#mother nature x tooth fairy

[freak-like-meemy]

WildQueens!!! 😍

they’re girlfriends ✨

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐑𝐒. 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄

˗ˏˋ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˎˊ˗

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — nathan mackinnon x claus!reader 𝐰𝐜 — 2k 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — when she took the reins as the world's chief claus, her father forgot to disclose one very pressing hidden clause in the job contract... 

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — my mom and i watched this trilogy on a loop when i was growing up, so it only felt right to take some inspo!! <3

Most children would give anything to have Santa Claus as their father.

They wouldn’t if they knew what you did now.

Your father withheld a crucial detail throughout your many years of training. Perhaps the most important stipulation of them all—you cannot be Santa alone.

“Whoever wears the coat takes on the duties and responsibilities of Santa Claus. In accepting the contract, the cardholder acknowledges that they must marry the partner of their choosing before their first Christmas in service to retain the titles, privileges, and residence of Santa Claus. Failure to do so will result in immediate de-Santification.”

You needed a partner. Someone to act as caretaker to the elves and the reindeer, and to watch over the Workshop and general operations on Christmas night while you fly all around the globe, the embodiment of the season's spirit.

Santa Claus wouldn’t—and couldn't—be Santa Claus, if not for their other half.

You suppose you should’ve known, should’ve worked it out sooner. So much of what made Christmas special was because of your mother, the previous Mrs. Claus. In his many years as Santa, your father made a point to remind everyone of that. She is the steward of the season.

While Santa Claus tinkers with toys and checks the lists, charts travel routes and weather patterns, and develops contingency plans to accommodate the ever-evolving technology, their spouse keeps spirits bright. Without help, the effort was pointless. 

So, you should have realized. But you hadn’t, and now it might be too late.

“I have to find a husband in 28 days. If I don’t get married before Christmas Eve, I don’t get to wear the coat. I’ll lose the title, and the reins my family has held for thousands of years will pass to someone else,” you rant, tone carefully hushed to not rouse the temperamental husky one backyard over.

Your breath plumes away from you, rising before dissolving into the chilly Denver air. It reminds you of a snow globe, a bittersweet one.

“Who?” asks Nate.

Nate, like most of the world, is a Mundane, a non-magical person. He isn’t the descendant of Cupid or Mother Nature. Or a Santa Claus like yourself. He’s just Nate. Nathan MacKinnon from Halifax. Nathan MacKinnon, who now resides in Denver, Colorado, for work. 

It's well past midnight, and you’re sitting on his back porch with your head hung low and one of your reindeer, Comet, is nibbling on his icy grass.

“I don’t know,” you answer with a glum shrug. “Normally, it would go to the next child in line. Since I don't have any siblings, I guess the Council of Legendary Figures will convene and select my replacement.”

Nate nods.

In his eyes, you can see him listing off the members in his head. Mother Nature, Father Time, Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, Sandman, Cupid, Jack Frost. To him, they’re mythical beings. Bedtime stories and folktales he was told as a child by the adults in his life. For you, they’re the closest thing you have to extended relatives.

And they butt heads like ones too.

“What will happen then? I mean, where will you go? Could you stay where you are now, just not as a Claus?” he asks.

“The North Pole is the only home I’ve ever known. All my family’s ever known. When the duty passes from one generation to the next, the predecessors remain in the village, but who knows if they’d get to stay if I fail to comply? It’s all in jeopardy now because of me.”

Nate lowers himself down onto the step beside you. He does his best to disregard the unpleasant feeling of his pajamas soaking in the snow, but you hear the wince.

With the snap of your fingers, the snow is gone, and his pants are completely dry. You’ve even warmed the concrete beneath him.

“Thanks,” he murmurs softly.

He doesn’t have to thank you; you’ve told him a million times. But he wants to. He can’t let you give without acknowledgment. Nate refuses to appear ungrateful, even for the little things that seem insignificant to you. Like vanishing snow or drying his pajama pants. 

Funnily, “Santa Claus” can feel like a thankless job. No one ever thanks you. They thank the persona, the relic. Nate wants you to know he’s grateful for your care and friendship, regardless of your occupation or magic.

Gently, he bumps his shoulder against yours. “You know there’s more than one person in a marriage, right?”

“Yes, but I haven’t exactly made an effort to find the other half of the equation,” you reply, deflecting. 

You always overtake blame. Nate thinks it might be your singular flaw. 

“I mean, it's hard because it's not like I can date like a normal person; my pool is small. And shallow. They either want me to give up the power entirely or give it to them instead. You remember what happened with Jackson Frost. All he wanted was the power his father failed to usurp. That should have been clear from the start. I guess I could see if Orpheus is still seeing the nymph Mother Nature fixed him up with. The whole narcolepsy thing, though not his fault, isn’t ideal, but the only other option is Val. And I’d rather not spend the rest of my life worried about flying arrows and jilted lovers.”

As the daughter of a Legendary Figure and soon-to-be one yourself, you haven’t had much time to date. Or even think about it, for that matter.

There was always a new wrapping paper to test for durability and shine or a machine on the assembly line that needed to be fixed before it broke any more dolls. Or a reindeer with a stomach ache refusing to fly. Or a fire in the kitchen that sets back cookie production by three weeks. Or a maniacal being with frigokinesis (the ability to manipulate snow) attempting to overthrow Santa Claus and assume control over the North Pole.

Crisis after crisis, all with very little personal time. That's why you opted for people who understood: the children of other Legendary Figures with dominion over their own holidays and cultural traditions. However, fraternizing with other magical beings comes with its own set of problems. For example, an ex-boyfriend and his father plotting to ruin your home, ancestral legacy, and a beloved holiday out of pure spite. 

“You’re forgetting someone.” Nate’s quiet voice yanks you out of the downward spiral.

“Who? Easter Bunny is our eternal bachelor who would sooner give up candy than have kids of his own, and Tooth Fairy’s kids are still, well, kids. Jack Smith recently took over as Pumpkin King after his father retired, but he’s not the nicest company. Especially when he’s drunk, which is, truthfully, most days. I guess I could look outside the Council, but —”

“Me. I’m talking about me. You forgot me,” Nate interjects with an impatient huff.

“What?” you blink in disbelief, assuming you misheard him.

There was no way he was throwing his hat into the ring. 

“I could be Mr. Claus. If you’d have me.”

Your face melts. If you'd have him? It wasn't even a question. 

“Nate, I could never ask that of you. You would have to leave everything—everyone, behind. You would have to give up a career you love and have worked so hard for. Not to mention abandoning all the friends you’ve made along the way. You would have to lie about where you live and who you married to—and what she does for a living for the rest of your life. Nothing would ever be normal again. I’m tethered to the North Pole, but I won’t lock you up there with me.”

“I’ve been dreaming about the North Pole since I was a kid. Long before you nearly knocked over my family’s Christmas tree and had to make it up to me with a ride around the block on Comet,” he says with a chuckle.

You snort, recalling the fire you almost started the first time your father ever brought you along for deliveries. You weren’t allowed down a chimney for a few years after that, but the friend you gained was worth the punishment. 

You take Comet to visit as often as you can and have been for years. He leaves out your favorite cookies on Christmas Eve, and you always save his house for last so you can spend the last hour of the season with your favorite person. 

But you always imagined a day would come when he finally grew up and stopped needing Santa Claus. For as long as you’ve known him, you’ve been planning for a broken heart.

You sniffle. Nate takes your hand in his.

“Knowing you—loving you has put that dream within grasp. You wouldn’t be locking me away because I’d go willingly. Happily. All I’ve ever wanted for Christmas is to go to the North Pole with you. To see where you grew up and meet all the people who made you as wonderful as you are.”

“Why have you never said anything?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t be able to. “Only elves, reindeer, and Clauses,” remember?” Nate smiles, mimicking your father’s response to a ten-year-old Nate’s innocent request. He even does the jolly belly laugh, which warms your heart. “Bernard wouldn’t even let me past the hanger if the sleigh didn’t toss me into the Atlantic first.

But in all seriousness, I didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position with your father again. Or with yourself. I know how much the sanctity of Christmas means to you. I didn’t want you to feel obligated to show me something that would feel like intruding on the magic to you.”

All Nate has ever wanted for Christmas is for you to show him your home. All you’ve ever wanted is Nate. The only gift your father couldn’t make and the elves couldn’t build. In all her festive glory, even your mother couldn’t put what you truly wanted under the tree, though not for lack of trying.

Nate was the only person who could give the present of his presence, but you’d always been too fearful to ask, too worried he didn’t feel the same.

But here he is, crouched on a step in the middle of the night watching a reindeer chase a moth like a cat, telling you he’d give up everything to stand by your side. 

For you to be Santa Claus.

“Are you sure?” you ask apprehensively as if he were an animal you didn’t want to spook. “Sometimes we say things in the moment that we don’t really mean. Especially when someone flew 3,000 miles on a reindeer to throw a pity party in your backyard. You can take it back, and I promise nothing will change. No hard feelings whatsoever. I’ll still come and bring Comet to visit as often as possible. And you’ll stay on the Nice List, don’t worry. I wouldn’t even dream of —”

Nate cuts you off with a kiss. Sweet and perfect, and full of promise. The kind of kiss you dream about as a little girl, wondering what your Prince Charming might be like when he finally arrives. And tonight, yours did.

Albeit, the cape was missing (you preferred flannel pajamas anyway), and he hadn’t ridden in on the back of a mighty steed (you crash-landed on a reindeer-back, if that counts), but it was magical all the same.

“Wait!” you burst, abruptly pulling away. “What are you going to tell your parents? ‘Hey, Mom and Dad. Yeah, no, everything’s great. I just quit my job, sold my house, and moved to an undisclosed location—all without warning. No reason to worry!’ Somehow, I don’t see that going over all that well.”

“We can tell them we’re in Alaska and that you’re a toy maker," Nate casually supplies. He sounds like he's talking about the weather or what he had for lunch, not a life-altering cover story. "You couldn’t leave because your workshop is there, so I decided to move to be with you. People move all the time, especially to be with their fiancés.”

Though your heart flutters at the title, worry still hangs low over your head. You know how much he loves his family; you can’t bear to be the reason they’re separated indefinitely. 

“But when I find a way for them to visit, how would we swing that? The sleigh is big, but it's not airplane-big. Curtis is a master of disguise, but even he couldn’t make the sleigh look less like a sleigh.”

“Doesn’t Sandman owe your dad a favor?” Nate winks.

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[thomase1]

My raven

Loki x fem!reader (OC)

This story is part of the Winter Warmers collection.

It is winter at the Avengers compount, which mean a lot of preperation. Will you win over a certain god to love, or at least not mind, christmas?

Warnings: Tiny bit of anxiousness and jealousy. Alcohol consumption. Overall just fluffy wholesome goodness.

Word count: ~3.500

Thank you @huntress-artemiss for helping me with this! 💙

It is Christmas, which means everybody was busy decorating every last nook and cranny of the compound.

You have long grown tired of all the Caucasian firs you've had to make. Being a woodland fairy in the avengers compound this time of year had its downsides it seems. Finally done, you went to help the others with the food and fool around a bit.

Its going to be a long day, but you love it. Everybody helps, everybody has fun and the food is amazing. When all the turkeys are finally roasting in the oven, the side dishes are simmering and the dessert is resting in the fridge, you go to the communal room with Wanda and Thor.

After all that hard work, a classic Christmas movie is needed. Debating which film to play, the sofas get fuller and fuller. Even Pepper, Tony and Morgan joined in, which means it has to be fit for a 6 year old.

The coffee table is filled with adorable cookies the little Stark has decorated. Alcohol free egg nog and apple cider standing alongside pies and crumbles. It is a feast for any sweet tooth, which reminds you, where the hell is Loki?

"Thor, where's your brother?", you ask the god sitting on the other end.

"My best guess is his quarters, he is not one to enjoy socializing to this extent, as you probably know by now.", he shakes his head sadly.

"We'll see about that.", you say and dash through the hallways.

At his door you knock, not getting an answer, "Loki, come on, join us in the living room! I promise it will be fun." You know him well enough to know, he is sitting at his desk, trying to ignore you. He's a stubborn god, but you are a stubborn fairy with good intentions.

"Come on, we are watching a movie together, its going to be fun!", you talk to the door of which you know every knothole by now. His hard shell might have ceased, but his bullheadedness had not. You always have to force him out of his room, only for him to enjoy whatever activity it was you forced him to.

"There are snacks. Cookies, Apple crumb-", you stop as the door gets ripped open. "Lets go.", he nods.

Unbelievable.

You understand that there is no candy on Asgard and that its only natural for him to get excited for it. But Thor and him go feral over sweets, nobody ever dared to but you think if somebody took away their sugar, they would grow a little... murderous.

"Better hurry, Thor is already there.", you tell him and start to quick walk.

"Why did you not start with that! Move it!", he commands, beginning to jog.

When everybody was seated and had their mountain of food on their plate, you finally decided on a movie. The Grinch.

Its a classic, plus Morgan and the Asgardians don't know it yet, it had to be done. It did not fail to make each and everyone laugh, conveniently explaining some of the Christmas traditions along the way. It is Loki's first Christmas, which is why he has been pestering you with questions, even if the result was him ridiculing earths beloved Christmas traditions. You love to explain it to him, but not at 6 in the morning. Any time spent with him is a blessing to your heart, but to talk to somebody that finds this whole holiday stupid, at 6am and getting asked questions about said holiday... yea, not your favorite activity.

Despite his resemblance to the Grinch, demeanor wise, you have been crushing over him since you laid eyes on him. He is just too charming and the first person to withstand your wit. Not to mention he looks exactly like you always envisioned your one true love to look like, your mother did always promise you, it was the same for her. Apparently it is a common thing amongst your kind.

"Is it strange that I feel a sort of sympathy for that fictional being?", he whispers at the flashback scene from the Grinch's childhood. Loki insisted to sit between Thor and you.

"Do you feel sympathy for characters in books?", you ask back. He nods solemnly.

"There you have your answer. Everybody feels for him. Its how it was intended, everybody loves an outlaw.", you smile at him, your words carrying a double meaning. He heard it too but thought it sure must be a misunderstanding.

"Daddy why were they so mean to him?", Morgan asks Tony.

"People aren't always nice sweetie.", Tony answers her with a sad smile. Loki, too, smiles sadly at their chat, so you lay a hand on his arm, giving it a squeeze.

The movie get together was spent laughing at the movie and eating as much food you could before getting sick. When it was over, most of the others went back to cooking and decorating.

"I wanna go outside!", Morgan whines, tugging at Peppers sleeve.

"Ask somebody else. I have to help with the food and daddy needs to help put up the lights.", she tells her, a gentle hand stroking her daughters hair.

"Uncle Steeeeve, do you want to go outside with meee?", she storms towards the captain, who is holding a tray full of salads and side dishes.

"Oh I'm sorry but I am busy. Why don't you ask aunt Fee or Wan?", he nods toward you two.

"Yea, come on, we wanted to go out anyway.", Wanda holds out her hand. You did not, you two had planned to lounge on the sofa, but you cant deny Morgan. She runs towards you, happy giggles leaving her.

"Where are your winter clothes?", you ask her.

"Oh. Home.", she sinks her head sadly.

"Allow me.", Loki stands up and with a click of his wrist, the three of you wear thick winter coats, beanies and gloves. Loki remains in his sweater.

"Thank you. Looks like we can go outside now.", you smile at Morgan who nods enthusiastically.

Outside, Morgan got her sledge and Loki conjured Wanda and you one too. Morgan squeals with happiness while she goes down the steep snow covered hill, Wanda standing at the bottom to catch her. Then, Wan and you decided to race, which ended in a crash.

You lost control because of a stone, resulting in you, flying through the air. Trying to regain control, you thrashed around, losing a boot in the process. Said boot hit Wanda in the head, making her crash into a mountain of snow at the side. Nobody was hurt but Loki is laughing at you, already doubled over with a hand clutching his stomach, "You really knocked her and yourself out of the race!", he huffs between fits of laughter.

Wanda and you look at each other, communicating silently, even Morgan understood the instructions. Secretly, the three of you made an artillery of snow balls, a small mount of spheres at your feet.

"Now!", you shout.

The fire opens, Loki getting hit in the face repeatedly until he puts his wall of defense up, snowballs bouncing off the green barrier.

"Hey! Using magic isn't fair!", Morgan pouts. Loki smirks devilishly at her and lowers his defense, snowballs flying towards you now.

"Oh fudge-", you say, realizing your out of ammo, unable to retaliate.

"Son of a gun!", Wanda grunts, a snowball hitting the back of her head.

"We yield!", you shout, Morgan hiding behind a tree and Wanda being hit again and again. The attack stops and you hear him laugh sinister, "Smart choice.".

"What is the child doing now?", Loki interrupts your chatter, looking behind Wanda.

You turn around, "Oh, she is making a snowman.".

"A what?", Loki tilts his head, utterly confused.

"A snowman. You make two or three big balls of snow, stack them and create your snowman.", you smile at him.

"Usually has a carrot as nose and sticks as arms.", Wanda adds.

"How utterly stupid.", Loki rolls his eyes.

You pose in mock offense, "How very dare you? It is a beloved tradition on this planet. Come on Wanda, lets make an army!".

"I'll get some carrots!", Wanda runs inside.

She returned shortly after, carrots in one hand and various items in the other. Morgan happily indulged in the use of Wanda's collected items, her snowwoman, as she insisted, now wearing purple gloves on her stick arms and having small red buttons aligned in a smile. The two of you just made your first one and he is beautiful, you named him Edward.

"What is all the fuss about? These are horribly ugly creations. I don't see why you mortals obsess over them so much.", he knits his brows, circling the snowman Wanda and you built.

"Hey! That is our son, apologize to him right now!", Wanda pouts in mock offense.

"He is our pride and joy. Look as him! He's so cute!", you stride towards the snowman and straighten the multi color striped scarf you put around him.

"Cute? It has a crooked carrot as nose and pebbles as eyes, I fail to see what it is that is so cute about that.", he looks it up and down as if it is mocking him.

"You wouldn't know beauty if it was hitting you in the face!", Wanda tells him outraged.

'Oh but I do', he thinks to himself, his eyes lingering on you for a second, with you blithely unaware.

☃️

An army of snowmen and women later, you three girls eye up your work proudly, Loki shaking his head in disbelief.

"I'm cold.", Morgan whimpers.

"Lets get you inside.", you lead her towards the door, the others following.

An hour later, dusk crept over the snow covered park of the compound, a sign its time to eat. All of you sat together at the long table, joining today was only a suggestion for the teammates not living here, but almost everybody came along. It was a pleasant surprise.

The dinner was nice, friendly chatter flowing alongside festive beverages. Morgan and the kids of shield agents, who were welcome to join too, were done eating pretty quickly, running around playing around the compound when boredom hit them. The Christmas dinner went on for hours, some guests stuffing themselves fuller than the turkeys already devoured. When it came to a final stop, the compound was calmer again, people leaving to make it home before midnight and the kids sound asleep on the sofas, all tired out. Anybody conscious and still able to move helped clean up.

The get together shifted to the living room, in which the biggest fir you've ever made stands proudly at over 15 feet, almost reaching the ceiling. People are dancing, others talking and a few indulged into some drinking at Tony's 'mini' bar. Its not mini, its the size of a normal bar you'd see inside a club, a wide variety of booze displayed on the shelves.

And as everybody else was having fun, your mind races with worry. Your nerves stretched like a wire rope about Loki's gift, anxious you might have overstepped with how personal it is.

Luckily Steve pulled you out of your thoughts, asking you to dance with him. His baby blues outed him about being in deep thought as well. You accepted the unexpected request of his, "I know that look, you want to ask me something, don't you?"

He set a hand to your waist, making you lay a hand an his upper arm. Letting out a deep sigh he nodded, "Yea, I do. I need your help- or more like your advice.".

You tilt your head at him, "Sure, go on.".

☃️

Loki has had a secret crush on you for a few moths now but is too stubborn to admit it, mostly to himself. He tells himself it is just confusion, that he has not had a partner in too long and that he cant be drawn to a mere mortal fairy. He notices himself growing progressively jealous when you are around the other teammates though. Particularly towards captain Rogers, who asked you to dance, taking you away from the spot on the sofa next to him. The insufferable patriot has a hand on your waist, you giggling uncontrollably.

It becomes increasingly obvious that it is not confusion that has him drawn to you, it is your persona. How you always have a witty comeback to whatever comment he made. How you give him suggestion regarding books from Midgard; none of which he disliked, you always give him the very best suggestions. One of your recommendations became his new favorite actually. The way you teach him about this planets culture, like Christmas, desperately trying to make him feel at home. Like he belongs. Even when all he does is complain and mock your planets entire existence.

The way your laugh fills the room, a sweet symphony, making his heart swell. The only thing dampening the mood is when it is not him that makes you sing your song, but another man, like now. Which drew him to another realization.

One thing he does like about Christmas so far: mulled wine. He downed about 6 mugs of it already, feeling the alcoholic beverage warm him up from the inside out. A strange thing for the frost giant to feel.

30 minutes and another 5 mulled wines later, you sit down on the sofa next to him.

Strangely enough, he feels a little tipsy, never had that happened from Midgardian beverages, up to now.

"Is it growing on you?", you ask Loki, who's got a bit of color to his cheek. No wonder, you saw how he kept downing that mulled wine. It is a secret, but Thor put in a little Asgardian mead, not a lot, but enough for normal humans to get drunk after 3 to 5 mugs of the drink.

"This mulled wine is rather nice, my favorite thing about this whole holiday so far.", he enthuses.

"I'm glad to hear that you at least enjoy something. There are still a few things you have yet to experience, maybe you will like one of them too.", you smile softly.

"What else is there to experience, I was planning on retreating to my chambers soon."

You look at him a little hurt. You really though he would just enjoy himself this time and not count the minutes until he can leave. But apparently you thought wrong.

"Oh come on! There is one thing you will love, I bet you will! Just another hour, you can leave after midnight.", you plea. You really tried your best with your gift and you'd hate if he left before receiving it.

"Fee, I'm just really tired.", he sighs.

You put on your puppy dog eyes, "Pleeaaase! I have a surprise for you, you cant leave now! Just one more hour!".

He sinks his head back into the sofa, closing his eyes with a deep exhale, "Fine. But I will leave at midnight!".

You squeal with happiness and hurriedly nod, "Yes, you wont regret it, I promise!". He chuckles at your exuberance and makes himself comfortable again. A little later, Tony announced that it is time for gift giving.

"What?! Nobody told me about this, I don't have anything to give!", Loki frowns.

You pat his shoulder, "Its alright, nobody except me thought you would even be here. That is enough of a gift.".

Everybody went back to their rooms to retrieve their presents. As everybody came back, the room erupted in chatter and sounds of joy. You got a lot of great gifts and yours were receiving as much joy.

Then it was time to hand Loki his gift. You turned to him and hand him the small, beautifully wrapped, box with a smile.

Growing more and more anxious about his reaction as he opens it. Will he like it? Thor told you he would love it, but does he know his brother well enough? Oh god, what if he hates it?

"Ophelia, this is beautiful.", he gasps, extracting you from your internal conflict.

Your heart leaps of joy, he likes it. You look at him and see him examine the orb, small enough to fit in the palm of your hand. You made it yourself, it is golden with a gorgeous labradorite which you put all your love and energy into. That stone just reminded you of Loki, chipped and scarred, but unbelievably beautiful. He has not yet realized it is far better than that though.

Labradorite; source google images

"Look at its side, see that little latch? Open it.", you guide him to find the hidden latch. He opens it and you see tears well up in his eyes.

The top of it is covered in green gem stones, the main part however is the picture of Frigga on the bottom of it. The words 'I love you my little raven' engraved on the glass dome covering her picture. You went to Thor for advice and he told you that was what Frigga called Loki as a child. He reminded her of a raven, curious, mischievous, playful and very intelligent. His raven black hair another obvious afflatus.

You know how much he loves her and how much his last words he ever spoke to her haunt him. How it breaks his heart he could not attend her funeral.

"I don't know what to say. Nobody has ever given me anything this beautiful. This thoughtful.", his voice is shaking, a tear going astray.

"I'm glad you like it, Thor helped me with the quote. Merry Christmas Loki.", you lean forward and wipe his cheek. He pulls you into a sudden hug which you happily return.

"Merry Christmas Ophelia. You will get the best present of your life next Christmas, I promise it.", he mumbles in the crook of your neck.

The two of you part and dumbly smile at each other; butterflies throwing their own celebration in your stomach. The way his eyes sparkle ever since he got your gift fills you with pride.

And the way his cheeks still hold a slight pink hue to them makes you want to kiss him. Oh what are you saying, you always want to kiss him. But you don't want to ruin the friendship which took such a long time to built.

Distracting yourself, you lay a hand over his, covering the orb. Using your abilities, you shrink the orb and make a matching golden chain. "So you can have it with you at all times.", you take your hand off and he surveys your work.

"Thank you darling.", he smiles and pulls the wide chain over his head. Your heart skips a beat at the pet name, you love when he calls you darling.

His necklace suits him well, the orb hanging just above his sternum.

You two jolt at the sudden increase of volume in the room, looking around for the reason. You spot it first, Steve pulled out the mistletoe over Nat and his head, like you suggested. You even grew it for him.

He asked you what to do, so you gave him a lot of joke ideas but a few genuine ones too. He picked the obvious classic; holding a mistletoe over your crush and yourself. "Mission successful.", you giggle as they kiss, the room erupting into cheers and whistles.

"Finally!" being thrown at them by the OG 5, Clint excluded since he is home with his family.

"What is happening?", Loki asks totally confused by this strange behavior and your words.

"Its a mistletoe. It is an old tradition. You must kiss if you stand under it. I gave Steve the tip.", you explain to him.

His lips curl up, "I see. So that is what you two were talking about.".

He was watching you two? You blush and clear your throat, "Yes. He asked me how to finally kiss Natasha. I made the mistletoe for him since we both liked that idea the best.". He nods, "I see.".

Shortly after, he excused himself for the bathroom, so you talked to some of the others.

Loki joined you and the others, leaning at your arm, so you looked at him questioning. Your eyes meet his expecting gaze, lips smiling at you warmly.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!", chant the others suddenly.

Which is why you realize, he is holding the mistletoe over you two. Your heart races, a blush creeping up your neck. He wants to kiss you too, oh my god. You turn slightly and stand on your tippy toes, placing a hand on his shoulder. You gently place your lips on his, eyes fluttering closed. He kisses you back, a hand cupping your cheek, pulling you closer. His lips are so soft and he tastes divine. He tastes even better than you expected, sweet and like mulled wine. Everything gets warm and fuzzy, there is only him and you, everything else losing its importance. Even oxygen. Your hand slides to cup the back of his head, fingers meeting his soft curls.

"Ok. That's enough now, there are kids present!", Tony interrupts. You two giggle in the kiss and break apart, hot breaths fanning your cheek.

Smiling dumbly at him, you speak up, "You stayed past midnight.".

"I did. Only for you my love."

With that, you found a pet name you love even more and the god you love to call you by it.

☃️

Fun fact;

Fee is the nickname for Ophelia, Fee means fairy in german, which is why i choose that nickname. Fe means fairy in norwegian as well, so, Loki loves that nickname. It just makes sense and is cute.

Tagging: @peaches1958 @slytherclaw1227 @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @mischief2sarawr @michelleleewise @holdmytesseract @fictional-hooman @holymultiplefandomsbatman @mochie85 @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @vbecker10 @xorpsbane @alexakeyloveloki @lovelysizzlingbluebird @muddyorbs @november-rayne @sarahscribbles @maple-seed @simplyholl @gigglingtigger @loopsisloops @theaudacitytowrite @wheredafandomat @lady-rose-moon @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @dangertoozmanykids101 @animnerd @joyful-enchantress @mygfloki @lokiprompts @springdandelixn

[fangirl-writes]

Christmas Rainbow

Jack Frost x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): None

Notes: Hey, I’m still a sucker for this guy even years later so here we are.

Summary: Every year on Christmas Eve, North throws a ball for all the spirits of myths and legends to come together to celebrate the holiday. The spirit of the rainbow isn’t known for the wintery months but maybe Jack Frost will change her mind.

North had really outdone himself this year, Jack thought.

The hall of spirits was covered in Christmas decorations. Lanterns twinkled like fairies in a forest of red and green, holly and mistletoe hung from the ceiling and in entryways, evergreen wreaths hung from every pillar. No less than ten Christmas trees stood around the room against each wall, decorated with everything from embroidered ribbons to gleaming stars, and Jack had just finished decorating a few with his own personal brand of everlasting snow.

“Good work, my boy!” North boomed as he entered the hall down the grand staircase that wrapped around another large tree that had been decorated with toys and inventions by North himself.

“Thanks,” Jack replied, throwing his staff over his shoulder. 

North put a hand to his chin, a curious glint in his eyes as he studied Jack for a moment.

“What?” The white-haired boy asked, a little uncomfortable beneath his friend’s watchful eye.

“Well, I hope you know that a blue hoodie and brown pants won’t do for this Christmas ball.”

“What?” Jack said again, a little more incredulous this time.

“We as Man in Moon’s guardians are in charge of hosting event for spirits like us. For that we must look our best! I will be wearing my whole Christmas outfit, Bunny will be wearing green suit, Tooth will be wearing own personal dress, even Sandy will be sporting a bow tie. Being this is your first event, you would not know of dress code.”

Jack frowned. “These are the only clothes I have. Where am I supposed to get something fancy?”

North let out a hearty laugh. “I know just person!”

Snow was falling thickly upon the ground now. It seemed Mother Nature had taken matters into her own hands this year, giving Jack the night off. It fell untouched in a blanket of white, just begging him to dive right into it for snow angels and snowball fights.

The thought made him miss Jamie. He’d have to wish the kid and his friends a Merry Christmas the next day.

North had led Jack to a room in the workshop he hadn’t been before. A room full of children’s clothes; socks, shirts, pants, even underwear littered the small area and was accompanied by sewing machines and balls of yarn labeled for different fabrics.

“Wow, thanks, Phil,” Jack said, surveying himself in the long mirror in the corner. “I didn’t know yetis could sew.”

Phil grumbled something that Jack couldn’t understand and clambered out the door with his sewing basket in hand.

He was dressed in dark blue leather pants with matching leg warmers that wrapped around the tops of his bare feet, a white shirt that buttoned up to his neck, a navy blue vest that layered on top of it, and a hooded cape that shared the same color as his hoodie.

He had to admit that this was a good look, even if it wasn’t really his style.

North’s voice carried loudly through the workshop and Jack decided he should make a reappearance to greet his fellow guardians.

As he made his way down towards the globe room where the guardians usually gathered, he noticed that each of them were also dressed in their best clothes for the night.

Tooth was the brightest colored for sure, her bright pink skirt standing out among the others and sweeping the floor even when she hovered in the air. Her top half looked the same as usual, if not a little more polished, and a golden sash was wrapped across her chest and around her middle.

Bunny had opted for a lime green suit with red and gold trimmings. It almost looked like a military uniform without all the metals.

North was dressed exactly as he said he would be. He had on his big black-furred coat and furred hat, but had left the swords and combat boots aside for now.

And Sandy, of course, had opted to spice his regular look up with a golden sand bowtie.

North whistled in Jack’s direction as he approached them, causing the others to look at him.

“Lookin’ good, mate,” Bunny complimented, patting him on the back.

“You look very handsome, Jack,” Tooth said with a smile.

“Thank you. You all look nice as well. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear that, Bunny.”

The rabbit shrugged. “Belonged to my father. I only break it out for special occasions like this.”

“Shall we go?” Tooth asked, gesturing to North’s clock that hung on the opposite wall, the minute hand nearing the twelve.

They all agreed and used one of the snow globes to transport themselves to the hall of spirits.

The entrance hall was already filled just beyond the doors. They could hear the muffled voices of various spirits and creatures waiting for the clock to strike eight.

The guardians stood in a small formation. North stood in the middle, Bunny on his right and Tooth on his left, Sandy next to Tooth and Jack next to bunny.

“Here we go,” the eldest guardian said and with a snap of his fingers the great oak doors opened, allowing the guests to begin filtering in.

Jack noticed several notable names such as Cupid, the Leprechaun, even the Groundhog (to Bunny’s utter displeasure). Many Lunar Lamas mulled around and several fairies glittered across the floor.

North waved as Ombric (Father Time) entered with Katherine (Mother Goose) the two of them accompanied by some children from Santoff Claussen that had wished to join in the festivities.

“Come, guardians,” He said. “Let us mingle with the guests.”

He descended the stairs first, the rest of them following closely, but eventually losing each other in the crowd.

Jack felt a little uncomfortable as he surveyed the hall for someone he recognized. A difficult task since he’d been isolated from all of these guests for 300 years. 

It didn’t make him great at starting a conversation either.

“Ah-” He shielded his eye with his hand as a bright light struck him.

He squinted, following the light to its source and was surprised to find someone messing with the icicles he had hung from the ceiling.

A girl with (h/c) hair and rainbow colored wings was flittering around the ceiling, filling the glittering icicles with iridescent light.

“I see you’ve found (Y/N),” North said, setting hand on Jack’s shoulder and startling him out of his stare.

“(Y/N)?” Jack asked.

“Yes! Most humans know her as Iris, but she prefers her name from before she was chosen.” North said. “She always adds a bit of light in the winter time with the help of the sun.”

Jack looked back up at (Y/N), noticing her chatting to Tooth, who had flown up to meet with her.

“I think I’ve seen her work before,”

North laughed. “I’d be surprised if you hadn’t! The two of you must run circles around each other sometimes. I’m sure she’d love to meet you. Tooth! (Y/N)!”

The two girls looked down to where they were being called to, waving before descending to meet the flightless boys on the floor.

“Hi North, Jack,” Tooth said. “Have you met (Y/N)?”

“I haven’t had the pleasure,” Jack replied.

The girl in question stuck out her hand, it was covered in what looked like multicolored chalk. “(Y/N) Rainbow.”

“Jack Frost,” He replied, taking her hand.

“Wow! Your hands are so cold!” (Y/N) said.

“Uh, thanks?” Jack replied. Her hands were remarkably warm, he noticed, and none of the dust from her hands transferred onto his when they let go.

The band made up of elves in the corner began playing a nutcracker waltz and couples made their way to the middle of the floor to dance, others migrating to the edges to observe.

“Ah! I love this song! Tooth, would you care for dance?” North asked in his jolliest voice, offering his hand to the fairy,

“I’d love too!” She replied equally as enthusiastic, placing her small hand in his much larger one.

They took to the dance floor in a swift motion, leaving Jack and (Y/N) alone.

She turned to Jack with a bright smile. “Would you like to dance?”

If Jack’s cheeks weren’t naturally rosy, he would have blushed. “I- uh- don’t really dance.”

“It’s easy!” She encouraged. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good ide-”

With a yank she’d pulled Jack onto the dance floor, placing one of his hands on her waist, the other still clasped in her hand.

“And 1-2-3, 1-2-3,” As she spoke, she stepped towards and away from him at the appropriate time.

Jack clumsily followed, it wasn’t as hard as he thought. They dared a few turns as the music ramped up, causing everyone around them to dance a little faster.

“I noticed your barefoot,” (Y/N) said, distracting him and causing him to step on her foot.

She winced a little and his head shot down to look at his feet. “Sorry. I see you are as well.”

“I find shoes too constricting,” She replied.

Jack couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, me too.”

Before long, they were dancing just as quick as the others and (Y/N) even let him twirl her a few times.

“Are you up for something daring?” (Y/N) asked, smiling at him.

“Well, I am a guardian. Daring is what I do.”

She laughed and just as the music began picking up speed again, they began floating off the floor, dancing in mid air.

Jack had flown before, with the help of his staff and the wind, but this was different. It felt as if his feet hadn’t left the floor, that the air was just another step.

“Wow,” Jack whispered, trying not to look down at all the eyes that were no doubt watching them.

“Relax,” (Y/N) said. “Be cool,”

Jack chuckled. “Cool is my middle name.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it.”

Jack had seen the nutcracker ballet before, a few times in his 300 years, but he couldn’t even be bothered to pay attention to the music. He was too enamored with the girl he was dancing with and how she floated through the air with ease, twirling and dancing with him like they were trained partners.

Her white dress spread out around her every time she spun, sending out a flash of rainbow light from the ends of it. Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight and her smile was contagious.

There was a warm feeling spreading through his chest. It wasn’t the same warm feeling he got when he pledged to be a guardian, or when Jamie hugged him, this was a different warm.

When the music stopped, they ended their dance perfectly with Jack dipping (Y/N) gracefully.

They were met with applause and Jack finally spared a glance to the ground.

It seemed they’d become the only dancers, everyone else stopping to observe them.

North caught Jack’s eye and the frost spirit could see the glint in the Christmas man’s.

He turned to (Y/N) and she practically beamed back at him.

“That was fun!” She said.

Jack smiled. “That’s my job,”

She laughed and hugged him before they settled themselves to the floor again, being bombarded with compliments and questions.

“Thanks for the dance,” (Y/N) said once they’d made their way out of the crowd.

Jack smiled. “No problem. Hey, the next time I bring a snow day, would you maybe want to come along?”

Her face fell. “No. Not really. Nobody believes in me much, especially kids. I know it’s not supposed to be a big deal, but it still kind of hurts.”

He took her hand. “I know what you mean. I spent my first 300 years not being seen. But I bet I can get some kids to believe in you, like they believe in me.”

She sighed. “Well, if nothing else, I’d love to see you try.”

She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “You know where to look to find me. See you around, Jack.”

With that she disappeared into the crowd again.

Jack didn’t realize he was staring until North had clapped him roughly on the shoulder. “Get yourself a girlfriend, did you?”

“What? No, no I didn’t.”

“The rainbow kiss on cheek says otherwise,”

Jack’s face felt hot as he wiped away the mark, noticing the rainbow coming off on his hand.

Okay, maybe he liked the idea of her being his girlfriend.

[freak-like-meemy]

WildQueens!!!! 😍

Sketchbook Log: 💕 Them 💕

Date: 6/23/21

[heaux-burrow]

moonlight. darkside.

read moonlight. brightside. here (coming soon)

fandom: midnight mass summary: pisces man x cancer woman: they push each other's buttons, though with the best of intentions. an absorbing bond. he especially uncovers old burdens, healing in the process. cancer opens up too. sex is an escape... -from 'Sextrology' by Starsky & Cox (oneshot, complete) based on the midnight mass sleepover game - thank you @midnight-mess for your ask about father paul x cancer girl that inspired this. I tried so hard to be normal about this but... alas.

You’re always moody about something and Christianity is never least on the list.

Raised in church, you knew the Lord’s prayer before you knew your father’s first name.

The worst part is how real you wanted it to feel. How you were always looking. Always so ready to truly find God. If he would just come out and let himself be found. You never believed in Santa. Or the Easter bunny or the tooth fairy or ghosts.

But when your parents taught you about God, you knew that had to be real. Because your children’s bible said so. And all the sing along VHS tapes were about Jesus’ love (or the casual murdering of Egyptian first born children…). Everyone at Sunday School is so sure. Most of all, when the cathedral parishioners lift their voice in song, you can feel the holy spirit light up the room. Yes, you think, it has to be real.

You’re three the first time you ride in an airplane. And you’re bouncing with excitement as you board. You just know you’re finally going to see angels today. You just know God will be up there waving to you, so happy to see you. But there’s nothing to greet you up there except clouds, so bright with sunlight they sting your eyes. You cry the whole plane ride to Florida, thinking God just didn’t want to see you. Thinking you’ve done something to upset him. After all, that’s how it works in your own house. Withholding affection and not telling you what you’ve done wrong is your mother’s favorite game to play with you.

Your parents get divorced when you’re seven and it’s a gnawing sickness that turns your stomach every time you ride the ferry to Crockett to see your mother. She tells you she’s happy here. But it smells like fish in every building and the library doesn’t have any good books. She still makes you go to church on Sundays. The chapel here is much smaller than the towering cathedral back home on Long Island. But just as Catholic.

The priest on Crockett is nice, you guess. He rambles a lot and smells of mothballs. You’re not even sure he can see you for all the milky cataracts in his eyes. But at least he never speaks of hellfire or supporting Israel in the fight against Palestine or condemning women seeking abortions or all the other things your father’s parish rallies around.

By the time you’re eleven you’re already asking too many questions. Why would God tell anyone not to seek knowledge? Why would he advocate for genocide? Why would he kill all the first born children of Egypt? Why then, after so much violence, would his ten commandments stay silent about rape? Slavery? Domestic abuse? Still you still go to church with your father. You kneel when you’re supposed to. Stand when you’re supposed to. Offer peace and put your father’s tithe in the little plate. But you don’t smile and you don’t sing. You sit and listen and read the wrong passages and try to untangle your confusion.

Fourteen sees you wearing all black, your pretty hair cut short and bleached blonde after someone told you that women were meant to wear their hair long as a natural veil before God. A stud is set in your nose. Converse sneakers on your feet. You go to church only because you have to. Only because it feels good to have something to be so angry about. You don’t kneel in prayer. Why should you kneel to anyone? Unworthy of whose love exactly? How abusive is this god? No wonder Lucifer said enough is enough.

Your mother told you her maiden name ‘Oliver’ was Scots-Irish. That it meant ‘olive branch’. It meant your family was peaceful. You do your own research and find out that her ancestors were Dutch before they were Scottish. And Saxon before that. In ancient German, the name was originally Ælfhere before being Anglicized beyond recognition. Elf warrior, it means. This is a proudly pagan name. Who are these ancestors that have been scrubbed from your history? Who in your bloodline was badass enough to earn such a moniker and who were the Christians that stole that history away from you?

Going back far enough, it’s a similar story on your father’s side. And you can’t help feeling like something has been taken from you. The gods of your ancestors should be a sacred birthright. Your anger only grows when you learn all the feast days of Christianity were stolen from pagans too. Jesus wasn’t born on December 25th. That was the major feast day of Rome’s Sol Invictus, celebrating the winter solstice. Easter had nothing to do with a real resurrection. It was the Vernal Equinox stolen from the goddess Eostre. Suddenly, your whole world tilts off its axis. And you’re just fucking angry all the time. Why had everyone lied to you?

Seventeen sees you with a driver’s license in your hand and the fights with your dad just get worse and your mom is in and out of the hospital. When every emotion gets to be so much you can feel them all wrapped around your neck, strangling you, you jump in your car and drive too fast with the music turned up too loud. You let yourself get lost in the only thing that’s ever felt like God, only now the hymns are replaced with moody punk pop. You scream the lyrics until your voice is gone. Let the windows down so you can feel the wind through your fingers. You drive and drive until you get lost and then piece your way back in the moonlight.

You throw yourself into the study of every faith you can find. In college you minor in religion, still just searching. Just hoping something will click.

Nothing does. But you spend even more time driving. After class you get in your car and you just take off. In any direction. No map, no destination. That’s the point. You need the freedom of not knowing what you’re going to do or where you’re going to end up or what you’re going to see. You find national parks. Little valley towns. You find farmland. And forests. Lakes. Sunshine. Rain. Snow. You find spring. Like you really notice and feel spring for the first time in your life. Because for the first time in your life, you’re really paying attention. No longer trapped inside four walls staring at stained glass. You are truly tuned in to the universe.

Feeling guilty, you give church one last try. There’s a gorgeous Catholic cathedral just a few blocks from your dorm and you wander in on Sunday morning. The sermon is about the miracle of ‘conversion therapy’ on the LGBT community. Sick to your stomach, you walk out halfway through. You’ve only recently realized you yourself are bisexual and the words had cut into your viscera like a hot knife.

Still you feel God’s disappointment in you and sit in your dorm with the bible your mother gave you on move in day. Feeling lost, you don’t even know where to turn. You lay the book open in your lap, trusting that whatever you’re supposed to read, the universe will find for you.

The book falls open to Deuteronomy and…

“And the LORD said unto me, Behold, I have begun to give Sihon and his land before thee: begin to possess, that thou mayest inherit his land. Then Sihon came out against us, he and all his people, to fight at Jahaz. And the LORD our God delivered him before us; and we smote him, and his sons, and all his people. And we took all his cities at that time, and utterly destroyed the men, and the women, and the little ones, of every city, we left none to remain: Only the cattle we took for a prey unto ourselves, and the spoil of the cities which we took. From Aroer, which is by the brink of the river of Arnon, and from the city that is by the river, even unto Gilead, there was not one city too strong for us: the LORD our God delivered all unto us.”

After that day, you never pick up the bible again.

Instead, you read Paradise Lost. The Mists of Avalon. The Red Tent.

You open up your laptop and rewrite Genesis from Lilith’s point of view. From Eve’s. From Lucifer’s.

You drive again. Further this time. And sometimes, it’s days before you return to your dorm. You watch bees buzz around peach blossoms. And you feel the sun reaching down and sinking into the leaves. You smile so hard as everything just clicks into place. This is what you’ve been searching for. This is fucking it. God isn’t in a book or a cathedral or at an altar. God is the way sunlight travels 93 million miles through space just to sink into these leaves. And the tree can only stretch a couple dozen feet in the air to meet it “halfway”. But it tries anyway. And the sun never withholds affection in retaliation. It just keeps loving.

Just folds its energy down into this tree. Down into these roots. Into your skin. God isn’t separate from you, hovering in the distance ready to strike you down. God is in you. In everything.

As above, so below As within, so without As the universe, so the soul

You start a past lives journal so you can piece together all the clues you’ve been collecting. You spend whole days in the Barnes & Noble café pouring over astrology and numerology and name magic and manifestation.

You learn how to reclaim all the power you were told was only in God’s hands. You walk barefoot under the full moon and learn how it recharges you. You lean into the knowledge that you’re a night creature, just like owls and foxes, and let yourself stay up all night writing. You feast on starlight. Pearls aren’t just pretty, they share your vibration, so you wear them everywhere you go.

You join a coven. Attend burn ceremonies. Honor the real feast days, the ones the church tried to take away from you. Commune with the gods of your ancestors. And it’s like the cornerstone of your foundation has finally been set. All of this just feels right.

But the anger never really goes away. Nobody knows how to hold a grudge like a cancer girl. What else are these crab claws for anyway?

///

Now a successful author, your life feels lightyears away from a childhood spent kneeling in pews. You don’t even recognize Crockett Island. You haven’t been here in a decade. Maybe longer? But your mother begged you to come home. Your mother who is always sick. Whose bedside you are always running to. Who seems hellbent on making sure you never really get to live your own life. You resent her as much as the church and had every intention of telling her no. You’re still trying so hard to set boundaries. To draw a line around yourself and force everyone else to stay on their side, no matter how deep the guilt trips go. But when she’d facetimed you and told you she was being discharged from the hospital because of some miraculous recovery from the thousand ailments she’s always had...when you’d seen her… she'd looked so young. Her gray hair turned blonde again. Blue eyes sparkling. Wrinkles faded smooth over rosy cheeks. She looked your age.

Growing up, you were always the ugly duckling. But you’re beautiful now. The kind of beautiful that makes people stare when you walk by. Fashionable too, even by Manhattan’s impossibly high standards. And maybe that’s not supposed to matter. But it does to you. Because you had to find those things yourself. Your mother never taught you about makeup or how to dress nicely. She never taught you how to be charming or kind or lovable. You’d had to earn that with your bare hands. You’d climbed the stairs to your penthouse apartment from the ground floor up.

So Paul doesn’t even recognize you at first, when you wander inside the chapel. You can’t picture yourself attending Sunday mass. But you hadn’t been able to stay away. The curiosity was too much. And you feel like Eve in the garden sitting under the tree of knowledge, just staring. Just hungry to know.

“My mother looks...different. She says it was you. That you visited her in the hospital...What did you give her?”

Maybe it’s this tiny detail that gives you away. Maybe it’s your eyes, fixed on his.

“You’re Lynn’s daughter, aren’t you?” A faint smile of recognition flickers across his mouth. You don’t trust him, not for a second. And you hate how disarming this whole sweet, small town priest thing is supposed to be. Fuck off, you think. With your cardigan sweater and tight jeans and long bangs in your sad eyes. Doesn’t matter how pretty you dress it up, I can smell you a mile away. Peddling lies. Just like the rest of them.

“How do you know that?”

“You look just like her.” He laughs as if it’s obvious. And you take a small step back.

“I didn’t a couple of months ago. What have you been giving her?” He follows your movements as easily as if this is a dance.

“I could give some to you. Seeing is believing, right? But I doubt it would prove anything. I just can’t imagine there would be much of a change to see. You’ve really blossomed, haven’t you? And I don’t just mean the novels you’ve published. They’re immaculate. I’ve read them...But it’s you. You’ve come into yourself completely. I’m so proud of you.”

“Do I...know you?” Your heart is beating so fast and when his eyes drop to your neck, it’s almost like he can see your pulse. Smell your adrenaline.

A shaft of moonlight falls through the chapel windows. As you take another step back, he follows and steps right into it. And that’s when you see his eyes all lit up. Human eyes can’t do that, you remember because you’d researched it for one of your novels. We don’t have the layer of film in our eyes necessary to reflect light that way.

“Are you still searching for God?” His voice is softer now. Nearly a whisper. “I remember you sitting in my pews...burning with anger. Like a pot of water just boiling over. I can take all that away.”

“Maybe I like my anger.” You find the courage to snap back. You’ve never been able to keep your mouth shut when pushed. Did he say ‘my pews’? This can’t be Father Pruitt...Father Pruitt was old and senile and…

“Because you have nothing else to wrap yourself up in at night. You know, it doesn’t have to be that way.”

It pisses you off that he just knows. All the money and the clothes and the cars and the designer perfume and the lower east side penthouse… they’re wonderful. But you’re lonely. You always have been, whether in a relationship or not. Surrounded by friends. You’re still the princess who locked herself in her own ivory tower.

Doesn’t matter how pretty you dress it up, I can smell you a mile away. You hear him whisper in your mind like he can read yours and your knees nearly give out. Backed up against the altar, you have nowhere else to run. Near enough now to caress the back of one finger along your collarbone, you gasp at how cool his touch feels.

“Your worst fear… it’s turning into her, isn’t it? And you keep it wrapped up so tight inside yourself it makes you sick. Not just the hospital visits. No, it's the poison. The cruelty. The demons inside her. I can take it all away. If you don’t grow old… you can’t turn into her, can you? I can make sure you always stay you. As perfect as you are right now.”

The wide eyed flicker of vulnerable hope that wells up in your eyes is all he needs to see.

Your body crumples into his as his teeth sink into your neck. And the pain is blinding at first. Fingers curling into his sweater, you feel tears falling heavy on your lashes and wonder if you look like a weeping madonna.

He lays you on the altar. Bites his own wrist until blood flows freely from his veins. You’re too weak to refuse and truthfully, you don’t want to. If you’re going to die, you might as well let yourself be the little monster you’ve always wanted to be. Death has never scared you anyway. Take me away from this place, you think. Please let me be reborn as a star or a wolf. Something that has no idea what a political election is. Something with no concept of clocks or stock prices or bell curves or dated signatures.

As darkness edges in at every corner of your vision, you willfully slip into it. You’ve never wanted anything so badly.

But then you wake up.

On instinct, you touch your neck. The bitemarks have healed. The blood has been washed away. You don’t know where you are but it doesn’t really matter…nothing matters except...God, you’re so fucking thirsty. You’ve never been so thirsty in your life. And it hurts. Tears prick in your eyes from the ache as you try to swallow against the pain and you squeeze your eyes shut as it throbs through your entire body. You’d rather have your neck torn into a thousand times than feel this.

Standing, you have to reach out for the bedside table to keep from falling over. Your hands shake as you go for the glass of water there. Tears are streaming down your cheeks as you drink. This is not thirst as you’ve ever felt it before. You’d swear your gums are shrinking, pinching the nerves in the roots of your teeth. But the water is like sand in your mouth. Why is the moonlight so bright? The lights are off but the whole room seems to sparkle. Even the dust is lit up blue-white, the slates of moonlight falling through the window glaring like headlights.

Holding a hand up to shield your eyes, you nearly fall to your knees. But strong arms catch you just in time. As if he can feel your thirst in his own mouth, Paul reaches up to bite his wrist again. Your senses flare when you catch the scent of blood in the air. On the altar, it had tasted metallic. Awful. Now, as he holds his punctured wrist to your lips, it’s like sliding into a hot bath after a month in the wilderness. Steaming coffee after trying to kick the habit. Gripping his wrist, you drink like a greedy toddler until he has to tug your mouth back with a firm grip in your long hair. Gods, he tastes like the canyons stars are born in. Like the interstellar winds that birth galaxies.

“Alright, little one… come up for air…” His chuckle sounds different now. No longer menacing or dangerous. The depth of his voice is tender over your ears, as if he’s speaking to a baby bird who fell out of her nest. Smoothing the hair back from your face, it doesn’t seem to phase him at all that his blood is all over your lips and chin. That it’s now smearing across his thumb and wrist and up into your hair.

You watch his wrist heal in fascination, then slowly pull back to find his eyes, gleaming in the moonlight like a wolf's. You’ve never seen anything so beautiful. The stars pale in comparison.

Somehow, you can feel the way his heart pounds harder in his chest when he looks at you. And the rush of endorphins running through him like a new mother holding her infant for the first time.

“I’m still thirsty.” You pout a bit, somehow instinctually aware that he’ll understand what you need. That he’ll fix this problem for you. Like a duckling knows to follow its mother. Dropping a kiss to your forehead, Paul nods and helps you stand up on your own again.

“Let me take care of you, little one.” He pulls his cardigan off and wraps it around your shoulders.

You never go back to Crocket Island again. Sometimes, you send your mother postcards from the cities you hunt in, assuring her you're perfectly fine. Happy even. There's always a little blood on them, but it's never yours.

[chloe-writes]

Erwin and his kids trying to get his workaholic wife out of her desk

The Househusband

[ Erwin x Fem!Reader ]

[ Fluff - Modern AU ]

‎

Summary: Life as an aircraft maintenance engineer leaves (Y/N) no time for her family. Erwin and the kids plan a special surprise for her.

Content Warning: adorable children

Word Count: 1.1k

The constant, spontaneous changes in life make no sense. And the more we grow older, the lesser sense it'll make. It’s a fast-paced world we live in, change is a natural flow of life. Everything will soon turn into a photograph framed on the wall, or memories played in the back of our minds.

Erwin misses the 2am kitchen dances, the long sleepless nights talking about love, the Sunday family picnics.

Suddenly, all those became distant memories.

For him, you were his heaven on Earth. When he kisses your lips, he could taste the next fifty years of life together. But the only thing stopping you from spending it hand in hand was your work.

You were an aircraft maintenance engineer who often worked long hours to ensure safety across the assigned aircrafts. A lot of mechanical issues arise in such an unpredictable environment, so you work under constant pressure; paying close attention to the surroundings while regularly communicating with the maintenance staff for things to run safely and smoothly.

With the amount of workload you handle on a daily basis, naturally you would come home worn out and completely exhausted. There was no spare time for family. Work shifts also included weekends in order to cover flying hours.

“But you’re late anyway, another five minutes to finish your breakfast won’t make any difference.” Erwin was concerned about your health, you haven’t been eating properly these past few days.

Hastily putting your black shoes on, you replied with a hurried and unclear mumble, “The Government Air Division called in for an emergency preflight inspection, I can’t afford another five minutes when I’m already running late.”

“Alright then, text me during lunch break. No, call me instead, so I’ll know you’re actually eating, and not busying yourself with paperwork. I love you.”

“I love you too,” With that, you take your leave.

Your husband was plainly staring at the front door that just shut in front of him. His pink apron had patches of flour from preparing pancakes for your breakfast, which was left untouched. Erwin is a calm and collected man by nature, but your negligence for family was testing his patience. He needed to think of a plan to spend time with you quick.

“Did mommy leave already?” The voice of a little girl in pajamas snapped the man away from his thoughts. She was holding a stitched-up potato stuffed toy in her arms while coming down the staircase and walking into the living room.

He crouched down to meet her eye-to-eye, “Yes little sweetheart, she just left. Listen Sasha, go wake your little sister up so we can have breakfast. I made pancakes, sound good?”

“Okay!” She kissed her father on his right cheek and ran off to wake Historia up.

---

Your entire day was spent on installing electrical circuits, testing communication equipment, and replacing aircraft oxygen system components. By the time you arrived home, you decided to skip dinner and finish the report of today’s events at work.

Placing the laptop on top of your desk, you sighed. You missed your family. Sasha was in second grade already, and you haven’t had the free time to catch up on her about school. When Historia’s first tooth fell out, you weren’t there to tell her about tooth fairies. While Erwin had mentioned several times that he wanted to adopt a puppy, you kept putting your conversation about it off.

In as much as you wanted to bond with them, you knew you couldn't afford losing your job. However, the kids were going to grow up without a mother by their side.

Perhaps you confused having a career with having a life. You spent most of your time focusing on what’s urgent, and not enough time on what’s actually important.

Forgetting the report you were working on, your mind kept wandering off to different places, ruminating about your personal life. Until exhaustion finally kicked in, and unconsciousness took over.

---

You felt a series of slow, lazy kisses trailing on your jaw and down your neck; the warm feeling of breath was tickling you. Opening your eyes, you welcomed the golden rays of sunrise, along with Erwin's eyes that were as blue as burning brimstone. And in the moment, maybe just by a sliver of time, every color seemed to look the smallest bit brighter.

“Rise and shine, angel." He sat on the bed next to you, gently and lovingly caressing your cheeks.

"Good morning. How did I end up on bed?"

"I carried you, I hope you don't mind, but I saved the document you were working on."

You gave him a small nod of approval. As you glanced to the right, you read the time displayed on the clock. It was nine in the morning, meaning you were an hour late for work.

“Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?!”

He ran a hand through his blond hair, “There’s no need to.”

“Huh?”

“I called your work and requested for a day off, which they were happy to give you one. Your boss even made a remark of how hard you were working lately.”

Before you could even answer, the bedroom door opened, revealing two little girls in pajamas. The younger one was holding a tray of food, while the other was holding a pitcher of orange juice.

“H-hi I’m Historia and… what do I say again?” The blond girl turned to her sister for help.

Sasha whisper shouted to her younger sister, “Server, you’re supposed to say server!”

“Oh, right! I'm Historia a-and I’m your server this morning, mommy!”

Your husband leaned in, nuzzling his lips against the crook of your neck, giving you small kisses as he was trying to contain his laughter from your daughters’ cuteness.

“And I’m Sasha, I’m also your sever this morning!”

You laughed; your children were too adorable. “Oh really? Thank you my little pumpkins. Did you cook the food too?”

“Yes, b-but daddy did most the work. I cracked the eggs though!” Historia proudly said.

“Listen, why don’t you get your mother a spoon and fork so she can taste the meal we’ve prepared for her, hmm?” Erwin commanded the girls to fetch the silverware from the kitchen so he could have a moment with his wife.

“Roger!”

After Sasha and Historia closed the door, he laid down by your side and pulled you closer to him. Placing his forehead on yours, “Do you like the little surprise? We’ve never tried breakfast in bed before, so I thought it would be a good idea.”

You shut your eyes, just enjoying the tranquility of your husband’s embrace. Your shared hug had woven your souls in a way that was a forever bond between two lovers. “Mmm, I love it. Thank you.”

“Don’t worry, let us take care of you, sweetheart.”

“I’m really impressed by all this, the girls are so big now.”

After a few moments of silence, the man mumbled, “So… when are we making baby number 3?”

Opening your eyes at his words, Erwin had a sly, toothed grin plastered on his face.

“Tonight.”

[ Masterlist ]

[nocturnal-milk-dud]

For the Spooky Season requests I was wondering if I could request 'Dawn of the Dead' with Carrillo? 🎃🦴🍬🧟‍♂️👻

(I hope I got that right and this request fits the rules, if not let me know and I will fix whatever's wrong)

Ho boy, apparently it's an angsty day. I hope you like it!

What's The Bad News?

Pairing: Horacio Carrillo x Reader

Warnings/notes: angsty angst; gore; blood; death; I realize it's kinda just horacio carrillo and really fast zombies. We don't have the mall, and there's no mention of fort pastor, but technically the events of dawn of the dead happened everywhere so it works.

Rating: R

Word count: 1520

“Brown bear, brown bear, what do you see?” you whisper the words as you make your way up the second level of the dark parking garage. 

"I see a red bird looking at me,” Mia responds. You barely hear her voice though her lips are right next to your ear, the four year-old clinging to your back like a monkey. You’re about to ask red bird what they see, when you hear something that almost sounds like a bark. It echoes across the concrete structure, and then there’s the sound of bare feet slapping against pavement. Bloody once-humans come tearing around the corner up ahead of you and you feel Mia’s grip tighten. You run for the stairwell and whip open the door, barrelling down the stairs, launching yourself against the door leading out to the street. For some reason they closed off access, the door missing its handle and your fingers fumble, press, dig, as you hear the snarling filling the cramped stairwell. There’s nowhere left to go. You tuck back in the corner behind the stairs and Mia slips from you. 

"Give me the biggest hug you can, Bug,” you tell her, trying to keep the fear from your voice. “Close your eyes tight and hug me as hard as you can.” The sounds are getting louder and you hold your breath, shielding Mia between your body and the wall. You close your eyes too and wait for the pain. 

Your hand is on the gun in your belt when you wake, and Horacio’s hand is on your shoulder. 

You take a deep breath and settle back as he assures you everything’s okay. You close your hand over his and smile gently. You and Mia had come so close that day, and it would have been the end if it hadn’t been for Horacio. He had saved you in more ways than one. In the quiet moments when Mia slept you had someone to talk to, and when the hard decisions came you didn’t have to make them alone. Horacio moves closer to you now and rests his forehead against yours.

"You alright?” he whispers.

"Better now.” You smile against his lips. 

Mia starts to whimper and toss against your side, mumbling for her mother, and you gently nudge her awake. 

"Hey Bug,” you whisper, “it’s okay.” Mia opens her eyes and looks around the church like you did, sees you, sees Horacio, and continues to cry silently.

"I want my mommy,” she says, “I miss my mommy.”

"I know, sweetie,” you say, “we’ll see your parents soon, go back to sleep.” You kiss the top of her head and stroke her hair, praying she won’t ask anymore questions, praying she’ll continue to believe you. Mia nestles in tighter and closes her eyes, if only to be somewhere else. You’re silent until you feel her breathing deepen.

"I don’t know how much longer I can keep lying to her,” you say. “I can’t imagine telling her the truth either.” 

"You can’t hide this world from her,” he says. 

"She’s four. Four year-olds are supposed to believe in Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy. We protect them from things like this.” 

"Is it really helpful to protect them from death?” Horacio asks. 

"This kind of death, yes,” you say after a moment of thought. 

"Brown bear, brown bear, what do you see?” You and Horacio have been taking turns carrying Mia on your backs, and you focus on how naturally she fits, legs cupped in your hand, arms wrapped lazily around your neck, as you pass through the trees surrounding the church. You focus on the calloused, warm skin of Horacio’s hand and the way it fits with yours. You focus on those things, instead of the fact that the emergency broadcasts cut out, leaving the three of you with nothing but static, adrift in a wide, empty sea. 

"I see a red bird looking at me,” Mia mumbles.

"Red bird, red bird, what do you see?” you say, realizing that there are no birds to hear or see. Despite the warm day, your skin feels cold, and you hold onto Mia and Horacio a little tighter. 

At the tree line the three of you look out across a paved road at storefronts and restaurants. Everything is quiet, empty, the place almost looking untouched. It lulls you, and that’s when you make the mistake. You let go of Horacio’s hand. You step out onto the road. 

“What were we at, Bug?” you ask. “White dog?” Horacio reaches out and grabs your arm, but it’s too late.

“I see a man looking at me,” Mia whispers, and your veins fill with ice. You weren’t thinking, why didn’t you think? Your head snaps to the side and you see the once-human. He’s at the end of the empty street and he starts running. They start running. Hollow creatures covered in blood pour out from every door and crevice and sprint screaming and snapping after you. Horacio is pulling you and you’re running. The two of you veer sharply to the left, down a narrow alley, and he slams his shoulder into a door. You pile into a dark space and he closes the door behind you while you quickly switch on your flashlight, finding yourself in a library. The door is wood and won’t hold for long. Mia slips from your back while you and Horacio barricade the door with a bookcase. Bodies slam against the outside of the building. 

There’s a scream from inside the room. 

“Bug?” you call, flicking the light around frantically. You see her scrambling underneath a table, a flesh-eating monster clawing after her. Before you know what you’re doing you’ve grabbed the woman by the legs and hauled her out from under the table. She flips onto her back and jumps to her feet, launching herself at you. Flesh is stuck in her teeth and a chunk of her hair has been torn from the side of her head. You get your arm between her body and yours as she crushes you against a bookcase. Seconds later Horacio sinks a knife in her skull and her body slumps away from you. But the damage is done. 

“Are you okay, Bug?” you ask, kneeling in front of Mia and checking her over for any sign of injury. The girl nods.

"Not scary anymore?” she asks.

"Not scary anymore.” You get to your feet, pulling Mia to you, careful to keep your hand over her ear.

"You have to get her out of here,” you say to Horacio. 

"We’ll find a way,” he assures you. You hand him the flashlight and hold your left arm in the beam, showing him the place just below your left elbow where flesh has been torn away. You feel the drops of blood change direction, following the downward curve of your forearm. 

"You have to get her out of here.” You see his jaw clench as the light falls away, shining at a spot on the floor. You kneel back down, smoothing the hair away from Mia’s face. 

"You two have to go on without me, Bug,” you say, and Mia’s face pinches. You know she’s about to cry. “It’s okay, I’ll be along soon. I just can’t go with you right now.”

"Why?” Her voice is soft and her lips are set in a deep pout, the bottom one starting to quiver, and your heart is breaking at the sight. You remember the first time she did that as a baby and you wondered how the whole world didn’t just stop and cry with her. 

"Because I’m hurt. I need to stay here and get better. You two need to keep going. Once I’m better I’ll be on my way.” You keep your voice light and confident and she rubs a hand under her nose.

"Okay,” she says eventually, defeated. 

"Okay. Now listen to Horacio. Do everything he says. You’ll be alright.” You straighten and turn to him now, and you just want to crumble. You want him to tell you you’ll be alright because you’ve never been so scared in your life. He shakes his head. He’s unhappy about all of this. Unhappy about you lying to her more, unhappy about the choice you’re making. Unhappy about leaving you behind. Horacio pulls you close and holds you. He smooths his hand over your hair and presses his lips to your forehead. 

Afraid that you’ll fall apart, you gently push him away.

"Go,” you whisper. You watch as they disappear out the back, taking the light with them. You don’t want to die in the dark. You try not to think about them as you head for the front of the building. You know they’re running for their lives. You believe Horacio can keep her safe. Outside, the sun is bright. It’s warm, high over the tops of the trees, and for a moment as you’re staring at the sea of green you see something red flit through the foliage. 

"Brown bear, brown bear, what do you see?” you say. 

[freak-like-meemy]

SnowGoose/Jatherine (Katherine x Jack): I've read the books, and I like Jack being with someone closer to his physical age. That, and puppy love, is my cup of tea. 

(I also ship them for deeper reasons than that, but yeah.) 😳👉👈

What your ROTG/GOC ship says abt you

Blackice(Jack X Pitch): You like enemies to lovers and the Antarctica scene rips your heart out everytime you see it.

Blacksand(Sandy X Pitch): You like enemies to lovers but think Sandy's rivalry dynamic with Pitch has more material. Everytime you see him be scared of Sandy, it sends you to an astral plane.

Pitch X North: you have a thing for dads/dad bod characters being happy with each other.

Aster X North: You like friendly rivalry dynamics.

MintyFloss(North X Tooth): You read the books and really like Tooth n North both being bamf with swords.

JackRabbit(Aster X Jack): you're probably a furry who likes a slow burn.

Sandy X Jack: You like some bros being bros.

SnowGoose(Katherine X Jack): You read the books and you like Jack being with someone closer to his physical age. That and puppy love is your cup of tea.

Cavity(Tooth X Pitch): She was the only girl in the movie and that punch she gave him at the end made you feel a certain way.

Mother Nature X Sandy: You read the books and traumabonding is ship fuel for you. That and you probably love heavy angst

(SweetTooth)Aster X Tooth: You like the dynamic of a candy maker and a tooth health nut. Maybe some furry implications there too.

(Rainbow Snowcone)Jack X Tooth: You like the movies depiction of them rather than the books. You're also a sucker for a ray of sunshine character x a depressed bastard

Mother Nature X Jack: you're a sucker for a forbidden love dynamic and are convinced you can write romeo and juliet better

Mother Nature x Tooth: you are either a lesbian, bitter abt the lack of wlw combos you can make, or just think two pretty queens holding hands can stop a tornado. You're probably right.

Any rotg character X Your OC: you're just living your best life honestly. Good job.

Any rotg character x a Character from another movie franchise: your tastes are not confined to one realm of fiction. You're way too strong oh my god-

[hiccanna-tidbits]

this is a genuine, curious question! what's appealing 2 u about jackunzel :^] ??

Sure, I can talk about why I ship Jackunzel!!!

@gryffindorkxdraws has some posts about why she likes Jackunzel here, here, and here, so those are a pretty good rundown of reasons to supplement mine. But I’ll make a list of my own!

Why Jackunzel Owns My Entire Soul: An Essay in Disorganized Bullet Points ~I dig the sun/moon symbolism! Like Jack was chosen by the moon and Rapunzel has the powers of the sun. It’s such a nice contrast, and it also lends itself really well to star-crossed lover-type fantasy/fairy tale AUs (which I am ALWAYS a sucker for!) ~From what little we know about Jack’s preference in girls (i.e. the slight crush he seemed to have on Tooth), Rapunzel seems like EXACTLY his type--bubbly, energetic, optimistic girls with a bit of a maternal streak. I think even the RotG director confirmed Punz is the kind of girl Jack would like! ~Jack also absolutely seems like Punzel’s type--if Flynn/Eugene is anything to go by, she’s kind of into sarcastic troublemakers with a hidden soft side XD And she also seems to like guys who are good with kids, if Eugene reading “The Adventures of Flynnigan Rider” to the younger kids at the orphanage is anything to go by! ~They both seem to be naturally pretty social people who suffered a lot from being isolated for a really long time--Jack had it worse, obviously (300 years--OUCH), but it was rough on Punz as well, growing up for 18 years with no one for company but Mother Gothel and Pascal. Jack, spending all that time with no one able to see him and only the guardians (who weren’t even really his friends from much of that time) for company, would understand that pain a lot. I feel like they’d be able to connect on a really deep and intimate level about the pain they felt at being isolated for so long, and this would give them a really strong bond that I can easily see turning into something romantic. ~They’re both just such genuinely lively and fun-loving people, and I can imagine them having a ton of fun together and just genuinely really enjoying spending time together. Like imagine the snowball fights!!! The ice-skating!!! The sledding!!! Chasing each other through the forest!!! Jack grabbing onto Punz and her wrapping her hair around a tree and swinging them around Tarzan-style!!! Like literally the entire scene where Punzel leaves her tower for the first time and is goofing off and doing Silly Shit for like an hour straight??? Like man...if Jack was there, they’d have the TIME OF THEIR LIVES together. Idk I just really love couples who I think would have a lot of fun together, it’s so pure <3 ~They’re both so loving!!! Like Rapunzel goes out of her way to be supportive to an entire tavernful of terrifying “ruffians and thugs” because they have dreams, and she’s so sweet to Flynn/Eugene no matter how many times he snarks at her and tries to alienate her!!! And Jack loves loves LOVES entertaining kids, and it genuinely makes him so happy to give them snow days :3 I just feel like they’d shower each other with love, and it’s honestly no less than they both deserve!!! ~Rapunzel especially is such an affectionate person, and I can see her doing just absolutely everything in her power to make Jack feel as seen and as loved as possible after 300 years of being alone. And god, does he NEED it, too. Like no way is this boy NOT touch-starved, and with some MAJOR self-esteem issues (although he’s good at hiding them). Rapunzel would do absolutely everything in her power to build him up and make him feel wanted and validated--and since it’s in her nature to do so, it would never feel like a burden or an effort for her. And she’d love him so much that hyping him up just comes naturally! She’s just got the kind of nurturing personality that someone as affection-starved as Jack really needs, and I think she could help him feel safe, comfortable, and loved in a way a lot of people couldn’t. ~For all the fun they’d have together, I also feel like Jack needs someone to ground him a bit and provide the Brain Cell to perhaps reign in that Unchecked Chaotic Energy of his sometimes XD Rapunzel certainly has a smart and rational side--I mean, she charted STARS as a teenager!!! She figured out how to get this stranger she captured to take her into the kingdom to see the lanterns!!! Girl can be spontaneous and goofy, sure, but she’s got smarts and kind of a mature streak that I think mesh with Jack really well. He’d never feel like she was a wet blanket stifling his fun, but she’d also have a sense of when to transition away from goofing off and focus on responsibilities (princess and guardian responsibilities in this case, I suppose?) ~On the flipside, I don’t see Rapunzel as being someone annoyed or irritated by Jack’s antics. She might like...gently scold him if he takes a prank too far, but she never finds his shenanigans to be grating and tiresome the way other people might. Rather, I think she’d be endlessly entertained by him. Like in his memory reel when he’s dicking around pretending to be a deer, she’d get a kick out of that! Jack would always be trying to make her laugh and make her smile, and Punz would love that so much about him! ~They’re both searching for a deeper meaning and a deeper sense of purpose in their lives. Rapunzel entertains herself with hobbies, but doesn’t feel like her life has really “begun” and is desperate to find out if her hunch is right and the floating lights really ARE meant for her. Jack has no idea why he was chosen by the moon or what he’s meant to do, and he’s determined to find out so he can finally have a sense of purpose. Rapunzel clearly wants a sense of purpose too, since she wants to do more with her life than pass the time with hobbies. I can definitely see them bonding over this! ~They’re both just so adventurous, and love to explore! Rapunzel is curious, and loves to read and learn, and she wants more than anything else to see the world and all it has to offer. Jack loves adventuring and flying around the globe spreading winter and fun, and he could show Punz everything she ever wanted to see. A perfect match, honestly! ~Aesthetically I LOVE the similarities!!! Like they both like to go barefoot, kinda showing their free-spirited natures. And I love how they’re both naturally brunette, but had their hair turned a different color by magic. It’s a little thing, but I think it’s a really neat parallel and it helps cement me thinking they really ARE perfect for each other in every little way! Haha XD AND they both have small green companions, and as of Ralph Breaks The Internet, they’re hoodie buddies as well!!! Not that surface-level parallels like that are actually that significant BUT I just think they’re neat XD ~While I am fond of Flynnzel/Eugenzel (still my favorite canon Disney couple!), finding out their age gap is around 8 years admittedly made me a bit uncomfy and just pushed me further into loving Jackunzel as an alternative option. I still really love Eugene as a character and adore his and Punzel’s dynamic, but these days I prefer their relationship as more of a big bro/little sis type thing. Jack I think is the best match for Rapunzel romantically, and Eugene I prefer with Elsa--or poooossibly Tooth, Astrid, or Zarina, if I read a fic that sells the pairing well enough! ~On a related note, I was into Jack x Tooth the first time I watched RotG, but after discovering Jackunzel, there was no going back--I was hooked! Rewatching the movie, Tooth strikes me more as a mom figure/”fun aunt” for Jack, and I actually prefer her with Bunnymund (I am WEAK for “the grumpy one is soft for the sunshine one” lmao)

Well, I think that just about covers it!!! I’ll add more reasons if I think of them! Thank you for the ask, and I’m always happy to answer more ship asks about CGI crossover pairings :3

Also @ the anon who asked for Jackunzel headcanons--fear not, I shall provide them!!! I just wanna make a complete list and accumulate all the ones from my various fics so it’s gonna take a while XD

[keanureevesisbae]

Mister Cavill, your dog is kinda fat - Chapter 3

Summary: Veterinarian Olivia Tran has zero time for bullshit. After becoming a mom at age twenty three, the one thing she wants is a good life for her daughter Vanessa. Her ex didn’t want anything to do with her nor the baby and she decided that man are officially banned out of her life. But then she meets Henry Cavill at her clinic and her ban slowly starts to crumble apart. Henry on the other hand is looking for one thing: a family. And when he meets Olivia Tran, he finds just that.

Henry Cavill x Olivia Tran (ofc)

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 3.9k

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

It’s still beyond me that I told the famous actor Henry Cavill that his dog is kinda fat. The entire time from three till six a.m. was a dream to be honest. I noticed the second he walked in how handsome this man looked, not realizing he was Henry Cavill, though I thought he looked familiar. His curls were disheveled, his coat hung open and he looked pretty out of it, something that is completely understandable. However, he wasn’t just a snack—this man is a full course meal.

When he placed his dog on the examination table and stared at Kal with that concerned look on his face, was also the exact moment I felt something crumble deep inside of me. The aversion I had against all men (minus the one and only Keanu Reeves of course) was falling apart. I felt so stupid for thinking about him and how handsome he looked. Two days later, I still feel stupid.

He is a client with a dog who was sick. Had the other clinics picked up, I wouldn’t even know how handsome he was in real life. And on top of that, he is not just any client. He is Henry Cavill. The Henry Cavill, with an ass that looks good on screen, but even better in real life.

Yes, I looked. I’m still a person with a pulse who lets her mind wander from time to time and his butt definitely is part of my dreams nowadays.

Though I let my fantasies take me to certain places with Henry, I couldn’t help but turn into a soft pile of mush, as I watched him hold Vanessa in his thick arms, allowing her to play with his curls. I watched him listen intently as she started counting from one to hundred. He listened from the first number to the last and seemed genuinely impressed.

It’s rare to find a man who is willing to give a young child his full attention. In those six years I’ve been raising Vanessa, he is the first one that I encountered that is like that.

A quick Google search while he was chatting with Vanessa told me he was single. Somehow I stumbled upon multiple articles saying that he really wants a family of his own.

My mind almost wanted to think about how maybe… He could become someone important for Vanessa, because he was such a natural and the older Vanessa gets, the more I think that she needs a male figure in her life. Since she has reached the age of five, she has been bugging me about having a dad. The years prior to that moment, I was perfectly capable of being both the mother and the father. At least that’s what I thought. I came to the bitter conclusion that I’m her mother and that is it.  

But then I also realized that I should keep one one thing in mind:

Henry Cavill is dying to have a family of his own.

And Vanessa is not his own.

I want to think about something else, but I can’t. I simply can’t stop thinking about Henry Cavill and his strong arms. I’m convinced I was hallucinating when I thought he was flexing his arm muscles, when he carried Kal.

When I told Belle about this, she began rambling something about how that man oozes family man and how he makes her ovaries shake and ache for babies. I shrugged it off, thinking she was being ridiculous, but now…

I never thought I’d meet someone else. I knew that I’d be raising Vanessa by myself, though I secretly wished she wasn’t born to a single mom, who obviously had no idea what she was doing. I wished that she was born into a happy family, with a mother, a father, siblings, uncles and aunts and grandparents, but that wasn’t the case, so I tried my best to give her the best life I could possible provide for her.

And I shouldn’t think about Henry Cavill like that. I know for a fact that he has already forgotten about me and my daughter.

However it’s hard to forget about him. Especially since Vanessa can’t shut her mouth about how amazing Superman is and how he is the strongest man on earth because he carried his overweight dog into the clinic with no problem.

Vanessa and I walk back home, after I picked her up on Monday. ‘Nobody believed I met Superman,’ she says. For a second I’m afraid she is defeated, but then she simply shrugs. ‘But I know better than that.’

That’s my girl. ‘Very good, sweetie.’

‘Miss Sue send me out of class today,’ Vanessa then says.

‘Why?’ This isn’t the moment to become the overprotective mother goose. This is the moment to let her tell me in all honesty what happened.

‘I wasn’t doing what she told me to do. We had to read four pages out loud with the class, but Nicky is really slow, so I read the next page by myself, while I wasn’t supposed to.’

‘But why did she send you out?’ I ask.

‘Because I did it four times.’

‘Right,’ I say. What do I say about this? I understand my daughter completely, because I used to do the same. Besides, I think miss Sue is a bit uptight to be honest. I don’t like miss Sue. She’s always pretty condescending to me, probably because she’s ancient and thinks a child should have both a mother and a father, like the perfect housewives do.

I really hate every parent who has a kid going to that school, but on top of my hate list, is miss Sue.

When Vanessa senses my lack of reaction, she says: ‘I made you another drawing.’

I prepare myself for the well known drawing, that I can dream by now, but all the air is knocked out of my lungs when I see what she drew me today. I stop in the middle of the curb, earning me some annoyed groans from two old ladies who were apparently walking behind me, but I don’t care. I really couldn’t care less at the moment.

Oh my God, what is it with this kid and desperately wanting a father?

Okay, now I get that she wants a dad, I do, but did she honestly have to draw a Superman and a dog (where she wrote underneath KAL) inside of our house? Superman stands next to me and she tried to make it look like Superman and I are holding hands.

Oh my God, what goes on inside Vanessa’s head?

‘What did you draw?’ I ask her, though I know exactly what she drew.

‘My new daddy.’ She smiles, revealing the empty gap where her tooth was this morning, but it fell out during recess today. It’s her third tooth and I’m too much of a realist to tell her about the Tooth Fairy, since I had severe nightmares about that. She doesn’t care about the Tooth Fairy being fake (but she had to promise me to play along when kids in school talked about it), only about the money that I have to give her.

‘Your new what?’ I ask her.

‘My new daddy,’ she says. She pretends like she is talking to an idiot, but that attitude is apparently something she saw me doing and made it a personality trait of herself, since Belle once said that she is just as sassy as I am.

‘You can’t just declare every man you meet as your new dad,’ I tell her.

‘But I haven’t asked for a new daddy in so long,’ she says and to be fair, that’s true. The only thing she does, is draw me the same picture daily with the exception of today. ‘I want Superman to be my new daddy.’

‘It’s an impossible wish.’

‘But I want him as my new dad,’ she says, stomping her foot on the ground.

This is the moment she chooses to have a temper tantrum? Great, just what I need after a long day of not putting one pet to sleep, but three. ‘Vanessa, I’m not having this conversation with you. That man is not going to be your new dad.’

Am I telling her this or myself?

‘Why not?’ she whines.

‘Because not every man you like can be your new dad, so that includes Henry.’

Vanessa starts to pout, but I turn away, not being able to look at her when she looks like that, because if she stares at me with that face for a little too long, I’m breaking into the office to look for Henry’s number, so I can call him and literally ask him to be Vanessa’s new dad.

Goodness gracious, what is happening to me? What happened to my strong independent woman mindset? I don’t need a man, like the Pussycat Dolls told me growing up and I don’t need them for anything. I have managed to become a great veterinarian and a pretty okay mother, without the help of family. I’ve done so much, but I’m willing to let all that go, just so I can have one more glance from Henry. Just one more smile from him.

A bark pulls me out of my thoughts and I look over my shoulder. I not only see the chubby American Akita, but also his owner. Henry looked handsome Saturday morning, but he looks even hotter today. He wears a dark blue jeans that shows the world how thick his thighs really are and a cosy sweater, but not a coat, since men are apparently too cool to wear coats in the beginnings of autumn.

Henry notices us and holds up his hand, while a wide smile creeps on his face. Vanessa wants to rush towards him, but I grab her arm before she can run away. Seriously, my mom reflexes are no joke. Today, when a salamander wanted to wander around the examination table and nearly fell off, I caught him just in time, while I had my back turned to him. The nine year old boy to whom the weird pet belonged to, almost cried out of happiness because I saved his salamander from breaking his neck. ‘Not a word about the new dad thing,’ I tell her sternly.

She nods, recognizing the look on my face and knowing that I mean it. I let her go and when she is close enough, she jumps in Henry’s arms. He catches her easily and I hear him say: ‘What a greeting, miss Vanessa,’ followed by a lovely chuckle of his.

This girl really needs a male figure in her life, I think to myself and if it were up to me, that role model is going to be Henry Cavill.

‘I missed you, Superman,’ she tells him and I have to resist the urge to bring up the new dad thing myself.

‘I missed you too,’ Henry says to her and that earns him a kiss from Vanessa on his cheek.

There is this saying that the only ones that tell the truth, are drunk people and little kids. What if Vanessa is right? What if this man should be her new dad? She always drew a man with a dog, outside of our house.

I never saw her with another man like this. Belle’s brother is nice, of course and they are best buddies, but it was never like this. This look Henry and Vanessa share with each other.

Vanessa wiggles herself out of his strong arms to cuddle Kal, who looks a lot livelier than he did a few days ago. He excitedly wags his tail. ‘Doctor Tran,’ Henry says to me when I walked over to the three of them.

‘Please, call me Olivia,’ I tell him. ‘We’re not in the clinic.’

‘Right.’ Henry has a faint blush on his cheeks. Is it because of me or did my child say something to him that embarrassed him when she hugged him?

‘How is Kal doing?’ I ask, scratching the big dog behind his ear, while Vanessa pets his back. ‘He looks a lot better than he did on Saturday.’

‘Yeah, I’m giving him the meds you gave me and he has been his normal self again. I also bought some Purina One and he seems doing really well with the sudden change of kibble.’ Henry clears his throat and he says: ‘It’s hard not to give him as many snacks as I want to, but I’m trying my best.’

‘Oh, you’re that kind of owner,’ I smile, before shoving my hands in my pockets. ‘Well, he looks happy and better than Saturday, so that’s good.’

I honestly have no idea what I can say to him, so for the first time in forever, I’m hoping Vanessa can break the ice here. I just pray she doesn’t force us to sing that Moana song, because that girl will get her way, especially when it comes to singing songs. I once had to sing “Love is an Open Door” (both Anna’s and Hans’ part) to her, when she locked herself in the bathroom at the library because something scared her.

Our eyes meet for a second and it’s like she understands me without words. ‘Mister Henry, what were you doing out here?’

Very good, Vanessa.

‘I was walking Kal,’ he says to her, crouching down so he doesn’t tower over her.

That’s adorable and all of the sudden I understand that shaking ovaries comment Belle made a whole lot better. I’m willing to give this man the family he wants, but I need to stop thinking right now.

‘We will walk with you.’

I wasn’t hoping for that kind of ice breaker. ‘Sweetheart,’ I say to her, ‘we can’t just say that. Maybe he has an appointment or something else that is important.’

‘I don’t mind,’ Henry on the other hand says, completely disregarding my parental efforts. ‘We could use some company actually.’

While my common sense is telling me that this isn’t a great idea (he is a client at the clinic, he just wants to get into your pants, he is just being nice), my heart is pounding like crazy, loving this idea.

‘Please, mommy.’ Vanessa folds her little hands together and pushes out her bottom lip, blinking her eyes like she’s some sort of puppy. This kid knows what she’s doing, because the chance I’m saying no now, is basically non existent.

‘Okay, sure, but you stay close now. No wandering off. If you want to go somewhere, ask me.’

‘We can go to a nearby park,’ Henry suggests. ‘Kal can run free if he wants and we can keep an eye on them.’

We can keep an eye on them. Don’t start hyperventilating now, Olivia Tran. ‘Sounds like a plan.’

Vanessa squeals and walks in between us, holding not only my hand, but also Henry’s. Oh my, we look just like one happy family, especially when I look to my side, to see that the most gorgeous looking man on the planet earth, is already looking at me, flashing me a beautiful smile.

Secretly I hope that we run into some parents from school, miss Sue or even my parents. I’m really tempted to rub this in everyones face, though it’s probably only a once in a lifetime moment.

‘Mister Henry,’ Vanessa says, ‘my mommy had to kill two cats and a dog today.’

‘Not kill,’ I quickly correct her. ‘I had to put them to sleep, remember? Those animals were old and sick and they needed a little help to go to heaven. I don’t kill them.’ I look at Henry again, who seems amused. ‘I really don’t.’

‘I believe you,’ he laughs. ‘You just tell owners their pets are fat.’

I involuntarily let out a laugh. ‘You are the first one in two months with a fat pet, so I just save it for the famous actors with who can’t say no to their chubby dogs.’

Henry licks his lips, before he sinks in this top teeth in his bottom lip. Goodness gracious. Next time I run into Henry Cavill, I should bring some extra pair of panties.

Olivia, that is terrible, I shouldn’t think like that.

My daughter is here for crying out loud.

‘Mommy, have you seen a cuter dog today?’

‘Cuter than Kal you mean?’ I ask her.

‘Mhm.’

I chuckle. ‘Well, I’ve seen cute dogs, but no one is as cute as Kal.’

‘I think so too,’ Vanessa says. She pulls her hand out of mine, before holding out her arms for Henry.

I want to tell her that she can’t just expect him to carry her, simply because he is strong and he is Superman, but without any difficulties he lifts her up with only one arm. If I tried that, I’d dislocate my shoulder, but obviously it’s a piece of cake for him. I spend my fair share on Pinterest and YouTube, admiring his arms. And that clip of him building that PC? That was the hottest thing on earth and is nearly illegal.

‘I lost a tooth today,’ Vanessa says, showing off her teeth, probably sticking her tongue through the gap.

‘Wow, that is awesome,’ Henry says, leaning in to check if there is already a new tooth coming in. ‘You’re going to put it underneath your pillow, so the Tooth Fairy can give you some money?’

I can feel Vanessa’s hesitation. She looks over her shoulder and ushers me to get closer. ‘Mommy,’ she asks, still loud enough for Henry to hear, ‘should I tell him the truth?’

‘About what?’ I ask her.

‘He still believes in the Tooth Fairy.’

I bite my lips, to prevent myself from laughing out loud. ‘I think you should tell him.’

She nods and wraps an arm around Henry’s neck. ‘Mister Henry,’ she says, ‘the Tooth Fairy doesn’t exist. Mommy just gives me money when I lose another tooth.’

Henry looks at me, also visibly holding in a laugh. ‘The Tooth Fairy doesn’t exist?’ he ask in almost believable disbelieve, but then I remember: this man is an actor. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Mhm.’

‘I need to call my mother, to ask her why she lied to me all those years?’

Vanessa shakes her head. ‘Well, lots of kids still believe in the Tooth Fairy, so it’s okay that you did too.’

‘It was just time for you to know the truth,’ I add.

‘Well, thank you, miss Vanessa,’ Henry says. ‘Thank you for being honest with me.’

We arrive at the park and Henry and I sit on a park bench, while Kal runs wild, followed by a giggling Vanessa. I flinch a few times, thinking Kal is too wild to be playing with Vanessa, but he actually tones down a bit, checking in with her to make sure that she’s alright.

‘You have a sweet dog,’ I admit, not being able to look at Henry just yet. He is really close, I can almost feel the heat he is radiating through my coat, right onto my skin.

‘Yeah, he is sweet.’

‘And fat.’

‘Are you ever letting that go?’ Henry laughs.

I simply shrug. ‘I’m a vet, I just want the patients to be healthy.’ I try to look serious, but I can’t help but chuckle. ‘But I don’t think I can let it go, until Kal is sixty kilograms.’

‘But what if he is just a larger model?’ Henry tries, still not wanting to fully admit to the fact that he was overfeeding his pet and thus the main reason Kal is at least ten kilos too heavy.

‘He isn’t,’ I tell him. ‘He is large, sure, but I’ve seen American Akita’s who are a whole lot bigger than him, but still within the acceptable weight range.’

‘You’re one tough doctor, Olivia,’ he says with a smile. ‘You know, your daughter has quite the personality. Figured she’s just like you.’

I can’t help but laugh. ‘Yeah, people often say we’re basically twins.’

‘The fact that you told her about the Tooth Fairy being fake is admirable,’ he says.

‘I wanted her to spare the trauma I experienced,’ I say. ‘Besides, I don’t like lying to her, though everyone says it’s part of growing up.’

Henry nods and I can feel he wants to ask it. It’s always in people’s body language, when they want to know about the family situation. They clear their throat, avoid eye contact, rub their hands together and when they ask the question, they tilt their heads.

I decide that I’m not ready for a head tilt by the one and only Henry Cavill. ‘Her biological father didn’t want her,’ I say. ‘He broke up with me and disappeared out of my life, if that’s what you wanted to know.’

He sighs, a blush on his face, as if he is embarrassed that I caught on, before he even asked. ‘I don’t think I can ever understand those kind of men,’ he admits, staring at his dog and Vanessa. He leans forward, his elbows on his knees. ‘I mean, she’s a great kid, very in touch with her feelings and pretty smart too. Her biological father doesn’t know what he is missing out on.’

I don’t think I can ever understand those kind men. Did he honestly just say that? My entire body temporarily forgot how to function. Henry Cavill out there trying to steal my heart and with the rate he is going at, I’m willing to hand it over to him without putting up a fight. Her biological father doesn’t know what he is missing out on. That one went straight to my soul.

‘Well, he was an idiot anyways,’ I mumble. ‘Think I’m better off without him.’ I stare at Vanessa, who is chasing Kal, whose tail is wagging and he jumps around her like an idiot.

‘You are really better off without him,’ he says to me. ‘I don’t know the asshole, but I do know for a fact that you are better off without him. And Vanessa for that matter.’

I feel giddy, like a child before her birthday. ‘Listen, Henry, I’m sorry if she’s overstepping any boundaries. If you don’t want to pick her up, you don’t have to.’

‘I don’t mind, Olivia,’ he says. ‘She’s not overstepping any boundaries.’

I nod, not sure what to say. This isn’t helping with my fantasies, that I keep pushing back, postponing them to completely erupt when I’m in bed tonight. Belle is right: he oozes family man.

‘You’re doing a great job,’ he then says.

‘With what?’

‘Raising her.’

My cheeks flush. When was the last time I heard this, from someone other than Belle? I don’t think anyone has ever told me really… Except that one nurse in the hospital, when Vanessa was three and shoved a bead up her nose and I couldn’t stop crying. That event totally made me doubt my parental skills, until the nurse said that she dropped her infant on his head and he turned out to be fine.

‘I’m trying,’ I say, looking at my hands.

‘And that’s good enough,’ Henry whispers, but loud enough for me to hear it.

I need to contain the urge to just jump him, kissing his soft looking lips and allowing him to do things to me that I hadn’t done in such a long time.

Thankfully I have Vanessa, who always knows the exact moment I need her. ‘Mom, I had a little accident.’

When I look up, I see that she didn’t pee herself, but that she fell into the mud.

Face first.

Great.

Taglist: @thelastsock​ // @flhorah​ // @sausagefest1996​ // @laufeysodinson​ // @xxxkatxo​ // @memoriesat30​ // @henrythickcavill​ // @crimsonrae​ // @henryobsessed // @madbaddic7ed​ // @summersong69​ // @lyrafraiser​ // @peakygroupie​ // @coldmuffinbanditshoe​ // @mary-ann84​ // @thereisa8ella​ //@crazyandanonymous4u // @xuxszx​ // @emmaofgreengabbles​ // @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair​ // @onlyhenrys​

[dearjamesxo]

Rude Boy ~ 1/6

[in response to an AO3 prompt from arose7575]

Billy x Leo, hard M, mutual pining/asshole!Billy

Life outside of Buckingham Palace is a far cry from what Leo imagined. It’s darker, wilder; shadows loom at the edge of every happiness, ready to snuff out the light in an instant. Leo was always aware of his privilege, knew even before he snuck away that those beneath the breadline don’t have an easy time of it – he’s sheltered, not simple – but he never could’ve predicted the sheer heaviness of existence exhibited in London’s shanty towns.

The desperation is as pungent as the stench of mud and urine.

Marylebone certainly isn’t the worst place he could’ve staggered into, and Bea and the others aren’t the worst off. Nevertheless, unyielding guilt curdles in Leo’s gut at the very thought of what his new friends have most likely had to endure to survive until now. Monsters and magic notwithstanding.

So far, Leo’s encountered a pageant of laborers and vagrants and costermongers, underfed and overworked, eyes that have seen several lifetimes in the faces of young children. Those who occupy the rookery are all of a rough, unforgiving nature, marred and sooty, bodies morphed into crooked shapes under the weight of hours of hard work, every one of them a reflection of the environment wherein they’re forced to live.

Yet, there’s so much more beneath the gloom than anywhere Leo’s been. The people Leo’s observed—they make those brief snatches of happiness count, fully and completely, undiluted by the confining standards of propriety. They feel things bigger, broader, freer.

It’s beautiful in the rawest sense and every fiber of Leo’s being is drawn to it as a moth to the flame. He’s never felt so intensely in all his seventeen years, wonders if his sister, mother, other members of the nobility have allowed themselves to truly feel as such.

Sadly, Leo continues to stand as an outsider, unwelcome though he tries to blend in donning less afternoonified clothes. A disguise, Leo has learned, doesn’t work if one still wears fragments of one’s wealth in one’s mannerisms and speech. Since returning to Manchester Street a mere forty minutes ago, Leo’s already been shoved, barked at, solicited, and told where he can shove his Mary Ann wiles.

Splendid.

Still, hardly any of it penetrated the fog permeating Leo’s brain, the climax of their latest investigation lingering like a ghost that refuses to move on. Regardless of whether or not Leo was bothered by the last comment, Billy was roused to his feet, seemingly on Leo’s behalf, and the whole ordeal almost resulted in a row that Leo doubts Billy would’ve won.

The commenter was a burly, plum-colored fellow whose body was the width of three average men standing shoulder-to-shoulder. That he was missing two-thirds of an arm didn’t diminish the terrifying quality of his presence. Rather, it magnified it. The commenter spat in Billy’s face, made another snide remark; Billy stepped forward, a menacing expression miring his features.

The image Billy made swiftly knocked Leo’s brain back into the present.

He can’t deny the heat that bloomed in his belly at the sight of Billy so eager to defend him, shoulders squared, jaw set, the corded muscles in his forearms bouncing as he clenched and unclenched his fists. Leo believed it was confirmation of the great strides they made in their relationship throughout the investigation; or, more precisely, after it, between bidding the resurrectionists farewell and arriving at The Duck and Quiver.

Despite Billy’s standoffishness toward Leo from the point of their introduction, Leo’s thoughts haven’t strayed far from him. He and Leo made a good team, bouncing information back and forth as, aloud, they followed the clues laid out by the Tooth Fairy to their inevitable conclusion. Leo’s heart pounded, blood pumped, the sensation powerful as the world fell away and Leo became the sole focus of Billy’s attention.

Again, later, when he and Billy lost themselves in the high of executing something as diabolical as disposing a corpse—how Billy crashed into him, pinned him against a tree and brought him to insurmountable pleasure with hands and mouth; panting, moaning, the sound of Billy’s hoarse voice in Leo’s ear—In those moments, Leo felt exultant, untouchable, accepted.

And then, like plunging into icy water, the memory of Billy’s words resurfaced in his mind – “Don’t think this means anything, it’s just blowin’ off steam.” – spoken sharply as they straightened themselves out before retreating to the safety of Manchester Street.

Right. Yes. Of course. Why not add more fuel to the massive discourse burning Leo’s conscience? Because that’s exactly what he needed to round out an already shitty evening.

⚞⚟

CONTINUED ON AO3

[rosysoulx]

halloween costumes for the halloween party event

lydia - plague doctor x 

 jd - greaser  x 

anna - dorothy ( wizard of oz )  x 

chibi - angelica ( rugrats ) x 

rachel - mother nature x 

nina - medusa x 

paul - westly ( princess bride ) x 

lyla - flapper x 

 harley - cloumbia ( rocky horror picture show ) x 

claudia  - bloody nurse x 

ben hanscom - captain hook x 

odette -workout barbie  x 

tadashi - two face ( batman ) x 

zoey  -  demonic cheerleader x

sophie - sandy ( grease ) x 

bonny -  mad scientist x 

gomez - grim reaper x 

karen - sexy squirrel x 

ben solo - werewolf x 

nellie -  widowed house wife x 

sam - frank n furter x 

sidney - cowgirl x 

luna - tooth fairy x 

 zelda - devil x 

viola - queen of hearts x 

 elsa - killer clown x 

 eddie - leatherface ( texas chainsaw mascare )  x

[ineloqueent]

Starstruck: Part 5

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 5 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 4 / Part 6

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.  

Warnings: swearing

Historical Inaccuracies:

I have no idea whether Deacy and/or anyone else of the Queen entourage ever frequented or even visited The Speakeasy Club (also known as the Speak) in Oxford Circus, but the place was popular amongst the likes of David Bowie and Jimi Hendrix. The history of the place is incredibly fascinating, though, so let me know if you’d like some resources to learn more about it!!

Word Count: 3k

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Despite the fact that the universe seemed rather intent on having you and Brian repeatedly encounter one another in random places, you didn’t see him again until the arranged Thursday.

You found yourself missing talking of stars and actually having someone understand what it was you were saying, and you missed silly banter.

You were not the only one missing a curly-haired astrophysics major, however, because Freddie, John, and Roger embodied being only three-quarters-full without Brian. There was no one to mother them, no one to shout the loudest in the apparently frequent arguments of the Queen family, no one to tease for an absurd attachment to a red guitar.

The week and four days about to pass would seem to you a very vast expanse of time to be without someone, especially when that someone had been a regular presence in your life for the past three days.

But for now, only a week and two days had passed. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday again; it was now Tuesday night once more.

“He’s gone for a week and the world stops turning,” sighed Roger, tapping a sparkly-shoe adorned foot to the corner of the carpet beneath Deacy and Veronica’s dining table.

“A week and two days,” you corrected Roger.

“Hm, you’re starting to sound rather in love with him, darling,” Freddie clucked his tongue at Roger, who scowled.

“Yes, do be quiet, Roger,” John put in. “I can hardly think here, and writing songs is difficult enough for me as it is.” He scratched at his head with the tip of his pen.

“Yes, if ‘Misfire’ was any indication,” grumbled Roger.

“Roger!” you and Freddie cried in unison. Deacy just looked affronted.

“You know how sensitive he is about his song writing,” Freddie berated Roger.

You were sitting next to Deacy, across from the other two, and wrapped him in a hug. You could see that he’d already gotten over Roger’s remark, because while it had held a grain of truth concerning Deacy’s lack of confidence, it had not held any real malice. You hugged John all the same, and he cuddled you back, pouting in Roger’s direction. Deacy was simply precious by nature, so no one could resist babying him just a little. But Roger was in a bad mood. For the time being, it appeared he had taken up Brian’s torch.

“We could easily have made room for another song on the album if we hadn’t had to have that on there,” Roger said.

Freddie immediately cuffed him on the back of the head. “Roger, really, enough!”

“Hey!” Roger batted at Freddie and a small cat fight ensued.

You patted John’s soft head of hair. “How are you today?” you asked him, as though Roger and Freddie were not tooth and claw before you.

Deacy smiled. “Quite alright, you know, quite alright. How are you, Y/N, dear?”

You sighed. “Forever tired and worrying about things I shouldn’t, but holding up well nonetheless.”

Deacy chuckled. “Worry-wart,” he jabbed your side and you finally jerked away from him.

“Oi!”

“At least you forgot your worries, just then,” he said.

“Fair enough,” you acquiesced.

“NOT MY HAIR!” Roger vaulted up from his chair and it fell to the ground with a clatter. “Not my hair,” he repeated more quietly, and pointing at Freddie warningly, he seemed rather unhinged.

Freddie leaned back in his own chair and folded his arms, languid as one of his cats. “I didn’t touch your peroxide-green hair, dearie.”

“You tried to,” Roger bit out. “And it’s not green.”

“Not today.”

“Freddie, I swear I’m going to maul you—”

“Okay!” Deacy stood up, raising his hands in the pursuit of peace. “Since Brian’s not here, I’m going to have to be the responsible one. Even though you’re both other than me and I should not be parenting you,” he rolled his eyes.

Freddie and Roger remained unmoving.

“I think we’ve all been cooped up in here for too long, too many rounds of Death Scrabble and whatnot, so I suggest we get out. Maybe do something fun.”

You nodded in agreement with Deacy. “What a good idea. What do you suggest?”

Roger whistled through his teeth. “Not a good idea, Y/N. Never ask what he suggests.”

“Says the bloke who’s lost each and every girlfriend because he talked too much about cars,” you said, and Roger made a face in your direction.  

“I was thinking,” Deacy began.

“Here we go,” said Roger.

“Shut up and sit down,” Freddie pulled Roger down to sit on his knee. Roger stuck his tongue out at Freddie, but shared his chair all the same.

“I was thinking disco!”

“Strangle me with my own jacket,” Roger muttered.

Freddie sniffed, “So long as you don’t try to sell my jacket again.”

“Disco,” you said thoughtfully. “What’s so bad about disco?”

“Nothing at all. Excellent pastime,” Deacy responded.

“Everything,” said Roger at the same time. “Have you ever gone to a disco, Y/N?”

“No,” you replied slowly.

Roger threw up his hands. “There’s the sense.”

Deacy looked at you in something like concern. “We’re five years into this decade and you’ve never been to a disco, Y/N?”

“And you shouldn’t go to one either,” said Roger. Deacy raised an eyebrow at him.

You decided to consult Freddie. “What’s your opinion, Fred?”

Freddie shrugged. “Deacy’s a precious darling whom I love and who could do no wrong.”

Roger faced you with his hands on his hips. “Brian doesn’t like disco.”

You felt laughter bubble up in your throat. “We’re not the same person, Rog.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Where the hell is he, anyway?” you asked the three of them. “I can’t believe he’s called just the once, and only to assure you that he wasn’t dead in a ditch somewhere.”

None of them had any answers. The last you’d seen of Bri was over a week ago, and the last you’d heard of him was when he’d called Freddie over the weekend to apologise for his absence from Queen’s most recent rehearsal.

“At least we know as much,” Freddie sighed.

“Would it have killed him to give me a call?” you said, running your fingers through your hair and feeling generally restless.

“Maybe he tried,” Roger hypothesised. “Maybe that’s why he’s not here now.”

“What?”

“It literally killed him to call you,” Roger sniggered, and Freddie cackled.

“Okay, and now I am going to literally kill both of you,” you stood up.

Poor Deacy was looking quite overwhelmed at this point. In John’s eyes, you might as well have covered your face in warpaint and charged at Freddie and Roger.

“Disco time!” he said, putting a hand on your arm.

You turned to Deacy. “Now?”

“Now.”

“But surely she can’t go dressed like this?” Freddie gestured to your well-worn corduroys and button-up shirt.

“No, Cinderella cannot,” said Deacy. “But I’ll give Veronica a call. She should be going home in just a bit, so she can play fairy-godmother to her.”

“Let’s stop talking about me in third-person,” you said, then stood up. “I’m going to get a glass of water. Anyone else want anything?” You knew your friends’ houses as well as you knew your own, so the offer came naturally.

You received ‘no’s and ‘no thank you’s in response, so you went for your glass of water while the other three remained at the table, staring at a full Scrabble board.

“Freddie,” you heard Roger say through gritted teeth, “I thought you said I was Cinderella.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Ronnie came home on time, as her husband had said she would, and was dragging with her a stubborn-looking Heather. The two of them worked part time at the same corner cafe, and so when Deacy had called the cafe’s phone to see if Ronnie would be finished soon, Ronnie had taken initiative and invited Heather with her.

“She didn’t like it when I said disco,” Ronnie whispered the word as though it were taboo. Sure enough, Heather groaned.

“That’s my girl!” cried Roger, happy to have someone to complain to about the night’s turn of events.

Heather waggled her fingers at you in greeting, then flung her arms around Roger. “Hello babe,” she said, and kissed him.

John reached for Veronica, so Freddie grabbed your arm.

“Quick,” he said, “while they’re distracted, let’s raid Ronnie’s wardrobe!”

You giggled together like school girls and snuck up the stairs before Deacy or Ronnie could stop you.

In the upstairs bedroom, Freddie flung open the wardrobe with all the flair and drama of a film noir actor.

“Ah, what’ve we got…” He began rifling through the contents of the wardrobe. You watched over his shoulder.

“Where’s Mary, anyway?” you asked him conversationally, leaning against a bedpost. But at the mention of Mary, Freddie went rigid. “Freddie? Is everything okay?”

Just then, Veronica entered the room.

Freddie glanced at Ronnie, then smiled at you, albeit uneasily. “Everything’s just rosy,” he said. “Now, I’ll let you two ladies decide the outfit, so long as I get to do the make up, yes?”

He slipped out of the room without waiting for an answer, in an unusual hurry.

You and Veronica exchanged a glance.

“Odd,” she said.

“I’ll talk to him later.”

“Or else I’ll get John to. Freddie, like most people, can’t resist my husband’s charms,” Veronica winked at you. “Now, what can we get you, from my admittedly humbly-sized selection…”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Half an hour later, having taken the tube to Oxford Circus, the six of you stepped into the bright lights of The Speakeasy Club.

Before you went inside, you glanced up at the sky, because you had remembered that there was a full moon tonight. You spotted the moon easily, dazzlingly bright in her ephemerally whole beauty, round as infinity and promising more.

Heather had to tug you away. You could’ve stood on by the kerbside forever, entranced by the world above you.

John led you all down the stairs of 48 Margaret Street and into its basement, where the club was situated. Despite its modest location, music pounded heavily from the Speak, and everything was awash with light, light in every colour imaginable.

Everyone inside of the club was as colourful as the lights, the hues of skin and hair and lips and eyes dying away to be replaced with rainbows and sparkles.

Deacy turned around, and in spite of his reputation for being often smiley, you’d never seen him beam like this before.

He spread his hands, “Isn’t it wonderful?!”

Roger muttered, “Fucking kill me.”

John frowned at Roger. “I never complain when you talk about cars,” he said.

“Well, obviously, I should talk about them more often,” Roger sniffed.

Deacy ignored Roger and took Ronnie’s hand, spinning her around and making her giggle.

“Oh, but I have to agree with Deac,” you told Roger, looking around at the people who smiled as they danced, dressed in glitz and glamour and everything in between. Every person you regarded was equally as radiant as Deacy in this environment, and the energy of the club was thus made infectious. You wondered honestly why Roger hated this— he himself was rather high energy.

“You can forget about your little friendship with Brian,” Roger told you. “This is not his scene.”

“Well, said Freddie, “he’s not here right now, is he, darling? So speak for yourself,”

You shook your head at Roger. “You are having a bad day, Rog. Lighten up a bit,” you ruffled his fluffy blonde hair before he could stop you.

“Yes, come on, Rog,” said Heather, “one dance can’t hurt, can it?”

Roger sighed. “Suppose not.” He glanced at you. “Sorry, that was a bit mean of me, Y/N.”

You let it go. “I like your shoes,” you winked.

Roger pointed his toes in his sparkly pink shoe. “I do have quite the fashion sense.” He scampered away with Heather who was pulling him onto the dance floor.

Deacy and Ronnie followed after them, and in your platform heels and curled hair and sequined boots, you stood at a bit of a loss, until Freddie nudged your shoulder.

“We’re here to dance, darling!”

You smiled and let Freddie lead you out onto the dance floor.

After about twenty minutes of dancing, you were beginning to have fun, to forget yourself a little while, to forget to miss the presence of Brian May.

Roger and Heather spun wildly, tapping toes and dancing basically attached at the hip.

Deacy and Ronnie were more family-friendly in public company, and had shown you a few moves. Deacy was in his element, and unlike Roger, his dancing was tight and controlled. It was obvious that he danced not to be seen, but for the wealth of his soul. He loved to dance, and his wife did too, and it was clear that their love was made in heaven.

Freddie however, did dance to be seen. Which was peculiar, really, given he was already going out with the classy Miss Mary Austin. But his eyes followed other people entirely. And soon enough, he winked at you and disappeared off to dance with some pretty boy.

You’d never pegged Freddie for completely heterosexual, but then again, this was the seventies, and it was hard to tell. Not that you cared who he chose to partner with for romantic encounters, but you were worried. From Brian comforting a crying Freddie on a bathroom floor the other night, to the brawl, to Freddie freezing at the mention of Mary, it was clear that something wasn’t right. And you’d be damned if you let one of your best friends suffer in silence.

You continued to dance alongside the others, but throughout the night, you kept a watchful eye out for Freddie. Thankfully, he never disappeared for more than a couple of minutes at a time, so your nerves relaxed a little.

You’d corner him someday soon and find out what it was that was bothering him. For now, though, you were dancing on your own, wondering if a certain curly-haired guitarist might have wanted to dance with you.

Wondering if he’d gazed up at the full moon in the same way that you had.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

The phone rang Wednesday evening, and you hoped it wasn’t your mother calling.

She worried even more than you did, and though it didn’t greatly show, you could see it, in the twitch of her mouth, in her fingers that tapped an armrest or tabletop, hear it in the way her pauses became more frequent between sentences, hesitations hovering like bumblebees.

You couldn’t face her right now, because she’d ask if you were okay, if you were managing your stress, and presently, you were growing increasingly concerned about the whereabouts and well-being of Brian Harold May.

You really hoped it wasn’t your mother calling.

“Hello, Y/N Andrews speaking.”

“Brian May,” said a tired voice on the other end of the line.

You hurtled forward, gripping the phone with both hands.

“Bri!”

You could almost see his soft smile. “Hi, Y/N.”

You sputtered, “But where have you been? Where are you? Is everything okay?”

There was a sigh and another noise that sounded like Brian shifting the phone from one ear to the other. “How many times must you ask before you realise that I can’t give you the answer you want?”

There was no bite to his tone, just a rawness that suggested he didn’t want to worry you by not telling you what was going on, but also thought that details would weigh you down with problems that shouldn’t be yours. You understood the nature of his tone so well because it was one you were guilty of on a regular basis.

“I’m just worried about my friend,” you responded quietly. You didn’t want to pressure him, but nor did you want him to feel that he was alone in the world with his troubles.

Another sigh. “Yes, I know. I’m sorry.”

“What’ve I said about apologising, Brimi,” you muttered. “Why are you calling me?” You meant why was he calling you now specifically, though you also wondered why he was calling you. As far as you were aware, he hadn’t contacted Freddie again, and he hadn’t spoken to Roger or John at all.

“To tell you that I’ll be there tomorrow night.”

Tomorrow night, Thursday. For guitar lessons and derivation help.

“Brian, surely, if things are so bad that you disappear for a week, you know I’d understand if you didn’t turn up tomorrow.”

“No questions asked?” he said.

You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t have to, for there was no doubt in your mind. “No questions asked.”

He laughed that gentle half-laugh of his, the one that expressed a resignation, a sadness, rather than mirth. It shattered you a little bit.

“I did say you were a wonderful friend. But I’ll be there tomorrow. Eight in the evening, if that’s alright?”

“Yeah,” you said, feeling a little dazed. “I live on Camden High Street. The rickety green house behind the Plaza Cinema.”

“I’ll try not to get lost,” he replied, a touch of his usual humour resurfacing. But good god did he sound tired, worn down and worn out. “Tell the others not to worry. I’ll be home soon.” He had the air of a man who had travelled the cosmos in their entirety, walked the sky and the path of the stars for eons, lonely but unafraid.

He breathed quietly, “Good night, Y/N.”

It was odd, you thought, how you were always saying good night to each other. Perhaps some kind of magic existed in the night that brought you together.

Oh, but it did exist— the magic was the stars.

“Good night, Bri. Safe travels.”

You put down the phone, and only then did it occur to you: he had not called the others.

He had called you.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

A/N: bit of a short one today, m’dears. sorry about that. maybe i’ll have to do a cheeky mid-week update... 🥰

taglist: @melting-obelisks @hgmercury39 @stardust-killer-queen

Masterpost / Part 4 / Part 6

[welkinalauda]

GOD'S TOTAL QUALITY MANAGEMENT QUESTIONNAIRE

[I don’t know who wrote this - I first saw it on usenet way back when. It seemed timely, though.]

God would like to thank you for your belief and patronage. In order to better serve your needs, (S)He asks that you take a few moments to answer the following questions.

How did you find out about your Deity? Newspaper Bible Torah Book of Mormon Koran Divine inspiration Dead Sea Scrolls My mama done tol' me Near-death experience Near-life experience National Public Radio Tabloid Burning shrubbery Other (specify):

Which model Deity did you acquire? YHVH Father, Son & Holy Ghost [Trinity Pak] Jehovah Jesus Krishna Zeus and entourage [Olympus Pak] Odin and entourage [Valhalla Pak] Allah Satan Gaia/Mother Earth/Mother Nature God 1.0a (hairy thunderer) God 1.0b (cosmic muffin) None of the above; I was taken in by a false god

Did your God come to you undamaged, with all parts in good working order and with no obvious breakage or missing attributes? Yes No If no, please describe the problems you initially encountered here. Please indicate all that apply: Not eternal Finite in space/Does not occupy or inhabit the entire universe Not omniscient Not omnipotent Not infinitely plastic (incapable of being all things to allcreations) Permits sex outside of marriage Prohibits sex outside of marriage Makes mistakes (Geraldo Rivera, Jesse Helms) Makes or permits bad things to happen to good people When beseeched, doesn't stay beseeched Requires burnt offerings Requires virgin sacrifices Plays dice with the universe

What factors were relevant in your decision to acquire a Deity? Please check all that apply. Indoctrinated by parents Needed a reason to live Indoctrinated by society Needed focus in whom to despise Imaginary friend grew up Wanted to know Jesus in the Biblical sense Graduated from the tooth fairy Hate to think for myself Wanted to meet girls/boys Fear of death Wanted to piss off parents Needed a day away from work Desperate need for certainty Like organ music Need to feel morally superior Thought Jerry Falwell was cool My shrubbery caught fire and told me to do it

Have you ever worshiped a Deity before? If so, which false god were you fooled by? Please check all that apply. Mick Jagger Rajanish Baal The almighty dollar Bill Gates Left-wing liberalism The radical right Ra Beelzebub Barney T.B.P.D. The Great Spirit The Great Pumpkin The sun Elvis Cindy Crawford The moon TV news Burning shrubbery Other:

Are you currently using any other source of inspiration in addition to God? Please check all that apply. Tarot Lottery Astrology Television Fortune cookies Ann Landers Psychic Friends Network Dianetics Palmistry Playboy and/or Playgirl Self-help books Sex, drugs, rock and roll Biorhythms Alcohol Bill Clinton Tea leaves EST CompuServe Mantras Jimmy Swaggert Crystals (not including Crystal Gayle) Human sacrifice Pyramids Wandering in a desert Burning shrubbery Barney T.B.P.D. Barney Fife Other:___________

God employs a limited degree of divine intervention to preserve the balanced level of felt presence and blind faith. Which would you prefer? a. More divine intervention b. Less divine intervention c. Current level of divine intervention is just right d. Don't know...what's divine intervention?

God also attempts to maintain a balanced level of disasters and miracles. Please rate on a scale of 1 - 5 his handling of the following: (1=unsatisfactory, 5=excellent):Disasters:12345 Flood Famine Earthquake War Pestilence Plague Spam AOL Miracles:12345 Rescues Spontaneous Remissions Stars hovering over jerkwater towns Crying statues Water changing to wine Walking on water VCRs that set their own clocks Saddam Hussein still alive Getting any sex whatsoever

Do you have any additional comments or suggestions for improving the quality of God's services?

If you are able to complete the questionnaire and return it to one of our conveniently located drop-off boxes by December 31 you will be entered in the One Free Miracle of Your Choice drawing.Chances of winning are approximately one in 6.023 x 1023, depending on number of beings entered.

[thecleverdame]

The Woodsman - 3

Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: A/B/O Fairy Tale - You’re a sheltered, thirty-something princess on the run from your brother, the newly crowned ‘Mad King’ of France. When you’re waylaid by marauders and left for dead in the forest, a gruff woodsman nurses you back to health.

Warnings: A/B/O smut, knotting, language, violence, assault, non-con

Word Count: 32,000

The entire story is complete and available now on Patreon. subscribe for a pledge of $2.50 a month and get access to this and other Patreon exclusive content.

-

Despite his animosity toward you, Sam is a better man than any you’ve come across before. You believe his words, you trust with all your heart that he would protect you if the situation arose.

He deserves the truth.

“My father, King Henry, died last year.” You look down to your lap, wringing your hands together.

“We heard news of his passing,” Sam confirms softly, watching intently as your facade drops and is replaced by real, raw emotion that spreads from your eyes to your mouth. This is the authentic you, without the dressings of pomp and circumstance, the you he knew was in there if only he could get to it. Sam recognizes it when he sees it.

“As the line of succession dictates my oldest brother, William, assumed the throne.” You continue.

“The one they call the Mad King?” Sam’s eyes narrow. Perhaps beyond reason, he’s looking for an excuse to believe in you. “Did he not treat you well?”

You take a pregnant breath, tipping your head back. Just get it over with.

“When we were children William and I were close, very close. It’s a bond that only grew as we aged. Perhaps he was always a bit of a dandy but I loved him for it. The two of us had an appreciation for the finer things our life affords; the cuisine and modern fashions. Certainly more than any of my other siblings.”

Sam is silent, his arm crossed over his chest.  

“It was around the time my father fell ill that I noticed a change in his behavior. I found William talking to himself in his bedchambers one afternoon, but his symptoms would come and go. I should have told my father before he died, perhaps he could have done something, ensured my brother Daniel assumed the throne instead...but I said nothing. I didn’t want to embarrass William in front of our parents, they already thought him weak and I didn’t want to exacerbate the situation.”

“I wouldn’t know until much later what was happening to him, and by then it was too late. You have to understand Samuel, I always knew that William had a proclivity for...men. I found him in the stables with a serf when I was twelve and it was our secret. He’d had a lover for many years, an older man named, Anton, who slowly went insane. As fate would have it Anton passed away just before my father. I thought maybe it was William’s grief rearing its head after losing the person he cared for most but wasn’t permitted to openly grieve for. Then our father pass. He and Anton died within a week, so close together. It wasn’t until after William’s coronation that I saw the rash on his hands, then the ulcers.”

“Syphilis?” Sam asks calmly.

“Yes,” you nod. “His behavior became increasingly erratic. He started to have these delusions of paranoia. He came to believe that there was a secret society of people trying to infiltrate our family, assassins who would stop at nothing to see us all dead. When it was time for him marry and declare a queen he refused every woman in the kingdom. He said he couldn’t trust anyone outside of the family. So he chose our sister Elizabeth. He married our sister and then he ordered me to do the same...to marry our brother, Philip. I pleaded with him but he would hear none of it.”

Sam’s heart drops. He’s pictured you as a spoiled woman running away from a privileged life, perhaps an arranged marriage, but nothing like this.

“When I refused William saw me a conspirator. I no longer had free will. I was given an order from the King on pain of death. I’d be expected to consummate a marriage with…” You stop swallowing tears. “I would not lie with my brother, so I had no other choice but to leave or be killed.”

“You should have told me,” Sam runs a hand over his face. “We could have taken precautions. I certainly wouldn't have paraded you around the village.”

“I think, perhaps, I am still trying to protect William. And I’m scared and desperate and utterly humiliated. And now I am alone.” You feel sick. As if the contents of your stomach might find themselves on the ground in front of you.

“No,” Snapping to attention, Sam grabs your shoulder, turning you toward him. “You’re not alone.”

There’s a soft affection in his eyes that you haven’t noticed before. His face is close to yours and you wonder how you’ve failed to appreciate how handsome he is.

“I should have moved on as soon as I was healthy enough to travel. I’ve brought this trouble upon you and you asked for none of it. If I’m honest, I’d say that I don’t know what to do. When the thieves killed my companions they took everything from me. I’ve nothing left and nowhere to go.”

“You don’t have to go anywhere.” Sam rubs his hands together. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.”

“If I stay it will make you a compatriot.” You protest.

“Let that be my concern.” His brow narrows like a father prying truth for a child. “Have you told me everything?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re welcome here. However,” He stands up, looking out at the fields and he shoves his hands into his pockets. “You’ll have to tell me when your heat comes. I’ll need warning.”

“That won’t be an issue…” You close your eyes at the humiliation of having to explain yourself. “I know you think very little of my husband and the kind of man he was. That the thought of him is amusing to you. But I loved him very much. He was a good man and when he died a part of me did too. Something happened to me, I don’t know what but I don’t - I haven’t had a heat in years.”

You expect some sliver of witty repartee, at least a snide comment about Omegas and your lack of any useful skill, but he says nothing.

Sam simply nods and offers you his hand.  

You take it, sliding your palm over his warm, rough skin. There’s a tingle in your chest, something faint and low. If you weren’t so broken you might have a stronger response to the touch of an Alpha, but this is...something.

---

The fact that Sam’s brother is also an Alpha is an inescapable fact. His scent is lighter, perhaps a bit sweeter than Sam’s, but not at all pleasing to the senses. Maybe he’s coming off rut or perhaps his smell is always this strong, all you know is that it makes your stomach turn as the three of you sit down for supper.

“You seem on edge.” Sam leans toward you, lifting his chin in your direction.

“I’m perfectly fine.” You brush him off, ladling stew into a bowl.

Dean pulls his chair closer to the table, dipping a spoon into the concoction and letting it drip back into the bowl. His eyes shift from Sam to you. “What is this?”

“Pottage,” you grimace, looking at him as if he’s a lunatic. What else could it possibly be? “Is there something wrong?”

You spent all afternoon cutting vegetables and adding spices, sweating over the hearth like a common scullery maid. You stink of lard and cooked meat and you most definitely don’t appreciate his apprehension.

“No,” Dean raises his forehead and pouts his lower lip. “It just looks bit runny.”

“I’m sure it’s wonderful,” Sam nods, shoveling a spoonful into his mouth. You watch expectantly as his features tense and he grunts, then starts to slowly chew. He crunches his way through a carrot that should be soft.

Dean sniffs at his helping before digging in and his reaction is far less polite. He spits it back into the bowl as you look on in horror. “I’m sorry,” he raises his hands, palms up. “But I can’t even pretend. It tastes like a salt lick.”

Sam shouts, putting his fingers to his mouth and pulling away with a small piece of bone. “I may have just cracked a tooth.”

You sit back in your chair, defeated. You’d be offended if you had an ounce of energy left, but you’re exhausted. It hasn't helped that Dean’s scent is the only thing you can concentrate on. You can still distinguish Sam’s Alpha in the mix, but it takes concentration.

The version of yourself that first arrived here would be indigent at their reactions, after all, you have tried your best. But you are decidedly not the same woman, so you give up pretense and burst into stomach aching laughter that makes your eyes water. Sam grins and Dean laughs along with you until you’re waving your hand in front of your face. “I told Samuel I couldn’t cook to save my life, but he insisted.”

“I won’t make the same mistake twice.” Sam smiles.

After a more appetizing dinner of bread, cured meat and too much wine, Dean finally leaves and you can breathe again.

“You hardly touched your food.” Sam comments.

“I don’t have much of an appetite.”

“Are you feeling ill?”

“I do have a bit of a weak stomach this evening. I like your brother, and his stories, very much; but he stinks. I’m glad he’s taken his leave. I was ready to go to the barn for the remainder of the evening.”

Sam knows leaps and bounds more about the dynamics of Alphas and Omegas than you, comparatively his knowledge could fill books while you would struggle to write a sonnet. So, he knows that claimed and bonded Omegas are especially sensitive to the scent of other Alphas. His mother could never stand the smell of any Alpha other than his father, it set her on edge and made her stomach turn.

He stinks.

Sam chalks it up to the fact that you’ve been living in his house. All this time around each other is not natural and it’s bound to have unintended effects.

Yes, that has to be it.

---

Time passes quickly as months turn into seasons. Spring turns into a warm summer that inevitably fades to fall. If you had to account for your time you’d be hard pressed to explain where the days escape to. You and Sam find a rhythm that’s tolerable, but often contentious.

It’s still in the early hours of the morning, the sun barely cresting over the horizon as he hands you the list.

“It’s one task, but it’s important. You must get everything in the proportions listed and boil them according to the instructions. It needs to be exact. Do you understand?” Sam implores.

“Yes.” stifling a yawn you place the back of a hand to your lips.

“I’ll be back just after dark. Have it ready by then.” Sam leans down, insisting your full attention. “Are you certain you can handle this?”

“Samuel,” you pick a small bite of the bread form the loaf and pop it into your mouth. “Do you have no faith in me at all? It’s one trip to the village. I am not a child.”

“That’s still up for debate.” He grumbles. He’s been in an absolutely rancid mood for the last several days.

“I won’t let you down.” Dropping a sprig of pine needle into a mug of hot water you don’t even look up as he leaves.

-

Perhaps if you hadn’t gone back to bed all of this could have been avoided. What’s the saying? You can take the princess out of the castle, but not the castle from the princess.

You’ve never been an early riser and you don’t see the harm in crawling back into bed for just a short while.

When you do awake it’s midday and there’s still plenty of time to make the walk to the herbalist. You assume this concoction he’s requested is for his back, you’ve suspected he’s been in pain for several days. Not only had his attitude soured more than normal but he’s been twitchy and marginally more aggressive.

You dress, gathering a sack and his all-important list, ready to begin your journey. You set up off toward the village at a brisk pace, humming to yourself when you see one of the chickens along the side of the path. The bird is farther from the house than she should be. After several failed attempts you lift her into your arms and walk her back to the coop.

When you open the door to the pen four others dart out, squawking and trotting free around the yard. The afternoon devolves quickly into early evening as you battle chickens and then, by an unfathomable twist of circumstance, the dairy cow that liberates herself from the field.

By the time the animals are secured, the sun is setting and you failed to accomplish the lone task Sam gave you.

You smell him before he’s inside. You’re on your knees stoking the fire when the familiar but unnervingly intense aroma comes to your attention. It’s easy to place Sam’s scent, you know it well, but this is stronger than it should be.

The small door flies open with a bang, hitting the wall with enough force to shake the structure. You pop to your feet as Sam stalks inside. He’s sweating, his mouth twisted in discomfort when he looks at you.

It’s his rut.

How could you have not known this was coming? He’s been showing signs for days and you just ignored them, blissfully unaware of his impending cycle.

“Where is it?” He grits. His eyes flutter shut, teeth sinking over his lip as he scents the air, head tilting from one side to the other.  The drink he wanted was for this, a herbal suppression to keep his instincts at bay.

Horrified you step back and admit, “I didn’t...a lot of things happened today and I didn’t have the chance-”

“Run,” he mutters, his expression numbing, visibly struggling to restrain himself. Inching away from the door his eyes go wide and his lip curls. “Run, now!”

“Samuel,” you hesitate as the meaning of his words sink in. Panic surges from your head to your legs and you pick up your skirts and dash into the night.

You make it halfway to the stable before two great hands are around your waist, hoisting you into the air and over his shoulder. Sam plucks you off the ground like a sack of grain and stalks toward the open door of the barn.

“Put me down!” You shout, hammering your fists at his back.

And he does, he drops you unceremoniously onto the hay covered floor and pounces on top of you.

“Samuel, please don’t.” You hit his chest, small hands trying to push him off, but resistance is futile. His large stature affords him easy restraint as you buck under the weight of him. Your flailing legs, kicking wildly, are hampered as he wedges his hips between your thighs.

“Stop squirming,” he snarls, hooking a hand under your knee to bend your leg, letting the heft of his body hold you to the ground. His hand ventures under your dress, one big rough hand grabbing at the bare skin of your legs all the while pressing his face into your neck, drawing in a deep breath before dragging his nose and open mouth across the swell of your breasts.  

“Please don’t do this,” tears fall from the corners of your eyes.

“I said stop moving.” He smacks the side of your face with an open hand, strong enough to make a sickening crack. Sam’s eyes are blown wide, crazed by the swell of all-consuming lust. This is not the man who opened his home to you, this is someone foreign and terrifying. He reaches up, pinning both arms above your head with one hand as the other ventures between your thighs.

His fingers poke at the lips of your sex and you screw your eyes shut, turning your head to the side. Without the slightest hesitation, he shoves his middle and index finger inside your pussy, pushing until he’s knuckle deep.

You should be wet for him. It doesn’t matter that you’re not a willing partner, any normal Omega should respond to his rut by making you ripe and ready, but instead, he forces two long fingers into your bone dry snatch and you yelp in pain. If he fucks you like this he’ll tear you open, a realization that makes you fight even harder.

“You’re hurting me,” you scream, a sob tearing from your throat.

“You’ll slick up once I have my cock in you.” He sneers, reaching for his trousers.

There’s a hollow popping sound as a large piece of firewood connects with Sam’s head. His eyes roll back and he collapses, the weight of him knocking the air from your chest.

Dean’s face is above you.

He rolls Sam’s limp body off you with a grunt, looking from you to his brother. “I told him it wasn’t a good idea to stay here with you. He wouldn’t listen.”

You scramble backward, straightening your skirt, wiping tears from your face. Sam’s laid out flat on his back, his mouth open like a fish gulping for air. He makes a faint sound, a pained groan as his head falls to the side.

“Is he hurt?” On hands and knees, you crawl to Sam, putting a hand on his forehead. You inspect him, running fingers through his hair until you find the growing bump at the base of his skull.

“I didn’t hit him that hard.” Dean leans down giving his brother a once over.

“This was my fault.” You confess, smoothing hair away from his face. “If I had just done what he asked none of this would have happened.”

Dean tilts his head toward you. “He never drank the tincture?”

“I didn’t know what if was for, he didn’t tell me...I didn’t have it ready”

“I wasn’t even entirely convinced it would work, especially with an Omega living in his house. You two are playing with fire. If he took you, like this…” Dean shakes his head at you with disgust. “He’d never forgive himself.”

“I know,” you’re defeated. You sit back onto the filthy floor of the barn. “I’ve never seen anything like that before. He wasn’t Samuel, the way he was looking at me....”

“A rut’s enough to make any Alpha react like that, but he’s had you around...it’s not a smart situation for either of you.”

“Should we take him inside?” You propose.

“You’re going inside and I’m taking Sam with me. It’ll pass in a couple of days.”

-

It’s almost a week before he returns.

Dean comes every morning and evening, tending to Sam’s livestock and handling a growing list of common tasks that you have no pension for. Had someone told you six months prior that you’d be living in a rickety cottage, pining away for a forester, you’d have told them the very idea was preposterous. But you do miss Sam, more than you care to admit.

Sam returns just before dusk, the sun is hanging low over the horizon. There’s a tapping on the door, Sam knocking at the door of his own home before slowly coming inside.

You stand next to the table, hands clasped in front of you, strangely formal for such a moment. You almost forgot how large he is until he’s standing in the same room again, looming over you like a sad, regretful giant.

He clears his throat before addressing you. “I’m sorry, for anything I did. I can’t remember much but Dean said he thinks I might have...hurt you.”

“No,” you reply quickly, taking a step toward him. If he doesn’t remember, you’re not about to make him relive it. “I will admit I was bit scared but no damage was done.” You worry your tone is too upbeat, inappropriate for the setting but you’re just unbearably happy to see him. “I think we both did a few things that we regret...or in my case lack thereof, but I was hoping that maybe we could forgo the apologies and unpleasantness and try to return to what we were. I don’t think we need to speak about it.”

“I’d like that as well,” he smiles tightly.

And it’s never spoken of again.

---

“Let’s see it then.” Sam holds out his hand.

You don’t even want to show him. Sam never misses an opportunity to mention that your elite education has no practical application. He’d gone on and on about finding a skill, anything to make yourself useful, so you recruited Martha to help you. After talking over the options you decided candle making was a good place to start. It didn’t appear difficult.

Sam slows his pace, taking the beeswax from you and examining it. He turns it upside down and right side up as his brow furrows. “What is it?”

“You are not serious?” You’re taken aback by his question. He shakes head and looks back to the mystery object. You stop in your tracks, folding arms over your chest. “It’s a candle!”

He looks skeptically from you to the candle, then back again. “This is a candle? Surely there’s there some kind of mold that one puts the wax into to provide more of a shape.”

“Well,” you concede, “There was a mold but I applied too much heat and removed it before it set correctly.” Sam just stares at you, his face deadpan, and then breaks out into a full body laugh. His shoulders shake and his chest heaves, apparent delight that racks his entire body. “It’s not that funny,” you correct him as your good nature fades.

At least you tried, shouldn’t he focus on that?

“Oh Princess, it is that funny.” He’s laughing so hard that a tear leaks from his eyes and he wipes from his face with his sleeve. “You can’t pour wax into a mold.”

“It is more complicated than it looks, Samuel. I can assure you,” your indignant tones just amused him all the more and he bends over with his hands on knees.

---

He’s told you not to touch the mighty sword that hangs above the hearth. He mentioned it only one time, commenting that it was his late father’s blade and it’s not to be tinkered with, but you want to do something for him. Something special.

You start the day with energized determination. For once you’re going to be the one who has something to offer, a gift. It’s been weeks since his return and you’re ready to pitch in and help. Sam’s been a more than a generous host, managing to take care of your needs as well as those of his livestock and business.

When you were a girl you pictured your father as the ideal of what a man should be. He was an intellectual who spent his days meeting with advisors and surrounded himself with men much more intelligent than himself. He knew one man was simply not capable of understanding the nuances of running a kingdom, so he asked for help when he needed it. He was a kind, fair king and a balanced leader. You thought of this as work, hard work, and to some degree it was.

But the truth is Sam works harder than anyone you’ve ever known. He rises before dawn, tending to the cow and the horses. He feeds the pigs, spreads meal for the chickens and lugs mounds of hay from the barn to the stable. And when he’s done and the sun is up he eats his breakfast, heads off to the woods where he cuts and chops and hauls lumber until the twilight hours.

You don’t expect him home so soon. The sun has just set and you assume you’ll have more to finish the task at hand: polishing his father’s sword. You’re nearly finished, wiping down the blade when he returns unexpectedly.

He’s normally sullen in the evenings, tired from a long day, but tonight he comes through the door with a smile on his face. In his left hand, he has a small sack filled with Bilberries, they’re your favorite. His pleasant disposition fades as his eyes look from you the sword laid over the table.

“What are you doing?” The moment you see his face you know this was a mistake.

“I was just...I wanted to do something for you. You’ve done so much for me and…”

“Put it down.” His jaw ticks and he closes his eyes for a moment. He’s been mad before but this is a fury that’s new, it’s a wave of quiet anger which makes it all the more terrifying.

You set the blade down on the table, smoothing the cloth in your hands before putting in on the table too. “I thought-”

“You don’t think, that’s the whole problem. You’re so used to doing whatever you desire without any consequence that you don’t stop to consider how your actions affect other people.”

“I’m sorry.” Don’t cry. “The last thing I wanted to do was upset you. I just wanted to-” Don’t cry, don’t let him see you cry.

“You should leave.” He commands, resolute.

“Samuel-” You trying to protest, at least explain yourself but he doesn’t give you the opportunity.

“It’s my own fault for expecting anything else. You can’t help yourself, can you? The very idea of someone below your station telling you ‘no’ is a challenge to do otherwise. I asked one thing of you. One. Everything else I offered happily, but you’re so stubborn that you do whatever pleases you without regard for anyone but yourself. You’re nothing more than an Omega without her heat. It’s actually perfect.” He spits. “You’re a princess past her prime who can’t clean or fuck. You’re useless to me.”

His word cut like a knife, taking the air from your chest. No one has spoken to you this way, not even your brothers in midst of some adolescent rage.

“Get your things. If you start walking now you can get to town before dark. Martha will let you stay with her.” He sneers.

“Please do not do this!” You shout, balling your fists at your sides. This has gone more wrong than you could have ever envisioned, but the truth is you should have known better, How could you think that touching something that means so much to him would have pleased him? Between the chickens and the tincture, you’re clearly not in tune with any part of his life.

“Now.” He commands coldly. His glare shifts from you to the sword as he stands with hands on his hips.

You scramble to collect what little you have and stuff it into a small sack, hesitating when you pick up the cloak before setting it back down. With shaking hands, you tie the rope securing your items and head for the door. With a hand on the frame you pause, without turning back you utter “I’m sorry.”

The tears start to the minute the door slams closed behind you. What a mess you’ve made. Sam is the only person you had left, and now you’ve managed to alienate him. It was only a matter of time, he’s been merely tolerating you since he took you in and instead of nurturing a better relationship you’ve made things worse at every turn.

Anger and defeat swelling in your chest, you set a brisk pace toward the village. The cold sinks into your bones as you try to move fast, you doubt it’s cold enough to freeze to death but it’s enough to make the journey miserable.

You should have never come here, never left France in the first place. Your brother was ill and if you’d stayed you might have been able to reason with him, get through to his more reasonable sensibilities. He was sick after all. What kind of sister are you? Abandoning her family when they need her most.

The root catches your foot, twisting your ankle and before you have time to call out you tumble to ground. You land on your knees, with a yelp and promptly fall back onto your backside. Drawing in a sharp breath you lift up your shirt and take stock of your now bloody knees, touching one tenderly and wincing.

You can do this, you tell yourself. Stop acting like a child, pull yourself together and stand up.

But when you try to stand your ankle gives way and you find yourself on the ground again.

You give up. A sob tears from your throat and you cry, defeated, in the dirt.  

Sam watches you silently, standing only a few steps behind with his mother’s cloak in his hand. You curse softly between howls, rocking back and forth. While you’re certainly ridiculous he wonders if he’s been harder on you than was necessary. You are, after all, alone in the world.

“What are you doing on the ground?” He asks softly. You jump at the sound of his voice, shoulders twitching in the moonlight.

“I fell.” You hiccup. “You’re right to send me away, Samuel. I’m nothing more than a useless, selfish burden.”

Sam kneels down beside you, covering you with the cloak. It’s a gesture that makes you cry even harder, burying your face in your hands. “Don’t say that,” he sighs.

“If you could just help me get to town I’ll be out of your way. I know you hate me and want to be rid of me, but I’m not sure I can make it to Martha’s on my own. I seem to have hurt my leg.”

Sam smiles to himself in the dark, bending down and scooping you into his arms without so much as a word.

It’s in this moment when you’re balling like a baby, that you admit your own feelings. You wish for nothing more than his arms around you in the night, holding you close and safe. You can imagine what it would be like to hear gentle terms of endearment whispered from his lips. When you really let yourself succumb to the fantasy it’s with visions of his weight on top of you, moving inside you and making you his.

And you know it will never be. Because a man such as Sam could never care for someone of your selfish desires.  

-

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