#nicholas st. north x reader

[zafirosreverie]

Little North Star (North x f!reader)

It started with the footprints.

You had come home from work, tired and annoyed, only to find a pair of snow boot prints, too large to belong to anyone you knew, especially since you lived alone (deep down, you thought you recognized those footprints, but ignored it for the moment).

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of someone breaking into your house, but upon a quick inspection, you saw that there were no broken windows or forced locks, so you figured maybe someone from the courier had come and not found you and left. Whatever the case, the incident was out of your mind the moment you relaxed in your bathtub.

Then it was the wrapping paper. You hadn't decorated this year, feeling too big and too tired to get into the Christmas spirit. You weren't even going to travel home with your parents to celebrate, even when they lived at the next town, so you hadn't bothered to buy presents or decorate the house.

However, one day you found a bunch of rolls of wrapping paper and boxes with ornaments and lights. For a moment you thought you had gone crazy. You hadn't taken any of this out, it should be in the attic, not the living room. You tried to come up with a logical explanation and ended up convincing yourself that you had probably been too tired to remember bringing these things down from the attic.

Anyway, you found yourself decorating your house two days before Christmas, despite having said you wouldn't. A couple of lights and a tree with ornaments wouldn't hurt anyone, right? Plus, it was a nice way to make the house feel a little warmer and more welcoming.

You tried not to think too much about the little flashes of memories of big hands and a loud, warm laugh visiting you on Christmas Eve. You told yourself that they had just been dreams, and that was what they were.

_____________________

Then came the letter.

The night before Christmas Eve, you found a letter in your mailbox with no return address or zip code. It was just adorned in white and red with a little reindeer sticker that said "North Pole." When you opened it, you saw a recipe for cookies that you used to make as a child. They were your favorite to make with your mother for the big man of Christmas.

You smiled a little and assumed that your mother had sent you the letter in an attempt to help you get back into the Christmas spirit, and as you walked through the aisles of the supermarket, looking for the ingredients for the cookies, you couldn't help but remember the afternoons you spent talking to your mother, looking forward to a visit from Santa Claus.

Everything had been easier then, being a little girl whose only concern was to behave well so that she could receive a gift from the big guy in the red suit.

Never stop believing, little North Star.

You gasped a little and had to lean against a soup rack as memories of a man ran through your mind, a big, strong, warm, and cheerful man, who came to visit you every Christmas Eve, while the rest of the world slept.

He used to call you little North Star, and he would tell you stories of his fellow guardians, the tooth fairy, the Easter bunny, the man in the moon, and the Sandman, while his blue eyes, full of wonder and kindness, filled your soul with warmth and security.

You shook your head, trying to compose yourself as you went to the registers to pay. Deep down you knew they were just dreams, that it was your imagination as a child…but why did they feel so real?

___________________

It was Christmas Eve, your house was decorated, the smell of freshly baked cookies filled the place, and you were sitting on the carpet, with an open gift box between your legs, your eyes full of tears and a smile too big that hurt. An early gift, the tag said.

For my little North Star to come home -N

It was him. Now you were sure of it.

No one, not even your parents, had known about this. There was one night, when he, North, had brought you a snow globe, made by himself, with a beautiful figure of his sleigh inside. So that you would always remember him, he had said.

At that moment, it had seemed easy to your child's mind to promise that you would never stop believing in Christmas, in magic, in him. But as you grew older, you convinced yourself that it had all been mere dreams, that it had not been real, and one day, you could not find the globe. Over time, you had believed that that had also been a dream, that there had never been such a gift.

And now, here it was again, in your hands.

All the memories began to flow, invading your mind with a strength and warmth you hadn't felt in years. The secret nights with North, when he told you the stories of the world, the secrets of the guardians of childhood.

He had called you his little North Star, because he always came back to you, no matter what. How could you have forgotten that you had been Santa Claus's favorite girl?!

A part of you, the part that had grown up and stopped believing, wanted to keep clinging to the idea that it was all a dream. But the biggest part of you now knew that it wasn't, that it had all been real.

How many years had you wasted, how much time wasted? How many promises had you broken? You had to do something, anything, to let North know that you remembered, that you now believed in him again.

You got up from the ground with a joy and lightness that you hadn't felt since you were a child. The illusion and magic awakening in you again as you smiled like you once had. You called your parents, bought last minute gifts and took the last train back home.

Christmas was not lost after all.

_______________________________

A warm and thunderous laugh that did not seem from this world, filled your empty house in the middle of the night, while North lay on your couch and ate the cookies you had left for him, reading your letter over and over again.

Thank you, for giving me back the magic, for making me believe again.

"No, thank you, for coming back to me, little North Star" he said to himself, putting the letter in his suit.

[razzlerdazzler]

I was wondering if you could do a North x Reader where the reader is the embodiment of wishing and has the centre of desire. She's also known as the Fairy Godmother or The Blue Fairy. (She basically grants people's wishes)

North x Fairy Godmother/ Blue Fairy Reader Relationship Headcanons

Hello, sorry it took so long. I hope you like it, Happy Holidays :)

North and you actually work together a lot and make a great team

Since it's his job to make and deliver presents to children all around the world, you're able to help him out by finding out what the children want for Christmas, and even helping him make toys for the children

In return, he tries to help you out anyway he can

He loves PDA and loves holding your hand and giving you all the affection he has to offer, however he will tone it down if you ask him to

He loves holding you in his arms as you two relax

He loves to show you love and affection wherever you two are

He loves your wings and compliments them all the time

Whenever you two are cuddling, or if you're just standing near him, he'll just gently run his fingers against your wings

If you ever get stressed out by your duties then he will happily let you rant to him about your problems

He will also make a toy with you or will try to find something else for the both of you to do to help you take your mind off of the stress

He calls you lots of pet names such as his wish, his heart's desire

He also likes to call you Russian nicknames as well such as milyy (darling)

He introduces you to all of the guardians

He loves when you just hang around his workshop, especially when he's ice sculpting or making toys, he loves just being able to spend time with his lover

He likes to take you on rides in his sleigh

Whenever you two relax together he tells you stories about all of his adventures

He loves to talk to the other guardians about you, whether you're there or not. Everybody just listens to him rant on about how great you are and how much he loves you, even though it's the third time in the span of an hour

Whenever you two kiss he sometimes lifts you up into his arms while being careful of your wings

He definitely makes a set of Russian nesting dolls that represent you

All of the elves and yetis like you and are happy for North and you

He loves you so much and he holds every moment with you close to his heart

[companionjones]

Expect The Unexpected

Pairing: Bernard the Elf x Fem!Reader

Fandom: The Santa Clause Movies

Summary: Bernard surprises you by showing up on the night of Christmas. He has a story for you to explain his appearance. He also might have another surprise...

Warnings: Cursing

*******

You very nearly spilled your hot chocolate when your boyfriend appeared under a cascade of sparkles in front of your TV in your living room. "B?!" You quickly set aside your mug, removed your blanket, and got to your feet. "What're you doing here? It's Christmas Day! Well, more like night now," you corrected yourself with a gesture to the window. You took the few steps necessary to hug him.

Bernard had made it very clear that his job came first when you had met him. The two of you had been seeing each other for over two years at that point, and Bernard was always absent from American Thanksgiving to the New Year. You never had a problem with it.

Your boyfriend seemed sweaty in his response. "Oh, you know. I could feel you missing me extra this year, so I figured I'd pop down and say hello. For your sake."

Quickly, you parted from your hug to give him an unconvinced look.

Bernard didn't even need to look at you to know that you saw right through him. "Okay, I'm sorry! The lead up to this Christmas was just so stressful--more stressful than normal--and I needed to see you."

He was speaking so fast that you didn't object as he pulled you to sit on your couch with both hands.

Bernard proceeded to tell you the story of the lead up to that Christmas while barely taking the time to breathe. Apparently, the current Santa Claus, Scott Calvin, needed a Mrs. Claus in order to continue being St. Nicholas. While he was gone and looking for his better half, Bernard's 2nd in command, Curtis, made a life-like toy Santa to run things at the North Pole. The toy Santa went crazy and almost ruined Christmas. However, Scott Calvin returned in time to right everything, and to marry a woman he had fallen in love with. Her name was Carol.

"Holy shit! What the fuck?" You exclaimed once the story was over.

"As always, I missed the eloquent way you express my thoughts exactly," Bernard sighed deeply as he leaned against your shoulder.

Gently, you removed his hat so you could place a soft kiss on top of his head. "I missed you too," you returned. "Now, since I have you here, would you like to curl up with some hot cocoa and watch some Christmas movies? Or, if you're all Christmased out, we could just stare at the black screen?"

Bernard snorted and moved back to a sitting position. "Honey, I'd love to, but there's still one more thing I have to make right." He pulled a small, red velvet box from his pocket.

Knowing on-sight what it was, you gasped.

"The wedding I attended earlier today made me realize one thing: I wanted you there. In fact, I want you by my side for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?" He opened the case to reveal an astonishingly beautiful ring.

Tears were going to spill from your eyes if you spoke, but you broke through your nod to confirm anyway, "Yeah!" You couldn't even from the whole word 'Yes', but you what you said was enough for Bernard.

You placed your right hand on his cheek to pull him in for a kiss, which was only broken so the two of you could watch Bernard slide the ring onto your left ring finger. The two of you kissed again. "I love you," Bernard broke the kiss to say.

"I love you, too," you promised in the light of your twinkling Christmas tree.

*******

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, check out my masterlists. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

[pleasestayawayidonotlikeyou]

Reader that's the père Fouettard x Nightmare sans please🥺

(info for if you don't know him↓)

Père Fouettard (French for 'Father Whipper' / 'Old Man Whipper'; pronounced [pɛʁ fwɛtaʁ]) is a character who accompanies Saint Nicholas on his rounds during Saint Nicholas Day (6 December) dispensing lumps of coal and/or beatings to naughty children while St. Nicholas gives gifts to the well behaved.[1] He is known mainly in the far north and eastern regions of France, in the south of Belgium, and in French-speaking Switzerland, although similar characters exist all over Europe (see Companions of Saint Nicholas). This "Happy Father" was said to bring a whip with him to spank all of the naughty children who misbehaved.

A statue of the père fouettard

@unamzi

Holy shit 😧

Well, a request is a request, and I think I pushed this more to cannon Nightmare than my fluffMare-

Featuring: Nightmare.

Masterlist

Not really connected but something I highly headcanon is that Nightmare is Spanish, yet when he became corrupted the first AU he established himself in was french (said AU where now only his castle is placed at), so he calls himself french even knowing his weaker self was born in Spain.

Saying he's pleased with you is a big understatement. This man absolutely loves the negativity you spread.

If he's not busy he'll even go with you

He's literally the god of negativity, do you really think he'd be against children beating? If anything when he makes an heir he'll use violence as punishment when they misbehave.

You're interesting to him, your appearance looks like you could give some good scares to some of his victims before they pass away..

Unfortunately he only sees you as a tool for most of the time, you're an entity not a god, so he clearly doesn't consider you to be at his level, maybe close, but he's still superior.

Uses flattery to make sure you continue to do your "job", maybe even some other things for him, at the end of the day he wants you wrapped around his finger.

"Ah my dear subordinate.. you did so well this year that I myself must congratulate you for your great work.."

He won't say that your work was perfect, since the only work that's perfect is his own and no one can reach his feet in his narcissistic mind.

You may even be older than Nightmare himself, yet the king knows the best manipulation techniques to make you a simple pawn without noticing.

At the end of the day, Nightmare sees you as another one of his servants, not as low as Killer or Dust but not as high as himself.

[justagalwhowrites]

Holly Jolly - Ch. 1: Jolly Old St. Nicholas

Joel takes Sarah to meet Santa and meets an overly friendly stranger in line. Chapter one of Holly Jolly, a modern no-outbreak AU TLOU fic.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: None really!

Length: 2.6k

AO3 | Main Master List | Next Chapter

Joel Miller had never been big on Christmas. 

When he was a kid, it lost the magic pretty damn early. When your parents are just scraping by and are too proud to ask for help, the truth about Santa hits pretty young. From then on, it was just a constant reminder of what he didn’t have. Didn’t have parents who were willing to try to keep the magic alive for him and his brother, didn’t have a mother for his daughter, didn’t have a job that let him take time off to spend at home with her during the holidays. 

This year, it was the fact that he didn’t have the money to pull off Christmas at all. At least, not that he could figure out. 

“Daddy, look!” Sarah tugged on his fingers that were held tight in her sticky grip as they got in line, a sign that said “North Pole” over their heads. “Elves!” 

“Yes, Baby Girl,” he smiled down at her even though he didn’t much feel like it. “Elves, they’re here to make sure you’re a good girl while we wait in line.” 

“I’ll be good!” She said, first to him and then to a woman in peppermint striped leggings and a green felt dress. “I’ll be so good, I’ve been so good this year!” 

“I bet you have been!” The woman smiled before going back to counting people in line, ending with Joel and Sarah. He checked is watch - the band barely hanging on by a thread and the cheap plastic of the face chipped - and let out a small sigh of relief. They’d just made it, the mall closing in half an hour and the Santa line cut off time coming even sooner. 

“Wait!” There was a loud voice from behind him as the elf woman started roping off the line. He turned to see a woman who couldn’t be any older than him running toward the line, a girl about Sarah’s age on her hip. You all but skidded to a stop at the rope, the elf woman still holding the end of it. “Please, I’m so sorry, I got held up at work and it was just crazy tonight, can we still get in? We’ll be so quick, she’s so excited and I’ll buy the biggest photo package you have I promise.” 

The elf looked around and then lifted the rope. 

“Don’t tell anyone,” she smiled and gave the little girl a wink. “But only because you have been so good this year.” 

The little girl gasped as you set her down. 

“Aunt Cocoa, how did she know?” 

“Because she’s an elf,” you said, taking her hand. “Of course she knows!” 

Joel tried to not glare at you. You were wearing leggings that were covered in gingerbread men with a sweater that was the definition of an ugly Christmas sweater, green with tinsel and ornaments and lights hanging off it, a headband with antlers in your hair. He ground his teeth. 

Of course, it wasn’t your fault that it was only a week and a half to Christmas and he’d gotten fuck all done. And it wasn’t your fault that the only emotional energy Joel had was going to go toward making sure his daughter had a good night, not placating some childish woman. But damn, it sure seemed like you’d been dropped in front of him just to annoy him, the personification of all the forced cheerfulness that came with the holiday season right where he didn’t want it to be. 

“Aunt Cocoa!” The little girl by your side piped up. “Do you hear? It’s Rudolph!” 

You turned an ear toward the ceiling and smiled. 

“It IS Rudolph!” You said. “Now remind me, who is Rudolph again?” 

“He’s a reindeer!” Sarah piped up from her place at Joel’s side. He almost groaned. 

“Is he really?” You smiled down at her. “Who’s reindeer is he, do you think?” 

“Santa’s!” Sarah and the little girl you were with said at the same time and their faces lit up before they dissolved into giggles. 

“Hi!” Sarah smiled hugely, a gap where her front baby tooth had been just a few days earlier. “I’m Sarah!” 

“I’m Sharon!” The girl with you smiled back, also missing a tooth. “I’m five, how old are you?” 

“I’m five, too!” Sarah gaped at her, as though finding another child her age in line to see Santa was a miracle. “What school do you go to?” 

And just like that, they were off, chattering away in rapid fire, high pitched, little kid speak. You smiled at Joel, almost absently smoothing Sharon’s hair down, more like a parent would do than an aunt. 

“Hi,” you smiled at him as the kids babbled away to each other. Joel was pretty sure he heard the word Barbie from Sarah at the same time you gave your name. 

He frowned. 

“Thought your name was Cocoa.” 

“Oh,” you laughed. “Yeah, when Sharon was little - well, littler - I’d pick her up for girls’ day and the first stop was always Starbucks where I’d get a latte and she’d get a hot cocoa so I turned into Aunt Cocoa.” 

“Right…” Joel moved forward in line. 

“And what’s your name, Sarah’s… adult person?” You asked, smiling a little too broadly. There was glitter on your eyelids. Glitter. 

“I’m her Dad,” Joel said. “And I’m Joel.” 

“Good to meet you, Joel,” you just kept smiling. 

He was silent for probably too long before he realized he should probably respond. 

“You too.” 

Your smile fell a little but was still there and Joel turned to face forward again, Sarah still happily chattering to Sharon. 

The line, at least, was moving quickly and, as much as your syrupy tone and ridiculous outfit grated on him, Sarah’s patience for the line was far greater because Sharon was there for her to talk to. 

“So,” you were still smiling. How could someone smile that fucking long? Didn’t your face hurt? “These two seem to be getting on like a house on fire.” 

“Yup,” Joel said. The family in front of him stepped forward and Joel did, too. 

“Want to exchange numbers?” You asked. Joel raised his eyebrows at you and you stammered quickly. “I mean… you know, to try to get them together? Get some of that holiday energy out?” 

“If you want to give me her mom’s number,” Joel said, not especially wanting you to have his. 

You glanced down quickly at Sharon but she was laughing at something. Sarah laughed, too. 

“Well, I can’t…” you flinched a little. It was the first time he’d seen you not smiling like a maniac. “I’m kind of… Sharon lives with me?” 

You said it more like a question than a statement. 

“Right,” Joel said slowly. 

“So we could just trade numbers,” you smiled again. “Maybe the girls can go to a playground or something over the weekend?” 

The line moved again. 

“Sure,” Joel sighed, getting his phone out of his pocket and unlocking it. He passed it to you and you took it, adding your number. 

“Just going to text myself…” you said absently and then handed Joel’s phone back, the message still pulled up. You’d just typed “Santa Joel” with a little heart emoji after it. Joel was still looking at the screen when two messages from you showed up. One was a selfie - one you’d clearly taken another time, no glitter eyelids or antlers in sight - and the other just your name, followed by a heart emoji. 

“Smile!” You said and he looked up from his phone to see you taking a picture of him. He frowned and your face fell a little bit. “You know, for the contact picture?” 

“Right.” 

He looked down at his phone again. When you weren’t dressed like Christmas had thrown up, you were… pretty. Really pretty. Beautiful, actually, with soft eyes and a gentle smile. You looked like the kind of person people just wanted to talk to. Just the kind of person Joel didn’t need in his life.

The line advanced and Joel moved up. 

“Excited for Christmas?” You asked after the two of you had been silent for another few minutes and had moved forward more. 

Joel glanced down, making sure Sarah was still distracted. Sharon had pulled a small notebook out of her coat pocket and Sarah was looking over her shoulder, carefully reviewing the mass of stickers on the page. 

“Sure,” Joel said, not about to say how he actually felt about it with Sarah this close by. He looked you up and down. “Looks like you’re ready for it.” 

“Oh,” you laughed a little, looking down at the ridiculous sweater. “Yeah, I guess so! Anything you’re excited for?” 

The line moved. Joel could see the leg of the tripod the camera was set up on now, at least. 

“The food, I guess,” Joel said, even though that wasn’t really true, either. He usually got some cookie dough from the store so Sarah could decorate and Tommy had volunteered to host Christmas dinner that year but Joel was almost positive that it was going to be a damn disaster. His little brother could barely make mac and cheese, he didn’t see a full feast going well. 

“So good, right?” You said. “I love…” 

“Look,” Joel said, glancing down at the girls again. “Sure you… mean well and all but we’re getting close to the front of the line and I’d rather just stand here for the next five minutes, alright?” 

“Oh,” your face fell a bit. “Right, I’m sorry, I… right. Sorry.” 

You looked off to the side and Joel faced forward again. 

He almost felt bad for it as they neared the front of the line, but then he heard you humming along with the stupid Christmas song playing on the speakers overhead and he stopped. 

“OK!” The elf woman smiled down at Sarah. “Are you all ready to see Santa?” 

“Yeah!” Sarah beamed up at her. 

“Well that’s good, because you’re next!” She said, looking around the corner toward Santa. “Alright, looks like he’s already for you! Let’s go!” 

She lifted the velvet rope and Joel nudged Sarah forward, her face lighting up when she saw the fat, bearded man on his throne. She ran over to him and clambered on his lap. 

“I’ve been so good this year!” She said before Santa even got a chance to say hello. He laughed and helped her up. 

“I’m sure you have been,” he said. “And what’s your name? 

“Sarah!” She smiled her patchwork smile and Joel smiled, too. “I’m five, almost five and a half!” 

“That half is very important,” Santa nodded sagely. “And what do you want for Christmas this year, Sarah?” 

“A Barbie Dream House!” She said. “And a new Barbie and Ken to live there!” 

Santa glanced up at Joel who was trying to not freak out. A fucking Barbie Dream House? That couldn’t be cheap. Money had been tight since he’d bought the house a few months earlier. 

It was the worst house he could find in the best school district and he was still house poor as a result of the fucking thing. And, of course, after he closed one of his jobs fell through, so him and Sarah had gotten by on now maxed out credit cards for two months since buying the damn house had wiped out his savings. 

He’d just gotten paid for the most recent job the day before, a sharp relief when he deposited the check. He’d been down to $17.87 in his checking account, happy that there’d been a sale on some canned shit a few weeks earlier so the pantry was at least somewhat stocked. How the fuck was he going to afford a Barbie Dream House? 

Santa looked back at Sarah. 

“We’ll just see what we can do about that,” Santa said kindly. “Do you think you can keep being a good girl for me?” 

She nodded eagerly. 

“Then I’m sure you’ll have a very happy Christmas,” he said. “Why don’t you look at that camera, we’ll take a picture together.” 

Sarah sat up straight and smiled so big her eyes scrunched shut and the camera flashed. She jumped down and Sarah took his hand as they went to the booth to buy the pictures. 

“He was so nice!” Sarah said. “And he smelled kind of like the apple pie we had on Thanksgiving and I think he knows that I’ve been real good, Dad.” 

“He was nice,” Joel said, looking at the screen with the picture of Sarah on Santa’s lap and then the price list. “And I’m sure he knows how good you’ve been…” 

How was it $25 for a print out of a picture and a frame made out of fucking card stock? The whole damn season was a racket. 

“Just package A,” Joel said to the man dressed like an elf, pulling out his wallet and handing over his debit card. 

“Do you think he can make a Dream House?” She asked, holding onto his fingers. “How do the elves make all those toys, anyway?” 

“Well, they work real hard…” 

“I’m sorry sir, but your card was declined,” the elf man held Joel’s debit card out to him. “Do you have another card?” 

Joel’s chest got tight. 

“Can you try it again?” He said. 

“Already did,” the man said. “Twice more. It’s declined.” 

“Just…” Joel pulled his phone out. “One sec.” 

He opened his banking app and looked at his account. The check he’d deposited at the end of the day yesterday was there but still pending, funds not yet available. Fuck. 

He only had two credit cards, both of them were maxed out. He opened his wallet, hoping he had a $10 bill he’d forgotten about, then he could do $10 cash and the other $15 on the card… and nothing. Joel took the card back and put it in his wallet. 

“Do y’all keep the photos for a few days?” Joel asked. “I can come back tomorrow…” 

You were suddenly there in the doorway, Sharon in front of you. 

“No, I’m sorry sir,” the man said. “We wipe all the memory cards at the end of the day.” 

Joel took a look at the screen, at Sarah’s giant smile, trying to remember it. 

“Right,” Joel said, squeezing Sarah’s little hand. “Thanks, anyway.” 

Sarah, at least, didn’t seem to even notice, even though Joel wasn’t sure the last time he felt so fucking low. He couldn’t even afford to buy his daughter’s Santa picture, how the fuck was he supposed to make Christmas happen? With a Barbie Dream House no less?

“Joel!” Your voice was loud behind him and he turned to see you running toward him, a plastic bag printed with holly and candy canes held out in front of you, Sharon trailing behind. He frowned as you stopped in front of him, panting for breath. “Sorry, I’ve done more running today than I have all year! Anyway, this is for you.” 

You held the bag out and Joel’s frown deepened, taking it and looking inside. It was Sarah’s Santa picture in the stupid card stock frame and an ornament, the same picture encased in plastic. 

“It was a great picture,” you smiled. “You should have a copy.” 

“I’m not lookin’ for charity.” 

“Oh,” your face fell a little. “I wasn’t… It’s not… Just pay it forward when you can, OK? Merry Christmas.” 

You didn’t wait for him to respond, just taking Sharon’s hand and walking away. 

Next Chapter

[yandere-toons]

May I have some platonic yandere headcanons for the guardians (ROTG) in that they all adopt the reader as a surrogate family member? How would their dynamic function as a unit to take care of the reader?

Yandere Jack Frost, Sandman, Bunnymund, Toothiana & Nicholas St. North (Platonic Headcanons)

A.N. - I have a strong desire to make this into a scenario.

Toothiana is the first to suggest joint adoption, and Jack Frost is convinced that a life with them is better than a life without. The rest of the Guardians are hesitant about stealing their mutual friend from their old life. While Bunnymund's concerns stem from the belief that his guidance would be most effective at a distance, North is preoccupied with the logistics of introducing a new person to the worlds of the Guardians.

On the more neutral side of the scale lies Sandman. The Guardian of Dreams is used to monitoring their wellbeing through unconscious thoughts and has little experience with face-to-face interactions, but he is happy to entertain them with his Dreamsand when his fellow Guardians are arguing. Sandman leans towards Bunnymund's opinion, with Jack countering North's by saying that explaining every detail is unnecessary and ruins the excitement.

There is much disagreement over how best to care for their friend. Jack and Sandman advocate for a carefree approach that dismisses most rules, viewing the Guardians of Hope and Wonder's emphasis on security as excessive. Toothiana, while motivated by a desire to keep their friend happy, has an overbearing streak that leads to her trying to provide help where it is not wanted or needed. Bunnymund and North are split between opposing ideas of which one of them has the final say.

Jack enjoys his petty torments and, if they express discontent, will aid their friend in defying any number of North or Bunnymund's rules. North wishes to be seen as a father figure, but the other Guardians have an equally potent drive to spend time with them. The importance of each holiday and the Guardian themselves are embellished with gifts and praise. It evolves into a popularity contest, with everyone controlling a different part of their friend's day in an attempt to prove their superiority and elicit adoration.

Despite the disharmony between the Guardians over how to schedule their day, they all agree that no one else has any business in their friend's life. There are a few communal activities where they accentuate their virtues and successes, but these are marred by snide remarks about past incidents or mistakes made by other Guardians. This tenuous peace is further challenged by each Guardian, especially Jack and Bunnymund, interrupting and undermining one another during their established time with their friend.

[written-beyond-the-grave]

Wonder

They say we live in the moment, that the past is always gone, and each day is something new, a stepping stone into a future we dream of even in the cold. For you, that was snow, those wintry days of bluster and ice. You see the earth of yesterday covered as white as any new page and the toddler in me rises as if armed with a rainbow of crayons, eager to set that right. Yet today, you were happy to simply walk in it, create a few footprints of your own. You watched them tumble, those feathered crystals, their chaotic flight to form a blanket that could not be more uniform, more orderly. Yet for some their destination is to come to your hand, to alight upon those ungloved fingers and let your warmth be their spring melt: and to also toss a snowball at the unsuspecting yeti.

You barked out a laugh as you caught an oblivious Phil in the face with the snow, it was all short run due to Phil making a large snowball that’d definitely cause some damage if it hit a human. Making a sprint to dodge, your snow boots crunched under the fresh now to behind a forgotten sled. The impact of the snowball caused the sled to push you first face into the snow, though muffled you could hear the chucking Phil and the other Yeti’s made. Pushing yourself up from the sled with your mitten protected hands you made a show to shake the snow from off your wool coat and black braids that cascaded down from under an aviator hat.

“Nice job Phil,” your frozen lips mumbled, “Now back into the Kremlin I go.” You made a short walk back to the entrance of the Pole, well, one of its many entrances. As per usual the Pole was covered in ice, but not as much due to it being mid July. The bottom half of the workshop that was commonly encased in a block of ice was now sporting a thin layer. That also meant that there was danger of falling icicles as one narrowly missed you by a hair. You froze and stared at it for a minor moment, “That’s nice,” before going in. 

The absurdly pulsing heat in the workshop was a rude awakening to your nearly frozen lungs and somehow turned your lips number the they already were. Leaving you winter gear at the door on their respective hooks and cubbies you made your way to your favorite place: the kitchen. Now matter how many times you’ve been in the workshop, it still amazed you. The various tall columns of sturdy wood, the signature red accents with hints of silver and cold. All questionably mixed in with architecture made of solid ice that did not melt in the sweltering heat of the Pole. A feat for the ages, you called it. Your feet in thick socks took a stroll to the kitchen, looking every which way of everyone's hard work. Since Christmas was a little more than halfway there the yetis and elves had cranked up their work ethic, you could tell by the madness going on. Fighter planes were taking test drives under the skylight, zooming past bubbles carrying nuts and bolts, and a few fairy dolls. The floor was littered with a toy army reenacting what could be the Siege of Yorktown, red coats versus blue.

Choooooooo. Choooooooo.

“Woah!” you yelped as a train almost tripped you up. It left an impressive cloud of steam as it went by. Madness indeed. Stopping in front of a worktable full of Rock ‘em Sock ‘em robots there were two elves that decided to micic the fight going on. You let out a small cackle as Steven got knocked off the table from a right hook by Susan, the nearby watching elves erupting in cheers and another half looking disappointed as they turned to Sal and started to pass him off coins. Gambling Christmas elves, also a regular off the books occurrence. 

Pushing past the kitchen door you greeted Gretchen, a yeti who was head honcho of fit for a Yeti, or North when he came in for a late night snack. The appliances were a bit too large for you to utilize without a stepping stool of some sort.

“What’s on the menu for today?” You quipped as you took a seat on a tall stool, it had extra foot rests so you could climb. Gretchen made a series of hand motions and grunts, then turned around and pulled out a bowl of soup with grilled cheese on the side.

“Ah, your famous three sister’s tomato soup and grilled cheese supreme, huh? You always know the way to my heart.”

Gretchen looked away abashed and shrugged.

You took a big spoonful of your soup and promptly started to puff out your cheeks and blow, it was hot. But then again you never did like waiting for food to cool down. Gretchen gave you a low look and shook her head in amusement letting you enjoy your lunch she went back to meal prepping. Dipping your grilled cheese into your soup you looked around the kitchen admiring its trimming. Black marble table tops with deep redwood cabinets that had white oval patterns on the edges and snowflake embellished wall edges gave a sort of shine to the atmosphere. That and the floating crystalline chandeliers, each piece was somehow connected to all the others and moves in a circular motion around the ceiling. 

Another bowl of soup and a tray was put beside you.

“Again?”

Gretchen gave a nod.

Of course.

You finished up your soup, “Guess I’m off for delivery.” You got off the stool and took the tray and went on your merry way. Although the Pole was incredibly large there was always a shortcut, out in the corridor was a large pulley system that could take a package out almost anywhere in the house. Pushing the tray into the box and climbing in you pressed a hammer symbol button on the wall and watched as the door closed and felt it surge. While on the short ride you pulled out your watch and checked the time, the north star was on the bottom right hand corner. Dinner would be soon.

The elevator staggered to a halt and slowly opened out to a blindingly lit floor from the direct sunlight. You cautiously stepped out, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen a fraction of the floor in this place. Taking the tray out into your hands you marvelled around. There were beakers, some empty, some filled with liquids and concoctions, bubbling or sparkling in the light. There were crystal balls, wands, staffs, wrenches, gears, tools of both magic and technological trades both jumbled together across the tables. Books were crammed nearly to the ceiling as space had ran out long ago on the floor to ceiling bookshelves. Row after row of neatly lined up books with their spines facing outward, colour coded with dots, advanced engineering section arranged in alphabetical order, mythos section, folk magic section with low shelves and floor cushions, comfortable leather arm chairs, tables for quiet study, muffled stillness.  Prototypes of planes, wooden cars, and train parts stood as if trophies on the ledges of the room. Even an old record player with a horn, a mini piano, matryoshka dolls, and a glass case of some floating shadow made an appearance 

And in the middle of it all, crouched over a desk in his signature red sweater, was North, looking completely in his element in this mix of science and magic. Where color-coded wires formed their own abstract meaning, mathematics meets craft, form meets function. Where technology erupts from the hands of artists and the minds of philosophers, the heart of the truest believer, or the eyes that saw wonder in everything. In his huge hand was a tiny bottle with a single black diamond, which he was frowning at thoughtfully.

You’d met North, or Nik, as you’d like to call him about a year ago in a small cafe in Paris. It wasn’t too hard to spot a 7’2” densely built man in a small coffee shop, nor ignore his French with a Russian accent. Meeting, well, being in the presence of father Christmas was a complete accident. But, what wasn’t was him taking notice of the river chapel you were beginning to sketch that was right next to the cafe. It was tall, spiky, and completely gothic. One of France’s oldest architectural structures you had heard. With a half eaten croissant by your side and a cup of cold espresso you had settled down. All until North looked around for a moment and took in your character. 

His first thoughts, you looked dainty: the white layered romper added to that effect and the sunlight on you directly made you look ethereal. Like liquid gold in the most conventional of places, or a sunflower bathing in the sunrays. Your hair was put into two puffs on your head with a braiding pattern in the back to keep your curls from going a stray. 

“Maybe try tilting pencil to the left, yes?” You paused for a second and put your hand on your chest looking up. There stood a tree of a many, an absurdly long white beard that was an accent to largely innocent looking deep blue eyes and bushy graying eyebrows. The mystery man’s hair was put into a bun and across his arms there were two things tatted as far as you could tell with his long sleeve rolled up.

Naughty.

And on the other arm: Nice.

“I’m sorry, what?” Who was this man, and what gave him the audacity to talk to you? Couldn’t you mind your business in peace?

“Your sketch.” He gestured with a large meaty hand, “Maybe it would do good to tilt pencil to get desired effect, no?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” You picked up a Russian accent, what was a Kremlin doing this far near the equator? He pulled out a seat, but before he could sit he gave you the silent question. You nodded and North went ahead and sat down.

“May I?”

You wordlessly handed the pencil and watched the man go to work, he looked concentrated as he started back out the window and cobblestone walkway to the chapel. You watched his big hangs engulfing the pencil work, he made some quick strokes and shaded in some parts lightly as he went. 

“Like so.” Finished he pushed the sketchbook back to you. It was well timed since at that moment he was called up for his order. You should see what he meant by tilting the pencil, the slanted edge gave the sketch depth and made the lines bulky and gray enough to seem like bricks. You looked back outside to the warm light, he even got the gargoyle statue in the corners correct.

He came back with this beverage and sat down, “You like?”

“It’s alright.”

He almost spit out his, from what you could tell, a frappuccino with peppermint. Who does that?

“I’m sure you could do better.” He bit out in a laugh, “What brings you to Paris?”

“I got tired of the winter of the big apple.”

“Ah, a New Yorker I presume? Should be used to the cold?”

You leaned forward and grabbed your forgotten cup with your hand and took a long drink. “I could say the same for the Russian. What? Get tired of the frosty frosty?”

He shrugged. “Something of the sort.”

“Something of the sort,” you repeated, “You don’t strike me as sitting in a small cafe and enjoying the pending sunset type.”

He leaned forward and took the candy cane out of his drink and munched on it, “Then what do I strike you as?”

You did a quick analysis, “You seem a little too jolly to be out here, you’re a little far from home, hmmm?” You mused, “You’re… big, I assume a worker of sorts. Maybe a factory? But then again you do a grandfather type fatherly vibe going on. But I think I’ll stick with the private manufacturer owner… What do I strike you as?”

North was surprised you deduced that much in such little time, you almost had the right idea. Almost. “Depends,” he huffed and pulled his arms across his chest and gave you a deep gaze, “Are you naughty, or nice?”

The air was thick and suffocating, you had only been there for a good forty minutes and a husky Russian was giving you quite a plight. You went through the checklist in your head: tattoos, a gold ring on his thumb that made him look like a pimp, man-bun, thick accent, eyes that looked too genuine, and a soft interior that didn’t match his exterior. An oddity that conflicted with your scheduled time in Paris before you hit Germany, an oddity that you had no time or desire for… However, when in Paris, do as the Parisians do. 

You stared at him for a moment, “Name’s (y/n).” You held out your hand.

He shook your hand, you could feel the warmth and the calcoususes that graced his hand. The greeting was surprisingly gentle for a man of his size.

“Nikolai.”

“Delivery from the polar express.” You walked up behind him and placed the tray far off from his papers and creative process going on his desk. You pushed up your tippy toes and kissed his cheek, you felt the hairs on his long white beard tickle your nose.

He leaned into your touch and you felt his cheek heat up slightly. “Sunflower!” North snaked an arm around you and pulled you into a hug, you giggled.

 “What’s on the schedule today Nik?”

“Djinn is stuck in diamond, may have been a few thousand years old.” He turned around fully to show you the tiny bottle, “Have yet to find place of storage.”

You stared at the bottle for a moment, “You cease to surprise me with you always bring in here. Last week a seemingly cursed puppet, and the week before that was an actual cursed clown doll that kept switching places around the shop.” You shuddered at the memory, never in your life had you felt violated by a clown doll barely two feet suddenly appearing behind you in a mirror. A bellowing laughter pulled you out from your thoughts, North slapped his belly.

“Clown is gone now,” he paused and wrinkled his eyebrows, “hopefully.” 

At that you tilted your head and narrowed your eyes questionably, how the hell did you end up here?

“Hilarious.”

Another chuckle erupted. You turned around and walked closely to the window formed by ice, actually, more than half the floor in North’s special experiment room was made of ice. Looking outside the yeti were still out there this time talking the reindeer for walks, hard to believe but Blitzen was giving them a hard time. 

“Almost forgot to mention, guardians will be over for dinner and game night. Been a while seen we last met.”

“Game night?” You turned around to face North and leaned against the cold ice. “You mean… Bunny will be there?”

You stifled a smile as you saw North’s shoulders freeze.

“Sunflower－”

“Say less!” With an enthusiastic voice you bounded up back to North’s desk, and this time slowly pushed the tray towards him that he ignored the first time around. “Eat… you’ll need energy for game night.”

His big blue eyes met your chocolate ones, in opposition for whatever your voice signalled for the night. He didn’t like it, game night was fine. However, you and the Easter Bunny were not a good mix. Last game night ended up with paint splattered everywhere at the Bob Ross themed night and a hopping mad Aussie. In your defence, color theory had no place in abstract design when art had no meaning but to be consumed by an audience… a philosophical approach of course. And this sparked a mini passive aggressive argument between you and the Pooka, one thing led to another and what was previously a nice community den turned into a colorbomb of curses, laughter, and acrylic. After that it became known not to leave you and Bunny alone on artistic matters. Civil was not a word in your vocabulary. 

Sighing, he dug into his soup not wanting to know what you had planned for this night. He’d hold Sandy on standby if anything occurred. Grinning in success you gave the hulking man a quick hug and bounced off.

North shook his head in, whatever fire you were prepping for, he didn’t want the smoke.

  Dinner had been a success, you had gotten Gretchen to whip up some Americanized Chinese food. Not the healthiest, but when working with ancient spirits it was important to introduce them to average human delicacies. Thus the table had a large bowl or lobster fried rice, egg rolls, sweet and sour lo mein with bourbon chicken. MSG had never tasted so good.

“So, how are Mr. and Mrs. Claus doing?” Jack teased conventionally sitting in a chair for once, slouching back he took a sip of his cider. “All is well in paradise? And the master bedroom?”

Tooth dug her elbow into Jack’s ribs.

North put his hands above his head and smiled with glee, “Jack, why would not all be well? Has new evil come? But, eh, why would something be wrong in bedroom?” He tossed a confused glance to you, while you were busy stuffing an egg roll in your already filled mouth. It was no surprise that the innuendo went over North’s head, he wasn’t very adept in sarcasm either. 

Swallowing down your food you answered. “Amazing, it’s like a white Christmas. Every. Night,” then gave Jack a wide toothy smile as Tooth choked on her drink and Sandman made a series of symbols summing up that Jack got owned. You’ve never seen a three hundred and some spirit go as red as a strawberry before. 

“Nice going show pony,” Bunny piped up after having a taste of the vegan egg rolls. “Now, dinner was amazing, but we came here for game night.”

North cleared his throat, “And you’re right Bunny.” North let you take it away.

You smirked and pulled out a larger than normal deck of cards, “I present to you all… Uno.”

“So, a card came?” Jack reasoned.

If your smile got a tad bit more malicious showing off your pearly whites. “Not just a card came. Total warfare. Us humans have been playing this for years, its broken up friendships, marriages, and sacred barber companionships. The true test of skill.” You seemed to have mistified Sandy, he was leaning over the table staring at the box in your hand with heightened curiosity. “So lets play!”

Was it just a game of Uno? Yes, but did you find some way to spice things up? Indeed. You had taken the liberty to write down a few options on the special cards in uno. With the help of a sharpie marker you marked down two options on every card, either do as the card said or do the dare. In your reasoning Uno was already too much of an easy game the guardians could figure out, so why not cause more calamity? During the dinner you watched Sandy and Jack go ham with the cider you accidentally spiked with North’s peach flavored Vodka.

“... And then, Man in Moon decided to replace my fear with wonder, and hope an－”

“Uno.”

“What? You were all playing without me!”

“Well, you looked pretty involved in that story,” you shuffled some cards around in your hand and glanced back up, “now draw four.” You got comfortable on the red velvet carpet and crossed your ankles. Everyone was spread out on the rug, Jack Frost sat himself criss-cross while Sandman lazily lounged on him. The tooth fairy, or Toothiana was more invested in the cup of steaming hot chocolate than the game before her while the Easter Bunny was slowly gaining a steady hand of cards. 

North grumbled into his beard and retrieved the additional cards. He glanced down at his hand and huffed, this game had been going on for about thirty minutes, it was time to put things into motion.

You put down a draw four card and it was Jack’s turn.

Draw the whole deck or streak down the hall naked.

“Wait… wait.” It was a minute before Jack could catch up. “I think this card is defective.” Wanting to see what Jack was going on about, Bunny took a look and his ears stood up at attention, already knowing why he turned to look at you all cozy.

“Shiela, what is this?”

“A draw four card.”

“But, what’s on it?”

“Options, I know you both can read.”

He gave you a flat look.

You rolled your eyes and sat up straight, “I took the liberty of making Uno interesting, besides spiking the punch, I may have redacted some of the rules of Uno for my own purposes.” You felt North shift beside you, “And I may have used Nik’s high grade bottle to do so, but that isn’t the point.” You shuffled around and pulled out a small stack of cards and passed five randomly to each player. Taking the rests and shuffling them to the deck in the middle, while doing do, “So Jack, you make your choice?”

He shared a look with everyone.

And ten seconds later he was down the corridor screaming. Huh, you really thought he would’ve taken the whole deck. Stunned into silence the group recounted what they just tried to not see. Everyone could only assume the horror the yeti and elves were witnessing as you heard echoing alarmed yells from the yeti and falling items. You’d have to apologize to North later.

“Bloody show pony.” Bunny sighed.

“So who’s next?” North questioned trying to move things along. “Sandy?”

Sandy glowed a lazy gold and pulled out a skip card that Toothiana could get herself skipped or prank call an ex. She chose to skip.

Up next was Bunny, considering you all were playing stacksies he got rid of more than half his cards and put down a draw four on top of a skip leading it to North.

“Take 34 cards or finish… the whole bottle of alcohol. Bloody hell, Sheila you’ve gone mad.”

North could only stare at the card intently and close his eyes in prayer, of course it had to be you. 

You nudged the bottle, or what was left of one of his favorite bottles. “Drink up big guy.” You know he needed it with what was left to come in the game.

Wordlessly he unscrewed the bottle and downed it.

Oh, it was going to be quite a game.

You know how people say ‘wow last night was totally a blur’ after a trip from Vegas, or one night from Miami? Or when people sing along to Katy Perry’s Last Friday Night as she recounts the questionable teenage acts she’s done before she hits her midlife crisis? Or possible a disaster remake of The Hangover. You never really got that sentiment until now because last night really was a blur. You tried to rock and bring my what happened last night but all you can come up with Jack stripping, Bunny’s explaining how breeding worked between two Pookas, Sandman projecting one of the most erotic dancing you seen to date via sand, tooth knocking out from a complete sugar rush, and North’s tribute to Rick Roll. You're so somehow got back into your bed and you can only assume North had something to do with that as he usually always does. 

Rolling over in the heavenly plush mattress you scooted over to your side of the nightstand. A cup of coffee, it was still steaming and an advil. Definitely North. You smiled at the thought and popped the pill then the coffee, he even remembered you loved vanilla bean. As you continued to drink your coffee you began to feel the pounding headache leave you, but the room was still somewhat spinning. Putting the empty cup back on the nightstand you stretched forward and felt your shoulders pop.

“Jesus Christ.” You yawned and pulled off your bonnet. You surveyed the room for any signs of north. His red robe laid on the armchair of his study desk, and his side of the bed was cold. Crawling over to check if his slippers were gone, there were still there. Huh. Knowing North, he could drink so a hangover wasn’t an actual thing for him.

What time was it? You hopped out of bed and shimmied to the curtains, preparing yourself for the sunlight to harass you. But that never came, either meaning that you slept into the night or it was some ungodly hour before dawn. “You’ve got to be kidding.” Trudging into the bathroom to brush your teeth and check the time, you noted that it was approximately six in the morning. This early, and North was already gone? You slipped a silk robe over your shoulders and headed out in search of the big man himself. After questioning a few yeti and stopping for a breakfast burrito you found North. All the way in one of the Pole’s lower compartments, the training room.

North was practicing with his sabers when you arrived. You had to stop for a moment to appreciate it. Every time you thought you’d seen everything the Pole had to offer, there was something new to find.

The room was large, probably so the guardians could all practice in it at once if they had to, to get used to fighting together. Something you’d seen them do from time to time. The walls could have been anything, under all the padding. The floor was covered in a thick layer of something that gave underfoot, and you weren't sure what it was beyond gentler on someone taking a tumble than wood or stone would have been.

One section of the wall near the doors was full of hanging weaponry. You pictured the fabled “ole Saint Nick”, a jolly man that was all about the children versus the reality of the man who owned all those weapons. 

At the moment, North was the only one in the room. He had his sabers in hand – blunted practice ones, you wondered if they were as heavy as the real thing, from where you were standing they seemed just as heavy. But North made it look easy – and he was going through a strenuous routine.

It was on North had been doing for awhile, if the sheen of sweat was anything to go by. After all, North was built more like a  bear or barbarian weightlifter than the 'bowl full of jelly' he was called; he was husky for sure, but was still muscle. There was strength under that layer of fat, stronger than people gave North credit for.

At some point North had taken off his shirt, full torso on view and honestly you did not mind. You got a nice view of his back muscles and a large intricate compass tattoo in the middle of his back. It was large, in the middle of the compass lay a crest of some sort with two sabers meeting in the middle. Outside of that harsh black ink spread into eight points, each facing north, south, east and west and everything in between. The main arrows were in the same thorn-like pattern as the rim of the inner compass. And above the north pointing arrow laid a phrase I am the master of my own fate, and under that were words written in perfect cursive calligraphy I am the captain of my soul. The true words of a bandit. Your eyes roamed farther up his back and saw a tiny almost ignorable detail, a small star to the right, well ,the second star to the right. The north star that always pointed to home. All of that shining by the sweat pouring down North, pulling your eyes back down you caught a small peak of the bandit tramp stamp he had gotten one drunken night. You stifled a laugh, you remembered the story behind that one. 

Watching as North continued his routine, this time going ballistic on a wooden dummy. You took an easy walk behind him and viewed him up close. 

“Hey big red,” you greeted.

 North staggered quickly and turned around in the same motion to point his wooden saber directly at your face almost touching you. If it was anyone else your face would have been bashed in but, looking into his startled eyes you probably should stop sneaking up on him. Last victim was a bowl of cereal. North was still breathing hard as he awaited for his mind to catch up to what just happened.

“Sunflower.” He heaved out as his chest dropped, “Did not see you!” He opened his arms wide and you got a good look at his chest. As broad as it was, it was equally covered in curly as white as his beard, there were some hints of black. Before you could veto his hug, you were already wrapped up in his arms. You listened to his heart race.

“Good to see you this morning.” You muffled, and tried to pry his hands away from you, man was this guy a space heater.

He let you go. “After game night, I send guardians home and take you to bed. You fell asleep after Jack’s 8 mile reenactment.” He looked at you closely and pushed a stray braid behind your ear, “Was an interesting game night.” The bottle of vodka North had gulped down earlier did not help erase his memories of what happened a couple hours before. 

“I could tell by the hangover, thank you for the bedside assist.”

North nodded and went to put his sabers back in the armory, you followed.

“So, I gotta ask you, big guy… Come ‘ere often?” Your eyes raked down his back, and you saw his muscles tense as he shuffled away from your view. This was new. You blinked for a few seconds in surprise. You would’ve never thought of North as being body shy or ashamed of anything for as long as you knew him. He was always fearless, impulsive, and more of a ‘think things later’ type of guy if the occasion called for it, but never… self conscious. If anybody was, you always figured it would be you, comparing yourself to North's friends. All completely exceptional people who keep the world safe, with seas sof stories and accomplishments to achieve, places they’ve been, or...the list was cut off abruptly as you realized how long North had been quiet.

“Hey,” You said moving closer to North, “You know I didn’t mean any harm.” You put a hand on his back to help alleviate some pain, but it only made the man a bit more tense. “Um...” you paused, searching for the words. The right ones were refusing to come to you, and you didn't want to make this worse, especially if he was reading things wrong.

Fuck it.

“You know I love you, right? All of you.” you said.

You were rewarded with a blush spreading across the parts of North's face you could see and the tops of his shoulders. 

He began to turn around. “Is very nice, what you say,” North said, one hand hovering over his belly. “But...” North wouldn’t meet your gaze, knowing better you dropped the subject and moved back to give him some space. Mumbling out an apology you took your leave. Making a few turns you found one of the dumbwaiters and crawled in. North would be in the training room for a while mulling off his thoughts, or his private study. Pushing the hammer symbol you were now back at his magic lab. You wouldn’t just skip over what happened with North just a minute ago. 

Taking a seat at his work desk you let out a deep sigh and leaned your face on your palms. Santa Clause, you were dating Santa Clause. Also known as Saint Nicholas, St. Nick, Kris Kringle, Pelznickel, St. Nikolai, and formerly known as the Bandit King. All multiple names for the same face, same body, and same soul. All affiliates to a man who brought joy to the world once a year, operated a toy making syndicate for hundreds of years, fought evil on a regular basis, and tinkered with magic and science on a borderline mad scientist type of way. A being who had a laugh as loud as lions and spread happiness everywhere, that never understood sarcasm, and was hard on himself and unsure at times if the toys that he did make were even worth while.

You closed your eyes in thought. Why haven’t you ever peaced together than North ever had issues himself? Sure you helped him out of toy slumps, but what you witnessed today was far beyond that. The jolly giant himself wouldn’t even look at you.

North was, and is, the Guardian of Wonder. By definition he literally saw wonder in everything around him and puts that into his toys and other creations. The lights in trees, the magic in the air, a diamond in the rough, and any tough situation he found something redeeming.

You didn’t know when you started to walk around, but your legs led you to a particular item. A snowglobe. You tentatively reached out and gave it a closer look, it was of Hunley’s Circus, one of your first official dates.

But, how does one see wonder in everything but themselves? Better yet, how do you make the guardian of wonder who's ever really cared and loved others, give a little love to himself? You rolled the snowglobe in your hands a little more, deep in thought. 

Lightbulb.

As quick as the idea came, it flashed away. But you knew exactly what it was. With one final look at the globe you put it back into its rightful place and headed out the room. What you had planned would take all day to execute correctly, but you knew it’d be worth it by tonight. But, all you had was time. And time was your new best friend.

 Twas the night to a long day, and as predicted North had been avoiding you. North couldn’t draw his eyes away from the mirror. His shirt tossed aside, he locked his eyes onto the expanse of skin splayed out in front of him. North bit his lip and focused in on the extra fat accumulated around his middle, his fingers deftly trying to flatten it out to no avail. Deciding to take a break from the self torture North put back in his white night shirt, he was sporting a reindeer themed onsie with the top half wrapped around his waist like a jacket. 

Making his way to your shared bedroom where he was sure you were asleep by this hour, he stepped in and immediately felt sus. There you were, braids down giving you an innocent look and one of his white shirts that contrasted nicely with your skin. The only source of light was from the lamp on your side of the bed. You closed the book and placed a bookmark to come back to it later.

“Hey, Sunflower.” You smiled brightly at his greeting and motioned for him to come to bed. The bed dipped under his weight as he pulled his legs over the bed to rest properly. You crawled over  to him and gave a quick peck on his cheek then went back to your side and slipped under the covers as North did, not forgetting to turn off the lights. In the dark you shifted around in bed to face North back, it was now or never.

“You never answered me,” you began as a whisper, “You know I love you, right?”

North didn’t bother to answer, but you continued.

“You wanna know how I knew? It was Germany, at the circus. Some kids couldn’t afford tickets to get into the circus and were sitting outside listening to what was going on inside. Their eyes were shut so tightly. We were on our way to that circus when you stopped for those kids, you were so concerned about why they were out there on their own…”

“Why long faces?”

“Sir, w- we don’t have enough to buy tickets so we’re doing the next best thing.” A young boy with fiery red hair supplied holding his sister by his side. They were twins.

North got up from his squat and looked around for a second and then spotted a balloon cart. “Wait here.” Leaving for a few minutes to purchase some balloons, North came back with a smile. “You’re just in luck,” he took out an orange balloon, “the real show has just started.” He began to inflate the balloon and when it was a decent size he molded it into a poodle, and handed it to the little girl who stared at him in awe.

He then took a green balloon and white balloon and molded it into a turtle for the young boy, “Here!” With a laugh he handed the boy his turtle. “Do you want to know what’s special about these creatures?”

“N-no,” the boy answered and his sister shook her head as well.

North eyed them both, “They fly for the heart’s of the truest believers.”

The boy gave him a skeptical look, “No way mister.”

“Ahhh, but am telling truth? See,” he pointed his head to the girl’s poodle and saw it begin to take flight around her and stop to nuzzle her nose. This elicted a gasp from the young boy and an inaudible ‘no way’.

“How do I make mine’s float?” Desperately looking to North for answers.

“Believe.” It was a simple command, but the boy looked in distress as he tried. North slapped his belly and chuckled.

“Looks like you did it.” And he did, the turtle was swimming through the air and doing a figure eight. 

You smiled from the sidelines watching the interaction, this was far better than a circus. North stepped back and placed a hand on the small of your back ready to lead you to the circus, but you stopped him.

“I think we have a little time before the show actually starts.” You reasoned with him as you maneuvered yourself back to the kids. 

You never knew the look North was giving you that moment, but it turned to be one of his most treasured memories.

“No, please look at me.” You began to sit up straight in the sheets, “You know I love you. And I’m not talking about you when you’re happy, but when you’re sad, angry, and down right depressed… ya know?” At that he slowly shifted up, but facing away from you in bed, at that you slowly moved closer and sat behind him and leaned your head against his back, “but, I don’t think I ever showed you how much I love you.” 

With that you reached up and quietly took North’s shirt off you to reveal a mustard yellow lingerie set and slowly moved yourself up North’s back and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Let me show you,” you whispered in his ear and hoped he'd allow it. 

“Please.”

North slowly turned around to meet your gaze, slowly pulling him back onto the bed you moved to straddle his torso as you ran your hands slowly up his arms. 

“You know what I love the most about you?” You questioned while your focus was still on his arms, rubbing them gently. You could feel the muscle tense and jump at your ministrations. “Your hands,” you slip your hand into his and played with his, “it's created so many marvelous things.” You brought it up to your lips for a quick kiss and held it near your chest. “Its punched through who knows what, fought so many battles, and sustained so much damage, and yet it can still be gentle. Drying tears, or holding me tight when I need it.”

You were looking at him, taking your free hand you tilted his head to have your eyes meet. “They’re calcoused, but know passion when you trace my face when I’m asleep, or rub circles on my back when I can’t sleep.” You leaned in closer and got quieter, “They’re hands that love.”

And then kissed him, North’s lips were slightly chapped in contrast to your soft ones. He kissed you back and squeezed your hand, pulling back you put his hand next to your face and held it there. Pulling your hands down, you toyed with the bottom of his shirt and nonverbally asked permission. He didn’t make a move to stop you, so you slipped it off as he lifted his hands to aid you. Placing your hands back on his chest you raked your hands through his hair and kissed him once again.

Gradually you moved your kisses down his neck and past his stomach and over his thighs. As you made your journey, you gave his nipple a little suck and nip, and you took his onesie down too. You slowly spread his legs and got between them, without breaking eye contact you began to kiss between his thighs. You could feel him tense again.

The room was suddenly illuminated, North quickly looked up and saw that the usual wooden ceiling was temporarily changed to a night sky. Looking at you he searched your eyes for an answer. You gave no tells. It seemed as if the sky was truly in your joined presence, North stared a little more and noticed the one star shining brightly than the rest. The second star to the left.

“I love your thighs,” you gave his thick thighs a squeeze, “You're so sexy." you half moaned, half sighing you kissed a lazy, open mouthed trail along the curve of North’s thigh as your hands smoothed up and down his flesh. You stopped to grope gently at the supple skin of his thighs, quivering with tension as North struggled not to instinctively shy away.

“Trust me.”

You continued up and body and splayed yourself over his belly and laid a soft kiss on it. He was burning up and you could tell. 

“I-I trust you.” Came a breathy whisper. He couldn’t believe you were doing this just for him, North’s eyes moved up your body and slowly relaxed at the attention.

You took a point to admire his belly, as round as it was and decorated with stretch marks that were shades of pink and purple. 

“You talk down on yourself, and don’t even see the wonder of yourself.” You began and slowly traced a stray mark that curved onto his back. “You don’t even realize how you carry the autonomy of the universe within your skin. The holy bodies that made you the way you are decided to leave a mark, a reminder of where you come from.” You laid another kiss as you began to make your way back up, “A place of infinancy, a place of wonder, and place were the north star guides you home from way up above.” You wrapped both arms around him, “A plac- no, kingdom of beauty that I refuse to let you crumble.”

North’s eyes began to water, but you continued, “A perfectly constructed man, who has a heart purer than gold or the untouched waters of the amazons, with the spirit of unbridled fire, and voice as loud as thunder.” You slowly wiped his tears away as you felt his arms come to circle around you. 

“A man worthy of love.”

You stared directly into his eyes, even while crying he still looked heavenly.

“You’re beautiful.”

You breathlessly whispered and watched North crumble completely into cries and whimpers. Holding him close you ran your hands through his hair and massaged his scalp, you kissed his temple and let him let it out. You let him know what he was, not his body, but his hands, his mind, his own north star.

His own piece of wonder.

[justfandomwritings]

She’s Got A Friend (Bucky Barnes)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 9.9k

Warnings: Fluff, Angst and nongraphic “off page” minor character deaths 

Summary: Happy endings are a matter of perspective. At some point in every story, there will always be some glorious, shining moment of hope, love, redemption, success. No good story is complete without it.

And if you end the story then, if you end it on a high, you can almost forget that anything came after that.

Notes: Hospital AU for @captainscanadian​ 1k follower writing challenge! I have taken the “Hospital” in hospital AU rather liberally to mean a field hospital in WW2. I thought I’d try a bit of a different writing style for this. Let me know what you think.

The condolences came in the mail only a few days after the official notification arrived on her doorstep from the mouth of some general or another.

She didn’t bother to remember the man’s name, and why should she? He wouldn’t remember her brother’s, let alone hers.

It was hard to stem the tide of her anger in the face of a man so visibly faking his sympathy for her pain. It was harder still to unleash her anger on him; she pitied him almost as much as he faked pitying her. It was just before sunset, and she was his sixteenth stop of the day, with a further 5 to go before he got off that night.

She imagined that, at some point, months ago, he had cared. He had sympathized and cried with grieving widows and orphaned children. No doubt, he had written them letters and checked on their wellbeing, asked after their emotions and made sure they were well. No more. He’d grown numb to the pain his presence inflicted, and with it less sympathetic to the plight of those around him.

By the time he reached her door, by the time he said “Ma’am, we have received word that your brother’s plane was shot down over Occupied France last week. His body has been recovered from the wreckage and will be on route home at the earliest possible date,” to her, he didn’t mean the “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this news. Your brother died a hero, and if there is anything I can do to ease your pain, it would be my honor to do so in his memory,” that followed.

The nameless general had never met her brother. He called every soldier a hero when he met their families, whether it was true or not. If they asked him about how their loved one died, or if they began to cry on his shoulder, he had a practiced speech about how their son or brother or husband had died fighting, died bravely, died to save the lives of millions, died to protect them all.

(Y/n) knew all of that because, even though she didn’t remember his name, she remembered his face. They’d met before. It wasn’t the first time he’d knocked on her door. He was the same general who had come to inform her of her father’s tragic end a few months prior. The general hadn’t remembered her father’s name either, nor hers.

She didn’t bother to point out their association to the man. She thanked him for his service and left him standing on her front step as a door closed in his face.

It was easier for both of them that way.

The letter that came from her brother’s commanding officer was more heartfelt, (Y/n) assumed, but she didn’t read it.

“Ms. (Y/n), By now you have no doubt received word of your brother’s tragic end. Selfishly, I am glad that I was not the one who had to inform you. Your brother was a flying ace in my squadron and a good friend. Retrieving his body brought me to tears for far longer than my commanding officers would like me to admit…”

That was as far as she read. Her brother was dead. They had his body. She was numb to everything else, as numb as the general who showed up at her door, as numb as her brother’s corpse in the grave.

She couldn’t feel, couldn’t think, couldn’t speak.

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(Y/n) walked into the hospital the next day and handed in her resignation. She was just the next in a long line.

Dorothy had resigned the week before. Her husband had been killed in North Africa. She could no longer afford to live in New York, not that cost of living was at the front of her mind. She was moving back South with her two children, both under 5 years old, to live with her aging parents.

Vera had gotten married to a hotshot factory owner and resigned to plan her wedding. The rest of the ward had scorned her as she trotted out with her chin held high and a smirk on her face. She’d never done the work because she loved it like the rest of them, and she had no qualms about letting them all know it.

Ruth was on her way out the door in a week. She was following her husband to England where he’d be training pilots at an RAF airfield. Normally, that sort of thing wouldn’t be allowed, wives being stationed with their husbands. Ruth, however, was a pretty good mechanic and often worked on her husbands planes in her free time, and without any children to worry about, the Army was really getting two for the price of one.

Juanita’s departure had no doubt hit the hardest. With so many men dying overseas, crime on the home front had been virtually forgotten. Juanita’s son brought it back to life. Too weak to be enlisted in the army, her son had taken up work at the docks that he never would’ve been physically qualified for if not for all the men being drafted. Three weeks on the job, he was mugged by a group of drunken sailors out for their last night of freedom. He died in the hospital with his mother only a few doors down in a different wing.

The most senior nurse on staff, Juanita used to run the ward, but after her son died in the building, she couldn’t even look at the hospital anymore.

“(Y/n),” Mary sighed and scrubbed the heel of her palm into her eyes to try to wipe away the sleep. “We’re short staffed already.”

There was a begging to her tone, and any other day the pain etched across her face would’ve been enough to convince (Y/n) to stay. Mary was her friend, by some accounts her best friend.

“I know Mary, and I’m sorry. I just can’t stay here anymore. I can’t walk past my brother’s room. I can’t ride down the streets my brother and I used to play in. I can’t go in the shop he used to own. I just can’t.”

Mary swallowed hard; when she spoke the lump in her throat became more apparent with each word. “I understand that you’re in pain, but this hospital…”

“That’s just it,” (Y/n) cut her off, slipping into the seat across the desk from her friend. She’d refused to sit when she first came to see Mary, hoping to be in and out quickly, but not now. “I don’t feel anything, Mary. I can’t look at his room because I know I should be heartbroken. I can’t travel down the street because I know I should be in pain. I can’t go in his shop because I know I should be crying. But I’m not. I don’t feel hurt or worried or upset. I don’t feel anything; I’m just numb.”

“Numb?” Mary furrowed her brow. “You’re leaving because you think you should be in more pain?”

“I’m leaving because I loved my brother, because I should be feeling something, but I’m not. I feel nothing, and that scares me even more.”

“Where will you go?”

“I don’t know yet. Somewhere I will feel something.”

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Her brother had been Air Force, but her father had been Army.

She couldn’t bring herself to go to one of the Air Force’s recruiting offices. Part of her was worried she would have an emotional breakdown speaking to the men in charge. A larger part of her was worried she would feel nothing at all, a sign she was heading in the wrong direction.

The Army felt safer. She hadn’t been numb to her father’s death. She’d cried and mourned, and though the thought still overwhelmed her with sadness, she knew she would one day move on. About her brother, (Y/n) didn’t know what to think.

“What experience do you have?”

(Y/n) found herself sat in front of some captain or another responsible for organizing the Army Nursing Corps. He looked bored with her; she doubted managing a bunch of women was what he’d had in mind when he joined the war.

“I’ve worked at Wyckoff Heights Hospital on St. Nicholas in Brooklyn for eight years. I have copies of all of my reviews that show exemplary performance and no reprimands on record.”

The man took the stack of papers from her hand and began flipping through them. He stared at each of them for a long time, occasionally giving a ‘hm’ or ‘huh’ to show that he was thinking.

(Y/n) noticed after two pages that he wasn’t actually reading. His eyes weren’t moving from where they looked thoughtfully at the center of the page, and the noises of contemplation came randomly, even on pages that wouldn’t require much consideration.

(Y/n) turned away from the show to glance around the room. To the left was a door to the waiting rooms. Occasionally, when it swung open she could see the rows of shirtless men waiting for their number to be called up for evaluation. There didn’t appear to be many seats open.

She wondered, to herself, how many of them would be accepted, how many of those would make it back alive.

There were family members milling around the hall. A young woman was already weeping near the exit, and she hadn’t even been rejoined by the man she was waiting for. One of the doctors, (Y/n) assumed the portly, greying man was not one of the recruits, was trying his best to comfort her, but he didn’t seem to be having much success.

For the overwhelming number of men waiting to be evaluated and find a place in this war, there were a surprisingly few number of nurses. (Y/n) hadn’t been shown to any waiting room. There was a bench in the half she’d first entered with half a dozen or so women occupying it when she arrived. By the time her name was finally called only two more had come in behind her. The recruiters desk was in a notch in the hallway, not even its own room. The women were forced to state their credentials and make their case with no privacy to his judgments.

At least a dozen of the people milling around, including the old man and young woman by the door, could hear what was being said to her.

The man snapped her file closed with sharp flip of his wrist. “On your application, you’ve marked that you’d like to be assigned to a field hospital. I’m assuming you know nothing about the war. Field Hospitals are on the frontlines, girl.”

“I’m aware.” (Y/n) smoothly replied.

He raised an eyebrow, but none of his other features changed. (Y/n) couldn’t tell if it was condescension or confusion. “Are you now? The nurses in Field Hospitals are shot at almost as much as the soldiers. You think the Germans will spare you because you have a pretty face?”

“I don’t expect to be spared by anyone.”

His grilling was catching eyes from those milling around.

“And why would a girl like you want to find herself on the front lines?”

“I just want this war to end with as little bloodshed as possible. Helping where the men need it most seems like a good start.”

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

German.

(Y/n)’s eyes whipped around, as did many others in the hallway. There was a German here.

“My name is Dr. Erskine,” He proclaimed, more quietly this time, “I may have a job for you.”

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Erskine didn’t try to replace her father.

He offered a guiding hand out of the goodness of his heart. He offered a shoulder to cry on because he could see she hadn’t yet grieved. He offered insight, advice, from the wisdom of his own experience.

Erskine wasn’t trying to replace her father, and yet he did so many things she wished her father was there to do.

He offered her a job because he could see she wanted to find her purpose. He put her up in the barracks because he knew she needed space from her past. He accompanied her on walks at night to keep her nightmares at bay. He filled her waking hours with work when she needed distraction and took the load away when it became too much.

Erskine didn’t try to replace her father. No one could ever replace her father. He was a good substitute though. In times as dark as those, family was what she needed.

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He reminded her of her brother.

That was the first thought that came to (Y/n)’s mind when she met Steve Rogers.

Her brother was younger than her by two years, and as a child he’d always been the smaller of the pair. For most of their childhood, her brother could barely reach her shoulder. Stretching his arms as wide as he could, he’d be lucky if his reach went from (Y/n)’s wrist to wrist. Short and scrawny, he’d not caught up to his sister’s size until he was a teen, but once he’d caught up, there was no looking back.

Steve reminded her of him. The size, for one thing, was an unmistakable similarity, but there was an air to Steve, an air of familiarity that made her feel at home. Every time she looked at him, she saw her baby brother. Not the strong, handsome man he was when he died, but the fearless, young boy she wished he would’ve stayed forever.

She monitored the health of all of Erskine’s candidates in the Strategic Scientific Reserve, but she couldn’t deny she paid special attention to Steve.

They all paid special attention to Steve.

Erskine liked his sense of justice. His conscience oozed out of his every pore. No one had ever argued with Steve and been right about it. They were talking about making a superhero here, and yet there was a very real sense amongst them that Steve already had a superpower: always doing the right thing.

Peggy had an immediate fondness for him. He was determined, beyond belief, and she admired that spark in him that refused to be snuffed out. He knew, in his heart, what he believed, and he was more than willing to die for it. Peggy was too.

Only the Colonel, Chester Phillips, doubted Erskine’s decision. He paid special attention to Steve, but he did so only as a foil. He liked to compare Steve to other men in the camp, men he’d chosen for the project, rather than the one Erskine had brought on. “Brown is stronger,” or  “Donalds is faster,” were common phrases in his office.

In truth, they were all stronger. They were all faster. On paper, any one of them would’ve made a better super soldier than Stever Rogers.

“That’s what Phillps does not understand,” Erskine told her one day while they worked in his lab. “It isn’t about what’s on paper. It’s about what’s in his heart.”

“So it’s going to be Steve?” (Y/n) asked.

Erskine nodded. “Do you agree?”

(Y/n) hesitated. She didn’t want to blindly agree with the accolade simply because he reminded her of her brother. She also didn’t want to naively dismiss it to save him the risk because he reminded her of her brother.

She knew Steve Rogers; she would like to think she knew him well. They were friends. Yet the more she got to know him the more she saw her brother in him. That chest cold that wouldn’t go away when her brother was eight, the fight he lost with a boy who’d made a lewd joke about her skirt, the way he’d adamantly stood up for their father’s memory as a soldier; their kind hearted mother teaching him to temper his words.

She knew Steve Rogers well, and the more she knew him the more she saw him as her brother. The more she saw him as her brother, the more she knew he had to do this. He needed to do this.

“I agree.”

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“Steve, you may as well ask her out. If you’re going to spend this much time ogling her, she at least deserves dinner out of it.”

Steve’s face turned as red as the apple she was chewing, and (Y/n) couldn’t hold in her smirk.

“I-I wasn’t…” Steve glanced over his shoulder, checking that Peggy wasn’t within earshot of (Y/n)’s ribbing.

“It’s all right, Steve. I won’t tell her, but you really should.”

Steve shook his head, definitively turning his back to Peggy. “Please, my entire life girls like that have passed me by.”

(Y/n) rested a hand on Steve’ shoulder. “Your entire life girls who look like that have passed you by, but Peggy isn’t like those girls. If you don’t ask her out, you’ll never give her a chance to prove it.”

Steve chuckled and looked off into the sky. “My friend said something like that to me about this girl, Maria, not long before he left for the front.”

“And did you listen to him?”

“No,” Steve admitted. “He was the one the girls always passed me by for.”

“Well, did he ask them out?” (Y/n) chuckled.

Steve hesitated a second before saying, “Yes.”

“Then that’s why they passed you by. Your friend sounds like he has a good head on his shoulders. You should listen to him.”

Steve gave (Y/n) a fond smile. “You remind me a lot of him. It’s easier, having you here.”

“It’s easier having you here too.”

(Y/n) didn’t know if that was true, but she was starting to think it might be. She was starting to feel something. Steve was helping her remember the good times with her brother, before the Army and the War. Back when they were just two kids in Brooklyn.

She missed him.

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Erskine. Gone.

Would this war take everyone from her?

(Y/n) kneeled in a pool of his blood, his body splayed out in front of her.

She’d dedicated years of her life to Erskine’s work. She’d dedicated time, money, opportunities. She’d dedicated everything she had and more. Gone.

His work was gone. Erskine was gone.

He was her friend, her family; and he was gone.

She summoned a tear, more than one.

They came slowly at first and then spiralled uncontrollably. Sobs racked her body as she gripped at his hand.

Someone tried to help her up, but she didn’t want up.

Vaguely, she recognized Stark’s voice. He was calling out to her.

“(Y/n), he’s gone.”

Yes, she already knew he was gone. What good was all of his genius when he could only state the obvious.

What good was all of her years in a hospital, all of her years of training, if she couldn’t save a life when it mattered, the one life that mattered.

It felt like hearing her father was gone again.

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They were taking Steve too, as if she had anything left to give.

“Phillips would just as soon send me home. I’m just a lab rat to him.” Steve spat the word out in disgust. “That’s all I am, an experiment, Erskine’s experiment. They wanted an army, but they got me.”

“That’s all you are to him.” (Y/n) quietly corrected.

“And what am I to everyone else?” Steve turned on her, his eyes as red as hers were. “What am I to you?”

“His legacy,” she answered immediately.

She’d been thinking about it a lot. Erskine had been dead for two days, and all she’d been thinking about was him and Steve and the little family she’d made for herself at Lehigh. Erskine the father, Steve her brother, Peggy her sister, even Phillips, the grumpy uncle who didn’t want to be in the picture.

What did it all mean?

“You are his legacy. If you were any other soldier you’d be just another experiment, but you’re not. You’re Steve Rogers. Erskine chose you. You carry on his legacy; you carry on his work.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” Steve asked in a desperate tone. He slumped onto the bench and let his head fall into his hands.

“I don’t know Steve,” (Y/n) sat down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s for you to figure out. You don’t have to know now. No one’s expecting you to know now, but when you do piece it together, I’ll be waiting.”

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“Stark says you’re going to have your pick.”

Steve was lying on his back next to (Y/n), tossing a ball in the air and catching it repeatedly with a satisfying thunk as it hit his palm.

A few weeks ago, he wouldn’t have been able to catch it once. He had all of the coordination of a newborn foal and would’ve whacked himself, or her, in the face the first time he tried to throw it.

It reminded her, again, of her brother. After his growth spurt, when he finally caught up to her, passed her, when he got tall and filled out. The girls started to notice him; the guys started to respect him.

“That’s what they tell me.”

“Any Allied hospital in Europe…” Steve stopped tossing the ball and glanced over at her, “Know where you’re going to go?”

(Y/n) didn’t meet his gaze. She kept her eyes on a cloud floating by overhead. “I hadn’t really thought about it,” She confessed. “When I applied, when Erskine took me in, I was planning on going to the frontlines.”

“You don’t have to now.” Steve rolled onto his stomach and watched her expressions carefully. “You could go to the evacuation hospitals or England…”

“Would you?”

“What?”

“Would you go to the frontlines? If they let you?” (Y/n) asked. She already knew the answer, but she needed to ask.

“You know I would,” Steve admitted.

“Then that’s where I’ll go.” She’d joked, when Erskine was still alive, that Steve’s real superpower was always doing the right thing. If he’d go to the front, then that’s where she’d be, waiting for him to find his way.

(Y/n) met Steve’s eye finally. “You said your friend was in the 107th?”

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It was only about a month before (Y/n) was running the field hospital attached to the 107th.

They sent mostly inexperienced girls out to the frontline. Supposedly, it was an easy job. They didn’t have time for complex treatment or procedures, so in theory, it was all triage and wound treatment. They claimed anyone with a little bit of training could handle it.

Early on when the fighting had just begun she imagined there might have been some truth to that claim, but as the war slogged on, it wasn’t so simple anymore. Every soldier had some kind of injury. The Army couldn’t afford to send everyone with more than a bump or bruise back from the frontline to an evacuation hospital. There wasn’t the time, manpower, money.

The field hospitals were overflowing with infected wounds, illness, bullet holes, broken bones, and there weren’t enough experienced nurses to go around. Not only did they lack the know-how, many of the inexperienced nurses were just young woman, some girls even, who didn’t properly know what they’d signed up for. They were shaken by the crack of every bullet, the boom of every grenade, the scream of every dying man.

(Y/n) had a sneaking suspicion that the real reason the Nurses Corps didn’t send out any of their trained nurses was that they want to risk their better nurses dying on the frontlines.

(Y/n) had watched a stray bullet tear through the chest of a young girl named Lydia only a week into her time with the 107th. She’d been reliably told by another nurse that Lydia was the fifth to die so far that year.

The second most experienced girl in (Y/n)’s unit had been a midwife for a few years before she shipped out, not exactly a skill that was necessary in an army full of men, but it came with some transferable knowledge. Her name was Maria, and it only took a few weeks before she was happily handing over the reins.

“They’re bringing in a batch of men from the front,” Maria reported to (Y/n). “Nothing serious, a couple broken bones. They took a fall to avoid a grenade; I’m told.”

(Y/n) motioned for Beverly and Viola at the other end of the tent. “We need to clean down some beds.” (Y/n) turned to Maria, “Did they say how many?”

“Not exactly, but I think it was only a few.”

(Y/n) only had a few beds to spare anyhow. There were a dozen cots set up in the field hospital, and six of them were currently occupied by men waiting for transport to the nearest evacuation hospital back West, another two by men with leg fractures. When she’d arrived, the beds were first come first serve, but (Y/n) had quickly started a process of dismissing anyone who could walk back to their own tents to come in to the hospital for regular checks on whatever ailed them.

“They’ve already reached camp; they’ll be here any moment.”

“If the bones aren’t through skin, then I don’t want them hanging around here. We’ll set them and send them on their way. We haven’t had free beds in a week, and I don’t want to take them up with something trivial.”

“Trivial? Glad to know you care about my leg, nurse.”

The tent flap was being held open by two soldiers, a sergeant and a private, around the girth of a much larger man propped up between them.

(Y/n) ignored the jab, “Get him on the bed.”

The two men helped their friend onto the nearest cot, and (Y/n), Beverly, and Maria quickly descended on him.

(Y/n) was the most experienced one there, but she’d made a point of having Beverly watch every bone she set. When things got busy, she might be needed elsewhere, and it was good to know that Beverly knew her way around things well enough to take a few bones off her plate.

“What happened?”

“Bit of an ambush, ma’am.” She recognized Gabe Jones immediately. She’d treated a broken finger of his on the first day she’d got here, followed by a number of bumps and bruises that probably wouldn’t have required her attention if Gabe weren’t such a flirt. “We had to jump into a ravine. Sergeant, here, did a number on his knee, and I got grazed by a bullet.”

“Maria, will you clean Private Jones’ wound?” (Y/n) began inspected the Sergeant’s knee.

“Of course,” Maria motioned Jones away to another open bed.

The third man took a step back towards the tent flap, but before he could get more than a few paces, he crumbled.

“Barnes!” The sergeant in the bed bolted upright. Beverly held him still, as (Y/n) rushed to his side.

“Are you alright, Sergeant?” (Y/n) slipped her arm around the man’s back and helped him stumble back to the nearest bed.

“I guess I’m not,” The man winced as he slumped back against the metal bed frame. “My side is killing me.”

(Y/n) nodded at the other sergeant, “Relocate his knee, while I do this, Bev. Maria can help when she’s done cleaning Jones’s wound.”

With deft fingers, (Y/n) unhooked the buttons down his uniform to check his complaint.

“I’d normally take you to dinner first, Doll.” These men hadn’t seen a woman in a long time, and usually they acted like it. She’d heard every bad joke in the book from the soldiers around camp and a couple from Jones in the bed next to them, but his tone was far more lighthearted, less learing than the others. He was teasing, trying to lighten the mood of how much pain was written across his face.

“Well, the rations around here aren’t very appealing, so you’ll have to settle for…” She found what she was looking for. A bruise spanning his entire right side. “You carried him back like this?” Her fingers probed gently at the edges of the dark blue stain.

“Someone had to; not like Dugan carries his own weight around here.” He winced as she touched a particularly sensitive spot.

“Broken ribs,” (Y/n) told the other girls over her shoulder, “three from the looks of it. He’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“That’s alright, Doll. I’ll just get to see more of your smiling face.”

(Y/n) wasn’t smiling. She hadn’t smiled in quite a while.

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“You’re healing well,” (Y/n) observed Barnes’s side, peeking out of the sheets, a few days later. “Right on schedule. You won’t need to be on the next train to the evacuation hospital.”

“Of course not,” Barnes scoffed, “How could I ever leave your lovely company?”

(Y/n) cocked an eyebrow. “That work on the girls back home?”

“Depends on the girl really,” Barnes confessed. “Most of the time a smile and a dance does the trick, but I like the ones that make me work for it.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes and went back to inventorying the supplies she’d spread out on the cot next to his.

“Where is home for you, (Y/n)?”

It was the first time he’d called her by her name, also the first time he’d asked her a genuine question. “Brooklyn.”

“Brooklyn!” He exclaimed, “I knew there was a reason I liked you. I’m from Brooklyn myself.”

“Really?” She glanced back at him, pausing cataloging the rolls of gauze. She had to remember to put in for that. They desperately needed more gauze.

“Born and raised,” With a wince, he adjusted pushed himself higher in the bed. “My whole family and my best friend still live there. I’ll go back there too, if I make it out of your care in one piece.”

(Y/n) snorted; she couldn’t help it. Her care? They were in a war, and he wanted to joke that he wouldn’t make it out of her hospital. “I’ll have you know my care is perfectly fine. I served 8 years in ambulatory at Wyckoff.”

Barnes’s brow furrowed. “Can’t say I’ve ever been to Wyckoff, but I was a frequent guest at Beth Moses Hospital.”

“You break ribs running from Nazis often in New York?” She jabbed.

“No, but my friend may as well have. He picked a lot of fights. Didn’t win many, but that never stopped Steve.”

(Y/n)’s head jerked around and she dropped the papers in her hands. “Steve? Steve Rogers?”

“Yeah,” Barnes had her attention now, and she had his, “you know him?”

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“I swear, Bucky, next time you come in here you better be losing an arm. You’re wasting my time with these little scrapes.”

Bucky rose to his feet in front of her.

She came face to chest with his shirtless torso, and her ego absolutely refused to allow her to turn her head away or take a step back. Even as she felt her cheeks coloring from his state of undress, she adamantly met his smirking eyes.

“It’s okay to admit you’d miss me, Doll. Around here, I’m like a little slice of home, a breath of fresh air, a…”

“The smell of maneur wafting out of the stables,” She cut off.

Bucky chuckled and began buttoning back his uniform. “One day, Doll, one day.”

Bucky always said things like that. ‘One day, when we’re both back in Brooklyn’, ‘When I finally get the chance to take you dancing’, ‘Me, you, Steve, and a friend’.

(Y/n) never took any of it to heart. Bucky had popped in and out of the medical tent on many occasions since he’d broken his ribs, and he flirted with all of the girls who treated him. She never let it get to her heart, and she tried not to let it go to her head that his flirtations were infinitely more personal with her. He’d teasingly compliment the other girls’ uniforms, make observations about how nice they looked that day, wink suggestively as he ducked out of the tent. She was the only one he made plans for: Brooklyn, Steve, Coney Island, dinner, dancing.

The thought was nice, but she left it all there, just a thought.

“Don’t be a stranger, Doll,” Bucky called as he made his way to the door. “I’m sick of faking injury just to see you.”

He gave her his signature wink before he turned and left the tent.

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The SSR had moved in. She saw Phillips riding in from a mile away.

She stood side by side with the commanding officers; everyone over the rank of Sergeant filled in a pseudo welcome party for the reinforcements as they rode in.

None of the men could figure out why she was there, at the front, out ranking them. She wasn’t even properly in the Army. She was just a nurse, a field medic, nothing more or less.(Y/n) couldn’t say she was expecting any sort of comraderie from the Colonel. She’d expected a firm handshake, an acknowledgement of their acquaintance, and a swift dismissal back to her duties.

When Colonel Phillips jumped out, the men behind her became painfully aware of who she was, and she became painfully aware how things had changed.

“(Y/n),” Phillips ignored the officers in charge and marched straight for her. “Good, you’re here. I need someone with a head on their shoulders.” He clapped her on the back and led her towards the truck.

From the back, they came filing out, the men she and Erskine had rejected for the supersoldier program. Each of them a hand picked reminder of her lost companion. All of them could’ve been the poster boy for a ‘join the army’ campaign if things had gone a different way.

She had to remind herself that these men were Phillips choosing, that, even if Erskine lived, none of them would have ever been Steve. These were good soldiers, but that didn’t make them good men. There may well have been a few good ones in the bunch, but being strong, being able, didn’t make them so. She preferred the men behind her, the 107th.

“There’s someone else I know you’ll be happy to see.”

It took a moment more of men filing out of the truck bed before Phillips’ surprise came to face her. She felt her heart building up hope, anticipation, excitement.

Peggy. It was Peggy.

She hid her disappointment well as she smiled and hugged the Englishwoman.

She loved Peggy, but she was no Steve.

Where was Steve? It had been so long since she heard news. She was worried.

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“So you’re a hotshot then?”

Bucky had swaggered up to her the moment she stepped outside of the hospital tent.

“You must be if you have the Colonel’s ear. Everyone’s been talking about it. My little Brooklyn in league with the bigwigs.”

“Your?” (Y/n) chose to ignore the rest of the sentence. She stopped midstep and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t think you’ll find me ‘your’ anything, let alone all of Brooklyn.”

Bucky smiled mischievously and matched her stance. “Of course you’re not mine, but who do you think’s been keeping the rest of these scoundrels off your back?”

“Oh?” Her lips quirked up instictively in response to his smile. She really couldn’t help it. Steve had told her once that Bucky had that affect on women, that they couldn’t help themselves arounf him. “You’re protecting me from the wandering eyes of your fellow soldiers in hopes that someone will kindly cave into your flirtations.”

“No,” Bucky drawled, taking a step closer. “I’m protecting all of our dear nurses from the wandering eyes of my fellow soldiers because you have more important things to do like treat the broken ribs of a cocky sniper trying desperately to keep from crying like a child in front of his men.”

“Well your service is greatly appreciated.” (Y/n) chuckled, turning back to her walk, “If you must know, I’m not a bigwig at all.”

“Really?” Bucky fell into step by her side. “Didn’t look that way to me.”

“My mentor was a bigwig,” She confessed, her smile turning stale on her lips, “I was just in the right place at the right time.”

Bucky looped his arm through hers and dragged her to a stop, rounding her to face him. “That can’t be true.”

“It is.”

“If your mentor was that important, then you must’ve been pretty great to catch their eye.” Bucky gave her an encouraging smile.

She saw it in his eyes then. She hadn’t seen it before, not even when he was making her laugh with his flirting. She could see the kind heart, the trusting nature, all the things she admired about Steve. They were there, just buried deep beneath a layer of bravado and natural charisma.

She finally understood why Steve would be his friend.

“Have you heard of the Strategic Scientific Reserve?” The question slipped her mouth before she could stop it.

“No,” Bucky’s expression furrowed. “Why?”

It was top secret. She really shouldn’t be mentioning it. She’d already lied to him about how she knew Steve. She should just lie about the SSR, forget she said anything. She should…

She didn’t. “It’s a program my mentor and I founded…”

She told him everything. Everything about the SSR, about Steve, about Peggy, about Phillips, about Erskine.

He led her off to the edge of camp, away from stray ears and wandering eyes. He sat with her under a tree.

She told him about signing up for the war, about the general who delivered the news about her brother and before that her father. She told him about her mother leaving. She told him about her childhood.

She couldn’t help it. Once she started, she just couldn’t stop.

She understood why Steve would be his friend. She hadn’t meant to, but she’d inadvertently trusted him with everything.

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“(Y/n),” Maria came running through the tent flap, not even bothering to push it aside as it draped her shoulder. “Come quick. It’s Bucky.”

(Y/n) was in the middle of handing out rations. She dropped the box on the cot in front of her and bolted for the door.

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“What happened?”

She found Peggy first.

“The regiment was ambushed by Schmidt.” Peggy liked to talk as she walked. In that moment, (Y/n) appreciated that about her. “Only a third of them made it back. We’re doing rolls now, but the men in the yard are all that’s left.”

(Y/n) burst into the square field that functioned as the town center of camp.

There were men, dusty, beaten, bloodied men everywhere. Her small staff of nurses would be overwhelmed by the numbers, but that wasn’t what was on her mind now.

“Where is he?” She left the question and Peggy in her wake, running through the clusters of soldiers. Some supported their injured friends, others laid groaning side by side, a few stood in the center, completely fine. They looked the most lost of them all, as if they were asking God why he had chosen to spare them.

Hodge was there, in the center, one of the men surveying the damage around him. He was fine, completely fine.

“Hodge,” She marched up to him with a fury, “Where is Barnes?”

“Barnes? That kid that’s always following you around?”

Hodge had come in with the other Super Soldier Candidates. He hadn’t had the time to learn everyone’s names, not that he ever would have anyway. He was Hodge; Hodge thought he was too good for that sort of thing.

“Where is he?” She demanded again, not intending to repeat herself a third time.

“He was in the flank with his buddies. They’re gone. All of them, gone.”

Hodge had the decency to look sorry that he was giving her the news.

(Y/n) imagined it was the first decent thing he’d done in his life.

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Was she cursed?

She felt like she was. She felt like a ghost walking through life, doomed to haunt everyone she touched.

Her mother left her. Her father was dead. Her brother followed not long after. Erskine died just as she’d come to think of him as family. Steve was forced to tour around the country like some kind of sideshow because of what she’d helped do to him. Lydia was dead almost as soon as (Y/n) arrived. Now, Bucky.

She hadn’t confided in anyone in a long time until she met Bucky. She’d chatted with Lydia, Maria, her fellow nurses, made nice with them. She’d only told Peggy things she was sure the woman had already read in her file; she told Phillips even less. She told Steve bits and pieces, but she tried not to burden his plate more than it already was. She hadn’t needed to tell Erskine anything; the old man could read it for himself in her eyes.

She’d told it all to Bucky.

Whether it was the heat of war, the charm that came to him so effortlessly, that kind smile or those trustworthy eyes, it didn’t matter. She’d told him everything there was to tell, and as quickly as he knew he was gone.

Caring about her. It felt like the kiss of death.

She was a nurse, and her father bled to death on the battlefield. She was a nurse, and her brother died of injuries from a plane crash. She was a nurse, and Erskine died of a gunshot in her arms. She was a nurse. She was supposed to save people; she hadn’t saved them.  And now, she couldn’t save Bucky either.

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Steve. She knew those eyes anywhere. Even behind that stupid mask, she knew it was Steve.

She watched the show with blank eyes and a blanker expression. Steve didn’t look much better.

Back in Brooklyn, (Y/n) had been rather a catch. Boys had taken her out many times, and often times, when they wanted to seem smarter and more cultured than they actually were, they would take her to a show. (Y/n) had watched more plays than she could count, and none of them had been nearly as bad as this.

Steve couldn’t fake excitement if he tried, and he was clearly trying.

(Y/n) didn’t care about the show though, bad acting or not. She cared about Steve, and she cared about what he could do.

“Steve,” She barged into the dressing rooms backstage.

The girls, the dancers, squealed and made to hide or cover themselves, but they quickly regained composure when they saw it was another girl.

“Steve!”

Steve looked up from where he was sat in a corner doodling.

“(Y/n)?” He dropped the paper aside and got to his feet, hesitantly, disbelieving that it could really be her.

“Steve,” (Y/n) threw herself at him, hugging him close. “I’m so sorry, Steve.”

He held her close. “Sorry? What for?”

“Steve, you have to help,” She pulled back and looked him dead in the eye. “It’s Bucky.”

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(Y/n) didn’t join them on the plane. How could she? Every time one buzzed overhead her brother came rushing back to mind.

She still hadn’t buried him; his body was waiting for her back at home. She was going to bury him beside her father, beside an empty plot she’d reserved for herself, just in case something happened on the front.

She wondered, to herself because Bucky was not there to wonder out loud to like last time, if she couldn’t mourn because he had not been laid to rest. She wondered if she needed the confirmation of seeing his body for herself or the resignation of a coffin and a deep grave.

That hadn’t been true of her father. She’d mourned him the moment the general knocked on her door; she’d wept for losing him. Perhaps, she’d been able to weep because she had more to lose. Perhaps, she wept for her father because with her brother alive she still had a reason to feel. Perhaps, she wept for Erskine because, by the time he left her, she’d found other reasons, a new family.

She wondered if she would ever cry for her brother the way she had her father or Erskine. She wondered, if she started crying for him, if she would ever stop.

Maybe she was just full of it.

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“He should’ve radioed by now.”

She was in the hospital tent, pacing nervously in front of the only cot void of soldiers. Peggy and Maria had sat cross-legged on the flimsy mattress and were watching her with anxious expressions.

Howard Stark stood angrily tapping his foot near the bit of canvas at the head of the bed.

He was the only one who seemed to share (Y/n)’s nerves.

How Peggy was holding it together, (Y/n) had no idea. It wasn’t like she didn’t care. A blind man could see how much she cared about Steve. She had a composure to her though.

(Y/n) envied her that; she wasn’t ashamed to admit it. She wished she were as composed.

“That’s no guarantee that anything happened,” Maria’s voice was a calm guiding hand in the storm. She cared about the missing men, about Steve, but no more than every other soldier. She cared deeply for everyone under her care; it was part of her nature. Their absence didn’t sway her.

“No guarantee,” (Y/n) conceded,”but one hell of a coincidence.”

“Well what can we do?” Howard asked. “Ride into Occupied territory and offer our assistance?”

(Y/n) haulted midstep and looked up at Howard.

“No!” He immediately shot out.

“Yes.”

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She packed a bag of all the essentials: bandages, needle and thread, alcohol, small bottles of antibiotics and medicines she could sneak out of the tent.

The bag was heavy, bulky, but it would fit snugly on the back of one of the motorcycles that that night's messenger had left near the edge of camp.

He wasn’t scheduled to make his next delivery run for three days. She had every intention of being back by then. Either she’d be back or dead.

With all hope, and a little help from Maria, she’d be entirely unnoticed until she rode back into camp. Maria had managed well enough on her own before (Y/n) got there. She could handle a few days.

“Do you even know how to ride one of those things?”

(Y/n) froze. She knew the voice, but she didn’t turn. If she didn’t turn, maybe she could pretend he wasn’t there.

Phillips stepped up to her side. “Is this what Erskine would want for you? A suicide mission?”

“It’s not a suicide mission. What Steve did, that was a suicide mission. I’m just trying to help the odds.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

“He’s trying to free hundreds of your men from a Hydra base where they’re being held prisoner. At best, he succeeded, and they’re headed back this way.”

“Unlikely,” Phillips butted in.

“At worst, he failed.” She continued without acknowledging his interruption. “There are a lot of scenarios in between worst and best that involve your men out there, injured and dying.”

“And you think one nurse is going to help?”

“I’m not going to hurt!”

Phillips snorted, “Is this about that boy?”

“What boy?” (Y/n) turned back to securing her bag to the motorcycle. It was a tell. Phillips wasn’t stupid. He knew that. She knew that.

“The one Rogers is friends with. The one you sent him on this fool’s errand after. I thought it was just because they were friends, but the men told me you two were close.”

(Y/n)’s hands clenched around the strap of her bag.

“Is that why you want to go? You’re chasing after some lowly soldier.”

“I want to help!” (Y/n) spat, turning on Phillips with a vengeance. “Who cares if it’s because I’m feeling guilty or because I care about him! They are my friends, and I want to help them.”

Phillips watched with a cool, calculating eye for a long moment as (Y/n)’s chest heaved with anger. She looked as angry as he’d ever seen her, and he’d seen her angry many times at Lehigh.

She cared about Steve. There was no denying that, but whoever this sergeant was he was something else, something special.

Reluctantly, he sighed out in defeat. “Your bag’s going to go flying off the back if you tie it down like that.” He turned and started knotting the ropes for her.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was seven miles out when she heard it. Something big and loud and powerful barrelling down on her.

(Y/n) stopped her motorcycle in the street and went silent, listening.

Tanks.

She rolled the bike off the road, muscling it behind some trees. It was clunky, weighty, and she didn’t have the strength to get it properly hidden back in the woods. Still, she found a patch of dirt flat enough to roll the bike off the road and made due with laying it on its side behind a bush.

Whoever it was was coming closer. She found the thickest tree there was and stood straight and tall behind it, sucking herself in to be as narrow a target as possible.

She could hear shouting now, though she couldn’t make out the voices. There was a melody to their tone even though the words were indistinct. They were singing something.

It went on for a verse or two, judging by the pauses, before whoever they were were finally close enough to make out words.

English words. American accents.

“The Star Spangled Man! With a plan!” Horribly out of tune male voices echoed through the tree tops without a care in the world for who heard.

“Steve!” (Y/n) rushed out of the trees.

They were at the end of the road, making their way around a bend a few hundred yards ahead, but she’d recognize that God awful costume from a mile away. It stood out plain as day against the swath of brown and green forest and the drab, colorless look of the men at his side.

“Steve!” (Y/n) raced for him.

Steve realized who it was almost instantly. “(Y/n)!” He jogged forward and met her halfway.

“I thought you were dead!” She choked out.

“Come on, little Brooklyn, you have to know we’re made of tougher stuff than that.”

(Y/n) pulled away, positively beaming to hear that drawl of her nickname. “Bucky!”

Bucky tipped a nonexistent cap her direction. “At your service, Doll.”

He dropped the hat charade just in time to catch her as she flung her arms around his neck.

“One day, Doll,” He mumbled into her ear.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Frenchie was in the bottom of the tank with a seriously mangled stint strapped to his arm.

“I did the best I could,” Bucky was hunched over (Y/n) as she treated his fallen companion. “I’ve watched you enough times, you think I’d have it down by now.”

“Maybe if you were actually watching her hands you would have,” Jones jabbed an elbow into Barnes ribs.

“Hey now,” Barnes chuckled. “I watched her hands.”

“Sure you did.” (Y/n) bit back a grin. “The stint isn’t pretty, but neither is the break. This will take a while to heal.”

Jones prattled off in French, alarming (Y/n) to no end.

Bucky knelt down next to her and explained. “Frenchie doesn’t speak English. We make Jones translate to earn his keep. Only way he’s been useful so far.”

“Oh,” (Y/n) went back to the arm in question.

“I promise I was watching your hands,” He murmured to her with his usual heart-stopping smile.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, “And I promise you were too busy flirting with my staff to notice what my hands were doing.”

“Not your staff, just you.” He corrected her. They both knew that wasn’t technically true. Bucky Barnes was nothing if not a flirt. That didn’t mean he meant it though. They both knew he meant it with her, and they both knew he didn’t mean it with anyone else.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Rogers, I’ve been with these guys on the field for months,” Bucky smacked him on the shoulder and pointed to the table in questions. “They’re all utter morons. Of course they’ll say yes.”

Steve gave his friend a worried look but let Bucky’s smile reassure with enough to take the next step. “Wish my luck,” he patted his friend on the back and marched over to the group of men getting drunker by the moment.

Bucky chuckled to himself and circled around to the far side of the bar to order himself a drink and find a quieter table. He wanted a beer, and he wanted as much distance between himself and that piano as possible. It was giving him such a headache. The beer would help with that.

He wasn’t actually sure that was true. He wasn’t a doctor or a nurse to know, but he was going to tell himself it would. Mostly he just wanted the beer. He’d earned it after the last couple months he’d had, after the last year honestly.

He heard the booming voice of Sergeant Dugan over everything else in the bar and couldn’t help a chuckle. They’d all earned a round.

They’d earn a couple more if they said yes, and as Bucky watched them from over the rim of his glass, he knew they would. They were fighters, like Steve, and like Steve, they wouldn’t back down from that.

Bucky kept his eyes on the men as they all considered Steve’s offer. He could tell the moment the words left Steve’s mouth, the moment they all froze at the proposition. He could tell, one by one, as they all agreed, like he knew they would.

It was written on their faces. It was written on Steve’s face.

He tried not to sound too cocky when Steve came back around to him. “See, told you; they’re all idiots.”

“How ‘bout you?” Steve took up the chair next to Bucky.

Bucky didn’t meet his eye. He knew the question was coming, and he already had his answer.

“You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?”

“Hell no,” Bucky sighed with a smile. “That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight, I’m following him.”

Steve smiled, relief washing over his features as he took the drink in front of him.

“You’re keeping the outfit right?” Bucky couldn’t help but tease.

“You know what,” Steve looked back at the poster, “It’s kinda growing on me.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The singing at the front of the room fell quiet, to almost a murmur.

Bucky and Steve turned to the door, to the woman in the vivid red dress.

“Captain,” she greeted with a formal note to her voice.

She was beautiful. Bucky would’ve been blind not to see it, especially in that shade of red. She looked like one of the girls Bucky used to go dancing with, tight dress hugging her curves, matching lipstick and perfectly styled hair. She was a woman on a mission, and he had a sneaking suspicion that mission was a man, specifically a man named Steve Rogers.

Bucky’s eyes wandered over assessingly. She was way out of Steve’s league, or at least the league he used to be in. He hadn’t been out with Steve since this new transformation; he had no idea what Steve’s league even was anymore. He was taller, stronger; he was famous apparently. But he was still an absolute dork, clueless around women.

It was written all over his darting, nervous eyes.

“I see your top squad is prepping for duty,” she observed.

“You don’t like music?” Bucky smiled.

“I might even, when this is all over, go dancing.” Peggy didn’t bother to look in Bucky’s direction for even a moment.

“Then what are we waiting for?” He asked her.

“The right partner,” Her tone was suggestive; her eyes watching Steve expectantly. For the first time in his life, Bucky wasn’t in on the joke.

“0800 Captain,” She said as she whisked herself away.

“I’m invisible,” Bucky turned back to Steve, “I’m turning into you,” he scoffed, “this is a horrible dream.”

Steve smirked as he turned to walk off, “Don’t take it so hard. I hear she has a friend.” Steve motioned over Bucky’s shoulder towards the doorway Peggy had just left.

Steve took up his old seat as Bucky turned away.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What had possessed her to come here, (Y/n) couldn’t be sure.

She knew what she’d told herself. That Captain America was assembling a team of his own, that his team was leaving for deployment, that she wanted to be on the ship when it did.

She could’ve asked him all of that before he left for the bar, or when he came back. It’s not like he’d be drunk; she knew that couldn’t happen.

Hell, she could’ve asked him the next morning. Steve would’ve made it happen.

But when Peggy told her she was going down to the bar to check on the men, something had possessed her to follow.

Maybe she wanted a drink. Maybe she too wanted to check on the boys. More likely, it was how clearly Peggy’s excuse was a rouse to get dolled up and see Steve, and there (Y/n) was, right by her side getting dolled up too.

Jones had cornered her the moment she’d walked in. Gabe kissed the back of her hand like an old-school gentleman and asked her to dance. She politely declined.

“That’s all right,” Gabe smiled knowingly and pointed in the direction of the room Peggy was leaving. “Sergeant’s right in there.”

(Y/n) followed, anxiously, in Peggy’s retreating footsteps with only an encouraging nod from her friend to bolster her courage.

She’d chosen the purple dress, a more understated shade than Peggy’s red but a far more modern cut. She wasn’t there to grab the attention of the entire bar like Peggy was, but she hoped at least to keep one pair of eyes on her.

Steve spotted her first and immediately smiled. He waved a hand in her direction and retreated back to the tables.

Bucky’s back was to her, but whatever Steve said made him turn.

His face went slack, and a little space opened between his lips, as if his mind had formed words his tongue couldn’t speak.

“Well, now I know what Peggy meant,” He mumbled as she approached him.

“About what?”

“The Right Partner.” Bucky offered her his arm, “Would you like to dance?”

“I’m not very good,” she confessed smoothly.

Bucky smiled. Not his usual cocky grin that swept girls off their feet, or the warm, reassuring smile she’d come to trust. It was gentle, somewhere between kind and loving. “I’ll teach you.”

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Taglist

Forever Taglist:

@maybe-a-fangurl / @libbymouse /  @geeksareunique / @deathbyarabbit​ / @spilltheearlgrey / @ryanbarnesrogers / @bloodorangemoonlight​

Marvel Taglist:

@the-high-queen / @iamverity / @darktownairspeed / @radicalstars​ / @hermione-is-my-queen 

[blacknight1230]

Masterlist - UPDATED - 8/5/20

Vikings

One Shots

Honeysweet - Hvitserk Imagine

Cool for the Summer: UNFINISHED

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Sex Education

Inexperienced: UNFINISHED

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

DC Universe

One Shots

The Truth Will Out - Jason Todd Imagine

Snake! - Nightwing Imagine

Big Hero 6 One Shots

Burning Love - Tadashi Hamada Imagine

Damsel - Hiro Hamada Imagine

Homestuck 

One Shots

Queen of Pranks - John Egbert Imagine

Of Handcuffs & Pranks - John Egbert Imagine - NSFW

Black Butler

One Shots

A Vampire’s Kiss - Sebastian Michaelis Imagine

Night at the Museum

One Shots

Unfortunate Souls - Ahkmenrah Imagine

Devil May Cry

One Shots

What the Hell Are You? - Dante Imagine

Naruto & Naruto Shippuden

One Shots

My Best Friend - Naruto Uzumaki Imagine

Danny Phantom

One Shots

Stay - Danny Phantom Imagine

Miraculous Ladybug

One Shots

A Night Under the Stars - Chat Noir Imagine

Peter Pan

Second Star to the Right: UNFINISHED

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Rise of the Guardians

Scenarios

Jack Frost - He catches you doing your beauty routine

Dolan Twins

One Shots

That’s My Girlfriend! - Ethan Dolan x Reader

The Outsiders

One Shots

Dreaming of You - Ponyboy Curtis Imagine

Hellboy

Horns Like the Devil: UNFINISHED

Part 1

The Traphouse

One Shots

Rude Awakening - Colby Brock Imagine (NSFW)

Character Pokémon List

Sandy the Sandman (ROTG)

Toothiana the Tooth Fairy (ROTG)

Nicholas St. North/ North (ROTG)

Brianna Flames (ROTG OC)

Jack Frost (ROTG)

Pitch Black (ROTG)

[avengersfangirlimagines]

Day 01 - Sweaters

Characters: Thor x Reader

Words: 600+

It was the 1st of December, the beginning of all the holiday festivities were soon coming. With only a few weeks to finish buying presents, decorating the tower. You found yourself almost freezing half to death trying to hang up a mistletoe in front of the elevator. On countless occasions you had told Tony to get the AC fixed, it had been broken for more than a month now. Leaving every one of you looking like Steve in the ice, he might even turn into a Capsicle once again. Once the mistletoe was in place, you retreated back to your room, rummaging through every single drawer, cabinet, and box you could find. You were looking for your only Christmas sweater. Last year at your secret Santa game, you pulled Tony’s present, it was a sweater with snowflakes and all of that normal Christmassy stuff that usually appeared on those types of sweaters. Except, Tony had gotten this one specially made, his trademark, the arc reactor was printed on the fabric, making you look like a fangirl every time you wore it, but it was your only one.

Thor was one of the few people who were around today when it turned the 1st everyone got busy no one was around all of the time. Clint went home to his family. Tony was planning a lot of parties and doing many charity events. Steve and Bucky used to do the things that they did before the war. Thor was the only one back at the tower most of the time, in Asgard they didn’t have holidays as earth did. So, whenever he had the chance, he would beg you to let him help you with things around the tower whenever another holiday rolled over the calendar. Today you had promised him to let him help you with decorating. Thor was waiting for you on the couch when you came back from your room. He eyed you suspiciously when he noticed that you were wearing the iron man sweater. Tony used to yell out that he was your favorite whenever you would wear that sweater. With your back history, it probably was true, but you had never thought of it that way. They were all your favorites, even though some were better than others.

“Don’t mention it, it’s the only one I own,” you smiled as you walked across the room to one of the many boxes standing on the floor. Pulling out a long garland you noticed Thor wearing one of the sweaters that you had gotten him around the time you first taught him about Christmas. The day was filled with laughter and fun in general. In the end, the tower was decorated, ready for Christmas. Everything you wanted to do now, was lying down on the couch with a big cup of hot chocolate and watch tv. But that had to be for another time, Thor was practically begging you to tell him more about Christmas.

“You see many kids believe in this man called Santa Clause, Santa is a big man living on the north pole with his elves and his reindeer. He spends all year making presents for kids, and then when all the boys and girls are sleeping on Christmas Eve, he brings out the presents to them. But to be fair, Santa isn’t real. It’s something that someone has made up because if a real man called St. Nicholas, he was a bishop from the fourth century. So overall; Santa is just marketing for toy corporations who want to sell their toys,” you said. Thor looked like he hadn’t understood a word of what you had just said. But what could you say, the man was from another realm he didn’t have to understand the first time you told him anything.

[zafirosreverie]

The Brightest Star (North x F!Reader)

Every year since I have this blog I have written at least one fanfic for North when Christmas is close, I couldn't let this one be the exception, so I hope you like it.

______________________________

You sighed as you tried to control your shaking hands, you really didn't want to ruin another machine, but nothing seemed to work. You couldn't help it, not when he was so close, even if you couldn't see him, you could feel it in your bones, that terrible, ancient fear that stabbed into your skin like a million needles, seeming to inject those horrible shadows into your being.

You shuddered when the memory of that terrible day suddenly came to your mind. You had blocked out most of the details, but you remembered perfectly the feeling of a deathly cold hand wrapping around your throat, stealing all the air from your body, the darkness slowly filling your senses and the screams of children echoing in your ears.

Pitch Black had escaped, but you could still feel his grip on you.

"Are you ok?"

You jumped when you felt a large but warm hand on your shoulder and thanked everything in your mind that you hadn't screamed when you saw blue eyes filled with concern staring at you.

“Yeah, I’m fine” you lied.

The man didn't seem to believe you, but he was kind enough not to push, so he just gave you a gentle squeeze and took a seat next to you. Internally you were grateful that he was so easy to work with, because you were sure that your teacher would already be questioning you.

You silently passed him the toolbox and returned to your own project, allowing muscle memory to take the reins and letting your memory wander back to that day, though not to Pitch's terrible memories, but to the bright light that you had next to you.

Nicholas St. North, retired bandit, loud but kind man, Santoff Claussen's savior. Again, you didn't remember the details, but you did remember the way the blanket of darkness around you was suddenly broken with the clean cut of a sword, and the cold that seeped into your bones slowly melted with the warmth of a pair of big arms. You felt safe even without knowing who the man holding you was.

North had saved you, he had saved your home, your children, magic, and because of that he had not only earned a place as Ombric's apprentice, but, without knowing it (and you wouldn't admit it), he had earned a permanent place in your heart.

He was a brilliant man, with surprising ingenuity, his inventions surpassed anything that had been created before in the town, and a heart of gold. Ombric had given him a place in his house, and since you were also technically his apprentice, it was a matter of time before you struck up a friendship with the former bandit, to the point that your teacher joked that you couldn't live without him anymore.

Not that you cared, you liked North more than you were willing to admit, and the man in the moon knew that man needed a family, a home to belong to, and you hoped, deep down, that somehow you could be part of it.

You just wished he could see how special he was, that he could see himself the way you and Katerine saw him. Despite his carefree attitude and the confidence he projected in front of others, especially in front of children or Ombric, you knew that guilt and memories of his past life still haunted him, that he often questioned whether he really deserved a place as a guardian.

"Do you think I'm worthy?" he asked

"You are" you smiled, reassuring him "you're a really bright star"

________________________________

You smiled as you watched the elves running around, getting between the tables and getting in the Yetis’ way, who were already too used to it to really bother with them. You loved this time of year, the bright lights, the decorated trees, the colors, the warmth of the fireplaces, the cookies, the gifts, and in the middle of it all, him.

In the end, Ombric had been right, you couldn't stay away from North, so when he formed his alliance with the Yetis, moved to the North Pole and built his magnificent city where his inventions brought joy to everyone, you had naturally been at his side.

It had been a long time since you had finally admitted your feelings for the man, and with Manny's blessing (who had made you age as slowly as North did), you had sworn to share his mission of protecting wonder in children for whatever centuries you had left.

"Mrs. Claus" a cheerful voice sounded behind you.

You smiled as you turned to him. In front of you was Santa Claus himself, as imposing as the legends said, with the years reflected in his face, which still retained its childish warmth and as handsome as the day you met him.

"Mr. Claus" you replied "ready for your big night?"

Christmas Eve was always a busy and difficult night for North, but you knew that, like you, he would never change the children's joy at seeing that Santa had visited them for anything. 

He simply smiled and offered his hand to you, escorting you down the hallway as you headed to the reindeer shed. You never accompanied him on deliveries, preferring to wait for him with a cup of hot chocolate and freshly baked cookies, but you were always there to watch him leave. He had said you gave him luck, and you never questioned it.

"Tell me, darling" he whispered "do you still think I'm worthy?"

Oh, so it was one of those nights. Despite everything he had experienced, despite how much he had done for children and for the world, there were still echoes of his ghosts walking through his mind. It wasn't as frequent anymore, maybe once every few years, but sometimes, he still needed you to remind him how special he was.

"North" you said softly "look around you. Look at everything you've created, the wonderful ideas you've made come true, look how much this place has grown"

Carefully, you let go of his arm so you could take his hands instead, making him look at you with an intensity and fragility reserved for you.

"But most of all, look at what you have become, everything you represent" you said "You are not only the guardian of wonder, you are more. Christmas is not only about gifts and beautiful lights, it is the memories that are created, the love that is strengthened, the joy that is shared, the illusion that is reborn even in adults. You represent all that. Even when the magic seems lost, people find it again in your figure, in your celebration"

North smiled and closed his eyes, savoring the feel of your palm as you caressed his cheek gently.

"You are the most important guardian, protector of magic" you continued "and you are the brightest star of Manny's new golden age."

[iminyoursockdrawer]

I'm crying. It's so cute <3

I was wondering if you could do a North x Reader where the reader is the embodiment of wishing and has the centre of desire. She's also known as the Fairy Godmother or The Blue Fairy. (She basically grants people's wishes)

North x Fairy Godmother/ Blue Fairy Reader Relationship Headcanons

Hello, sorry it took so long. I hope you like it, Happy Holidays :)

North and you actually work together a lot and make a great team

Since it's his job to make and deliver presents to children all around the world, you're able to help him out by finding out what the children want for Christmas, and even helping him make toys for the children

In return, he tries to help you out anyway he can

He loves PDA and loves holding your hand and giving you all the affection he has to offer, however he will tone it down if you ask him to

He loves holding you in his arms as you two relax

He loves to show you love and affection wherever you two are

He loves your wings and compliments them all the time

Whenever you two are cuddling, or if you're just standing near him, he'll just gently run his fingers against your wings

If you ever get stressed out by your duties then he will happily let you rant to him about your problems

He will also make a toy with you or will try to find something else for the both of you to do to help you take your mind off of the stress

He calls you lots of pet names such as his wish, his heart's desire

He also likes to call you Russian nicknames as well such as milyy (darling)

He introduces you to all of the guardians

He loves when you just hang around his workshop, especially when he's ice sculpting or making toys, he loves just being able to spend time with his lover

He likes to take you on rides in his sleigh

Whenever you two relax together he tells you stories about all of his adventures

He loves to talk to the other guardians about you, whether you're there or not. Everybody just listens to him rant on about how great you are and how much he loves you, even though it's the third time in the span of an hour

Whenever you two kiss he sometimes lifts you up into his arms while being careful of your wings

He definitely makes a set of Russian nesting dolls that represent you

All of the elves and yetis like you and are happy for North and you

He loves you so much and he holds every moment with you close to his heart

[zafirosreverie]

Jack would live another day (North x Reader)

a/n: this is short but I hope you’ll like it!

____________________________

You were going to kill Jack. That frozen little devil could say goodbye to his guts because you were going to get all the creamy stuffing out of him. Usually, you adored the winter spirit, and snowfalls from him never bothered you too much, but today he had messed with something much worse.

You had received a call from North to help with the Christmas preparations, and if all the guardians knew one thing, it was that you could never say no to the man. You didn't know how or when, but you couldn't deny that you felt something for him anymore.

You assumed it had a lot to do with the fact that he was such a gentleman to you, that he always treated you like you were something precious, something worth protecting. North was a huge man, but he had never been rough with you, he was always careful and delicate and made you feel valued and safe. No wonder you were always flustered and flushed in his presence.

And of course, Jack had noticed. There was very little your best friend didn't know about you, and while he always tried to keep his teasing within your limits, there were times when he decided the situation called for a little harder push. That was why he had dropped a huge snowfall.

At first, you thought they weren't unusual considering you were at the North Pole, but when North himself had made a comment about the unusual magnitude of the winds, you knew this was Jack's doing.

You didn't know what the spirit was playing at, but you decided not to worry too much. You doubted that the boy could do anything that could potentially ruin North's work, so the prank he had in mind shouldn't be too bad. That was, of course, until you realized what it meant to you: you were trapped, at the pole, with North.

You blushed furiously at the thought and mentally cursed the white-haired boy. It was obvious that he knew what he was doing because he had waited for you and North to go to one of the hangars, so he didn't have his snow globe portals with him, nor could the yetis do anything to help.

Your only option was to wait for Jack to finish having fun and the storm to pass, and pray that nothing embarrassing happened to you in front of Santa Claus himself.

"Are you ok?" the man asked, snapping you out of your thoughts

You hadn't even realized when he had sat next to you in the corner where you were curled up, trying not to shiver too much from the cold.

"Yeah" you said "I was just thinking about how I'm going to kill Jack when we get out of here"

"For the storm or for leaving you locked in with me?" he asked

"For both" you murmured

"Wow, I didn't know it was so bad to be with me"

You looked up, feeling a pang of guilt in your chest, and were ready to unleash a cascade of apologies and explanations of how wonderful you thought he was when you realized he was looking at you with a smirk. You relaxed a bit and smiled back.

"It's not that" you said "I just don't want you to get tired of me"

"Oh, that will never happen, Y/N" he chuckled and put one of his big hands on your shoulder.

You felt your cheeks heat up again and you knew there was no way the guardian wouldn't notice. You wanted to say something, lighten the mood, joke, anything that would allow you to breathe a little and slow your pulse, but you only managed to shiver as a draft slipped under the door and soaked into your bones.

"You're blue" North said, moving a little "wait"

You immediately missed the warmth of his body next to yours when he got up so he could take off his coat. You tried to tell him it wasn't necessary, but your voice wouldn't come from your lips.

"Here" he said

A soft warmth washed over you as North pulled you into his oversized red coat, wrapping it around you and sitting back down next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders to draw you into a warm half-hug.

It felt... right, like you've gotten to the place where you should be. You could no longer feel the chill that Jack had spewed and seeped menacingly under the door, but what really took your breath away and made you warm even more was realizing that his coat smelled like him.

"W-what about you?" you asked

"I live in the north pole, Y/N, I'm better used to the cold" he laughed.

You looked at him for a moment, trying to see if he was lying for your own good, but you were met only with his warm smile and a beautiful pair of blue eyes looking at you intensely. You should know by now that Santa Claus would never lie to you.

"Okay" you smiled "but if you get cold, let me know"

He just laughed and nodded, but it was enough for you, so you rested your head on his chest and snuggled closer to him. You could lie to yourself that you were just looking for more warmth, but deep down you knew that Jack Frost would live another day after all.

[zafirosreverie]

Proud of you (North x Reader)

You smiled to yourself when you heard a voice roaring commands, followed by several growls and soft tinkles. Yetis came and went all over the place, crowding the workshop and carrying things to the sled, while trying to avoid the annoying elves that crawled between their legs.

You assumed that was your fault, after all, it was your job to keep the elves busy. And you were usually good at it, but today was a special day. It wasn't every day that you got the chance to see the great man in action.

Sure, you lived in the North Pole, so you actually saw him every day, but living with North wasn't the same as working with Santa Claus. There was an exponential difference between the two that they almost looked like different men.

North was a free spirit, always ready to lend a hand to you or the other Guardians, cheerful, carefree, joking, and incredibly loving. But as Christmas approached and Santa Claus took over, you could see why he was one of the most important guardians.

In theory, you all were. But despite everything, no one could deny that Sandy and North were the most powerful, by ability and popularity, respectively. It was no secret to anyone that almost all children's favorite time of year was Christmas. Easter was great, receiving money from the fairy was amazing until a certain age, dreams, although powerful, were often forgotten when waking up and a snowy day was fun, but rarely marked in the memory of children (except for special occasions, of course ).

But Christmas? Christmas was special.

Maybe it was the gifts, the lights, the trees, the food. Maybe it was family, hope, warmth, love. Whatever it was, there was something about it that just filled the heart.

And North lived up to that feeling.

He was always in control at the workshop, but the week before Christmas, you could see him transform into that mythical good-natured man who came down chimneys to deliver gifts to good children. He seemed more serious, older. You could see the wisdom of the old guardian, which was usually overlooked due to jokes and laughter.

North knew the duty he had with the children, he knew that, of all the guardians, he was the one who had the greatest number of believers. It was not a light burden, nor one that could be taken for granted. It was not a luxury, it was a responsibility. He had to protect that pure and warm hope that children placed in him, he had to make the warmth that his existence represented, firmly planted in the hearts of all of them and remain there for as long as he could.

And it was a great honor that you could be by his side.

Watching him work was always a delight. There was a beautiful twinkle in his eyes every time he showed you a new toy, a new doll, a new creation. The fact of being able to see the result of all that, of knowing that all that wonder that North possessed would be passed on to the children so that they could create with their own wings, was a simply inexplicable feeling.

A heat that flooded your chest.

"You have been very quiet"

You smiled when you looked at the man of the moment, standing imposingly next to you.

"I was thinking" you admitted

"about what?"

"you"

A jovial blush graced the man's cheeks as you found your way into his arms. You let his warmth engulf you completely, enjoying his big arms around you and his delicious scent of books, wood, cookies, and eggnog. The difference in heights allowed you to hear his heart.

"I'm very proud of you" you whispered "I love you"

There was silence before you felt him move to plant a soft, tender kiss on your forehead. He didn't say it, but you still heard the words in your head, whispered by a heart beating in time with yours.

"I love you too"

[zafirosreverie]

The best tree (Guardians & Reader)

a/n: there’s a NorthxReaderxSandy relationship, but there’s nothing too explicit so you can ignore it if you want. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You rolled your eyes affectionately when you heard Bunny and Jack arguing. Again. You should have known that those two couldn't stay away from each other's throats for more than a few minutes, not even at Christmas (Well, technically it wasn't Christmas yet, but pretty close).

You had gathered the guardians at the pole to help you decorate. North was up to his neck with work, and with Yetis coming and going and troublesome elves everywhere, he really didn't have time to participate in his own decorations.

You, on the other hand, have always loved decorating the Christmas tree, since you were little. So you offered to help, even when technically it was always Christmas in this place. But when you saw the size of the huge tree in the center of the workshop, you had to call in reinforcements.

Although watching Tooth intervene in Jack and Bunny’s fight, causing an even bigger argument, you thought that maybe you should have just called the Sandman.

"Remind me why I let you invite them" you said to Sandy.

The little man simply raised an eyebrow, letting his dream sand create an image of you asking everyone for help.

"Yes, yes, I know that I was the one who brought them, but sharing the blame with you makes me feel better" you winked at him, earning you a mischievous smile from the guardian.

The two of you jumped when you heard a decoration fall and smash on the ground, followed by more grunting and fighting from the other three. It was the third in less than an hour.

"At this rate, we will run out of decorations and only our side will be decorated" you sighed.

Sandy gave you a sympathetic look and a quick kiss on the forehead before taking the little angel you offered to him and floating above your head to hang it from one of the highest branches. Having a boyfriend who could float was a huge help when you were decorating a tree nearly 32 feet tall and you didn't have a ladder.

"We are not going to hang a carrot on the tree!"

You stifled a laugh at Tooth's voice and Bunny's offended growl as you shook your head. You loved those three, you really did, but maybe you and Sandy could do more without their help.

You looked out the window, into the snowy forest at the foot of the mountain. The pines greeted you and an idea quickly formed in your mind. You waved Sandy down and whispered your plan in his ear. The guardian smiled before nodding and quickly flying for the decorations.

This was going to be fun.

________________________________

An hour later, North finally left his office, ready to take a well-deserved break with you and the others. He arrived just in time to see Sandy placing the last sphere.

"Oh, hi North" you smiled "what do you think?"

The man looked in amazement at the gigantic and imposing tree, dressed in colorful lights. The ribbons of different sizes perfectly complemented the spheres and small figures that you had hung, Sandy had even created small chains of dream sand that looked like little fireflies, an elegant and beautiful detail. And circling the center of the tree was an old but cute toy train that Phil had helped you put together.

North smiled when he recognized it. It was one of the first gifts he had given you when you were still a child...when you were still mortal.

"This is amazing" he laughed "it must have been a lot of work"

"Meh, Sandy, and I managed. And it was a lot quicker when we managed to keep the others occupied."

North frowned in confusion when you and Sandy shared THAT look. Having spent the last 50 years dating the two of you, he was more than capable of recognizing when his partners had done some mischief.

"...where are the others?" he asked slowly.

You just shrugged as Sandy created an arrow of dream sand, pointing to the window. North walked over to it and looked out.

It was only a few seconds of surprise before the loud laugh of the great Santa Claus filled the workshop. Outside, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and Jack Frost were having a fierce and increasingly intense competition to see who best-decorated their tree.

You could see how they sabotaged each other, yelling at each other and throwing snowballs or spheres at each other.

"We told them we would put the best-decorated tree in the center of the workshop" you explained "I honestly didn't think Tooth was going to fall for it"

North only laughed louder as the three of you continued to watch the competition. You and Sandy had a high five. You couldn't wait to see their faces when they returned and saw that, in fact, the best tree was already in the center of the workshop.