved-dramatic sigh, again.

“thank god, thought we’d be doing this forever” empathizing the thank god. he hastily gets up from his seat, tugging the hand of yours on his left, leading you to your shared room. “maybe we could if you would like?” “fuck no”

TETCHO SUEHIRO + MAKING S’MORES

tetcho was the one who actually asked you if you both could make s’mores. fukuchi left the group take a well-deserved day off after their patrol, being delighted by this, tetchou went to you immediately. he forgot to change out of his military uniform when visiting your apartment, he ended up wearing the clothes he left at your apartment a few times when coming over, or kept it on… he doesn’t mind, really.

due to his work, he’s determined to keep the city peaceful and safe, so on days when he gets the day off he doesn’t really know what to do and just patrols around the city some more… same goes with expenses, ends up buying useless trinkets? buys oddly perfect wrapped gifts for his coworkers with the random-est things inside.

once bought jouno those cheesy best-friends necklaces that haves magnets inside and stick on the side. in the corner of the room there’s teruko who was trying to stifle her laughs with an awkward tachihara on her side, an confused fukichi because he doesn’t know what he walked into, and an irritated jouno in front of him slapping his hand so the necklace with the words best engraved on it would fall.

“jouno, i got us best friend bracelets. they magnetize together.” … “we are not best friends, idiot, I hate you” “but we work together a lot?”—“against my will! and you’re so useless in missions, you’re no use until we’re at the enemy, ugh!” … “PFFF-tetcho is such an idiot, tachihara!” “teruko…” “jouno you could use a few friends” … “captain!?”

there wasn’t really a chance where tetcho would spend with someone, of course he didn’t mind this, he didn’t consider himself a lonely person but there’s times.

(anyways back to s’mores)

it was at a popular and crowded campsite, it already had that s’more-y setup that only needed to be lighted. you both sat at the same wooden bench, getting the (sanitized) wooden sticks out and putting the marshmallows on the tip then stabbing it in.

he didn’t knew how it worked; burnt it once, twice, then five times. he got a little frustrated but then perfected it after you helped him time it correctly.

since you didn’t specify when you asked for chocolate, he got the white Hershey ones, not ideal but it would work… until you thought wrong, he sprinkles salt on his s’more and eats it with his usual blank face.

made another (slightly failed attempted) s’more but gives it to you, encouraging you lightly to try it. he didn’t pressure you though, he knows his taste wasn’t suited for most majority of people (may or may not be from the hard way..)

you loved him too much to decline it… expecting the worse, it wasn’t that bad as you thought, or your taste buds are messed up as his. nevertheless his little smile grew a little more wider when you did, if you look close enough.

you tried to bribe him to try it without the salt, with no offense possible, he surprisingly took the chance, taking the s’more you had without a moment of hesitation with a sure, takes a bite out of it without a moment later. his eyes widen like he didn’t expect it to be delicious.. or decent?

“it’s tasty” “…thought it was gonna be poisonous?” your joke earning an airy-laugh and smile from tetcho as he nods his head, playing along.

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cosmerelists · 3 days ago

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Cosmere Secret Santa

I did this last Christmas as well, but this one will be different, as I'm once again using a randomizer to choose characters. For the record, I didn't fix the results except to omit anyone who appeared in last year's list and to nix any repeats in this one. Let's see what gifts they choose!

Thanks to @imtheseventh for requesting that I do this again! :)

1. Marsh gives Spook...a book

Spook: Oh, thank you, but I think Kelsier already got me this book? Marsh: Look more closely. Spook: [holds up two books side by side] Spook: See? Kelsier got me Hemalurgy for Dummies and you got me...oh. Hemalurgy Not For Dummies. Marsh: [taps eye spike knowingly]

2. Spook gives Fort...a coupon

Fort: "Fifty percent off women's slippers"? Spook: I heard you like deals--that was the best one I found! Fort: [pats him on the shoulder] Every bargain hunter has to start somewhere...

3. Fort gives Allrianne...a bracelet

Allrianne: Wow! It's actually pretty nice--thank you! Fort: You're so welcome! Fort: After a lot of hard work, I got it basically for free! Allrianne: You...didn't spend any money on it? Fort: Practically none! You're welcome! Allrianne: ... Fort: What?

4. Allrianne gives Raboniel...a pink dressing gown

Allrianne: What I see when I look at you is a woman who needs to relax and feel beautiful. Raboniel: [carefully examining the robe] Raboniel: No safehand sleeve, I see. Raboniel: Are you trying to seduce me? Allriane: EXCUSE me?! Raboniel: Listen, I get that from human woman more than you'd think..

5. Raboniel gives Elegy...a book of Sudoku puzzles

Elegy: ...I don't understand. Raboniel: I can see that you're trying to fight off the insanity that threatens to consume you. Raboniel: I know...something about that. Raboniel: It is helpful to keep the mind focused, occupied. Elegy: ...with number puzzles? Raboniel: Well, it's either that or going into weapon manufacturing, but Navani gave me a dirty look when I tried to buy you a bomb kit.

6. Elegy gives Marasi...a book

Elegy: My people do not have much, but I collected a book of our native stories for you. Elegy: Since your people seem to want to know about us so badly. Marasi: ...I don't know what that last part means, but thank you! Marasi: Aww, it's a book of stores for kids? How cute! Marasi: ... Marasi: Do they ALL end with children being consumed by ghosts? Elegy: Shades. And yes. Marasi: Thanks anyway? Elegy: What do you mean "anyway"?

7. Marasi gives Vin...a nice pen

Marasi: I-I mean, what do you give the woman who has everything?? Marasi: You did EVERYTHING in your life and set the bar so amazingly high with all of your powerful exploits! Marasi: S-Seriously I couldn't even FATHOM what do get the Ascendent Warrior for Christmas! Marasi: A-Anyway, since you have that nice pen anyway, I-I thought maybe you could sign something for me... Vin: ... Vin: What exactly happens in the future?

8. Vin gives Syl...the design for a mistcloak

Vin: You're sort of wind, right? Vin: Back home, the mists loved to play with the tassels on my mistcloak. I thought wind might be similar. Syl: [has already changed her form so that she appears to be wearing a mistcloak] Syl: Why do I feel so unbelievably cool?? Vin: It has that effect.

9. Syl gives Nale...coal

Nale: ...Are you telling me that I should build a nice fire and relax? Syl (arms crossed, glaring at Nale): I'm telling you that trying to KILL children means you get COAL Nale: The child in question gave me a hug when she confronted me. Syl: Yeah, well, I'm an Honorspren, not an Edgedancer.

10. Nale gives Denth...jail

Denth: ... Denth: It is literally Christmas. Nale: The law cares not for holidays.

11. Denth gives Charlie...a cat plushie

Charlie: [eying the cat plushie nervously] Charlie: Y-You're a bit of a bastard, huh? Denth: I don't know what you're talking about.

12. Charlie gives Marsh...a really nice bottle of rum

Marsh: This looks...expensive. Charlie: W-Well, you know. Charlie: When you draw the literal personification of death out of a hat for Secret Santa, you, uh...don't blow it off. Marsh: ... Marsh: I'm actually quite pleased.

#cosmere #cosmerelists #Marsh #Spook #Fort #Allrianne #Raboniel #Elegy #Marasi #Vin #Syl #Nale #Denth #Charlie

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hummingbird-games · 13 hours ago

Text

2024 in Review (Indie Games)

2023 | 2022 | 2021

Helloooo gamer friends!!!

I'm so tired.

Lol.

Anyhoo, y'all don't care about that!!! Y'all are here to see what games I played and what the heck I have to say about them! Reminders: I don't bash games I didn't like, and I try to post more in-depth thoughts and reviews and general yapping to Gem's Game Gems.

DEMOS

When Stars Collide - I am by no means a sci-fi girlie. I need a HEAPING dose of fantasy or fantasy elements to help me out. That said, y'all might remember how I went feral for Gilded Shadows, so I am locked in for this journey with WSC. It's just as mysterious and lore intense as GS, but also just as intriguing and engaging!

Love Me, Love Me Not - I looooove when a game charms me to pieces??? Our MC Addie, the introduced LIs, the story, the art??? Where do I begin?? Anyway, please check this one out y'all! I'm impatient for the full game (shocker, I know).

Threads of You: Beyond the Bay - So my thoughts and reactions for this one are on the side blog, but I really enjoyed the demo and I have eyes for Chris, Vince, and Alex hehehe.

Lost in Limbo - While I'd been keeping tabs on this game for what seems forever because of the character art that originally caught my attention, I almost didn't finish the demo because it was lowkey disturbing (I'm a wimp and not all horror is made equal). But!!! BUT!!!! I push through to the end, had a good time, noted that I need to play the full game in the daylight with the music turned down low. And I absolutely adore Ara and Xal so, so much.

A Simple Twist of Fae - Absolutely no one cares, but I read a lot of manga this year. Like, a lot-a lot. Like, ~180 books and 1/3 of that was manga. Anyhoo, When JMB announced she was cooking up this game, I was impatient to get my grubby hands on it. AND THEN I PLAYED IT AND IT WAS THE SHOJO INSPIRED GAME OF MY DREAMS?!?! Like.....I wish I could both have it on my computer and also on my bookshelf. Final build dropping when??? (Also the UI design is utterly delightful, I cry.)

The Summit Library (FULL DEMO) - The last time I reviewed this game, we got chapter 1 as a taste, and I was. Locked! In!! The full demo gives us the first 2 chapters as well as the previews for all the romance routes and while giving everyone a whirl I'm *still* undecided on who to go for in the future, I must mention this: TSL is so aspec friendly???? I do love a game with smut, don't get me wrong looks at College Craze but sometimes I have my moments of being overwhelmed/sliiiiiiightly repulsed and the variety of options you have to choose how you react and interact with the various LIs in this game is amazing. (I have more thoughts on this, so I'll try to remember to post to the sideblog, but please understand that this game is totally worth your attention and time imo!!!)

Fully Released & Played (at least 1 playthrough)

Rabbit Trail - This. Game. Is. SO. Cute. *punches the air* 😭🥹(Copy + paste of my review on the itch.io page -> This was so charming, so fluffy, so cozy, just delightful all around??? I've only reached one ending so far, but René is just the cutest protag to play as, and his interactions as he delivers his mail made me cheese so dang hard! (Also, I wanted to fight his parents for not properly appreciating their kid LOL))

Stuck by Design - I checked this game out because I was looking into games that fellow programmers had worked on, and this cozy game stumbled onto my lap. The music was perfect, the UI is beautiful and clean, and I thoroughly enjoyed the performance of the VA for the LI, Yuki.

Wake Me Up If You Need Me - I called this game older!HSDJY MC x Ryan coded and I'm still right. The voice actor MAKES this game, and the interactions the player has with Reed is so flippin' delightful?? All my love and adoration to the game developer. May they make more beautiful games.

CTRL FREAK - The developer team brought us The Faithfulness of the Universe which is a banger in its own right, and CTRL FREAK is the team's commercial, finished project that I also found delightful. The soundtrack and the animations are chef's kiss 💛

Breathless Winds - Ooo, baby, ooo. So. If there is only one game you play from this list and you have some spare cash to spend (at the time of writing, the game is on sale!!!) please, please, check this one out. It left me absolutely spellbound, both the orginal demo, and then the full game. While I didn't get to blog fully about this one, and I only tackled 2 of the 4 routes, this game is absolutely everything. This is my indie game of the year. Poppy and her journey resonated with me, and between the music and the art, everything just came together so perfectly.

Wake Up Magical Girl - Listen TF up, if miseri creates it, I'm gonna play it, idc, idc. That being said...this game had a kick to it that when I finished my first playthrough, I had to stare off into space and gather myself. It takes the concept of magical girls and heroism and gave me a teeny tiny existential crisis, but other than that, I'm fine, it's fine, play this game, thank you.

Sleeping Under Spells - God, I love me a game where I get to argue with a LI. I love it. Bonus points if it's lowkey stupid stuff we're bickering over LOL!!

Our Wonderland - Yeah, uh huh, you thought you'd escape me talking about this game this year, didn't yah???? Too bad. The fifth and final arc dropped this year and I played it and I cried and felt for the briefest moments that life was okay. To say something different than my review of last year, I love that this seems to be the game that helps fellow ace devs find and flock to each other, I'm not kidding 🤣 so thank you Carrot for helping us fellow aspec peeps feel seen and validated and understood!

I Watched a Full Game Playthrough and Highly Recommend

Replay Boys - Okay so technically at the time of posting, there's still one more video I'm waiting to watch (Naja of BlerdyOtome uploaded her stream to YouTube) but my Godddddd. I've had my eye on this game for FOREVER but I was lowkey waiting for it to move to itch.io (I'm still a lowkey Steam hater 🥹) anyhoo, watching this absolutely wild game made me go ahead and buy a copy for myself to replay at a later time, but it's just great. The summary only scratches this surface of what the game entails 🤣

Gemi’s Gushies

(a list within a list of games that have devs trucking along in the background and I want to spotlight for y’all)

Save the Villainess - Life got away with me and unfortunately I never finished my play of the demo BUT what I have played was fun and I hope to return to this in the new year!

Woman of Xal 2 - Plot Twist Studios is on that Sequel Train with the next installment of WoX!!! Which I'm VERY excited for!!! I've unfortunately only completed one playthrough of this game, but the first game is definitely a masterclass in replayability, and I hope next year I'll be able to do a second playthough as I wait for game 2's Kickstarter!

...

And that's 2024! Any shared favorites?

- Gemini 🫶🏾

#happy holidays!!#gaming year in review #yay!! shorter list!!!#(also because...I didn't game that much this year 🥸)#here's to whatever goodies 2025 brings!

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azulsluver · 2 days ago

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I have an idea for bully!au so imagine kailm having a dream or saw something of a couple with a pet play fetish and liked to the idea of the dog collar and decided to put one in reader

Like kailm getting reader a dog leash and collar on them and tells them to keep the dog collar on but he puts the leash on whenever he seems them

How do you think the others would feel see kailm practically say he owns them as his

tw/cw: humiliation, forced pet play, dehumanization.

It’s not particularly a fetish, to Kalim at least. He doesn’t take any sexual pleasure, you are treated like a dog and that’s that. Kalim knows you aren’t a dog, but he likes it when your by his side where he can run his hands on top of your head, the small jingle of your collar letting him know you’re alive under his care.

You don’t just get the collar because what not, you have to earn it! So then does he let you walk around with a collar of his initials. Anyone outside would think you’re some sort of pervert walking around with a blinged out dog collar, but that’s punishment if you’ve been snappy at him. Then yes, he would let you have it on until he tells you to take it off when it’s bath time. The collar is handmade to fit comfortably and stand out.

He’s not a exhibitionist, but he knows it bothers you when you wear the collar outside of his bedroom. Again, don’t be a brat and he won’t have to drag you around with a leash and have you bark for forgiveness, he gets upset if you cry during the process.

In fact Kalim has a collection of collars for you depending on the occasion or outfit he puts you in.

This is who you choose, if you choose Kalim then he’ll gladly call you his. Everything you have and own is his anyways, so thank him nicely by rolling over. I’ll pick out three interesting characters seeing this side of Kalim.

Jade would be so curious as to how Kalim has you so obedient. To him, it’s hilarious seeing you prance around with shiny collar, because you look so comfortable. Kalim has no issue having Jade circle around you like a shark as he cups his chin, he’s polite to keep his hands to himself but his eyes assault you entirely.

It’s rude to laugh in Kalim’s presence, so once he corners you alone he’s pressing his knuckles to his lips to hide his grin. Aren’t you embarrassed? You can’t even stand for yourself, but it was bound to see you being treated like a dog. A well taken care of dog at that, you learn to respect and appreciate. Don’t go crying to Kalim, he’s just messing with you, a little tug at your collar shouldn’t bruise, but Jade enjoys having his gloved hands scratch at the top of your head as if ears were actually there.

Kalim managed to do it before he could. Lilia is a little jealous he didn’t think of it sooner. You look so nice with a collar around your neck. Pray he isn’t around Kalim when you’re present, Kalim has an issue of letting his friends push you around for laughs. Whether Kalim knows of Lilia’s behavior towards you you’re royally fucked. It’s the same when being punished except Kalim doesn’t see it that way, so he smiles through when Lilia asks if you could play ball for a while. He doesn’t play fair by the way.

Lilia has you bark for him when he’s chatting idly with Kalim. You need something? Just whine and bat those lashes, then will be put whatever he was focused on down and place his elbows on his knees to give you his fullest attention. Lilia is obsessed with this dynamic that he uses it on you regularly but with a more aggressive approach.

So humiliating, he would never show his face anywhere ever again. Luckily, it’s you and not Idia. At first Idia had mixed feelings about it, of course Mr. Sunshine is a freak hiding behind bright smiles. Although, he is a bit envious he gets all of your attention, if you were with him he would have made you into a beastmen if you wanted to be a dog so bad. Idia’s intentions and view point on you being treated like a dog is way different than what Kalim had in mind. Who’s the freak now?

You know some people are into these sort of things? Forcing and treating a human being like a pet, (mind you Idia prefers felines so as a mutt breed it’s what you deserve) degraded as to nothing worth more than a responsibility. Idia could make some good money for this, not that he needs it but it’s priceless watching you beg him not to encourage Kalim to agree. He won’t, Kalim isn’t dumb, he’ll scold Idia with how unruly he’s treating his puppy. Idea definitely gained some new fetish.

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #bully!au #yandere kalim al asim x reader #yandere jade leech x reader #yandere idia shroud x reader #yandere lilia vanrouge x reader #yandere kalim al asim #yandere jade leech #yandere idia shroud

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thirdsaltyhunter · 2 days ago

Text

Cassette Tape

Summary: the story of a gifted cassette tape over the course of you and Dean's relationship

Warning: fluff/angst, talk of character death, heartbreak, season 3/4 references

A/N: this is a Christmas fic like Die Hard is a Christmas movie

2006

Not long ago you had met the Winchesters through Bobby and helped them out on a one or two hunts. Right off the bat, you made a good team. You and Sam were starting to hit it off, sharing an interest in supernatural lore and serial killers. You and Dean... eh not so much. You were caught somewhere between hating and loving his give 'em hell attitude.

After the impala got totalled by that demon, Dean had spent weeks fixing her in Bobby's shop. You had made him promise that once he got her running again, that he would take you for a drive. What could you say, you had an appreciation for beautiful cars.

Now that he had rebuilt her to all her former glory, you, him and Sam had set out on the back roads of South Dakota. Dean had stopped at a gas station to top off the tank. While he filled up and Sam went in to get a drink, you leaned over the front seat and rummaged through his box of cassettes. Led Zeppelin. Ozzy Osbourne. Styx. AC/DC.

"You have good taste in music," you commented as him and Sam got back in the car.

"Thanks," he gave a proud smile "pick what you want to hear," he said motioning to the box.

At this comment Sam gave Dean a look somewhere between offense and confusion. You didn't know Dean well enough to know that he never let anyone pick the music. Even though you were choosing from his music, it was still odd. Sam just shook his head and chose not to say anything. From the box, you picked out a cassette and handed it to him to put in the tape player.

"Good choice," he said, when he recognized which album it was.

You smiled and sat back in the seat, air drumming to the beat.

2008

What better way to spend Christmas than to help the Winchesters hunt a pagan god? That's sarcasm, you would much rather be in a warmer state than Michigan, but they had called you for intel and you happened to be not far away. It's a good thing you came, because they were chasing false leads and managed to get themselves tied to a chair.

After offing the murderous Hallmark Christmas couple, you were going to go back and spend Christmas with Bobby. That was until Sam had offhandedly mentioned that Dean wanted to have a real Christmas this year, as it might be his last. Your chest ached at the thought. You hated that he made that stupid deal. As much of a pain in your ass as Dean was, him and Sam had become some of the only friends you had.

You called Bobby and he agreed that you should stay. You made the decision then that you were going to help Sam scrape together the best Christmas you possibly could, whether Sam liked it or not. Funds and resources were limited, but you thought you did pretty good with what you found at the gas station. You weren't going to mention the decorations you had stolen from someone's front lawn... or the poor excuse for a tree Sam had cut down.

It was all worth it to see the look on Dean's face when he came back from picking up take-out. When he walked through the motel room door, his eyes lit up.

"What made you change your mind?" He asked Sam.

Sam glanced at you and looked down, not wanting to answer the question, so you changed the subject.

"Here, try the eggnog," you said, handing Dean a glass.

He took a sip and made a face from the significant amount of alcohol you had spiked it with.

"We good?" You asked with a teasing smile.

"Yeah we're good," he coughed. "Hey I thought you were leaving, why are you still here?"

Now it was your turn to not want to answer the question. "Bobby said a snowstorm was headed his way, so it was best I just stay here." Total complete lie.

"Well I'm glad you stuck around... First things first," he said setting the bag of food he had gotten on the coffee table and pulling out the presents he had gotten for Sam from the gas station.

"Great minds think alike Dean," Sam responded, pulling out his presents he had also picked up from the gas station.

Sam had gotten him a quart of oil for the car and his favorite candy bar. You had picked out a nice (as nice as you could get at a gas station) bottle of bourbon.

"These are awesome, thanks," Dean said with a bright smile. He glanced at you before getting up and grabbing his keys. "One second," he said holding up a finger to you, before disappearing out the door.

You and Sam shared a look of confusion. Dean returned seconds later holding a small item in his hand.

"Here." He handed the item to you. It was the cassette you had picked out to play that day in the car. "It's yours." He looked down and shifted awkwardly. "Also any other tapes you want you can have." You knew what was going through his head: I won't be using them soon.

"Thank you, you know I'll play the hell out of it." You put it in your jacket pocket and tried not to think about the time when you would be listening to it without him.

May 2009

Dean was gone. And you had fallen in love with him. What better time to realize you're in love with someone, than after they get dragged to hell and now you can't get out of bed anymore. Just your luck I guess.

Since he died, you've been staying at Bobby's and trying not to think about anything. Eventually you decided to get off the bench, get back in the game and start hunting again. Now you're sitting in your car, waiting out the horrible rainstorm you had gotten caught in on the way to the town where the case was. To pass the time and drown out the sound of your own thoughts, you pop in Dean's cassette. Laying back in the seat, like so many nights lately, you cry yourself to sleep.

August 2009

Somehow, by some miracle literally, Dean Winchester was alive and breathing. You could hardly wrap your head around it. It should be impossible, but hey, you had a knack for the impossible.

You, Dean and Bobby were now driving to go find Sam so you could tell him that Dean was alive. While you drove, Dean sat in the passenger seat looking a little zoned out. Not that you could blame him, if you suddenly got pulled out of hell, you'd be reeling too.

To pull him out of his thoughts a little, you turned on some music. The first thing that played was the tape that was in the player, the one Dean had given you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a small smile grace his lips as he recognized the song.

"This the one I gave you?" he asked.

You nodded. "Yeah, I guess you'll need it back now," you answered with a smile. You were more than happy to return Dean's cassettes. He was alive and that's all that mattered.

"I gave it to you, sweetheart. Me being back doesn't change that."

It amazed you. Him saying that was proof to you that, despite going through literal hell, his caring, giving heart was still intact. If anyone had an excuse to be cold and selfish it was him. Yet the more you got to know him, the more he shocked you with how loving he was. Your heart clenched with the weight of emotion you carried for him. Though now certainly wasn't the time to go admitting any feelings. He had enough to process as is. So instead you just smile at him and he looks at you like you're the first beautiful thing he's seen in a long time.

"Alright enough you two, you're makin' me sick," Bobby chastised from the back seat.

You just laughed and turned up the music.

#supernatural #dean winchester #spn #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean x y/n #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x ofc #dean x you #dean winchester fic

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euthymiya · 22 hours ago

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acting like you’re some woke person just because you advocate for middle aged women to be lifeless on the internet is not the flex you think it is 💀

You seem rather passionate about this so I’m going to indulge your ask to let you know three things:

Writing is a hobby that gets better with age, life experience, and practice. The best pieces of writing objectively come from older people and I’m not talking about fanfiction. I mean books and literature. I’m serious—go look at some of the most well known pieces of literature and then search up the ages of their authors during the years they were published. You’ll find the older writers tend to bust out bangers and this principle is very much applicable to fics too by default. Also writing fanfic is not “lifeless” lol. Some of you act like writing fanfic is juvenile compared to a novel and it’s rly not that different from writing an original piece of fiction. Sure, sometimes fanfic can be a little less on the conventional side in terms of technique. But genuinely the concept of putting characters into situations to create a plot is literally the main thing on both sides here and if you think writing fanfic is silly, it makes 0 sense to hold creative writing to some pedestal. Some fanfic writers demonstrate AMAZING original world building skills especially if they write au’s that diverge from canon and I think you are out of your mind if you think this hobby is not oftentimes an impressive one rather than “lifeless”

Being 30+ doesn’t automatically mean you must/do have a family and kids but I’ll still indulge that point and say you can easily balance a work and personal life while also having a hobby. I know middle aged men who dedicate more time to hobbies like hunting and fishing than middle aged women do with writing. One actually requires you to leave your house and family behind and the other you can do from the comfort of your home and tend to your family should you need to. I think the nature of your opinion only stems from a misogynistic view on aging women but that’s another can of worms

People don’t stop consuming and enjoying things as soon as they hit their third decade of living. If that’s your viewpoint on life, you’re going to set yourself up for a very miserable time once you hit 30. If you’re already 30+ then you’re a hypocrite by default by even being here in the first place lol. Also, life is literally so fucking silly okay? You wake up, work, pay taxes, and try to get by with what is usually an underpaid paycheck. Just fucking enjoy your life and let others enjoy theirs okay? If a 30 year old likes anime, then that is literally so god damn harmless I cannot stress enough how unimportant that is. There are 30 year olds out there doing heinous things in their free time and you choose to be bothered by someone who happens to produce an assortment of words from time to time. Please reevaluate your priorities

All things aside I cannot convince you that being 30+ and enjoying fandom and fanfic is not weird unless you really just realize that it’s not weird. Idk how old you are but I assume you’re younger than 30 because no 30 year old would be on fandom tumblr and then bash others for it. But regardless, just because you think something is weird doesn’t mean it’s bad. It is literally the most harmless thing I do not understand why you would care so much, just move on???? When you think someone dresses weird in real life do you go point it out to them??? No you think it to yourself and move tf on—and if you would voice it to them then you are literally a rude individual. Plain and simple. Rude and disrespectful and I would suggest you again, reevaluate. And it’s the same principle here. You just move on. If you seriously cannot be convinced that this is normal and just absolutely are dead set on believing that 30+ year olds who enjoy fandom are weird, fine. But just keep it to yourself it is the bare minimum you can do to be a decent person I cannot stress this enough to you

And one more thing. The people who are writing the mangas and animes you enjoy so much are middle aged. Older than 30/40. Grown people who might even have families and kids. Creativity has no age limit it is just a small joy that people indulge in at any age and it’s a very nice thing when they share it for others to enjoy, as well. Please just enjoy someone’s art and live a little. I promise you will be much happier and peaceful if you just read a good fic without worrying about the age of whoever produced it. I guarantee you a lot of the BEST fics you’ll read will come from the older writers they are literally doing you a favor if you happen to enjoy reading fanfic. Why bite the hand that feeds you?

#my asks #i really didn’t want to answer this because I think this ask #was sent with the intention to get a reaction #however I think that in general a lot of you view fanfiction as a juvenile thing to enjoy/partake in #therefore you think that older people who participate in the consumption/creation of fanfic are also juvenile/weird #and I think you should really abandon that opinion unless you think creativity as a whole is something that is meant for people in their 20 #your opinion seriously becomes applicable to most creative outlets and then you essentially strip 30+ year olds of creativity as a whole #and that is just a very weird way of viewing the world idk #I would suggest being a little less uptight about fun and it’s so called constraints

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 2 days ago

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The Yule Lodge - Part One

A PEDROSTORIES SECRET SANTA GIFT FIC

A/N: As always, a big thank you to the moderators of @pedrostories for organizing this event! It's always a lot of fun and definitely helps put me in the holiday spirit every year. I can't wait to see what others have created for this event! This story kind of completely ran away from me, so as you can see, this is only the beginning. I hope my fic recipient doesn't mind, but it's looking like a three part story, which I'm aiming to get the rest of posted within the next few days. Now, if you'll all suspend disbelief with me, there's a very exclusive, high-end Bed & Breakfast I'd like you all to visit...

Gift Tag: SURPRISE @covetyou ! I was your Secret Santa for the Pedrostories gift swap! You gave me so many great prompts and ideas to run with, but the ones that stuck out most to me were "Magic is real" and "chaotic meet cute". Out of the characters that you listed, Ezra and Dieter seemed like likely candidates, and that's where my top secret anonymous ask where I made you choose emojis with no context came into play. You (blindly) choose Dieter, and I am so glad that you did because I have been having a blast writing this for you and I truly hope that you enjoy it! Wishing you a very Merry Christmas, the happiest of holiday seasons and only the best in the New Year, lovely!!

Warnings: brief mention of infidelity (not Dieter or Reader!) cannabis consumption, I think that's it for now ;)

Word Count: 5,416

Summary: Last minute holiday travel plans sure can be chaotic sometimes. In some cases, it can even seem as though there is some kind of supernatural intervention going on. But that's crazy... Right?

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

Wherever the fuck here is.

As the cab pulled up to its destination, Dieter rolled his forehead against the rear passenger side window to get a better view of the place, ignoring the way that the chill from the glass sunk into his skin. His eyes narrowed, then blinked wide as he took in the Dickensian looking Bed and Breakfast.

Well it’s sure as shit not the Savoy.

That was where he was supposed to be staying. That was where he had asked Cori, his assistant, to book him a suite from the 23rd to the 26th. That was where he had been planning to spend his Christmas, sprawled in a king sized bed wearing baggy pajama pants, devouring snowflake shaped THC infused sugar cookies, watching old movies and ordering room service until the holiday was good and over. Just like he’d done almost every year for the previous two decades.

And to her credit, Cori had booked him that suite. She’d done it months ago, when she made the travel arrangements for the press tour that had brought him to London in the first place. He was there to promote Getaway Man - the must see action-thriller that was set to open worldwide on Christmas Day, and that was already receiving Oscar buzz - with two of his co-stars. They had both gone straight to the airport following the final round of interviews, though, anxious and eager to get back home in time for holiday celebrations with their families. But Dieter had planned to do just the opposite from the get go, so all he had to do was check out of one hotel, travel a few blocks, and check into another one. Cori had sent him receipts along with his itinerary, and his stay at the Savoy had been on both of them.

It wasn’t a booking issue that caused the last minute switcharoo. Or, rather, it wasn’t an issue with the room that Dieter had booked. It actually had to do with another guest’s reservation - his ex-wife’s. Or, rather (again), it had to do with a reservation made by Anika’s new husband, fellow actor Mark Atlas.

And people say my last name is bullshit.

Anyway, apparently Mark found out that Dieter was going to be staying at the Savoy while he and Anika were also going to be there, and promptly threw a Hollywood sized hissy fit about the “optics” of the three of them spending Christmas under the same roof. Something about “not wanting to put Anika through the ordeal of being around Dieter.” As though he was the one who had shocked her by asking for the divorce.

As though I was the one who cheated.

It was far more likely that Map Man was worried about his sweet, innocent wife “accidentally” bumping into Dieter under the mistletoe in the middle of the night, than he was about putting her through anything.

And for the record, even if she had tumbled into Dieter’s lap wearing nothing but a couple of strategically placed Christmas ribbons, he wouldn’t have done a damn thing about it. He wasn’t like Mark. He didn’t need - or want - to fuck someone else’s wife.

No. This had nothing to do with Atlas looking out for Anika, and Dieter knew it. This was about Hollywood’s new favorite golden boy snapping his fingers and getting what he wanted at Dieter’s expense. Dieter’s body of work since the Cliff Beasts fiasco may have been award worthy, his performances lauded by critics and fans alike. But Mark Atlas had just signed on to a six movie deal in a superhero franchise that already had comic cons selling out despite the fact that he hadn’t been announced to the panel yet. The first film in the series hadn’t even been released but McDonald’s already had the fucking action figures in their goddamn happy meals.

In short, Atlas was the bigger, shinier, more family friendly name at the moment. And in show business, the moment was all that mattered.

So even though Dieter had checked into his room at the Savoy earlier that day without issue, and despite the fact that he’d already changed into his baggiest pair of pajama pants and shaggy green robe, the call from the front desk still came. It wasn’t a demand that he leave. It wasn’t even really a suggestion. The manager had simply stated that another guest expressed concern over the “possibility of a negative encounter with Dieter”, and asked if he would like to cancel his stay for a full refund, plus a complimentary three night stay at a time of his choosing.

Good to know I’m still shiny enough that they didn’t want to piss me off entirely.

He didn’t need to bother asking the manager which guest had expressed that particular concern. There was only one person Dieter could think of who both held that kind of sway, and disliked him enough to purposely derail his holiday. He knew it was Mark.

Even though I have no idea why that fucker hates me so damn much. He fucking won.

Though the thought of spitefully refusing to leave just to screw with Atlas was tempting, Dieter just wasn’t in the mood for a big dramatic debacle. And even though it hurt to know that Anika was seemingly fine with Mark’s treatment of him, he didn’t want to give in and invite the negative encounter that Mark was setting him up for.

Instead, he told the manager that he’d check out as soon as he found a new hotel, and took the man up on the offer for a future stay. He then promptly texted Cori to fill her in on everything and crossed his fingers in hopes that she had some secret backup options up her sleeve. The fact that it was mere hours away from Christmas Eve in one of the world’s busiest cities made it a tall order, and he was aware of that. But Cori had proven time and time again that tall orders were her specialty, so Dieter was cautiously hopeful.

When his phone rang in his hand a few minutes later, he ceased his pacing to answer it.

“Cori?” He plopped down on the edge of the bed as he spoke, hardly holding back a groan at how goddamn comfortable the mattress was. Can’t believe I don’t even get to sleep on it. “Please tell me you found something else.” He flopped all the way back, sinking into the down-filled duvet. Oh, fuck you, Mark. “I really don’t want to have to come back to-“

“Actually,” an unfamiliar female voice cut him off. “My name is Ivy, Mr. Bravo. I work for Cori. She asked me to handle finding you a new place to stay since she flew home yesterday to be at her son’s-“

“School holiday show.” Dieter mumbled, covering his eyes and scrubbing his hand back over his forehead and into his hair. Fuck, I knew that. “Yeah, that’s right, she told me.”

It had come up a few times as the press tour was winding down, the woman clearly looking forward to being able to be there for her kid’s performance. Though that kind of life was about as far from his own as he could imagine, Dieter admired the way that Cori prioritized being present for her kids as much as possible. He knew that being with her family made her happy, so he was glad that that’s where she was. But wait…

“Hang on.” Dieter propped himself up on one elbow. “I didn’t know Cori had anyone working for her.” She’d been his assistant for over ten years, and he never once heard her mention the name Ivy. Not that she wouldn’t need help. I’m not always the easiest.

She let out a silver-bell laugh, the sound high and tingling. “Well that’s because I’m good at what I do, and so is Cori. Usually I get to stay behind the scenes, but this was a-”

“A clusterfuck?” Dieter supplied, slumping back down again.

“I was going to say a special case.” She laughed again. “Trust me, I’ve seen fuckier clusters.”

He wasn’t sure if that was supposed to make him feel better or not, nor was he sure if it actually did. Switching the phone to speaker and laying it on his chest, he crossed both arms over his eyes. “Does that mean you have a backup place for me?” He crossed his fingers as he waited for her response.

“It does, Mr. Bravo, I-”

“You can just call me Dieter, Ivy. Actually, please just call me Dieter. And-” Her words clicked then, and he bolted up to both elbows, sending his phone sliding down to his stomach. “Wait, did you say yes?”

“I did,” Ivy confirmed. Fuck yeah! “But it’s a little unconventional.”

Dieter sat all the way up, reaching for his phone before it could fall between his legs and down to the floor. Lifting it level with his mouth, he cocked his head to the side. “What does that mean?”

Ivy cleared her throat. “It’s not a hotel, per say.” Okay… “More like a high end, exclusive bed and breakfast. And technically it’s just outside the city.”

Dieter grimaced, clunking the edge of his phone to his forehead. A bed and breakfast? Like… With other people? And shared common rooms and… He considered his other option - flying back to L.A. and going home to his empty house - and the grimace deepened. “How exclusive is exclusive?”

“Pretty private. The place is an old Victorian mansion. It accommodates guests in four suites, but I was told that only one other room is booked at the moment.”

He sighed, bringing his phone back down to his lips. I guess this is the best I can hope for. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Ivy questioned. “Does that mean I should go ahead and call them?”

Dieter dropped his phone into the fluffy bedding beside him. “Yes. Please.” He stood, rubbing at one eye. “And can you also call me a car? I don’t-”

“Of course,” she answered. “Consider it done.”

“Great.” It was far from great, but it would have to do. “I really appreciate it, Ivy.” That part was 100% true.

“My pleasure! I’ll go ahead and communicate with the Savoy staff, too, that way everyone is on the same page. Oh, and I’ll update Cori, of course.”

“Perfect.” Again, it wasn’t. Perfect was the thread count of the sheets he was leaving behind. Perfect was the five-star service he wouldn’t be receiving. Perfect was the way the champagne chiller always had ice in it and the towels were always warm and fluffy. But it beats the shit out of going home. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Hopefully you won’t need me again, so I’ll wish you a Merry Christmas now.”

“Um, yeah.” Dieter sniffed. “Yeah, Merry Christmas. I’ll uh…” He raised his arms and then dropped them to his sides. “I’ll try not to offend the other guest with my presence so I won’t have to bother you again.”

“Never a bother, Dieter. I’m always happy to help when you need it.”

With that, she ended the call, and Dieter was left to gather his things and wait for the car to come pick him up and bring him to the secret, backup, break-in-case-of-clusterfuck location that Ivy had procured for him.

Looking up at the place once he arrived and got out of the car, Dieter really wished he’d asked her a few more questions before telling her to make the call.

Snowflakes fell slowly through the air as he stood there in his pajama pants with his thick, plush brown fleece pulled over his robe and his bag slung over his shoulder, staring at the sign affixed to the side of the building. “The Yule Lodge”, he read aloud, rolling his eyes at the stylized flame surrounding the name of the B&B, an obvious play on words. “Shit, that’s cheesy.”

The building itself looked as though it only existed at Christmastime - the cornices catching the fresh snow in picture perfect banks, the candles illuminating the windows like something off a holiday card, garlands of greenery wrapped around the porch railing and draped over the doorway. So if any place was going to have a name that stunk of cheddar, he figured this was the one. I mean… He tilted his head to take the sight in. It’s festive as fuck, that’s for sure.

Not that that part mattered. He still planned to spend the next few days sprawled out like a starfish in bed, waiting out the holiday. Even if it means doing it here.

He turned to wave a thanks to the driver who had dropped him off, only to find that the car was gone. Huh? That’s weird, I didn’t hear the tires… He shrugged. Whatever. He’d already had one of the snowflake cookies before the whole Mark Atlas shitstorm started, so he chalked missing the car driving away up to that kicking in and giving him tunnel vision for the building’s campy signage.

With a sigh that turned into a visible white puff in the chilly air, Dieter climbed the two small steps and reached for the door handle. Alright. Here we go. Combing one hand through his hair, he shook the snow from his curls, stepped inside, and looked around. Oh, holy shit.

The B&B’s cheery exterior had nothing on the inside.

Wreaths, garlands, and sprigs of greenery adorned walls, windows, railings and the carved, wooden mantel of a roaring fireplace that spread a warm, golden glow throughout the whole space. Deep red velvet ribbons added lush pops of color, as did the gilded candlesticks atop the mantel. A bowl of clove-studded oranges sat as the centerpiece of the coffee table in front of the fire, and the smell of spice and citrus wafted through the air to fully warm his senses.

To top it all off, a towering spruce tree stood in the corner of the room, lit by dozens of lights that were made to look like candles. Bows and baubles dressed the evergreen’s branches to elegant but cozy perfection. In a way, it was difficult to imagine what the room would look like - or feel like - without all the holiday decorations.

He may have been trying to avoid acknowledging Christmas as much as possible, but Dieter couldn’t help but admit that the staff there had outdone themselves. It was fucking beautiful. If you’re into that kinda thing.

“Welcome to the Yule Lodge, Mr. Bravo.”

Suddenly, a voice greeted him from somewhere to his left, making him jump and turn towards the sound. What? Who said tha- Oh. He’d been too distracted by the elaborate decorations to realize that he’d walked straight past the front desk and the smiling woman standing behind it. Right. I need to check in.

Clearing his throat, he crossed the room to stand in front of the desk. “Um, thanks-” He glanced down at the golden nameplate that was pinned to the woman’s green cardigan. “-Laurel.” He adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder and leaned on the counter. “I guess you spoke with Ivy?”

Laurel nodded, her curls bouncing. “I did. We’ve got you all set in room two until the 26th.”

“Great.” He flashed her a smile. “Do you need a credit card now, or do I just pay when I check out, or-”

Laurel’s curls swung as she shook her head. “No need for that right now, Mr. Bravo.”

At check out, then. “Okay.” He tapped the countertop with his fingertips. “In that case, can I get the room key? I’m about ready to-”

“Of course!” Laurel spun around to grab a key from one of four hooks, one of which was empty. Guess that means the other guest is already checked in. She spun back, key in hand, but stopped short of passing it to Dieter. “I just need to go over a few things with you about the Lodge first.”

Dieter felt his shoulders slump. I’m being punished. I just want to get stoned and sleep and I’m being fucking punished. “Uh…Okay.” He sighed. “What, um… What do I need to know?”

Laurel launched into a run down of the Yule Lodge’s rules and amenities. Fully stocked kitchen and bar, chef-prepared meals for breakfast and dinner, fireplaces in the parlor, library and… something to do with the candles in the windows? She was saying something about a small holly wreath while holding it up with his key when Dieter’s attention was stolen completely by the creak of the stairs just visible beyond the parlor, and the stunning woman who was descending them - you.

Huh. He blinked, watching the way your hand slid down the railing as you took the last few steps. Maybe it won’t be all bad, staying here. You looked up then, making quick, unintentional eye contact, and Dieter felt himself grin at the way your eyes widened when they met his, your mouth falling open in slight shock. Your tongue darted out to lick at your lips, and then you quickly slipped into another room. The library, maybe?

But just when he had convinced himself to go throw his stuff upstairs and then come back down to see if you were still there - and maybe ask if you wanted to have a drink with him - he saw you slip back up the stairs with a book in hand, and his grin fell into a frown. Oh, well. Guess I’ll stick to the plan.

By then, thankfully, Laurel was finished with her spiel, and she finally handed over the key, along with the small holly wreath. “Enjoy your stay, Mr. Bravo. I hope it’s exactly what you need it to be.”

I have no idea what that means but… “Thanks.” He smiled, nodding as he took the key from her. “Have a good night, Laurel.”

With that, he headed upstairs to his room, where he promptly tossed the key and the little wreath onto the dresser, shucked his coat off, and collapsed into the bed with a groan. It wasn’t the plush, pillowy cloud bed he was supposed to be sleeping in, but for the next few days it would do just fine. And who knows? Your face popped into his head. Maybe I won’t spend the whole time holed up in here after all.

– – –

You weren’t supposed to be here.

And I’m not even sure I understand why or how I am but…

You rolled over in the big, soft bed and gazed out the window as flurries fell outside. The picturesque grounds were covered in a thin white blanket of fresh snow, and the glow from the lamppost along with the flicker of the candle on the windowsill threw golden halos of light against the darkness in a way that warmed you through.

I’m really glad that I am.

Traveling solo was somewhat out of character for you. Doing it at Christmas - and missing your family’s annual holiday party - made that even more true. Add in the last minute nature of the trip, and it was no wonder that your parents and siblings (and probably your nosey aunt and cousins, too) were having a hard time accepting your decision to spend Christmas abroad by yourself. It simply wasn’t like you.

Which was, of course, the whole point. You wanted a change, had been looking for a way to shake things up. It wasn’t that you were unhappy with anything in your life. You had a job that you enjoyed and that paid you well, owned a house that you had turned into a home, and had a close group of friends who you knew would be there for you no matter what. But what you wanted, or maybe what you needed, was a little adventure. A measured dose of the unknown. A play from out of left field.

Because even though you were happy with the things that you had, there was a part of you that felt like you only had most of those things because you followed some predetermined script for your life. Graduate from a good school, get a respectable job, buy and maintain a home… It was all good stuff, and you took none of it for granted. But sometimes it felt a little too similar to the board game version of Life, spinning the wheel and plopping your little plastic car along the path, collecting socially acceptable experiences along the way.

Even the last few vacations you took weren’t really vacations. You’d had to travel for three separate destination weddings in the last year and a half. And then there was the trip your grandma surprised the whole family with, which was extremely nice, but was also extremely mandatory. So not only did you not get to choose the when or where of your last four trips, you didn’t have much say in the what to do part, either.

You deserved to do something unexpected and just for you. So when you got the unexpected news that you’d won an all expense paid trip to London to spend Christmas in a quaint, Victorian-style B&B, you chose to act on it.

I don’t even remember entering the contest, but… You glanced around the room and ran your hands over the quilted comforter. But I’m here. It’s real. So I must have.

You thought back to the voicemail you’d received a few weeks prior, and how you almost deleted it without calling back to follow up. It seemed like a scam. And even if it wasn’t, you were sure that there was no way it could actually be free. You figured it had to do with a timeshare or some marketing promo where you could win a free trip after spending a crazy amount of money on rental cars or luggage. But a curious little voice from the back of your brain piped up and told you to at least Google the phone number first.

And when you did that, and it didn’t link you to numerous Reddit posts about scam callers or direct you to a clearly phony website, but instead brought you to a completely legitimate page hosted by the site where you had booked your most recent flight for your friend’s wedding in Puerto Vallarta, displaying your name and stating that all you had to do was call to claim your prize, you allowed yourself to possibly entertain the notion that maybe it wasn’t too good to be true.

You were still cautiously skeptical when you pressed call and waited while the phone rang, still expecting there to be a catch somewhere. You also expected the number you dialed would be an automated one, and that you would just be pressing buttons when prompted to complete the process. So it was a surprise to you when a very human voice greeted you after the second ring.

“Thank you for calling Spirit Travel!” The woman on the other end spoke in a bright, cheerful tone as she introduced herself and then said your name, making sure she was speaking with the correct person. You were so taken aback by the fact that you were wrong about it being a recording that you completely missed her name, but you caught back up in time to confirm that you were in fact you.

“I, um… I’m a little confused, to be honest,” you immediately confessed, shrugging as though she could see the lift of your shoulders through the phone. Shaking your head, you went on. “I don’t think I entered any contests, and I definitely don’t think I’ve ever heard of the-” You double checked the name of the place that the website had listed as your prize. “The Yule Lodge? Is it like a Christmas themed hotel or something?”

The woman let out a small, jingling laugh. “You could say that. Christmastime is when the Lodge is at its best, that’s for sure.” That didn’t quite answer your question, but she continued. “And it’s a very small, boutique-y little place. Doesn’t draw a ton of tourist attention, so I’m not surprised that you haven’t heard of it. But I assure you it is absolutely lovely.”

“Oh…kay.” You stared at your laptop screen, narrowing your eyes suspiciously at the scrolling congratulations banner. “I still don’t remember entering a contest, though.”

“Oh, that part!” You heard what sounded like keystrokes from her end of the call, and figured that she was pulling up some information on a computer. “Yup, mmhmm. It’s right here.” Before you could ask her what was right where, she filled you in. “I’m emailing a screenshot of it to you right now so you can see it, too, but when you booked your trip to Mexico in September, you checked a box entering you in Spirit Travel sponsored giveaways. It’s all perfectly legitimate, I promise!”

A few seconds later you received her email, opening it and seeing for yourself that you had in fact checked that box. Hm. Must’ve been a mistake. I usually opt out of that crap. You shrugged. But maybe I’ll stop doing that now. Finally sufficiently happy with the proof that the trip was real and that it wasn’t a hoax, you cleared your throat. “Okay, so it’s… It’s really free? Airfare, the hotel, all of it?”

“Well, just to be clear, the Yule Lodge isn’t a hotel, per say. More like a very exclusive, high end bed and breakfast.”

Sure. Semantics, whatever. “Okay, fine. Airfare, the B&B? That’s all free?”

“Yup! We’ll even arrange a car to pick you up from the airport and drive you to the Lodge. All you have to do is say yes and then show up for your flight.” She paused. “So is that a yes?”

You chewed your bottom lip, going back and forth in a span of a few seconds. What will everyone think when I’m not there on Christmas? What will my friends say when I tell them? They’ll probably think I’m nuts or something. But then that same voice that told you to call about the trip spoke up again. Who cares? It asked. Do it for yourself. And that was all it took to answer.

“It’s a yes,” you said, excitement making you sound a little giddy. I can’t believe it, but… “Yeah, I’m in.”

She went over a few more details with you regarding dates - December 23rd to the 26th - and flight times, and then let you know that if you had any more questions you could always call her back and she’d happily answer them.

“Thank you, really, this is… I really needed this, so thanks-” You realized you never got her name after missing it initially. “I’m so sorry, what was your name again?”

“Oh, no need to apologize,” she assured you. “I get it, you were excited. Happens all the time.” She chuckled. “But my name is Ivy.”

“Well, thank you, Ivy. You’re pretty much my favorite person right now.”

She laughed again. “I’ll take it! Listen, like I said, you can call me if you have any other questions about the trip. But otherwise, in case we don’t talk again, I hope you have a very Merry Christmas.”

“You, too! I hope you get a surprise this good in your stocking this year.”

“Oh,” she said in a wistful way that actually didn’t sound like a customer service put-on, “For me, making other people’s holidays special is the real gift.”

With that, she signed off, and you were left with the task of telling everyone you knew that you were pitching them all a holiday curveball.

They’d responded similarly to how you thought they would. But by the time you had checked in to the Yule Lodge, met Laurel, the exceptionally festive and cheerful hostess who had given you the quirkiest run-down on a hotel you’d ever gotten (including a somewhat campy but cute enough folklore-inspired instruction to place the small holly wreath she’d given you at check in around your door knob to “keep out unwanted spirits” on Christmas Eve) and settled into your room, it was far too late to worry about all of that.

All you were concerned with for the next few days was which fireplace you’d be spending the most amount of time reading near, whether or not you felt like strolling the snow covered grounds in the morning, and possibly chatting with the other guest that Laurel had mentioned would be checking in shortly after you’d arrived. Or maybe not. Who knows, maybe they’ll want to be left alone. Either way, you were looking forward to a few days of answering to no one but yourself. And if it came with a heaping helping of authentic Christmas cheer? Even better.

Deciding not to wait until morning to venture downstairs and into the library to choose your first of hopefully many books for the duration, you popped up from your bed and headed for the door, smiling to yourself as you made sure that the holly wreath was securely around the knob. Don’t want any bad spirits messing around in my room. About halfway down the stairs, you heard voices and realized that Laurel was giving her welcome speech to the other guest. Oh, guess they’re here. You peeked through the hall and into the parlor, hoping to catch a glimpse of the person you’d be sharing the common areas of the Lodge with. But as was becoming a theme for this trip and everything connected to it, you were floored to find Academy Award winning actor Dieter Bravo looking right at you.

Holy shit. You felt your eyes go about as round as the baubles hanging from the giant spruce tree, your mouth dropping open as your heart thundered in your chest. Holy shit, holy shit that’s Dieter Bravo. Oh my god. No, it’s not. It can’t be, right? You blinked and he was still there and still definitely Dieter Bravo and - wait is he..? Yup. He was grinning at you. Oh, fuck.

You scurried down the last few stairs and disappeared into the library, repeating those two words over in your head in a series of tones ranging from disbelief and shock to disbelief and excitement, with a twinge of nerves because Oh, fuck, what am I supposed to say to Dieter Bravo? Your face flushed making you warmer than the fireplace on the other side of the room. There was plenty that you’d thought about saying to him, your imagination running a little wild at times when you saw interviews or red carpet photos of him, or when you saw his performances on screen and he made you fall in love with his characters time and time again. But all of those thoughts had occurred while you were under the realistic assumption that you would never actually get to say any of it to him.

But now he was sleeping just down the hall from you.

Blindly grabbing the first book your fingers found, you scurried back up the stairs and into the sanctuary of your room before you ran the risk of running into him on the way. Choosing a book was a fine enough thing not to put off until morning. Figuring out what to say to a celebrity that you had an innocent but huge crush on was something that definitely required you to sleep on it. Flopping back into your bed a little breathlessly, you had to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

I did say I needed an adventure.

Glancing down to see what book you’d grabbed, you read the title and laughed again. A Christmas Carol. Of course. What else would it be in this place?

It took a while, but eventually you were able to calm your brain - and heartbeat - enough to sink into the story and let thoughts about how on earth you were going to interact with Dieter slide to the backburner, and eventually, you drifted off to sleep.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Laurel was making one last phone call before closing up and heading home for the evening.

“Ivy?” She tapped her fingernails on the desk and grinned. “They’re both here. Just where they need to be this Christmas.”

“Good,” the other woman said. “Now the rest is up to them.”

– – –

Dieter tags: @something-tofightfor @littlemisspascal @tentacruels @alraedesigns @practicalghost

@trickstersp8 @imtryingmybeskar @mswarriorbabe80 @theredwritingwitch @silverstarsandsuns

@pedro-pedrito-pascalito @jedi-in-crocs @chiyo13 @myloveistoolittle @noisynightmarepoetry

@haylzcyon @jessthebaker @pedrostories @covetyou

#pedrostoriesgift24 #pedrostories #the yule lodge #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo christmas story #pedro pascal character #this one ran away from me #but it's dieter so i allowed it to happen #merry christmas and happy holidays and joyful yule to everyone!

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wynnerwynner · 1 day ago

Text

𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐋

jacaerys velaryon x fem!cregan's sister!reader

when Y/N returns home to winterfell, she seeks her brothers' approval to marry the targaryen prince.

request: no

warnings: mention of character death, mild grief

wc: 1.8k

a/n: just a quick little jace imagine! although i'm not sure if it constitutes entirely as a jace imagine since there's more reader and cregan LOL

It was a wonder how the crypts of Winterfell could be considered an honorary place when it was so dank. Jonnel could not feel the cold anymore, but as Y/N looked up at his statue, she wondered how her brother was not rising from death simply to complain. He’d never been built for a place like Winterfell. Neither was she. That’s why she moved to Dragonstone and led a simple life selling sea glass to ignorant tourists. Or maybe it was to escape his shadow in the halls, or to escape his spirit still in the walls, knocking and banging through the servants corridors.

Hesitantly, Y/N placed her hand on Jonnel’s cold statue, lowering her head.

“He’d be proud of you.”

Y/N locked eyes with Cregan, walking towards her. He knelt beside her and stared up at Jonnel’s stone face.

“I have something to tell you,” she said carefully.

Cregan gazed at her.

“I befriended Prince Jacaerys—while at Dragonstone.”

“I’m sure there’s more to it than that.”

Y/N chuckled, making him smile. “I love him.” When he didn’t react, she added, “He loves me.”

Cregan looked at their brother thoughtfully.

She licked her lips. “Say something or I may be sick all over Jon.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, I am,” she scoffed.

“These are treacherous waters, Y/N.”

“The Queen has inquired much into my married life. I believe she’s interested. She sees much of us.”

“She hasn’t sent me any letters,” he countered.

“I’m sure she will,” she consoled him. “She’s a little busy planning a war, Cregan.”

“Y/N, he’s not just any Prince,” Cregan looked at her. “He’s Rhaenyra’s son. Rumours are that he’s a…”

“I don’t care,” she snapped.

“Whatever rumours and heresy follow him, go to you too,” he replied calmly. “Your children would be considered an insult to the throne with the rumours of his legitimacy.”

Y/N removed her hand from her brother, clenching it in her lap, “I don’t care.”

“You can’t just say you don’t care!” his voice echoed off the walls.

Y/N turned to face him. “Why can’t you just be happy for me?”

Cregan stared at her.

“This is what father and mother wished for me,” she exclaimed. “To get married, to have children, like the perfect little Lady. I never thought I’d want this, but now I do and I want it with Jace.” Her brows furrowed and she stood, shaking her head. “You’re just angry because I have something good and you have the same old castle with the same old servants and the same old soldiers.”

Y/N fast-walked out of the crypts, leaving both her brothers in the cold underground.

***

“Enter.”

Y/N set down her quill as Cregan stepped through the door. After shutting it, he took a few steps in. Her eyes immediately locked onto the floor.

“What’re you doing?” he wondered aloud.

“Writing to Jace,” she replied, jaw tense. “Lucerys Velaryon is planning a trip to speak with you. I’m letting him know he will be well looked after here.”

Cregan nodded thoughtfully.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” she began, teeth so tense they could crack. “I don’t think you’re angry I have different opportunities.”

“I’m not angry… though I am jealous.” Cregan sat in a chair near the burning hearth. “You’re right. You get to leave Winterfell and meet all manner of people whenever you choose and I get the same view I’ve seen since I was a babe. But that’s just my position. I am Lord whether I like it or not.”

“You could give it up,” she mumbled at her parchment.

“And give it to who? Benjen?”

Her eyes rolled. “Benjen would burn this place down.”

Cregan laughed, nodding. “He would.” He sighed. “Winterfell may be my hell, but it is also my home. I belong here. Clearly, you do not.”

After less than a second of sullen silence, he added, “Y/N, your Lord Brother demands you to look at him, please.”

She looked up at him, although still with a sour expression.

“I love Jace,” she mumbled.

“I know you do,” he said softly.

“You must let me go, Cregan,” her quill clacked against the table as she emphasized his name.

“I’m trying,” he sighed, rubbing his face. “I do not wish to see you forced onto a battlefield as a result of him.”

“Women who do not end up on a battlefield are put through childbearing,” she said. “That is our battlefield.”

Cregan nodded, “I have always been terrified at either thought.”

Y/N watched her brother as he stood.

“I will send a raven to Dragonstone… requesting the Prince to accompany his brother. It is integral the future King witnesses the army that will be fighting for him and his mother.”

***

By the Lord of Winterfell’s request, Y/N was in the Great Hall, dining alongside him. She had been up all night, anticipating Jace’s arrival, so she’d much rather have been in her bed. Although, she couldn’t complain too much as the Great Hall was closer to the gate than the Great Keep.

At the rattle of dishes, Cregan flinched.

“He’s here!” Y/N shouted, leaping from the bench and running for the door.

“Y/N,” he called. “Y/N!”

She ignored him, running out of the hall gleefully, skirts in her hands.

Servants and working men backed out of the way of her in the courtyard. It had been a long time since she ran amuck through the castle. She could almost feel her brother chasing after her.

As she got to the courtyard of the southern gate, the wooden doors opened wide. While others bowed their heads, Y/N raced across the mud.

A smile broke out on Jace’s face as she came toward him.

Y/N leapt into his arms. The entirety of Winterfell was silent as they watched Jace and Y/N walk hand-on-arm across the courtyard, over to a glaring Cregan. She ignored the look of disapproval from him. She was much too excited to care.

“Apologies for the informalities of my dear sister,” Cregan said. “I assure you, she has been raised better than this.”

“No apologies necessary,” Jace smiled, glancing at her. He patted her hand hooked under his arm. “I believe she and I are long past formalities.”

Cregan nodded once, not willing to debate with the prince.

“Oh, relax, Brother,” she groaned. “He’s not going to bite your head off.”

“You have known the Prince for quite a while, Y/N. I have only just met him today. Prince Lucerys,” he bowed.

Lucerys nodded with a regal smile. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Stark.”

“Take us to your crypts,” Jace said. “We should like to pay our respects to your father.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

***

Y/N cracked the servants door as she listened in on her brother and Jace speaking by the hearth.

“Do you love ‘er?” Cregan said over the crackling fire.

“She makes me the best version of myself,” Jace answered. “She’s taught me to look at the world differently.”

“I didn’t ask how she makes you feel, I asked if you love ‘er,” her brother replied. “Y/N has always been able to make people feel important,” he mumbled. Cregan looked at his hands, rubbing them together.

“When our mother fell sick,” he added, “our father refused to leave her side. Shortly after she passed, so did he from the same. Overnight I not only became a lord and a warden, I became a father and mother to my brother and sister. I’ve raised them since they were ten and one. They were children.”

“You have another brother?”

Cregan’s eyes narrowed at him, “She never told you she has a twin?”

Jace shook his head.

“It is an indescribable pain when you lose your twin. I’m not surprised she never told you. She hasn’t spoken of him since his death.”

Cregan leaned back in his chair and looked Jace in the eyes.

“I say all of this because the love she feels for you could destroy her if it is not returned tenfold. You may be next in line for the throne, Jacaerys Velaryon, but you are nothing but skin and bones to me when it comes to my little sister. If you hurt her or do not love her, I will serve the Queen until the day of her death but the moment she takes her last breath I will not answer your summons.”

Jace looked to the fire, nodding.

“I love her,” he finally answered. “I’d take an arrow for her.”

“But would you take almost two million? Because that’s how many soldiers the Greens have.”

“Of course I would,” Jace looked at him, affronted. “I’d give my life if it meant she could safely stay out of this war.”

“If she takes your name she gains a target on her back.”

“She has a target even if she’s a Stark,” Jace argued. “She is a Lady of Winterfell and the Warden of the North’s sister. Everyone you love has a target on their back.”

“What can you do to protect her that I haven’t already?” Cregan’s voice became quiet, careful. He was assessing him. “She can be quite unwilling to listen to the reality of the world.”

“Y/N is reasonable,” Jace countered. “I believe she’s more understanding of reality than you or I. When you die, she does not become Lady of Winterfell or Warden of the North, she is expected to have her heir do that. She is luckier than us in the sense that she does not have as many expectations, so she may bend those rules.”

Cregan’s brows were furrowed in concentration.

“If I approve of this marriage, you must do everything to keep her alive and happy. You must lay down your life if it comes to it. She is all I have left, Jacaerys. I will never forgive you if she is put in harm's way.”

“I’d ruin my name—I’d strip my title if need be to bring her home safe to you. Whatever is necessary, I’ll do it,” said Jace.

Cregan stared at him.

“You're a good man, Jacaerys. And I hope you’ll make a good King, too.”

Jace nodded solemnly. “I will. For her, I will.”

“Scaring him off already, Brother?”

Jace’s head whipped to the doorway as she walked through.

“How much of that did you hear?” Cregan asked over his shoulder.

“I could say none of it, though you wouldn’t believe me,” Y/N squeezed Jace’s shoulder.

Cregan stared at his sister and the man she wished to marry. She saw him recognize the way Jace look at her and watched him sigh out of his nose.

“Your Highness, if I could have a moment alone with my sister…”

“Of course.”

When Jace left the room, she sat where he once was.