#the need to know all the need to have the upper hand the need be seen favorably. he pulls the strings to make all that happen

[dreamsteddie]

Steve and Eddie childhood friends au where Eddie's mom, Elizabeth Munson, is hired on as Steve's nanny when Steve turns four.

Elizabeth may not have the best reputation in town, but she went to school with Linda Harrington before she threw her life and money away on Al. She was young and foolish and thought he loved her like she loved him. It hurt to be proven wrong, that he loved her modest saving account more than he could ever love her, but at the end of the day, he gave her Eddie, so she carries on.

Linda had known her from before she met Al. They weren't ever friends, but Elizabeth was from a nice lower middle-class family and had long black curls that the other girls could admire. Not popular by any means, but someone who could be partnered up with Queen Linda for a history project without heads turning. Linda also knew from health class that Elizabeth was good with kids, so it's not a complete surprise when she gets a call asking if she'd like to nanny her 4-year-old son, Steve, for the foreseeable future so she can return to work with her husband.

The Harrintons are a wealthy couple, for Hawkins Indiana at least. In the grand scheme of things Richard's position as one of many property realtors in a major corporation keeps them comfortably in the upper middle classes, but the dollar stretches almost twice as far in the sleepy parts of Indiana.

Still, to Elizabeth who has never known more than a modest three bedroom and little Eddie who has never lived outside the tin walls of the trailer park, the Harrington home seems like a mansion fit for a king.

Or in this case, a little prince.

Steve is a sweet little boy, if a little bratty the first few times Elizabeth has to tell him no. When she first comes to the house to be briefed on all Steve's needs and how the house runs, he clings to his mother's perfectly pressed skirts and looks up at him with big brown eyes that remind her so much of Eddie's, full of barely contained curiosity. It doesn't take long after she introduces himself to him, stooping down to say hi and shake his little hand, for him to lose all that shyness and start, trying, to ask her questions. He's not at a place where he can use full sentences, but he makes do with pointing and the words he does have.

It's easy to see that Linda doesn't know how to interact with Steve, telling him more than once to let the grownups talk and to stop holding her skirt. Elizabeth doesn't say anything though, it's not her place and she could really use the job. Edde is sprouting up like a weed, and her previous income from the diner wasn't enough to get him all the things he needed. The Harringtons, for all their faults, are offering her more than a fair salary to look after their son.

The next week, she brings her and Eddie bright and early to make sure they get there just as the Harringtons head off to work. Elizabeth knows Richard wasn't keen on Eddie coming with her, probably not wanting his son to associate with a child he sees as lesser, but Elizabeth quickly realized that matters of the home like childcare were left to Linda's discretion, and she hadn't seen a problem with it.

Steve is waiting for his mother on the front porch, clutching her hand as hard as he can. When Linda pries his hand away he starts to snivel and cry, but to Elizaeth's surprise, he doesn't start to wail and scream. The first time she had to leave for work Eddie just about had a complete meltdown, not understanding where his mom was going or why he had to stay with his Uncle Wayne. Steve stays quiet, muffing his cries in a way that tugs at her heartstrings.

She takes his hand and guides him inside, holding back from scooping him up in her arms like she would Eddie to sing him a song and dry his tears. Something tells him the Harringtons wouldn't appreciate that.

So he waits, watches their car depart from the open doorway, and once she's sure they're completely out of sight she swoops down to hold him in her arms. The act opens the floodgates. Steve starts really crying and wailing into her arms, asking for his mama and clutching hard at the sleeves of Elizabeth's blouse.

That's when Eddie steps in, placing his hand on Steve's shirt and rubbing clumsy circles on the younger boy's shoulder. Eddie's not five quite yet, has about four more moths to go, but he's talking much more than Steve is and seems to relish in the use of his voice. Right now he's using it to soothe Steve, telling him it's going to be ok and his mama will come back and that they can share his mama until she does.

Then he does the damnedest thing.

He starts singing.

It's the same thing she's always done for him. Every time Al comes home and leaves again, when he falls off the jungle gym at the park, when one of the kids in town points out that his shoes have holes in them and that he must be poor. She holds him close, rubs his tiny shoulder, and sings her favorite Patsy Cline song into his ear.

The three of them stay in the Harrington's entryway for as long as it takes for Steve's tears to dry out, starting this new phase of their lives to the tune of Sweet Dreams.

[emotionally-damaged-carrot]

Can you do an Oscar Piastri x Male reader fluff? Like where the reader just plays with Oscar, running his hands in his hair, laying of top of him, sitting on his lap, holding his hand etc. love you work, thank youu

Oscar Piastri x Male Reader

Whimsy

I was thinking of writing a story like this already, thanks for the request.

(Requests are open)

Cheers!

"Oooossscc?"

I hear that all too familiar voice.

"On the couch."

I replied, a few moments later I see him walking out from the kitchen, he held a tray with a plate of nachos and some sauces.

"I tried to make some homemade dips, can you try them for me?"

I sat up as he placed the tray on the coffee table and sat on my lap.

"Well, this will be a bit difficult with you on me."

I said as I pulled him down with me and hugged him tight while giving him soft kisses on his neck.

"Stop, just eat iiit."

He complained as he struggled to get out of my hold.

"You burnt the chips, Y/n, the dips will taste like burnt chip."

I laid my head on the arm of the couch.

"Use your finger or something."

"I haven't watched my hands yet, and I've just been here all day, laying down while I wait for you."

"Disgusting, just wash your hands."

He rolled around so now we were chest to chest.

"Hi."

I smiled as I whispered.

"Hello."

His hands went to my face, and slowly squished my face.

"Are you going to stop?"

I mumbled out.

"You're handsome."

I smiled.

"I know."

He squished my cheeks so my lips were puckered and he went down to kiss me. My hands went up from his sides to his hands that was on my face, I removed his hands so I could move better. He let out little moans when my hand wrapped around his neck pulling him closer, the other was grasping his waist tight. His hand rested on my chest, moments later he pulled back, breathing heavily.

We stared at each other, our eyes searching for something in each other, something that could make this moment better. I see a hint of mischief in his eyes as he sits on my stomach.

"Shit."

I said as the air was pushed out of me.

"As much as I love you, I need to breathe, little moon."

"Just a moment."

He started to mess with my hair.

"Not the hair."

I feigned annoyance, my hands rested on his hips. A few moments later he stopped.

"What did you do?"

I said as I reach for my phone that was somewhere beside me on the couch. He handed me his phone.

I looked at myself as I opened his camera. My hair was a messy, I have bangs, most of my hair is going to my forehead.

"This is actually not that bad, is this how you prefer my hair to be, Y/n?"

I held his waist as I smiled at him.

"Yes."

He said as he laid down on top of me again.

"I can breathe better now I guess."

I ran my fingers through his hair. His hands held my other hand, following the veins with his finger, tracing the wrinkles on my palm. I looked down at him, enjoying the moment we are having. A few minutes later, his interest on my hand was gone. He looked up at me, his chin resting on my chest.

"You touching my teeth is weird you know."

I said as I knew what he was planning.

"But your front teeth, they look cute, they make you look like a bunny."

"It's still weird."

His hands slowly travelled up my body and onto my cheeks.

"Are you goin to stop me?"

I shook my head no and smiled at him, his thumb went to my two front upper teeth, feeling the shape and the ridges. He looked like a child, the shine in his eyes and the curiousity flowing out of him as he somewhat played with my teeth.

"They look cute."

He said as he removed his thumb from my mouth, I held his hands.

"I know, and you are a weirdo."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes you are."

I played with him, I held his hands gently as I looked at him, played with him as you would with a baby.

"No."

He buried his face in my chest.

"You nachos and dips are still here you know."

I reminded him as I played with his hair.

"I'm tired."

He mumbled out.

"Then sleep, the chips can wait, you can rest here and I will keep you safe."

I kissed the top of his head as I wrapped my arms around him, and he wraps his around me.

"Goodnight, Osc."

"It's 1pm, Y/n, but goodnight."

[technoregression]

(Non American here) why can’t the doctors just like, lie a little. Just do the treatment etc but set up an admin team or whatever to tell the insurance company “yep we just gave that medicine you said we have to and yea it didn’t work so now can we do the real medicine?” Meanwhile you’ve already got the real medicine, you never did the bullshit one. As much as we all want to, I feel like this is easier than 370 no scoping all the healthcare upper management and CEO’s.

Also like why can’t the doctors just do what they know they need to? Are meds and surgery equipment locked in a safe that only the insurance company has the code to? Aren’t doctors supposed to have a duty or something to always save a life or is that just cinema? How tied are their hands in these situations because it sounds like they might be complicit??

[spoiler-alert-andabunchofnumbers]

Guys, why we debating whether or not LQ has or doesn't have a beak when the answer is obvious?

The Long Quiet is as versatile as Shifty. He's like schrondinger's beak. He both has one and doesn't have one until the need arises for an answer. He has one when he wants one, he has none when he doesn't want one.

Based on the Dragon and the Princess ending, I like to believe every single face of the LQ chooses whether they have a beak or not. And thus I present my hypothesis on the beak statuses of our best boys:

Hero has a beak but doesn't know it or consciously acknowledge it, too distracted by the narrative, that's just his nose wdym, he's doing his best your honor

Opportuntist is pro beak, though perhaps he conceals it until he gets the upper hand

Smitten is no beak because kisses, will only manifest a beak by accident when he's being sinister but would never admit it

Cold is no beak since bro doesn't feel enough for a beak to manifest

Broken is no beak, he's too wimpy for a beak - or alternatively, has a beak if his goddess wants it, anything to please her really

Stubborn seems like a beak guy to me. He'd use it to peck the Adversary's eyes or smth, just so long as it's another weapon to bash against his enemy

Hunted probably no beak, since he ain't no animal, but teeth? Yes, necessary part of survival you see

Paranoid probably no beak, too scared of it getting in the way during a crucial moment and potentially blocking that very necessary 3% of his vision and distracting him for a milisecond too long

Skeptic is the opposite, pro beak because he knows it's there and he wants to keep it in sight at all times because if it disappears that shit's sus

Contrarian IS the schrondinger, he is both pro and no beak at all times. He's half beak. He's demi beak. He is MADE of beak. He doesn't even know what a beak is. He threw the beak out the window

Cheated doesn't care about the damn beak, it's all a crock of shit anyway - just wait, he'll have a beak and then suddenly it's an inconvenience, but the moment he DOESN'T have a beak he'll find a reason to need it, just you wait and see, it'll happen--!

What I'm saying is, all your fanart is valid and all you'all's opinions are correct, have a nice day

[pissterdaniel]

TIT AUCKLAND FINAL RECAP

the spoilery stuff is at the bottom of the post, the rest is safe

Since June there has been a discord server going for everyone at the Auckland show. It was amazing to make so many friends before even going to the show. We all got to know each other in the months leading up to the event. Super cool!

We all met up for lunch before the show to hang out and exchanged our crafts. (craft haul x) It made me so happy to see people excited to meet Carlos and my dolls :).

@peter-must-die with his amazing shirt holding Carlos

We made our way to the KTK theater, and I bought some merch. Literally shouted when I opened my photocards to see BLONDE QUIFF PHIL!!!!!! :O

I came PREPARED for my meet and greet, had an agenda broken down into 3 steps. I had been overthinking this for months and have lost so much sleep from tit anxiety. The plan was very helpful! I was revising it in the line.

My hands were totally full. Sister Daniel kept on escaping my grip, we think she was trying to run away. I also recall repeatedly doing my Christophe Giacometti (from yuri on ice) impression in the line.

In the meet and greet line I discovered that I randomly have a lot of upper body strength 😅. I was giving out VERYYY tight deep pressure hugs to people who wanted them. It was very calming. I also got a stopwatch out and we did some 4/4/8 breathing. Then our time was almost up, and WE COULD SEE DAN.

I filmed Max's meet and greet for them first. So that was good getting to spend a minute or so in front of Dan and Phil before it was my turn. I had briefed Max on my agenda, so they knew exactly what to do. My full meet and greet post with photos and the video are here (x). THANK YOU SO MUCH @shitwheresfoxy FOR BEING THE BEST GLAMOUROUS ASSISTANT EVER!

Phil did not seem like a human. I stupidly told him he was like an animatronic robot. He is just SO BEAUTIFUL IT DOESNT SEEM REAL. You need to understand, PHIL LESTER IS SO ETHERALLY GORGEOUS IT IS OUT OF THIS WORLD!!!!!!!! He's just so 🥰. No wonder Dan can't stop looking at him like that in the videos. I get it now.

Dan definitely led my m&g, and I've heard others say this too. He does most of the talking, offers to take the photos, and he had the biggest reactions to things. I made him cackle a few times and I will wear that like a badge of honour. Some other highlights include:

Dan's first reaction to Carlos "uhh.. what?"

Dan's crab hands in our selfie

Dan talking to my camera whilst I fetched something from Max

Their first reaction to my dolls

Phil waving and saying bye to me

BONUS 1 MINUTE AND 39 MINUTE VIDEO OF PHIL HOLDING CARLOS, THIS MEANS THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE TO ME

I am slightly embarrassed about how excited I got, I went a bit nuts. Told them Carlos was "the love of my life" 🤦. Was completely hyper after the m&g, had major zoomies and couldn't calm down. That's when we caught up with the silver VIP people from the server.

@totally-srs-all-the-time made this STUNNING bedsheet cape and wanted to put it on me to have mega bed sheet titfit. Only when she held it up to me, I thought she was wanting to use it as a weighted blanket to calm me. So I lay on the floor 😂, she still put it on me and got this pic.

Met the phiwi backpack too!!!

I recorded our preshow and put it on youtube (x). Can't believe Olly's figure skating question was answered! That was wickedly cool. There is a very small group of us who got SUPER into ice skating these past couple of months. So to have our niche acknowledged by Dan himself was PHENOMENAL.

We all danced to HOTOGO, @einsteinfrizz 's amazing video from the balcony can be found here (x)

And then it was time for the show.

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!!!

I took notes during intermission and after the show of what I remembered.

Our conspiracies were:

Toilet, Clothes, Bus, and Vegas

"They share clothes." Went on about how their nipples touch the same cloth and did weird nipply gestures.

Lawyer Dan banned Australia, wrote erotic fanfiction about Gollum, and went to jail for killing phil. (Phil then said "hopefully he was not a CEO" and everyone CHEERED SO LOUDLY FOR AGES. They were both caught off guard by the big audience reaction, and it seemed like Dan was genuinely surprised/shocked that Phil said that.

Linguist Phil's favourite word was 'perky nana', he liked to help old ladies cum, and had a secret collection of lesbians.

Phil's 1 minute improv was on stationary. He thought the person said penis, but he changed it to pens, and then decided to change it to stationary. He told a story of how he had a cola scented gel pen and would fill in an entire page and just sniff it.

Early on in the show Phil thought he swallowed a fly and started choking. He then yelled for a "minion" to fetch him water. Dan was taken back by this and it was about a minute before a crew member walked on with his water bottle.

(I'm sensing this show is a lot of Phil saying off-script random shit and dan being shocked by him. Which honestly checks out.)

"Jesus but more shippable" IM SORRY WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY DAN

Phil said reject modernity embrace tradition correctly.

They still think the phanniversary was "last month."

Everyone yelling "gay" together in unison was so healing.

Phil messed up the song lyric again and said "I got the tattoo" instead of "you"

SISTER DANIEL HOLY FUCK WHERE DO I BEGIN. I was in the 4th row on the left side which is where she stood. I knew all the spoilers going into it BUT NOTHING COULD HAVE PREPARED ME. I screamed at the top of my lungs when I first saw her come out. I AM SO THANKFUL FOR THE PRIVILEGE OF GETTING TO SEE HER IN PERSON I WILL NEVER TAKE THAT FOR GRANTED. She is so AAAH. Religious, eye-opening experiences were certainly had. AND SHE WAS IN DOC MARTENS. I'm never gonna be able to put into words how feral she made me.

I would say that I was very familiar with the show content before I got there. But in reality, everything was 100x weirder than I thought it would be. I mean that in the best way possible!!! Dnp were OFF. THE. RAILS. They were still the same people you see in the videos, but uncut and UNLEASHED.

AND THEN THERE WAS THE FACT THAT I WENT HOME WITH AN ACTUAL PROP?!?!?!

At the end of the show, I rushed to the front of the stage to steal the confetti. (I'm a hoe for collecting show confetti, I did the same thing at WAD).

Whilst I was collecting confetti and taking pics of Carlos, one of the stagehands came out a few times, handing out the Australian props to random people standing at the stage.

THIS IS THE GREATEST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO ME!!! Here are some close-up photos I took of Obi Wan, and a video of what he can do (x). I walked into TIT with a Sister Daniel and Father Philip doll, and I came out of TIT with Phobi Phan Phenobi.

I also got one of the role model or no-le model cards, it is blank on the other side apart from their signature.

I also got to get up and close with other people's props. I even got to play Max's ukulele. I played the TIT song and I can tell you first hand that that thing was VERY out of tune. I know Dan was only fake playing it, but at least tune it first 😂.

The day after, a big group of us went to Auckland Zoo! Man that was a lot of fun. We signed TABINOFs, and I got a bunchhhh of pics of Phobi Wan, my photo dump is here (x). @spanielt0wel also got a doll, so I made sure to get some photos with them together.

The post-tit depression is REALLLLLL. I miss being surrounded by like minded people. It was so easy to unmask and just be completely myself. I have never felt more like me than when I was surrounded by all the queer, neurodivergent phannies. This was the happiest I've felt in years. So thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who came to talk to me, and to all the friends I've made through the discord 💙.

Now I am back home and terrible influencing up my room cause I never want to forget this amazing experience.

The box frame was inspired by this one

The posters I got signed are looking GOOOOOD. Also Phobi Wan looks so silly sitting with my monster high dolls. I'm gonna treasure him forever. HE MAKES ME SO HAPPY!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Also thank you to everyone who voted on my poll you've convinced me that #4 is the way to go and I shall be ordering that flag soon.

THANK YOU TIT AUCKLAND

[cosmic-expressions]

childe hours?!?! i have a lot but uhh… him without his grey jacket and in his red shirt thing like in his 2022 bday art is so hot to me like it makes me want to lick and bite him everywhere

alsoo this is super random but.. how big do you think/hc he is under his pants 🧐

i have no idea about the super random part but i may do a dick analysis of my faves one day... (let me know if you'd want one lol)

with your hands slowly unbuttoning his red shirt, CHILDE can’t focus on anything else. archons, he just got back home and this is how you welcome him? he doesn’t mind that one bit.

he’s sitting on the couch with you straddling his lap, your lips not leaving his neck for a second. you’re giving his neck so much attention that CHILDE gets jealous of his own body part!

when you finally manage to unbutton his shirt, you immediately push away the fabric to reveal more of his upper body, such delicious upper body–

“mmmh!”

CHILDE is a sweet menace and you know it, but you’re not sure if he’s teasing you or relieving himself with the way he bucks his hips up underneath you.

“darling, you’ll- you’ll kill me if you continue- nngh! like that!” he grunts, voice weak and strained, eyes getting fogged with needy lust. but you continue nonetheless.

sucking and licking his neck, you make your way to his revealed collarbones, the pale, almost porcelain skin glistening and inviting. who are you to refuse such a beautiful place?

you bite softly and suck a hickey right there, making CHILDE shiver and moan quietly, his eyes closing in pleasure and need growing with each second.

“pretty… pretty boy…” you mutter into his ear while you rub his sides and back with your soft hands. your lips move to his shoulder, still licking and kissing his smooth skin, wetting the already glistening skin.

“baby…” CHILDE whines, his desires becoming unmeasurable, so much painful that he needs to help himself; with his big and rough hands, CHILDE grabs your ass and starts moving you against his clothed hips.

he’s a whining mess already, thoughts getting hazy and incoherent one by one. and you don’t stop, still marking, sucking, licking his exposed skin; it’s almost like you can’t get enough of him.

you moan softly as well, your core starts throbbing when CHILDE grinds against you like the desperate man that he is. but you don’t stop, you don’t want to stop.

as you explore his torso with your hands and soft touch, you grow needy as well; his shoulder looks so pretty with those purple marks, all wet with your saliva.

time to take care of the other one.

[askbox] [ko-fi] [genshin-mlist]

[fruitcoops]

Do They Know It's Christmas?

Happy holidays, lovelies! And most importantly, happy noot fic exchange/ secret Santa to @itsaash --you're a legend, a sweetheart, and a friend I hold near and dear to my heart. I hope everyone is staying safe and sound! You've made it through the shortest day of the year; it's only up from here! Thanks to @veryspacecowboy for coordinating the exchange and @lumosinlove for the characters!

TW for implied smut and mild Vaincre spoilers

Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus, right down Santa Claus Lane…

“Fourth line, take it left!”

…and all the fun we had last year…

“Good work, boys, remember we’re working clockwise.”

Run, run, Rudolph, Santa’s gotta make it to town…

“I know, I know, but we need to get that down before we break today.”

…come on, it’s lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with…

“Keep those crossovers clean in the corners, Sunny!”

…the very next day, you gave it away…

Arthur frowned at his clipboard. An ache had started up along the inner corner of his eye, and not even the steady working of his thumb brought relief. The song changed to something bright and tinny with silver bells; the things he would give for a nice, quiet O, Holy Night right about now. Something soft, with minimal jangling. A saxophone would be lovely.

They had a schedule. They always had a schedule. The boys were used to rotation exercises—he had even taken pity and not added anything new or complicated to the roundup. The whole damn thing was laminated and taped to the damn glass around the damn bench on both damn sides of the goddamn rink.

Arthur’s eyes ticked typewriter-smooth down the list, but his ears alone would have told him it was a lost cause. Messy crossovers. From Sunny. Crunchy, scratchy steps from skates of perfect sharpness. Low muttering, barks of laughter, rollercoaster-arcs of chatting when they were supposed to be focusing. Cap did his best, but Harzy looked about two laps from chewing his way out through the boards.

Well. It was almost Christmas. He could be kind.

The whistle broke through Brenda Lee’s second chorus; 20 heads popped up.

“Revision!” Arthur called across the ice, drawing a steady line through the end of his list. “Bring it in.”

Their rush to the bench was the cleanest they had sounded all day.

“We’re going to finish a little early today—”

A wave of cheers cut him off, then petered out at his unimpressed glance.

“We’re finishing a little early,” he repeated when the Christmas spirit had released their souls at last, leaving only a faint ringing in the upper levels of the bleachers. “Because I’m taking off the last rotation.”

Arthur slipped his pen back into the clipboard clamp. Olli raised a tentative hand. “So…we can go…?”

Arthur frowned. “What? No, we’re going ‘til noon, if you just—guys, the schedule is right there—”

“Nooo—”

“But Coach—”

“—Christmas!—”

“I haven’t even—”

“—been here so long—”

“—like you don’t even love us—”

“—mom’s gonna kill me if I don’t—”

Unbelievable. Simply beyond words. Arthur looked over Nado’s pleading hands, hoping for an ounce of solidarity from the one person besides himself who was literally appointed for this duty, and was met with only a beleaguered, whale-eyed stare in return.

Arthur raised his eyebrows.

Sirius gazed back.

For such a large person, he could really pull off ‘sickly Victorian child begging for gruel’ when he wanted to.

“Alright,” Arthur muttered. It was lost in the sea of writhing and wailing. “Alright!”

The team (finally) fell somewhat silent.

“I am very sorry,” he began, pausing to slide his clipboard onto the bench hook. Their anticipation was delicious. “That I assumed a group of grown men playing their favorite game for millions of dollars would be able to handle one morning practice for their last competition before a holiday break.”

Pots’ eyebrows pitched as if he had been stabbed. “But Coach, it’s Christmas.”

“It is December 22nd.”

“I haven’t even found something for my dad yet!” Walker piped in.

“Sounds like a personal problem with time management.”

Pascal—the traitor—shuffled on his skates. “I was going to make holiday cookies with my children,” he said sadly. “They grow up so fast. We might not have many years of it left.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I’m letting you go at noon, not locking you in here overnight. And I know you make cookies on Christmas Eve, because you put them on my doorstep every year.”

Pascal tsked, but didn’t deny it.

“You get cookies?” O’Hara perked up, craning his neck to look at Pacal. “How come we don’t get cookies?”

“Because I don’t need you to like me,” Pascal said with a smile.

“What if we need to catch flights?” Knut interrupted.

Arthur squinted at him. “Knut, we have a game tomorrow. You better not be going anywhere.”

“Well, no, but the sentiment stands.”

“No, it does n—you know what, fine, if you make it through…” Arthur leaned around the glass to squint at his beautiful, crisp schedule. “Your next two—TWO, I don’t wanna hear it—rotations before 11:30, I will let you out then.”

“And no lift tonight?” Kuny asked hopefully.

“Don’t push it.”

“Veto.”

Budding protests froze over in one collective puff of breath.

…the stars are brightly shining…

“What?” Arthur asked at last.

A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices…

Sirius licked his lips, shifting from one foot to the other. “Veto.”

Arthur opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Every eye in the room was fixed on their captain. He rested his chin on top of his hands, folded on his stick. Lupin’s gaze flickered back and forth.

“But I…” Arthur faltered, gesturing at the schedule.

“I get three.”

“It’s not even 9:30.”

“No questions asked.”

“We have a game.”

“It’s snowing outside.”

“How do you know that?” Arthur asked despairingly.

A grin skipped across his face. “I’m Canadian. I can smell it a mile off.”

“Also, Tremzy texted everyone right before practice,” O’Hara added.

“It’s snowing, have fun at practice, you fucking losers, ha-ha,” Knut recited with a grave nod.

“No, no,” Sirius corrected. “My bones are made of snow and I was born with hockey skates in one hand and a thermometer in the other.”

“That, I believe.”

Arthur waved his hands between them before the already-unbearable situation could get any worse. “Let me just…” His headache was coming back. Going home early was starting to sound less terrible by the minute. “You, as captain, get three vetoes across the span of your contract.”

“Ouais.”

“Which you can use to veto any practice you want, for any reason, with no questions asked by me or other staff.”

“That’s what I signed, yes.”

“And you’re using it on a snow day? With barely two hours left of practice? Before a game and a week off?”

Sirius smiled. “Veto.”

“Lupin.” A last-ditch effort. Perhaps a dirty play, but it was warranted. “Lupin, don’t you have anniversary plans? Birthdays? Anything else he can use this on?”

The captain’s barely-contained mischief was bad enough. Lupin’s mild bemusement was worse. “I’m sorry, Coach, but I can’t question a veto from my captain.”

Arthur scanned the crowd of hopeful faces. Sometime in the last minute and a half, Knut had slipped his phone off the bench and was doing his best to text under Winter’s elbow. Kelly Clarkson sang along to his imminent defeat. He sighed, shook his head, and opened the gate. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Nobody moved.

Arthur blinked. “Merry Christmas?”

Not a twitch.

“Ho-ho-ho, get out.”

The dispersal was the most active they had been all day, surging forward in one mass of whooping red and gold. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Moody turn the music up a notch before hustling back into his office.

The herd had vanished down the tunnel in a matter of seconds. Arthur shook his head, turned his smile toward the empty rink, and pulled out his phone.

--

The locker room was a disaster.

“Don’t pull so hard!” Leo grunted as he fought to wriggle out of his jersey, hopping on one socked foot while Finn tried to help him out of his remaining skate. “I’m gonna fall, I’m gonna fall, Kasey—”

An elbow to the ribs righted him. “Yeah, no, I’m on my way out,” Kasey called over the ruckus, sandwiching his phone between his ear and shoulder. “Yeah, lemme get my shoes on. Al’s driving? Jesus, maybe I’ll just walk.”

“A tie is bad, right? That’s a bad gift?”

“T, I’m sure your dad will love anything you get him.”

“But I got him one for his birthday.”

Remus grimaced for just a moment, but it was enough. Thomas dropped his head into his hands with a groan.

“No, hey, it’s a good gift!” Remus tried, patting his shoulder. “Does he have a lot of ties?”

“He’s more of a sweater guy.”

“T.”

“I know, I know, I know.” Thomas sighed. His head fell back against his stall, then rolled toward Remus as his lip slid out in a pout. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Did Remus have to give him a minute with this one? He was a little afraid he did. “T,” he started. “Your dad likes sweaters.”

“Yeah.”

“So get him sweaters.”

“But what if he doesn’t like them?”

Remus took him by the shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. “He likes you.”

Thomas made a desperate sound and rolled his head the other way, then heaved himself upright. “I need to go outside. The cold clears my mind.”

“Way ahead of you!” Finn shouted over his shoulder, one hand clasped in Leo’s and the other on the doorknob with his skates teetering dangerously over his shoulder.

Leo hoisted their duffel bags, shuffling through the narrow doorframe with all the grace of a newborn giraffe. He gave them one last clumsy wave with a glove half-on. “Lo sends his love, even if he’ll never say it!”

“Yes, I’m coming,” Kasey laughed, presumably still to Natalie. He caught the door with his foot just as it was beginning to close; Remus grabbed the edge of it from him and waved off both his grateful look and mouthed thank you. “Yes, baby,” Kasey repeated. “Usual spot. On my way.”

It was a disaster, and then as fast as they had all tumbled in, everyone flooded out. A few of the newer guys remained, muffled by the hum of the showers. Dumo ruffled up Sirius’ hair as he passed, preoccupied by Celeste’s rapid-fire French on the phone and the hustle of his light jog. Remus was pretty sure he caught some mention of the park; there was one near their house with a pond that froze around this time of year. He was a little surprised Logan wasn’t already staking his claim on it.

Sirius’ arm was around him before he even started to sit. It made for the perfect guide and counterbalance, settling him firmly on a denim-clad thigh with a kiss to seal it in seconds. “Hey,” Sirius mumbled against his shoulder blade.

“Hi, trouble,” Remus laughed.

Sirius hummed, obviously pleased, and gave him a squeeze around the waist. “That felt good.”

“Using your powers for evil?”

“Mhm.” Another pulse, this time with a cheeky pinch to his hip. “And you.”

Remus scoffed, swatting at him, but couldn’t help leaning back into his warmth all the same. He was lucky Sirius couldn’t see the heat of his face, too preoccupied with nuzzling his way across the span of Remus’ back to leave a kiss at the top notch of his spine before burying his nose in the divot below. Odd creature, that one. Remus liked him far too much. “What are you doing?”

“You smell good.”

“I haven’t showered.”

“I noticed.”

Remus bit the inside of his cheek for a moment. He gave the room a cursory glance—the stragglers were just finishing up, too engrossed in whatever wisdom James was bestowing on them to notice the graze of Sirius’ teeth over the arch of his shoulder. “I was thinking,” Remus started, then lowered his voice. “Was thinking we could do it at home instead.”

Sirius’ smile pressed bright and devious to his skin. “Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Am I invited?”

“Unless I’ve started using the royal ‘we’,” Remus teased, digging his elbow lightly back into the curve of Sirius’ rib.

His laugh was soft, but the pat to Remus’ outer thigh was perfectly heavy with promise. “Get your bag.”

News of their early departure had obviously reached the ears of the rest of the training staff, because the halls were stark in their emptiness on the way out, after many goodbyes to James and promises of dinner tonight. Remus had been dying for some actual holiday time—he had planned gifts months in advance, dedicated an entire Monday to wrapping, agonized over delivery times and game schedules and delays.

But he was craving the substance of it, the literal meat and potatoes of people coming over to ooh and aah at the ornaments over dinner by the fire. Most of all, he wanted some time that was theirs. A brief moment to enjoy the lights and the smell of fir with just himself, Sirius, and the dog. It had been…three weeks? More? Since they put the wreaths and boughs up around the house. He was pretty sure that was the last time they had been able to do holiday things that didn’t involve obviously sneaking off to get gifts for each other.

Sirius seemed to feel the same. They had hardly made it past the PT room before he was pulled into an empty hallway for a kiss that melted in his mouth like butterscotch. He hummed, pushing into it, but Sirius just took him by the hips and pressed him back against the wall. Okayokayokayokayokay came the giddy whirl of the end of his thoughts.

“This.” Sirius’ mouth moved against his jaw, threatening a mark above his pulse point. “This is what I was after.”

“Cancelling practice just to kiss me,” Remus said, breathless already. His throat caught at a flash of teeth under his ear. “So irresponsible.”

Sirius’ eyes were bright and playful. “And I’d do it again.”

They got away with another minute—or five—before footsteps sounded down the other hall. Remus took him by the hand and pulled him toward the parking lot at a brisk, tumbling clip, sneakers pattering on the floors Filch was waiting to wax until they were all gone for the break. Hooligans, he called them. It echoed in Remus’ head as he kissed Sirius stupid in the hall beside the display cases. If only he could see them now.

The air bit his face as soon as they stepped outside, hot and kiss-fresh. Remus could hear voices around the corner but Sirius’ hand was sliding ever-lower and he just—“There’s people!” he hissed, fighting his grin with a blind bat backwards.

Sirius was too fast. A firm grab made him hoot, startling a laugh from both of them. “The entire world has seen us making out in a car, loup,” he snorted. “I think that’s worse.”

It was only the Cubs, after all, and half a snowman wearing a disjointed collection of gear. Leo’s oh-so-subtle text must have done the trick to summon Logan out of his holiday relaxation. He had only flown in that morning after the Rangers’ last game, but he seemed plenty awake despite the journey.

“You’re making me cold just looking at you,” he argued, adjusting his beanie over Leo’s ears while Finn finished rolling the head beside them. “You’ve lived here for years, and still you forget a hat?”

“Merci, baby.” Leo tried to sound begrudging while he obediently bent to let Logan work, but it only came off as fond. Remus could relate.

“And Fish just lets you walk out of the house like this. Unbelievable. It’s snowing.”

“It wasn’t snowing when we left,” Leo pointed out. “I seem to remember a ha-ha, losers text informing us of the change.”

Logan’s tsk was sharp as black ice while he tenderly tucked Leo’s curls under the hat’s knitted edge and kissed each of his cheeks. “Completely frozen over,” he informed Leo. “You’re welcome.”

“Now you’re going to get cold.”

Whatever disbelieving expression Logan made was lost to Remus as Sirius ushered him around the back of the car, but his scoff was plenty audible. “I’m Canadian. I don’t get cold.”

Sirius’ forehead hit the steering wheel the moment their doors closed. “I want to be home,” he complained.

“You’re in the right place to get there.”

“I don’t want to drive.”

“I can do it.”

A pathetic sigh heaved his back and shoulders. “I don’t want to wait fifteen minutes.”

Remus tugged on the back of his hat. “Not that I’ll ever say no to a little New Year’s action, but I feel like we just covered why that’s not a great idea in broad daylight.”

Sirius groaned, grumbled, and turned the car on.

Between salt and the morning commute, the roads were mostly clear. The familiar crunch of snow under tires pulled half of Remus’ brain from the rink; the other half followed at a sluggish pace, coaxed away by radio carols and the mindless chatter the two of them somehow managed in spite of spending eighty percent of their time together. The window was cold on the side of his head. Remus never liked freezing, but there was something about a snow day that always felt like home.

The house lights cast red and green glimmers over Sirius when they pulled in. They were working on getting decorations he liked; things he actually wanted, not just what Instagram said he should use. It wasn’t a lot yet, but it was a start. The icicle lights above the door had been a particularly good find.

They were greeted by a loud bark and the scrabble of paws. Hattie careened around the corner from the living room (she had taken to dozing under the tree) and spun herself at their feet in a few tight circles for maximum petting efficiency.

“We’re home so early!” Sirius cooed, gathering her wiggly body up in his lap like she was still tiny. “Oh, you’re so excited. Did we surprise you?”

“We were so mean to poor Coach,” Remus agreed as he dodged her lolling tongue. “Yes, baby, so mean, but now we’ll be home all day.”

Hattie keened and whined and nibbled on everything in reach for a tolerable thirty seconds, then launched herself out of Sirius’ lap and made a beeline for her toy box. She had hardly made it halfway to them when a cardinal flitted past outside—her ears spiked up, body puffing on a low bwoof. Remus barely got the screen door open before she was off like a bird-seeking missile, cutting through the snow in leaps and bounds.

They dumped their gear in the mudroom, made a snack, planned lunch, played with the dog, dried the dog, cleaned her paws, and finally—finally—they were standing in the same room, with nothing to do for another hour at least.

“Hi,” Remus said, heart kicking.

Sirius smiled. “Hello.”

Hattie’s teeth squealed on her peanut-butter-filled toy.

They wasted no time for foolishness on the stairs. A sweater on the ribbon-wrapped banister; socks in the hall. Sirius’ pants didn’t even make it across the bathroom threshold, belt clattering on the floor. Remus turned the shower on with his eyes closed because he quite simply could not be bothered to spare more than one hand.

“C’mere,” he murmured into Sirius’ mouth, even as he stepped backward under the spray. “C’mere, don’t move.”

Sirius’ response was wordless and perfect.

Steam built around them, chasing off the chill. The house was decorated. The presents were wrapped. Meals were planned, the dog was busy, and Remus was tired but he was so, so awake now, with ink-black hair wound around his fingers and a boy that held him so the hot water never left him.

Sirius rested his head on Remus’ shoulder and went lax at the drag of a soapy hand over his back. “So good.” His mouth rested at the curve of Remus’ jaw. Every word cooled his skin. “So good to me.”

“Doing my best,” Remus joked with a scritch to his nape.

Sirius raised his head, blinking sleepily around the water that spilled down his face. “I don’t remember the last time I wasn’t scrambling for gifts this time of year.”

“I do.”

“Mm?”

“Last year.” Remus smudged a few soap bubbles down the bridge of his nose. “Shopping for you.”

Sirius’ forehead wrinkled. “Me?”

“I was being cranky,” Remus assured him, running his thumbs over Sirius’ collarbones. He didn’t have a lot of soap left, but he would be shameless and greedy about touching like this. “Lily knocked some sense into me.”

“She’s good at that.”

“The best.”

“And she’s lucky to have you.” A kiss pushed the side of his hair into a cowlick; Sirius grinned as he smoothed it down with one hand. “Trop mignon.”

Hot hot hot hot hot. Remus wrapped both arms around his waist and sank his teeth into the knot of soft muscle above Sirius’ heart. Sirius’ laugh jostled him, but that was fine. He was used to it. “I love the holidays with you.” One last little kiss to his neck, to the spot he had bitten the other night and made Sirius’ leg tremble. “I love you.”

“I’m going to veto every single practice forever.”

“No,” Remus laughed, swaying them back and forth. He covered Sirius’ wicked smile with his hand and kissed the back of it. “No, non, not allowed.”

“But I get kisses and showers and I love you’s and dinner—” His hands skimmed up and down Remus’ sides, running over wet skin with the expertise of someone who knew all his soft spots. “—and you bite me and our dog loves us and we get to see James and Lily tonight—”

Remus cut him off with his lips this time. “Your perfect day,” he whispered, though it was just them in the house. “Sounds pretty close to mine.”

“Copycat.”

“Maybe we should just stick together,” Remus offered. Sirius’ fingertips found his own, lacing together all too easily. “For maximum perfect-day concentration, you know.”

“Nothing else, of course,” Sirius agreed.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“I put mistletoe above our bedroom door when we were decorating.”

“Amateur. I put it on the ceiling above our bed.”

[amethystarachnid]

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.

[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU Season 2: ~

Prologue:

And here we are at Season 2. It's good to be back, and wanted to give you all a little gift for Christmas Eve.

The sun hit Suze's face. It shined through the highest window. Her nose twitched before her eyes opened to the small piece of warmth she could feel. She groaned, feeling her head pounding from the amount of red wine she drank last night, and slowly turned to see Caz still sleeping beside her. A small smile graced her lips. Slowly, she ran a hand through his hair. Caz didn't stir. The man could sleep through an earthquake.

She touched his cheek and began to stroke his face. He didn't react. Suze almost forgot that despite all the bruises and cuts Caz endured from his former career and the stubble he had, his skin was soft. Quietly, she shuffled and rested her head on his chest, using the crown as a pillow for his chin.

Now. A question.

Why were they in the barn?

Cait and Maidie weren't. Suze remembers tucking them into Muir's childhood bed and kissing them goodnight. Her mind began to slowly wake up, allowing her to put the pieces together. Suze didn't drink much. She could never hold her alcohol. Nothing came to mind.

Her eyes scanned the barn. She heard Muir's light snores behind her at the door, saw Gibbo and Jack huddled in the corner, and Addair was back on the upper floor. She couldn't see Jennifer or his children. Trots wasn't here. Probably inside with Simon. As for Rennick, Suze quickly realised that it wasn't a hay stack they were using as a pillow.

She glanced over her shoulder and saw Rennick's giant head facing the other way in a deep sleep. Turns out the man's bubbled flesh was very comfy.

The robin, Ruby, was sleeping on a bean above. The barn cats slept beside the former manager, fighting for a spot around the married couple. Suze made it easier for them and moved away to sit up with a roll of the shoulders.

'So much for staying in the hotel.'

After giving herself a moment to check her watch - 7:45am - she stumbled to her feet, trying to find her balance, then tip-toeing to the door. Until she noticed Cait and Maidie out of the corner of her eye. Turning, she saw her daughters huddled together, resting against Rennick, who held them close with one of his mantis-like arms. She didn't know why, but the sight made Suze tear up. In a good way. Her heart felt light again, and her mind wasn't fuzzy. Well, it was, but the wine was to blame for that.

The joy blocked out any anger she'd usually have towards the girls if she learned they had snuck out during the night. It reminded her of the few times the girls stayed with her late father whilst she and Caz worked. They'd return to find the three on a rocking chair fast asleep as Mary Poppins blared on the television with Cait and Maidie in each arm.

'They've been here for most of the night,' Rennick whispered. He only used his eyes to turn to Suze, not wanting to disturb them. 'I don't think they knew I was awake.'

'I can take them if you want.'

'No, it's fine. They're no bother.'

Suze moved and knelt in front of Rennick. 'How are you feeling?'

'Better, thank you. Think I needed that cry.'

'Everyone's does sometimes.'

'Don't tell the others, though.'

'Not a word. I'm going to make a coffee. Want one?'

'Why not? Just black though, please.'

'Okay.'

Suze walked back to the doors and opened them, trying not to wake everyone with the creaking that echoed off the walls. A sharp chill from the breeze caressed her face. Something told her that 1976 was going to be a good year for the McLearys. Just two more days to go.

Zipping her coat up to the neckline, Suze tucked her hands into the pockets and walked into the snow.

Rennick slowly shut the doors behind her. Never did he think that Caz's wife would be his main supporter. It was nice. She helped him feel calm. He sighed, glanced at the girls, and closed his eyes. Just ten more minutes.

'Black, huh?' Caz snickered. 'Jesus, no wonder you were such a cunt all the time.'

'Shut the fuck up, McLeary.'

[eliza-and-her-monsters]

the tortured poets department

Bonus Chapter

Info Post

Moodboards

Part I

Prev Part <> Next Part

Contains/TWs: a flashback essentially of reader and ellie whenever they were at the psychiatric hospital/wellness retreat together, the sweetest most gentle and soft ellie of all time. HELLLLAAAAA angst like next level angst. discussions of mental illness, hospitals/psychiatric facilities, and mentions of s**cide, sh/scars from sh. (this is not meant to romanticize psychiatric hospitals/care, mental illness s**cide or sh in any way. if you or someone you know is struggling please reach out. you are loved 💛)

WC: 2.5k

A/N: merry christmas eeeeve!! oh my ellie girls- did i ever cook for you 💛

Bonus

gold rush

I think the first time we actually talked was during one of the first nightmares. I hadn’t grown used to the big unbreakable windows or the heavy hospital beds and the idea of having a roommate who saw every one of my little quirks made it even worse. In fact I was even convinced she hated me after a while. She had tried so many times to be friends and I had blown her off every time. Why wouldn’t she?

It was in the middle of the night, one of the few nights I had actually gotten myself to fall asleep in which was promptly ruined. I don’t even know what had alerted her at first, she was such a light sleeper it could’ve been something as small as the change in my breathing. At any rate though before I could fall too deep into the hole I felt the grip of someone’s hand on my upper arm giving me a firm shake awake.

My vision was already so blurry because of the lack of glasses and the tears didn’t help. My breathing came out sharp and fast as I lifted my hands to roughly wipe at them. “No, hey, stop, don’t do that.” Ellie spoke as she passed off my glasses where I promptly slid them onto my eyes with shaking hands. And whenever I couldn’t find anything to wipe the tears away with she chose her sleeve, yanking it down far past her hand and pressing the fabric underneath my eyes until they coated it.

Normally, I would’ve pulled away. I would’ve scrambled and begged her not to. But the fact that for once someone besides my sister wasn’t looking at me like there was something wrong with me… I guess you could’ve called it an early stage trauma bond. Because all it did was pull me towards her. My hand was flying to hers before I know it, wrapping around her wrist as if to hold it into place.

I let out a tiny gasp in embarrassment, shaking my head to unravel my fingers as I stammered out an anxious apology. “I’m- I’m sorry-”

“It’s okay.” She spoke, the corners of her lips upturning in a weak smile as she inched herself closer. “The first week is usually the hardest. And you get pretty touch starved at some point so… you’re okay. I-I probably need it just as much as you do.”

I sniffled as I nodded, still trying to regulate my breathing as I pushed myself up to a sitting position, still desperately clutching at her arm with a trembling hand like she was the only thing I had left to hold on to. “How did you make it to England?” I whispered, subconsciously scooting aside so she could take a seat on the bed next to me, her shoulder just slightly brushing mine.

“Turns out whenever the US Army really fucks you up, they’re willing to shell out a shit ton of money to send you to the best mental health facilities in other countries to hopefully fix it.”

“Geez…” I muttered underneath my breath as I hugged my knees to my chest. “So you’re like, proper scarred then?”

I wasn’t expecting the massive laugh to burst from her lungs next, almost needing to slap a hand over her in order to not alert any of the nurses probably more than we already had. “You could say that.” She answered, resting her back against the wall before giving my arm the smallest of nudges. “What about you? What are you in for?”

“My parents… really just don’t know how to accept the fact that I’m… different. So they’ve stuck me in here hoping to find some kind of ‘cure’ I guess.” I shrugged, arms hugged around my knees. “Turns out just being extremely neurodivergent isn’t enough to fit the criteria of being put in a long term residential psychiatric care facility though so-”

“Oh yeah? Tried to check out too early too, huh?”

“Wow, it’s like you know me already.” I added with another tearful chuckle, Ellie already pulling at her sleeve to catch the strays before they could roll down my cheeks.

“I do know you.” She added, her tone shifting in a slightly more serious though still gentle tone. “I am you.”

For some reason the words brought forth another shuddering sob. A level of understanding I hadn’t seen in anyone else before, not even my sister. “C’mere.” I heard her whisper, pulling away her already halfway up short hair as she extended her arms out to me like we had known each other for years. The sound of my sob was muffled by her hoodie as she pulled me in, my face hidden in her chest as I let the broken cries finally escape.

It sounded so stupid, but I had tried my hardest not to cry while I was here. I thought if I acted like it enough maybe, finally, magically I’d become stable enough to not have to be here and it could even translate to my life outside. Turns out it didn’t work that way. Ellie brought out a new side of that though, she made me feel like it was okay to cry. And she’d be there every single time. Brushing away my tears or letting me hide my face in her shoulder or her chest until I didn’t have any left to cry.

“From now on… you’ve got me and I’ve got you, deal? So no more trying to check out too early, okay?” I wiped at my eyes with a gross sniffle, and whenever I pried myself from her hoodie I could see her staring at me with an expectant gaze and a lifted pinky finger. It was hard to say no to with that dorky little smile on her face. It was hard to say no to also whenever I knew she had been through so so much worse.

I nodded, weakly, but hoping it was enough enthusiasm for her as I wrapped my pinky around hers and feeling her give them the tiniest squeeze. “Perfect, now I’m never gonna leave you alone, squirt.”

The nickname brought out a tearful laugh from me, and I realized I couldn’t exactly remember the last time I had ever truthfully laughed as she tossed her arms back around me and decorated the top of my head in a dozen kisses. Whenever the nurse came at the usual 5 am to check vitals I distinctly remembered being curled up to her chest like she was my own personal pillow, dozed off to the sound of her breathing.

I knew it was an intense friendship, I knew it could’ve signified more. And honestly maybe that’s what I was afraid of. Growing so close to somebody only to have it brutally taken away from you by nothing more than the complication of love.

~

The wellness retreat we were at prided itself on trying to be just that, a retreat. They put a big emphasis on the great outdoors, courtyards and swimming pools and gardens, including a significant amount of grounds for us to go on walking trails. Ellie, I think, was determined to explore every inch of them before she got out and judging by both of our appointments we’d have the time too. So it was no surprise we frequently found ourselves on one, conjoined hands swinging back and forth like careless middle schoolers wanting to show off their very first relationship until Ellie’s long legs and curiosity got the better of her and she ended up trotting forward. She was after all exceedingly more fit than me.

“So, I don’t mean to pry or anything.” She spoke up after a moment of silence masked by our lazy footsteps.

“That’s never stopped you before.” I giggled before breaking out into a skip to catch up with her.

“Ha ha… very funny.” She snickered with a roll of her eyes. “So, I think I already know the answer to this but- it’s pride month, so humor me? Your sister’s an absolute fruit basket, right?”

I burst into laughter at her words before shrugging in response. “I mean, that’s certainly one way to put it.”

“So… what’s the likelihood your parents ended up with two gay daughters?” She wondered as she held up the number on her fingers.

A tiny smile stretched on my lips at the question, no sign of offense in sight from my end as I slipped my hand around the crook of her elbow. “I’d say… pretty likely.”

“Wicked.” She grinned a bit to herself as she rose her arm ever so slightly as if she was a gentleman escorting me to a fancy event. I chuckled once more at her old school slang, catching my bottom lip in between my teeth as if to avoid smiling even harder.

I released a sigh of relief the moment we approached a clearing enveloped perfectly with its high trees. “Can we stop for a second? I’m totally roasting out here.” I huffed as I trudged forward to find a comfortable seat and slip the psych issued backpack off of my back.

“It’s because you’re always wearing those flannels and long sleeves… even outside. No wonder you’re burning up.” Her voice noticeably got softer as she stepped up behind me with a soft hand on my back. “Why do you do that, by the way?” She questioned, gently slipping her hands up my covered arms to the elbows nearly making me tremble.

“You- You know why.” I mumbled, feeling our bodies naturally inch closer until I pressed my hands to her chest.

“No I know why I guess I just… don’t really know why you wear them here, you know? And around me? I-I mean we all have scars.” She wondered, her careful hands sliding around my back. Somehow despite all of our previous touches and general antics and even falling asleep in the same bed it felt as if this was the most intimate we had ever gotten. Stood like two high schoolers at a dance who had no idea what they were doing, yet everything at the same time.

“I guess I just- I never wanted to bother anybody else. Especially you. They’re- They’re not pretty, and they hurt and- I don’t know.”

Ellie let one of her hands encircle around my forearm against her chest where one of my hands held onto her shoulder. On instinct I tensed up, expecting the worst, expecting the judgemental eyes of doctors and the saddened ones of nurses. “I think scars are a sign of strength- of bravery.” She spoke, gently turning my wrist until the scars were pointed upwards where she gradually rolled my sleeve.

“Your’s are maybe. Mine aren’t brave. H-Hurting yourself isn’t brave.”

Ellie’s brushed a tender thumb along the raised skin, the healed markers of stitches. Normally the touches would’ve caused the slightest sting or even a throb. Healed enough to have faded ever so slightly but not enough to have stopped the pain entirely. Ellie’s touch was so gentle though, so careful and delicate. “Surviving through it is though.” My eyebrows knitted together as a waterfall of tears burned behind my eyes.

“That doesn’t mean do it again-“ she ordered as she held up a stern finger with her free hand. “But… just don’t be ashamed either, you know?” Ellie caught a stray tear with her thumb just before carefully lifting my scarred arm until she could brush her lips against it. Placing delicate featherlike kisses against every little wound.

“Thank you.” I sniffled, a soft sob catching in the back of my throat just as I felt her pulling me in, my face muffled in the crook of her shoulder as she wrapped a strong arm around me. “I think you might just be the sun.”

“Darling…” I could feel her shaking her head from just above me as she still held my wrist with such care. “I’m far from the sun. I’m just a girl who… who really really cares about another girl.”

It almost felt like a declaration of some sort, my eyes flickering upwards to meet her softened green eyes, her star-like freckles that I could trace like constellations, down to her curved lips. Maybe I was hallucinating and delusional, looking back on it I probably was. A one-sided magnetic pull towards her perfectly pink lips. So why did she seem to get closer too? Why did she wrap her arms around my waist to pull me in? Why did she let my hand caress her face in the way it did? Why why why why?

At the last second I felt her lips shifting, pressing softly to my cheek instead of my own and I could nearly feel my heart shatter right then and there. “Baby, I can’t do this to you.” She whispered with a shake of her head, the step backwards only sending me reeling as I fought the urge to dive after her.

“But I- I thought-“

“I know- I know but- fuck, please don’t cry, Millie, I’m sorry.” Ellie didn’t cry often, so whenever she did it was a big deal. But in that moment I could see the tears welling up in her own eyes as she drew back to me so quickly I nearly lost balance. “I can’t- I-I can’t give you your first kiss in here. We- We can’t do this, Millie. I love you s-so fucking endlessly but I- y-you deserve to have your first kiss be from somebody special and somewhere romantic and… not with me.” She sighed a bit to herself, clenching her hands at her sides as if it killed her to say any of this.

“I just can’t give you what you need i-in that sense right now and I- I hate myself for it and I feel like I’ve screwed up the most important and precious thing in my life because of it but… I can’t lie to you. I just can’t.” A weak sob fell from her lips as she let her hands fly to her eyes as if it’d somehow hide all the evidence.

If she were a selfish woman she would’ve gone through with it. She would’ve pushed her lips to mine and held on for dear life and maybe it would’ve gone farther. But she wasn’t selfish. In fact she was probably the most overwhelmingly selfless person I had ever met.

“Ellie, love.” I gulped back my own tears as I stepped forward to take her body into my own arms, lifting up onto my tiptoes so she could nuzzle her face into my own shoulder. “I’m not mad at you. You didn’t screw anything up. You could never screw this up.”

Ellie’s arms squeezed around my waist as she let her tears soak into the crook of my neck with a shuddering sob. “You are the only good thing that has ever happened to me.”

“And you’re still the sun.” I spoke softly, inching away only to cup her freckled face in my hand and press my forehead to hers. “You saved me. So you’re my sun.”

[aftermiiidniiight]

"Eh, I'm not that interesting," A gentle tease, trying to keep the topic light, still feeling some discomfort from the interaction. Cora couldn't imagine this being a situation where she and Marcus would ever actually get to know one another. But before she could consider it any further, things had become a little serious. She felt like she could become a puddle at her own feet, under the intensity of his gaze. It was a scary thing for her to talk about - commitment. It wasn't exactly a concept she was familiar with. She understood loyalty, understood the willingness to go to the ends of the earth for someone else - Caleb, Goldie, they inspired loyalty. Commitment was different, uncharted territory. So his question kept her quiet for longer than usual, thinking it over.

"I'm newer to this," The entire dynamic. "I know certain rules, but not others." She didn't want to blur lines, didn't want to confuse pleasure for feeling, but it was already happening. It was a jarring feeling, not having the upper hand with a lover. Maybe she should just pour it all out. Just be shamelessly honest about her confusion, her concerns, her insecurities. Nope. She'd rather die than do that.

Her fingers began to fidget with the hem of the shirt she wore, and she let out a little sigh, closing her eyes for a second before finally saying, "I just... How long are you typically involved with someone? And how often do you do this?" It would be good to have an average, to know what to expect. There were more questions, there were always more questions, but she was melting in a different kind of way. His fingers brushing against her skin, his lips on hers, it almost felt like he wasn't playing fair. Apparently her cunt could distract her from just about anything, but only when it came to him, sliding aside her discomfort to make room for need.

It was perplexing and exciting and borderline concerning, how hungry Cora was for him, how he could have her short circuiting like this, speechless as she watched him. Want, want, want. She wanted to pounce on him, wanted to lose herself in him, but she knew she couldn't and it was driving her crazy. "If you insist, Sir." Her tone was teasing, trying to hold herself back as he focused on his phone.

Declan didn't even make it past thought into reaction this time before Cora adjusted her tone to tag on a little 'please' at the end, causing a small smile to tug at Declan's lips. "Thai food works," he nodded slightly in agreement. "And I was already planning on eating with you, love. My body needs food as much as yours does." If not more, to be honest, given that he was a fairly large man who had every intention of expending quite a bit of energy during the evening.

Declan emitted a sound of confirmation when she repeated his words, but he didn't care to elaborate, eyes lingering on his current work with her hair. "Marcus has his own reasons for doing things, and he doesn't always share them." He parted another section of hair. "He does tend to take an interest when I get involved with someone." Declan paused, considering her words as well as his own and then redirected his full attention to her eyes, fingers trailing the line of her jaw. "Are you under the impression that my commitment to you is a fleeting thing, Cora?" His brows pulled just a tad closer to each other. She had eluded to her own insignificance enough for him to address it at this point, and he would have the conversation no matter how uncomfortable it might make either one or both of them.

Declan's lips twitched with her self-proclaimed lack of ability to prioritise or rather, perhaps, think past her own arousal, drawing his fingers away to let her shake out her hair. "I appreciate your candour, my darling," he started then, "but I think we both know by now that your mind will wander with or without my touch, and I'd hate for your aching cunt to distract you from your food." Leaning down, he brushed his lips lightly against hers. He drew back only an inch, voice lowered then. "So I'm going to order, angel. And then I'm going to make you cum on my tongue." He pressed his second kiss to her cheekbone before he withdrew, even taking a step away from her. He gave her one final look, a promise in his eyes, just a hint of a smile on his lips. Then he took out his phone, dropped his gaze to the screen and began typing.

[asmutwriter]

First Christmas (Dean x F!Reader)

DESCRIPTION: It's your first time celebrating Christmas since dating Dean. Lets just say he takes it very seriously.

A/N - Merry Christmas everyone! Hope you all have a good Christmas/solstice/Wednesday and enjoy some Dean fluff to help you celebrate

WORD COUNT: 972

One Shots / 'You Saved Me'

WARNINGS: established relationship, fluff with a light tone of more fluff

DISCLAIMERS

This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

This story is based after the events of my series 'You Saved Me' (a Supernatural fan fiction) which I'd recommend reading before or after reading this

You roll over. Hand going to where Deans chest should be. Emphasis on the 'should'. You wink an eye open. The bed next to you completely empty. You give a small grumble. Unsure of what the time was but knowing it was way to early to be getting out of bed. Rubbing your eyes as you sit up. Squinting to see if he was in the room at all. It was dark outside. The only light coming into your room was that of the nights sky.

Not able to distinguish a figure you decide he's not in there. Reaching and grabbing for your phone to check the time. 4:07am. You were right. Way too early to be getting out of bed. You give another loud huff. Throwing the covers from your body before swinging your legs out from the warmth of your duvet.

The usual light in the hall was still on. You always had the one outside the girls room on. In case they needed the loo during the night then they could find their way to the correct place with minimal bumping into things. You could see the vague glow illuminating the upstairs corridor and falling into the hall down here. You look to the end of the hallway. Noting the light on in the living area.

Making your way sleepily down. Entering the room you see Dean sat at the dining room table. His gaze glancing up as he watches some cartoon on TV he has on in the living room. Muted with the subtitles on as to not disturb you or your daughters upstairs.

"Dean?" you whisper his name. He quickly turns to face you at hearing your voice. Turning back as he moves the wrapping he was using to hide the objects on the table. Paying the items no mind as you tiredly look at him. "What are you doing up at 4 in the morning?" He stands. Giving you a small cheeky smile as he glances downwards before looking back up at you.

"Well..." he coughs slightly. Looking back up. Trying and failing to act cool at the question. "I realised its Christmas in two days and I hadn't wrapped up the gifts I have for you or the girls... I decided to do it tonight as I know we'll likely be up late tomorrow and I won't have time but I wanted to do it before the morning so I could hide them properly". You smile at the cuteness of his notion. Going over to him you rest a hand onto his upper arm. Looking up into his green eyes as he looks down towards you.

"That is incredibly sweet". You take in a small breath. "If you want to wrap presents up then you can do it in the day. Say you need to borrow the bedroom or something and take everything into there. It saves you getting up at this time in the morning to do wrapping for us".

"But you or Anna or Lydia might suspect what I'm doing and try and look". You give a small chuckle. Nodding as you keep his steady gaze.

"I get what you mean about the girls". You scratch your head. Looking downwards slightly. Stroking down the hair your just dishevelled. Not that it overly mattered due to your already existing bed head. Looking back up at him. Giving a soft smile. "Have you wrapped everything up for me?" He gives you a blank look. Obviously saying no without the word coming from his mouth. You nod. "Ok". you go over to the kitchen. Continuing to speak as you walk to a drawer. "How about-" Grabbing out a plastic bag. Shutting the drawer shut again. Softly as to try and remain quiet so you don't wake the girls. He tries and shields your eyes from the gifts behind him with his body. Exaggerating his arms outwards. You walk back over to him. Holding the bag towards him.

"Put everything for me into here". He looks at the bag then back at you. Gently taking it from your grasp. You turn your back. Covering your hands over your eyes. Hearing shuffling as he moves everything in. A minute passes. Feeling him lightly tap your shoulder. Taking that as your cue to turn ack around and uncover your eyes. Which you do. A very noticeable bag shoved under the table but you pay it no attention. You never did have the desire to find out your presents were before you got them. "Can I look now?" he nods. Moving out your way. Seeing a few gifts already wrapped. Names scribbled into them. Smiling as you see ones for your children. You pick up the newspaper from the table. Raising your brow at him. He gives a sheepish smile. A small exhale of a laugh leaving his lips as he looks almost embarrassed.

"I couldn't find any proper paper". You give a laugh. Putting the paper back down as you go into the hallway and to the stairs. Going into the cupboard beneath it. Turning the small overhead light on as you try and locate the items you want. Smiling at your success. Grabbing out the festive paper and fancy labels. Going back over to the table and plopping them down. "You are a life saver". You laugh. Picking up a stuffed Olaf toy. Moving him to face Dean. Raising an eyebrow slightly.

"Let me guess. Anna?" He nods.

"She told me that she loves that movie and that Olaf is her favourite character so I'm not going to judge" he takes the toy from you. Whispering to the stuffed creature. "You're beautiful". Kissing the top of his little stuffed head. You smile.

"You're ridiculous" you playfully point out. Picking up other items and starting to wrap them.

TAGS: @sojuxxi

[corpsentry]

pick your battles

[waitineedaname]

I realized I made some notes on how different characters fight in mob psycho, and I never posted them. here you guys go, for any reference needs

Mob: mostly simple attacks, not very showy, just waves his hand and uses telekinesis/exorcizes something, doesn’t move around much. As ???%, much more destructive, psychic force seems to just emanate off of him and destroy everything

Teru: VERY mobile, throws himself around with telekinesis, puts his whole body into the attacks and tends to use moves from normal fights (punches, slaps, kicks, etc). Utilizes a variety of psychic techniques with flexibility, very creative. Piss stance, necktie sword. Much more flashy than Mob

Ritsu: uses powers to throw people/things around. While Mob and Teru attack with just psychic blasts, Ritsu tends to use his powers to grab other things as an attack (grabbing the delinquents and throwing them against each other, throwing the Claw guards against the wall, picking up cars to sandwich Shimazaki between them). Uses his environment creatively (fire extinguisher smoke screen against Shimazaki). More flashy than Mob, but not as mobile as Teru. Hand gestures for Drama

Shou: sneaky + speed + bomb!! Tries to be as evasive as possible using invisibility/speed (probably telekinetically enhanced?) to hit from behind, using either telekinetic force (his stomp in his introduction, the shockwave hit on ???%) or his charge bomb attack. Potentially uses speed/evasive moves as defense instead of the barriers we see most everyone else use

Serizawa: likes to channel his powers into an object (umbrella, business cards). Uses that object as a shield, sword, or something to blast psychic powers out of. Not very mobile in season two, moves around much more in the yokai fight. Not particularly flashy, but looks cool regardless

Reigen: deception/surprise!!! Either tricks people into thinking he’s going to do something else and then attacking, or just outright taking them by surprise and attacking before they know what’s going on. Usually doesn’t have a follow-up move, just does the one attack and hopes for the best. Prefers to bluff his way through a situation

[humblepoet26]

Rest assured, no bra's were (worn) harmed in the making of this fitting check, you got the loverboy safety guarantee 😘

As you can tell, they tried to escape a couple times 🤭🫣😜

[sforzesco]

THE BROTHERS PAOLO AND VITELLOZZO VITELLI

man. the fucking. cycles of violence going on here. war, condottieri brothers, the execution of paolo vitelli (but the on the matter of guilt: questionable! no proof besides the absence of potential violence, but what conspiracy-betrayal wants to leave behind proof? torture and execute him anyway. maybe machiavelli has a point! unfortunately you left a surviving brother), the congiura della magione, all of it coming together at the strage di senigallia. just blood and gore and war all the way down, never stopping for a breather, already on to it's next battlefield. also malaria is there!

in other news! it turns out if you want to draw a comic about the strage di senigallia, you have to figure out designs for all the people in the room, but if you draw vitellozzo, you also have to draw his brother because he's like. there. in a dead way. something something vitellozzo's desire to avenge his brother manifesting in his desire to brutalize florence for their role in his brother's death.

that said, I did not want to draw military armor for an illustration that was partially designed to test out some splatter brushes. in the future though….I will have to revisit that visual…..