#Didn’t know it was an option for her until well after the Apple Incident

[starswirly]

SomniaFable

[ * aka, putting my oc into Dreamtale has spiraled out of control ]

[maijobi]

comfort

megumi fushiguro x reader

summary: you land in the hospital because of the first dangerous mission after your high school graduation and megumi beats himself up with the fact that he couldn’t save you on time. so as a tribute to that he visited you every day. but was guilt really the only reason for him putting this much effort for you?

a/n: I originally wrote this story for gojo,, but something about this reminded me of megumi, so I changed it to megumi and honestly I'm happy I changed it. I enjoy writing for gojo because his personality is so fun to write with, but something about megumi fit this perfectly. enjoy reading!!

————————————————————————

you were sitting on the hospital bed, peeling a tangerine that was in the fruit basket that your colleagues had brought. you looked out the window and watched the wind blow the leafs off of the trees. throwing a piece of the tangerine in your mouth, you chewed on the fruit and accidentally allowed a little bit of the juice to slip through your throat, making you cough lightly.

“careful.”

you turned your head from the window to the door that was opened by fushiguro himself. you looked uninterested at him and threw your hand in the air, as if to wave at him.

“don’t want you dying on a tangerine”, he said, genuinely worried.

“dude, it’s just tangerine juice. how wrong could that have gone?”, you asked, turning your gaze back to the window.

you weren’t really paying attention to the trees anymore, only because the old couple that was sitting on a bench seemed a little bit more interesting. it looked like they were having exciting conversation. the woman was waving her hands and had a smile on her face while the man was looking at her with admiration.

“yes, it was also just a mission but look at you now”, he said, walking to the window and closing the curtains, blocking the sunlight which had unknowingly blinded you. he hadn’t noticed you looking outside so when he closed the curtains you turned your gaze to fushiguro. 

“did you really just compare a deadly mission to a tangerine?”, you asked, raising an eyebrow.

he let out a sigh, earning a chuckle from you. he had been here visiting you almost every day. you weren’t sure why he did, but after your investigation you figured he did it out of guilt. out of guilt of not being able to protect you. he felt like making it up to you. you could be wrong, but this seemed like the most possible explanation.

he sat down on the chair next to your bed and took the fruit basket. slowly he peeled the apple that he took out of there and sliced them into even pieces. 

“you liked apples right?”, he asked. but he already knew the answer so responding didn’t seem necessary. not that he was expecting you to.

he placed the plate on your lap and gave you a toothpick to eat it with. with a small thank you, you ate the apples while he washed the knife.

“what did the doctors say? did they check up on you today?”, he asked as he sat back down on his original spot.

you nodded. “they said I'm doing much better. they said that I might even be able to leave earlier than expected”, you said happily as you chewed on the apple.

“maybe they should keep you in for the originally planned time. you know, just to be sure. don’t want no unexpected incidents to happen”, he said the last in a whisper and dropped his head. 

“megumi”, you said, his gaze turning back to you. “why are you so concerned about this? it was just a mission that went wrong. it happens all the time, nothing new. don’t beat yourself up just because you couldn’t protect me on time. I mean in the end you were there. if you weren’t, who knew where I would be now. I'm doing fine, don’t worry”, you said, waving your hands to show you were doing fine.

but you weren’t totally honest with him. even though you were doing better, you still had taken a lot of damage. that being the reason why you were in a lot of pain. you were still as good as paralyzed on both legs. you were hurting, but telling him that might not be the best option.

“yeah, but me not being able to help in time is the reason why you are now paralyzed in bed for the past two weeks”, he said, looking seriously hurt.

“you can be so dramatic sometimes”, you said, rolling your eyes playfully as an attempt to reassure him. “I am a recovery beast”, you said, pursing your lips and doing a bicep pose, showing off your muscles.

a breathy laugh escaped his lips and for the first time in a while he had a genuine smile on his face. the laughter soon died down, but a small smile was still formed on his face.

“you know, that was the first smile I've seen on you ever since I woke up after the incident. megumi we’re 18. we just graduated and stuff like this is supposed to happen on our first real missions as high school graduates in order for us to grow stronger. I bet that when I'm healed I'll be even stronger than I was before”, you said. “plus-”, you said, pulling the covers so that your toes were visible and you wiggled them, “- I can move my toes again.”

a smile of relief formed on his face. it wasn’t enough to reassure him, but enough to make him smile. “I'm happy at least one of us is taking this situation positively”, he said.

“you are such a drama queen”, you snorted. “tell me megumi, what would you do if I actually died.”

his face turned all serious and he thought for a moment. “I don’t like thinking about that, but-”, he said, standing up and walking to the window to look behind the curtains. probably to just think with out having to be distracted by you, “I'd probably stop being a sorcerer.”

“that’s shocking coming from someone that adores his job”, you said with a chuckle. “you like me that much, huh”, you said in a joking way.

he was silent for a minute, before turning his head in your direction. he stared straight into your eyes, but still didn’t say a word. he was chewing the inside of his mouth and thought of the right words to say. but nothing seemed good enough to be said with words.

“say, megumi. why do you help me this much? is it really all because of guilt or is there something more to it”, you genuinely asked. because there was this feeling inside of you that needed a mutual answer. 

as if making up his mind he looked at you with a confident look. “because I like you. and even if you don’t share the same feelings, I won’t stop caring for you. I want you and I'll do my best to prove that to you. I'll prove that I am worth it.”

“who said I didn’t”, you said in a serious tone. “who said I didn’t like you.”

it wasn’t a sight you were used to see, but seeing megumi turn his head slightly to the side and seeing the redness form on his skin made you blush yourself. he wasn’t the one who’s emotions you could read easily, so when stuff like this happened you just felt a warmness inside of you. something that told you that he was comfortable enough to show this side of him to you.

“don’t say stuff like this, I might get the wrong idea”, he said in a low voice, still hiding his face.

“maybe that’s what I was hoping for”, you said. you scooted to the side, making just enough space to fit another person. “wanna join in?”

how could he even possibly say no to such a request? so without a word he made his way to sit next to you, taking off his shoes before sitting on the bed. he sat down next to you, under the covers. he had this slight awkward pose, but when you scooted closer to him you felt him relax next to you.

you rested your head against his shoulder. “you know, megumi. I enjoy being with you. I'm not sure how you do it, but you just make me feel safe. even if you think otherwise, I do feel a sense of safety. so if it’s not too much to ask. could you stay by my side until I’m recovered? will you be here until I can finally stand on my own?”

“I'll stay with you even after that”, he said resting his head on yours. “I don’t plan on going anywhere else.” he had said the last in a whisper.

“good”, you said while closing your eyes. you felt drowsy and without hesitation you let sleep take over you. “thank you.”

“anytime”, he said while pulling the cover more over your body. “rest well.”

you didn’t have the energy to respond to that, but it didn’t really matter. the way you let your body completely fall on his was enough for him to understand that you had already fallen asleep. but the warm kiss he planted on your head was the real reason why you completely gave your body to slumber. because his touch was comforting to you.

that's how you woke up to him holding you tightly against his chest while he was asleep. a smile creeped on your face. this was probably the most amount of sleep he had gotten in days, so waking him up now was not something you planned to do. instead you pressed your face to his chest. his scent filling your nose as it calmed you down. falling asleep like this wasn’t bad at all. and just before sleep could fully take you over, you felt his embrace tighten around you, as if to show that he was there for you and that he was planning to stay, because that was his main goal. to protect you and for you to be able to protect him.

[unchartedwcters]

{zión moreno, 21, trans woman, she/her/hers} || yazmín navarro montes is a mutant with the ability of hydrokinesis (water manipulation). they’ve been in new york for eight and a half years where they spend most of their time as student attending xavier’s/unwilling omega. when i think of them, i think of words and pictures carved into desks, a pool of water’s wobbly reflection, necklace chains tangled in hair, and fast footsteps following the sound of a schoolbell.

UNCLASSIFIED 

SECRET

yazmín navarro montes was the apple of her parents’ eye. despite being the middle child of three children, she didn’t linger in the background or have to fight for attention. her mother and father always had plenty of time and love for her, no matter what. they let her express herself however she wanted. because of that, she would, soon enough, realize she was trans. her parents accepted her wholeheartedly, as did the rest of her family, embracing and supporting her. they even moved churches the moment the one they attended attempted to disapprove. their new and lifelong one would be loving and kind, and yazmín would see it as her second home for a long time. 

unlike most kids, yaz didn’t bemoan going to church, praying, or all the time spent there that other children would say is ‘wasted’. she herself felt close to god, as if he smiled on her and her family. the cross her grandparents had given her on her fifth birthday almost never left her neck. her sister teased her for how much of a “kiss-ass” for god she could be, but it didn’t shake how yaz felt. when she was within the walls of the church, it was as if a wave of energy would fill her bones. it was magical. 

schooling proved to be more of a challenge, as she found herself easily bored. that was until she got a taste for science, chemistry specifically. she dove head first in, eager to read, learn, and watch whatever she could get her hands on. there were more than a few times they had to air out the house when one of yaz’s experiments went awry. most of those incidents could be explained away easily, but there were one or two her parents always wondered about. it was as if yazmín would have access to chemicals or tools that she’d have no way to get. they’d soon find others who shared in their concerns. 

much like any tween about to become a teen, yaz would have spouts of moodiness. she filed in behind her sister in one of those moods, irritated by everything and anything, even the surge of energy she got entering the church. as they sat down, the priest came down the aisle to bless them all with holy water. it was a routine he liked to do every first sunday of the month. yazmín rolled her eyes as he passed their row, unhappy her outfit would get stained. that was all it took. the water never touched her, standing still as her eyes met the ceiling, before sprinkling to the floor in front of her feet. she didn’t notice at all, nor did her family. 

but the priest did. 

he didn’t want to believe it. right before his eyes, the water meant to bless a devoted child of god had repelled itself from her. he even tried to bless her again, yet the same thing happened. 

to yazmín, nothing had happened. it worried the priest even more. at first, he did nothing with this information, unsure of what to do. as time passed, more odd instances happened around her. she took her brother to the park, and the park’s sprinklers rose but no water came out. once they left, water exploded from each opening. her mother would notice she’d come home bone dry despite a spring shower outside. every once in awhile the faucets in the house would only run warm right away despite the winter biting at people’s heels outside. 

it’s six months what the priest witnessed when he came to her parents. he explained his concerns, and they were distraught. mutants were becoming a more well known entity in the last decade, but many churches had found themselves distrusting. they thought, instead of a scientific explanation, the manifestation of powers was evidence of demons or the devil itself. people who showed signs of these abilities had to be saved for the sake of themselves and others. 

when yazmín came home from school that day, she was met by all three of them and a priest she didn’t know. her sister was away at college and her brother had been sent to stay with their grandparents. it was an unsettling silence that would last for two years. 

that evening yazmín went through her first exorcism. they didn’t explain why or what she had down. it scared her, despite how little they did. the way her parents looked at her, how the priest flinched under gaze, she couldn’t understand what she had done wrong. it took the third exorcism for her to find out what it was. holy water sprinkled on her, until it suddenly halted in the air. she stared at it, eyes wide, before turning her head and the droplets hit the exorcist right in the face. 

“the hold the demon has on her grows stronger,” the man gravely spoke. 

it finally dawned on her. she tried to defend herself, tell them she wasn’t doing it on purpose, that she hadn’t done it at all. she would know if she were possessed, and she wasn’t. she cried, shouted, but no one listened. none of it worked. her parents were desperate to save their daughter, and the priests wanted to save her soul. 

the exorcisms continued, increasing in their length and intensity. days blurred together, prayers ringing in her ears and her hope for a light at the end of the tunnel growing smaller and smaller. her father would cry out, “please save my little girl! please bring her back!” 

“i’m still here, papa,” yazmín sobbed. “i never left!” but after awhile, even that didn’t sound true. 

somedays she’d fight back, although unintentional. her hands curling into fists would freeze the pipes, a glare could boil a drink, a missed kick would bring a wave of water over from their neighbor’s pool. each time they grew more convinced of her possession, while yazmín realized she wasn’t without options. she made a few attempts to run away, only to fail because she was only thirteen. 

then, quite suddenly, that daily routine came to an end. it all started with the newest exorcist coming in, and wondering aloud if there was any saving her. her mother had gasped, and father looked ready to cry. he and the other priests went to another room, and came back with a new plan. they would take her out of this environment, to somewhere no demon could survive. it could take months, years to return, if she ever did. it was their last resort. 

yazmín didn’t give her parents a chance to answer. “i’m not leaving my home!” 

“now, young lady, that isn’t-” 

“i didn’t do anything wrong!” her cry shook the house, the pool next door sloshed, and the dam holding back the river above the down cracked ever so slightly. 

“baby, please--” her mother tried to calm her, but yaz shook her head, tears already on her face. 

“i’m-” the sink heads burst off. “not-” cracks filled the area around the pool, “leaving.” every pipe in the house ruptured, breaking the drywall apart with the force of the water coming out. 

a similar scene took place in other houses, backyards flooded other backyards, and the crack of the dam grew longer. 

“she must be stopped!” the priest cried out, unsheathing a dagger from beneath his robes and headed toward yazmín, quickly. “or else she will take us all!” 

there were screams and yells all around her. time slowed down. yaz watched each muscle of his body raise the dagger towards her, and she grabbed for anything to help her. water interlinks with her finger and forms a sharp knife of its own. his dagger dragged over a centimeter of her neck, and the pain woke her up. she used the weapon in hand and stabbed it through his body. 

metal clattered to the floor with a thud of a body. everyone was staring at her. within moments, yaz passed out. 

the next few months of her life would be hard to account for. the government had gotten involved, as did charles xavier. her meltdown had brought their town a lot of attention, along with questions. no one found out that she caused it. authorities wished to keep her with them, but charles had somehow convinced them to let her attend xavier’s. later, yaz would find it ironic her attempt to stay home would send her away anyways. 

things were hard for awhile, but she grew accustomed to her new life. she even enjoyed it, being around people like her and free to use those powers without consequence. nearly a decade later, the year of exorcisms was becoming a distant memory. but the government hadn’t forgotten about her. 

someone powerful enough to nearly sink an entire town at thirteen, who could surly do even worse now, was not easily filed away by those in charge. they had contacted professor xavier in the beginning stages of the omega project, then reached out to her. they offered her a deal: a complete wipe of her record in exchange for her participation. yazmín hated them for it. they made her an offer she couldn’t refuse, and she accepted it with gritted teeth. 

now, yazmin is moved out of the comfort of xavier’s and lives in a cold compound with strangers she prefers to keep at arms length. her life is a whirlwind again, and she’s not sure when it’ll stop this time, if it ever will. 

[teenwolffanclub-me]

Season 1, Episode 3: Pack Mentality

Hey there beautiful reader! If you’re new here, this is a series I’m writing where each chapter is an episode from the first season of Teen Wolf. If you’ve been here before, hey! I missed you! Previous and future chapters are linked at the end of each part if you want to catch up.

Pairing: Stiles x Psychic! Reader (eventually)

P.S. Derek is *ominous* and Scott is a dumbass.

                                                            ----------

“I don’t know, it just feels like something is off.” Allison groaned from beside me. 

Lydia, who was heading to lunch with us on my other side, rolled her eyes. I couldn’t really blame her. Allison had been complaining about Scott’s odd behavior this morning for the past five minutes. Apparently, he was avoiding her. 

It’d been exactly one week since my weird encounter with Scott and Stiles last Friday. I hadn’t spoken to either of them since. Stiles had tried cornering me in the halls on several occasions, but I managed to get away each time. I honestly wanted nothing to do with them or their supernatural problems. 

I just wanted to be normal for once. 

So imagine my horror when Lydia went straight for their table in the cafeteria. Allison looked all too happy for another chance to talk to Scott, but I just stood frozen in place. 

I knew it wouldn’t be possible to avoid them forever—Beacon Hills isn’t a huge town—but I wasn’t ready to confront them again yet. As I finally approached the table after everyone else, the two boys stared at me before sharing a long look. 

Well, that can’t mean anything good. 

“Why are they sitting with us?” Stiles leaned across the table to ask Scott, who just shrugged, as we all sat down. Man, someone needs to teach this guy how to whisper. 

Scott ended up sandwiched between Lydia and Allison. Danny plopped down beside Stiles and Jackson took the chair at the head of the table. The only option left for me was on Stiles’ other side, so I begrudgingly sat there. I felt his eyes on me but did my best to ignore it. 

“So, I hear they’re saying it was some type of animal attack. Probably a cougar?” Danny played with his apple and leaned his elbows on the table. 

I assumed he was talking about the poor man who’d been brutally attacked in one of the school busses overnight. There were enough rumors going around school to host an entire newscast, but no one really knew anything for sure. 

“I heard mountain lion.” Jackson corrected. 

“A cougar is a mountain lion.” Lydia muttered, seemingly embarrassed to know that fact. She constantly downplayed her intelligence, but I knew she was practically a genius. 

Jackson furrowed his brows at her in annoyance. “Who cares? The guy was probably just some homeless tweaker who was gonna die anyway.” 

Stiles put down his half peeled orange and fished his phone from his back pocket. Within seconds he had a news article about the incident pulled up. 

“Actually, I just found out who it is. Check it out.” He put his phone in the middle of the table so everyone could see.

I had to lean forward to get a glimpse of the small screen, which had my shoulder just a couple inches shy of resting on Stiles’ arm. I chewed on my bottom lip as I felt the warmth from his body. He let out a quick huff and stiffened beside me, so I took that as a sign to back away. My cheeks grew hot as I leaned back into my chair and avoided his wandering gaze. 

The video he played stated that the victim was a bus driver for the district. Stiles and Scott shared a wide-eyed look that told me there was more to the story before Lydia changed the subject to a double date she wanted Allison and Scott to go on tonight. 

They both looked uncomfortable with the idea, but eventually agreed, even after Jackson said it would be more fun to stab himself in the face with his fork than hangout with Scott. A little dramatic, if you ask me. But whatever. I was just glad I wouldn’t have to sit through it with them.

Lunch ended shortly after, and everyone dissipated quickly. I had plans to meet Allison at our lockers after school so she could drive me home in her new car, but I wouldn’t see any of my friends until then. 

I collected my things and stood to leave, but stopped when a hand wrapped around my bicep. 

“Not so fast.” It was Stiles. He looked from side to side before leaning only a few inches away and once again failing at whispering. “Have you told them?” 

“Told who what?” I decided to play dumb and he cocked his head at me in annoyance. 

“Come on, Y/N. You know what I mean. The wolfy stuff?” He waved his free hand around as he talked. 

“Look, I don’t want anything to do with you, Scott, or the supernatural.” I tried to make that sound believable. It wasn’t that I was lying. Its’s just, without all the weird things going on, I would love to be both his and Scott’s friends. I just couldn’t risk getting involved in this kind of thing.

His eyes twitched at me and I sighed. “I don’t plan on telling anyone.” 

“Okay. Good. Because Derek and Scott? They can’t afford...” 

Out of nowhere, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over me. Stiles’ voice faded away until all I could hear was a low ringing in my ears. The ground tilted beneath me and I stumbled to the side, growing faint. Stiles’ eyes widened and he pulled me upright with the hand that was still holding onto me. 

I could see his lips moving, but no sound reached my ears. It was like his words had somehow triggered an episode. I closed my eyes tightly but instantly regretted that decision as images flashed through my mind quickly. It was Scott, fighting someone. Or something. He was in a dilapidated building that looked like it was going to crumble to the ground any second.

After a moment I realized it was the Hale house, and the monster he was fighting was Derek. He looked different. Almost animalistic. Like...a wolf. 

I gasped myself out of the vision, and Stiles’ panicked voice filled my ears in a rush.

“What is that? What are you doing? Are you having a stroke or something?”

I tried to catch my breath and piece together everything I’d just seen. Whatever it was, I gathered that Scott would be in serious danger if he came anywhere near Derek today. I hesitated, not wanting to sound crazy, but then remembered Stiles had just seen that whole thing. 

“You can’t let Scott go to Derek’s tonight.” I sounded way more worried than I’d meant to as I hurried to get the words out.

“Derek?” Stiles’ thin brows pinched in question. “We had him arrested a few days ago.” 

I blinked, surprised. I knew he was in jail, because I’d heard the Sheriff talking in the hall this morning about his upcoming release. But I had no idea Scott and Stiles were to blame. That might explain why Derek would want to kill Scott...

“You didn’t hear? He was released this morning. They determined the animal that attacked the bus driver was a...” I trailed off, my eyes growing wide as I put the pieces together. “Wolf.”

Stiles’ face mirrored the horror I felt inside as he finally let go of my arm and stumbled back a few steps. “Yeah. We’re dead.”

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

I fidgeted with my hands in my lap as I sat on Allison’s bed. She and Lydia were picking out what they wanted to wear for their double date tonight, but I could hardly focus on a word they were saying.

My stomach was in knots and my anxiety was only rising with each passing minute. I didn’t even know Scott well, but the thought of him being killed by Derek was still unsettling. I’d already figured out that Derek is a werewolf. And most likely a murderer.

The police and hospital staff determined that a wolf killed the bus driver, but there haven’t been any wolf sightings in Beacon Hills for nearly sixty years. 

Yes, I looked it up.

All signs pointed to Derek, and I could feel that my earlier vision was getting progressively closer to coming true. I had no idea how, but if my jitters were any indication, nothing good was coming. 

“Y/N?” I snapped back into the present at the sound of Lydia’s voice. 

I looked up from my hands to see that both of them were staring at me expectantly. 

“Um.” I cleared my throat. “What?” 

Lydia rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “I said, Allison’s taste is dwindling by the minute. Don't you agree? Come take a look.”

I hesitantly joined them at her closet and flicked through her clothes. They weren't terrible by any means. Definitely not mine or Lydia’s style, but they didn't have to be. I found a black shirt with glittering sequins on the front and pulled it free. 

“What about this?”

Lydia hummed and watched Allison hold it up after she’d taken it from me. 

Just then, Allison’s bedroom door popped open gently. Her dad walked in with a pleasant smile on his lips. He was pulling his arms through a green jacket that complimented his red flannel shirt, but stopped with one arm still free. 

His eyes traveled over the three of us. “Sorry, I forgot to knock.” 

Lydia threw herself on the bed and landed with one arm propped beneath her head and the other on her hip. What the hell was she doing and why was she making that seductive face? “Hey, Mr. Argent.”

Allison tucked her hair behind her ears and dropped the shirt beside Lydia. “Dad. Did you need something?”

Her demeanor had instantly changed the second he walked in. I knew they had a good relationship for the most part, but she clearly didn’t approve of him being in here right now. 

“I wanted to tell you that you’re staying in tonight.” He continued putting on his jacket casually, as if he didn’t just ruin her plans.

“What? I’m going out with my friends tonight.” Her eyes widened in shock at his words. 

I suddenly felt out of place. The last thing I wanted to listen to was one of my friends fighting with their parents. It just was plain awkward. Lydia sat up on the bed and I could’ve sworn I saw a little disappointed frown pull at her lips. 

“Not while some animal is out there attacking people.” He shook his head like he couldn’t believe that Allison wanted to leave the house at all. 

I mean, he had a point. There was a psycho killer out there. They just didn’t know that it also happened to be a mythical creature. And a brooding recluse in leather.

“Dad! I... I’m—” Allison raised her voice and threw her arms down in frustration. 

“Hey, hey.” Her dad interrupted with a stern look. “It’s out of my hands. There’s a curfew. No one’s allowed out past nine thirty.”

I had actually forgotten about that. It was pretty dumb, really. It wasn’t like an animal would look at the clock and say, “Oh, crap. It’s not nine thirty yet. Can’t attack anyone for ten more minutes.”

Allison’s dad turned to leave and she huffed. Looks like they’ll have to find another way to go on their date. 

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

It was nearly midnight now, and I hadn’t heard any grief filled screaming from next door, so I figured Scott was okay. The car in the driveway let me know that his mom was home and I took that as another good sign. He probably was too. I needed to stop freaking out. 

I was home alone, which didn’t help. There wouldn’t be anyone here to distract me from my mounting anxiety until five in the morning, when mom got off of work. To pass the time, I put on a random trash reality show and laid mindlessly on the couch.

I didn’t want to think right now. I wanted a distraction from the craziness that was ensuing all around me, and TV was always reliable.

I nearly had a heart attack when someone began aggressively banging on the front door. It wasn’t even close to normal knocking. No, it was I’m being chased by an axe murderer and you need to let me in right now before I’m decapitated kind of hammering.

I jumped to my feet and jogged to the door to see who it was, afraid something was wrong. I pressed my eye to the peep hole and frowned in confusion, the wood vibrating beneath my fingers. The incessant pounding continued up until the very moment I swung the door open.

I stared expectantly at the boy in front of me, who still had his right hand raised as if he were going to continue trying to wake up the whole damn neighborhood.

“Scott’s not home.” Stiles somehow managed to be out of breath from the short walk between our houses.

A few tense beats of silence passed between us as I waited for him to continue. When it was clear that he wasn’t going to, I prodded. “And?”

“And that’s bad. Very very bad.”

I let my eyes sweep over him, half convinced that he was drunk or something. He wasn’t making any sense. For starters, why would I care if Scott is home or not? And why was he in such a frenzy over it? It looked like he’d jumped out of bed and ran straight here. He was only wearing a pair of dark wash jeans and a grey t-shirt with a skull on it, so I knew he hadn’t taken his time in getting ready. If he had, he’d be wearing at least two other layers. 

“I already checked Allison’s. His mom thought he was still on the date. He isn’t answering any of my texts.” Stiles was rambling, clearly very worked up.

I moved to pull my phone out of my back pocket. “I’ll just call Allison, I’m sure she knows where—”

“No!” Stiles slapped it out of my hand and I watched as it clattered onto the concrete a few feet away.

My jaw dropped in shock and his eyes widened as if realizing what he just did. He stood frozen for a moment before scooping it up and shoving it into the pocket of his jacket.

“Are you crazy? Give that back.” I took a small step outside, but didn’t go far. I still wasn't wearing any shoes. 

He shook his head quickly. “He has to be at Derek’s. You’re coming with me.” 

“Okay, now I know you’re crazy.” I let out a humorless laugh but grew serious again when he just stared at me with his wide caramel eyes. “Why would I come with you?”

“All I have is my Jeep and a baseball bat, but I need to make sure he’s okay. I’m slightly terrified. And I have your phone.”

I frowned. So he was holding it hostage now. There was no way I would ever willingly set foot on that property again. The last time I was there, I saw half of a dead body. I did not want to see the other half. Or a new dead body, like Scott’s.

There was absolutely no way.

                                                 ——————

The Jeep skidded to a stop outside the Hale house. It was so abrupt that I whipped forward in the passenger seat, my face just barely missing the dashboard due to my seatbelt.

Stiles sent me a sheepish, lopsided smile before bolting from the car. I rolled my eyes up to the sky and sighed. I was so going to regret this.

I jumped out and followed him to the front door, noticing that Scott’s bike was laying beside the porch. I silently pointed at it and Stiles stiffened as he stood with one hand on the door. That wasn’t exactly a good sign.

Suddenly, Scott’s voice echoed from inside.

“Derek! I know you’re here. I know what you did!” He sounded frantic.

Stiles immediately ran into the house and I had no choice but to follow. Scott whipped around at the sound of the door slamming open. His wide eyes moved from Stiles to me in confusion.

“I didn't do anything.” Derek’s disembodied voice drifted from somewhere upstairs.

Seemingly forgetting about our existence, Scott turned back to the wide staircase in front of him.

“You killed him!” He called upward.

He must be talking about the bus driver. It was only logical that Derek was the murderer, but why Scott thought it was a good idea to confront him about it, I had no idea. He must have a death wish. My heart started hammering in my chest. I didn’t want to be anywhere near the guy. 

“He died...” Derek responded, sounding as ominous as ever.

Scott took the first step. “Like your sister died?”

His sister?

“My sister was missing.” His voice raised a little in anger. He was still nowhere to be seen. “I came here looking for her.”

“Well, you found her.” Scott continued moving up the stairs slowly, looking for Derek with each movement.

“I found her in pieces! Being used as bait to catch me!” His voice echoed throughout the entire house now as he grew louder. Scott was pissing him off, which was quite possibly the dumbest thing I’d ever witnessed.

Oh, shit. The body in the yard was his sister. My blood ran cold. What kind of sick bastard kills their own family? Being here was such a bad idea. 

Scott was at the top of the stairs now, turning in circles slowly. “I think you killed them both, and I’m going to tell everyone. Starting with the sheriff.”

Stiles stiffened beside me at the mention of his father. I didn’t blame him. He may be the sheriff, but that didn't exactly qualify him to investigate supernatural murders. I saw a shadow shift upstairs and my heart plummeted into my stomach.  

“Watch out!” I called, but it was too late.

Derek appeared from the darkness and shoved Scott down the stairs violently. I gasped and covered my mouth as he tumbled down like a rag doll. Derek just stood at the top, watching. Stiles jerked into motion, running to his side as he lay crumbled on the hardwood floors.

Scott pushed himself up to his knees and groaned. Then, he lifted his head and growled loudly at Stiles. His eyes widened in fear and he stumbled back, falling on his ass. He scrambled away as fast as he could, rejoining my side.

All I could do was stare with wide eyes, my jaw almost hitting the floor. Scott looked half animal, half human. His eyes were glowing bright yellow, his brow was thicker, his ears were pointy, and he had deadly long canines. His fingernails had been replaced by lethal claws. He was in full werewolf mode.

Derek jumped down the entire staircase in one fluid motion. When he landed gracefully on his feet, Stiles gripped my arms and tugged me backwards. I stumbled into him, my back hitting his chest, but I was too shocked by the sight before me to move away. We ducked down beside the staircase. 

The two werewolves stared at each other for a long moment before Scott clutched the lapels of Derek’s jacket and threw him into the air. I couldn’t help but gasp as he went flying through a nearby wall. Scott was strong as hell, which would be cool in any other situation, but right now it was kind of terrifying. The house fell into silence as Derek collected himself in the other room.

“Get out of here.” Scott growled in our direction, his voice thick and guttural.

He didn’t need to tell me twice. I was about to do just that, when Derek came striding back into the foyer. I froze in a half crouched position until Stiles pulled me back down against him. If we weren't in danger right now, I would've blushed at our close proximity. My back was pressed to his chest again, and he had a hand clasped around one of my shoulders to hold me in place. 

“That was cute.” Derek slowly removed his leather jacket and discarded it on the floor. 

Oh, God. That couldn't be good. 

The two beasts growled at each other while walking in circles before Derek suddenly lifted Scott by the shoulders and slammed him back into a wall right in front of where we hid. Stiles let go of my shoulder to grip one of my hands tightly as we stumbled up the stairs, having nowhere else to go.

Derek looked utterly petrifying. He was way bigger than Scott, and clearly stronger. He was pretty much handing him his ass in this fight already, but it looked like he was holding back at the same time. I didn’t doubt for a second that he could easily end it at any moment.

He landed punch after punch, and all Stiles and I could do was watch. At that moment, I realized he hadn’t even brought his bat inside. We were utterly useless.

It seemed to go on forever. Scott landed some punches, but it was nothing compared to the damage Derek was doing. I let out a shaky breath when I realized I’d been holding it in for several seconds. I cringed as Derek lifted Scott into the air by his neck, only to slam him down onto the floor. He repeated this action several times, until Scott was left groaning on the ground in a crumpled heap. 

Then, they both shifted back to normal. 

“I didn’t kill him.” Derek clenched his fists and took a threatening step toward Scott. “Neither of us did. It’s not your fault, and it’s not mine.”  

“This? This is all your fault! You ruined my life!” Scott, being the dumbass that he is, got in Derek’s face and yelled his frustrations. 

“No, I didn’t.” Derek insisted, raising his voice a little too. 

“You’re the one who bit me.”

“No, I’m not.” 

I shifted uncomfortably beside Stiles. It looked like the fighting was over, but that didn't make me want to be here any more. This place would give me the creeps even if there weren’t two werewolves bickering in front of me.

“This seems like a private conversation.” I muttered and popped to my feet. He spazzed out and grabbed my arms quickly. 

“Are you insane?” He forced me back down with a glare. 

“What?!” Scott suddenly shouted, and I jumped. 

“I’m not the one who bit you.” 

Scott fell back onto a nasty green couch behind him. That news had taken the air right from his lungs. He stared at the dusty floors for a long moment, processing. “There’s another...”

“Its called an alpha. It’s the most dangerous of our kind. You and I, we’re betas. This thing is more powerful, more animal, than either of us. My sister came here looking for him. Now I’m trying to find him, but I don’t think I can do it without you.” Derek was looking at Scott intensely, urging him to listen. To help him. 

I wasn't entirely sure that he was even telling the truth. It really did look like he killed that girl. His sister. Half of her was buried in his yard, for God’s sake. We didn't know him at all. Why should be just believe him?

“Why me?” Scott asked breathlessly. It seemed he was a lot more willing to go along with this. 

“Because he’s the one that bit you.” I stiffened. Didn't that mean they were somehow connected? I’d done as much reading about werewolves as possible, but there wasn't as much online as you would think.

“You’re part of his pack. It’s you, Scott. You’re the one he wants.” 

“You don't believe this, do you?” I whispered to Stiles, who shook his head solemnly. 

“Not for a second.”

Episode 2, Part Two      Episode 4

[imaginesmai]

Mob!Tom Holland - Fawn (8)

Shout out for the anon who asked me about college reader x Tom, please answer my question!

This is inspired by  Don’t play with fire , @peaceisadirtyword​. It’s an amazing Ivar fic, take a look if you have time! Previous parts  in the general summary. Click here to read the previous parts!

Plot: The options are clear now; you either tell Tom the truth and risk him hating you, or you don’t and you keep putting him in danger. And more than ever, you’re sure you want what’s best for Tom.

“Lisa, I know you’re staring” you broke the silence, not bothering to turn around and watch her pretend she hadn’t been looking. “Quit it already, please”

The photocopier beeped in the background, finishing another round of blueprints for your last project. You were still looking at them in the computer, and had been doing so for at least an hour. It was hard to focus when half of your face was throbbing constantly and you were afraid that the slightest movement would tear the stiches on your forehead. The emergency doctor said that you might find some difficulties in focusing with the concussion, and he hadn’t been wrong.

“I’m not staring” Lisa scoffed from her spot behind you. “I was just – looking over there”

“To the wall or to the empty desks?” you scoffed. “I can feel you staring. Stop”

“Well, if I was staring, which I’m not, it wouldn’t be my fault” you heard the wheeled chair moving, and Lisa appeared on your right. “You’ve cracked your head open, half of your face is black and purple, and you won’t tell me why. I have reasons”

“And I have already told you that I fell down the stairs yesterday”

The lie felt sour on your tongue, the same way as when you had said it in front of the doctor last night. The middle aged man that had been in charge of the emergency room had given you a pointed glare, but hadn’t argued when stitching your head or applying some sticky cream on your cheek.

He had ignored the tear tracks on your face and you guessed it had to do with Richard specifically asking for him when you walked past the hospital’s door. Your boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend, had sat with you out of pure fear of you saying anything, and then had left you on your house without an apology.

You had spent the whole night awake staring at the ceiling, too hurt to cry and too shocked to do anything else. You tried to say to yourself that it hadn’t been Richard’s intention, that he had only wanted to slap you – your head hitting the counter and needing ten stitches wasn’t his fault. But not even your naïve self could believe it anymore.

“I just want to help, if I can” Lisa propped up against your table, leaning her head on her elbows and looking at you. “I’m not – good at friends, and stuff. But you’re my friend, and friends help each other, right?”

“Of course we’re friends” you turned to look at her and chose to ignore the side glance she gave to the other side of your face. “But really, it was just an accident. Nothing more”

“But if you were having any problems, you would tell me, right?”

“Why do you say that?” you frowned. Lisa shuddered and looked behind you, to the big window that lead to the street. She was quiet for a while, and you remembered that Lisa was much more intelligent that people gave her credit for. “Lisa”

“I just – I’ve met guys like Richard before, and they are all the same” she shrugged again, not meeting your eyes. “They are all fancy smiles and sweet kisses until you do something they don’t like and they become, you know, who they really are”

You looked at the girl in front of you and wondered what had happened in her life to make her say that. It occurred to you that you were mildly lucky – after all, it had only been Richard. But she talked as if she had met a lot of ‘Richard’s in her life. You were dying to ask her what she meant by that, but with a quick squeeze on your shoulder and a sad smile, she wheeled the chair back to her place and started typing in the computer. There were other two girls and a boy on the studio, all of them unaware of your conversation; just two people who had started hanging out together lately.

None of them had asked for your face, and that meant that Lisa was far away from the idea you first had of her. You turned back to your work with a small, painful smile. If something good had come out of Richard, it was your friendship with her.

Your mind went on her own accord to the other good thing, to Tom. You hadn’t talked to him since yesterday, and you really hoped not running into him any times soon. One thing was the small bruise you had had on your cheek because of the incident with Claudio, and the other was your face because of Richard. And if he had shot coldblooded to those men, you didn’t want to know what would happen to Richard.

Or more like, you didn’t want to know what would happen to you once he found out the whole truth. The poor excuse about not really doing it willingly or not giving information was becoming old, and the more time it went by, the more guilty you felt.

You were brought out of your thoughts when your phone vibrated in your desk, the screen lighted up. Your breath picked up when a message appeared, afraid it was Richard. But then you picked up the phone and saw the message.

Tom H  [10:13]: Hey fawn

Your mouth fell open when you opened the conversation and saw Tom’s contact staring back at you. His photo was some weird selfie with that blonde bartender, Harrison, you had met the first night, although you couldn’t see them right. Still in a haze, you clicked on the contact info and started at the photo. Tom Holland wasn’t the scary mobster that had shot men without blinking, but a boy with squeezed eyes, a big smile and with a cap backwards, leaning on Harrison’s shoulder.

You went back to the conversation and saw that Tom had sent himself a message when you had given him your phone; not that you had had time to think about it.

Tom H [10:13]: Hope you’re not mad? Cause I’m freaking like a teenager whose crush hasn’t texted him after a fight

You snorted a laugh and quickly covered it with your hand, not wanting anyone in your business. Lisa had gone to the other side of the room to make a phone call, and one of the girls was attending someone. Not seeing any risks, you made yourself comfortable and took the phone with both of your hands.

Y/N [10:13]: should I be?

Tom H [10:14]: Is that a tricky question? I’m not good at this things

Y/N [10:14]: no, I’m not mad 😂

Y/N [10:14]: shouldn’t you be doing something mobsty? Like stealing candies from little kids

Tom H [10:14]: I’m the type of guy who gives them, sorry to disappoint

Tom H  [10:14]: omg that sounded so bad

Tom H [10:14]: How do you delete a message

Y/N [10:14]: too late, I’m reporting it to the police

Y/N [10:14]: if any FBI agent is reading this pls arrest him

Tom H [10:15]: Wouldn’t you like to see me in handcuffs, fawn

You bit your lip as you thought of an answer, momentarily forgetting the throbbing of your face. It was easy, when all that occupied your mind was Tom. Tom, and his cheeky smile that you could almost see through the phone. Tom, and his intoxicating smell that you could never get tired of. Tom, and the warm fuzzy feeling you got whenever you were with him.

Conversation flowed quickly easily between the two of you, with lots of teasing, jokes and smiles. It helped you to forget about Richard, as it always happened when you were with him. Each message that Tom sent you made you reaffirm in your decision of the previous night; you had to cut off any kind of contact with Richard, had to keep him as far away as you could from you, and maybe ask Tom if he would like to catch coffee with you.

The last part, in some way, made your whole day.

-

Lisa had made her way to you once more, that time much more less discreet. On your lunch break, which you had almost missed talking to Tom and not doing any work at all, she had occupied your desk at the café on the other side of the street. It had been the only free desk, so with a resigned sigh that showed that you didn’t want to, you sat by her side. Immediately, and not even looking a bit ashamed, she folded everything she had been ‘working’ on and put her laptop away on her bag. Which was an horrible bright yellow colour, and was hard to ignore from the other side of the desk.

You ordered your usual lunch package; a sandwich, an apple and a water bottle, using the discount people on your business had from proximity. She kept quiet as Rosie, the young girl who served you, asked you about your life in general. She gave your bruise a discreet glance, and you dismissed her by saying it had been your clumsy self. Rosie didn’t say anything else, and left to serve other tables after a few minutes.

Just as you were about to take the first bite of your sandwich, Lisa opened her mouth of non-ending comments.

“Who have you been texting all morning?” Lisa propped her elbows on the desk, and raised a brow. “Because I’ve never seen you so distracted before. Was it a lover I should know about? Finally dumped Richard and you didn’t tell me?”

If anything, what she said only made you feel worse. It wasn’t as if she was just telling you that she knew Richard had done it, but it still hit close home. You weren’t talking to a new lover, but to Tom. Although you didn’t know where did you stand with him, because what you felt when you were with him wasn’t the same as when you were with a friend.

You wondered what was the answer to the last question. Technically, the last words you had said to him were that you wanted to break up, and you still held your ground – you doubted you were going to change it. But that inner voice that had been your loyal friend since you met Tom told you that things with Richard weren’t over yet.

“Uh, I was just texting Tom” you shrugged. Lisa already knew that you talked with him, and that you knew she wouldn’t judge you for it.

“Which question are you answering?” she chuckled, grabbing a piece of her own pasta plate.

“You know which one, Lisa” you said, not really in the mood of her teasing.

Your relationship with Lisa had changed drastically, and one thing that you had improved was in communicating. She had adapted to your way of living and you had adapted to her outgoing behaviour. So she didn’t say anything else about it, choosing only to nod and take another bite. The café wasn’t silent at all, but all you could think were your thoughts.

You were more than aware of the gravity of the situation with Richard, and you knew that he shouldn’t have done it. That, not even counting what he made you do by going to the club, his behaviour was inexcusable. You ate your sandwich in silence, while Lisa made her occasional remark, as if she was afraid of peace. Even if you wanted to think about something else, it was hard when every bite you took made your face ache.

After you had eaten half of your sandwich and had decided that you wouldn’t have any other bite without throwing up, you made your decision. You left it on the trail and used the napkin. Lisa turned to look at you, as if she knew you were going to say something important. You looked at her briefly and then went back to tear the piece of paper in small pieces, wanting to have something in your hands while you said it.

“It was Richard” you muttered, even knowing no one could hear you. You heard Lisa leaving her fork and moving her chair closer. Her hand rested against your shoulder and she squeezed it, but you didn’t look. “I wanted to break up with him yesterday, and he got – it was as if he had gone mad. Shouting, a-and denying it. We had just had an argument. I told him that… he had gone too far, and he just, uh, backhanded me. I fell, hit my head open and he drove to the hospital in silence. Made sure I didn’t say anything and left. And… he still hasn’t said anything, has keys to my house and – I don’t know what to do”

The confession felt like a rush of fresh air, as if you had taken a weight off your chest. Lisa’s hand was still on your shoulder, probably thinking about the possibilities you had thought about the previous night. No calling the police because Richard was the chief, not running away because you had nowhere to go so that he wouldn’t find you, and no telling anyone in town because he would know. Her finger adorned with a long fake nail brushed against your skin, and you almost broke down right there.

Saying it out loud made you feel much more hopeless. Richard could be waiting for you in your living room with his slippers and pyjamas, and you couldn’t do anything. Lisa seemed to reach the same conclusion anyone without the rest of the story would have reached.

“You have to tell Tom” Lisa moved the chain again until there was no physical space between the two of you. “He’s really fond of you, and Richard can’t really do anything with the mob. He’ll –“

“I can’t, Lisa” you hitched a breath and swallowed a sob. “I can’t”

“Why? Tom will know what to do. And he hates Richard as much as I do”

You raised your eyes from the trail and looked at her. Lisa held so much hope and compassion in her eyes that you felt horrible. You felt dirty, knowing that in a way you had used her too; or Richard had. What you two had was pure, because you had seen more of what Richard wanted you to see in Lisa. You thought about the pros and cons of telling her the whole story, and you decided you had to start somewhere if you really wanted Richard out of your life.

Pushing your trail away, you started by telling her how he had talked you about the Holland’s about two months ago, the first important file he shared with you. You told her about your ‘mission’ on the club the first night, how you chickened out and Richard left. How he wasn’t afraid of screaming at you that you didn’t love him, and how you didn’t really do anything against Tom. You also told Lisa about Dom, Claudio, and the origin of the argument with Richard about the micros.

“I can’t tell him, Lisa. Even if I didn’t mean to, I basically sold him to the police” you finished, the napkin dissolved in paper dust.

“You didn’t, Y/N” Lisa talked for the first time. “That asshole played with you without you knowing, it’s no one’s fault by him. Tom will understand”

“Yeah, so I go like ‘Hey Tom, I’m sorry to ask, but could you take care of my boyfriend? Yeah, the police’s chief who beat your friend last week and who told me to spy on you’” you scoffed, your eyes stinging. “I can’t tell him, Lisa”

“Richard has slapped your head open, you have to do something” Lisa insisted. “He can’t – oh my god”

The situation was an alley without exits, and both of you knew it. Richard had made sure that your relationship was perfect from the outside, to isolate you from everyone so that if the conflict came, he was always trusted. You were about to ask Lisa if she had any other solution when you were shook violently from your right side, Lisa moving you as if you were a wool doll. It made dark spots appear on your vision, and you actually felt like throwing up the other half of the sandwich. With the emotions and the concussion, it all felt a little dizzy, but you heard Lisa talking again.

“Tom is here. Tom is – Tom is going to enter. Tom Holland – oh my god, Y/N!”

Indeed, you turned around forgetting the dizziness and you saw him scanning the café. He was receiving some weird glances from the people who walked by and recognized them, but he was focused on finding someone. And judging by the conversation you had just remembered, when he asked to get lunch with him and you joked that only if he paid, that someone was you.

The thing was that you hadn’t thought he was serious, since his question was introduced by a ‘what if’ and ended with a ‘what would you say’. But there he was, wearing a black tee with dark blue jeans, hands hidden on its pockets. You didn’t bother in staring anymore and turned around, placing a hand on your bruised face and looking to the other side. You swallowed the hiss and pretended to be leaning against it and looking to the other side.

“Don’t stare. Don’t fucking stare, Lisa” you hissed to her. “He can’t see me. Lisa, please, just look –“

“He has seen me” she whispered, barely moving her lips. “He’s wondering if he knows me from somewhere, if I look away now – hey, Tom!”

You saw her waving behind you, and then heard the bells on the door ringing. The noise at the café, that had stopped when he had been outside, came back. It sounded a little forced, and probably at least 50% percent of the tables were pretending to talk while sneaking glances at him. Panic rose to your throat because there was no way Tom believed it was just a hard hit from falling down the stairs, but you couldn’t think of anything better.

You heard every single ‘he’s coming now, he’s looking at you’ Lisa mumbled until a shadow covered what you were looking at, the corner of the desk. Tom still couldn’t see you, since you weren’t looking at him and your face was hidden in your hand. But as soon as he talked you would have to move, which was too soon for you liking.

“Hey f – Y/N” Tom greeted you as usual, although your name felt weird on his lips. Your eyes filled with tears involuntarily when you heard his voice, knowing what you had done to him without wanting to. “Lisa, right?”

“Yeah!” Lisa chuckled. “I’m – I’m Lisa. Y/N’s friend”

“And Harry’s” Tom chuckled, and you heard another chair moving. The shadow shifted and you knew he had sat beside you. “I’ve seen you with him a few times”

Lisa and Harry’s relationship was something that you didn’t talk about, by any means. You knew the girl was catching some unknown feelings for the twin, even if most of the times he was getting on her nerves. He was volatile, a prankster and didn’t take anything seriously, but Lisa liked him that way. She chuckled awkwardly and shifted on her chair. So Tom looked to the next person on the table, you, and you felt his kind eyes on your shoulder.

“Not gonna look at –“

Tom cut himself when you turned around, being done with prolonging things that were inevitable. If you had broken up with Richard before or had refused to do the stupid thing in the club, you wouldn’t be there then. So you dropped your hand to your lap and turned around to look at Tom, an attempt of a smile on your face that didn’t match the redness around your eyes.

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[ghostboybabies]

little ghost boy || [JATP Agere/CGLRE]- “Bedtime and Pink Bears” (Chapter 6)

A/N: this chapter is just- hjsiakjsaisngas. we stan a chapter full of mama!julie and baby!reggie content. We will return to our regularly scheduled cg!luke/little!reggie content in the next chapter.

-Apple

--

"No!"

"But baby-"

"No, don't wanna!"

Reggie's whining was cut off by Julie opening the studio door. Reggie sat on the piano, swinging his legs back and forth. He had his arms crossed, and a defiant look on his face. Luke stood next to him, looking to Julie for some help.

"What's going on here, hmm?" she walked forward, until she stood in front of the regressor on the piano. Reggie let his arms fall from there crossed position, avoiding her eyes by looking down.

"This Little Rockstar here doesn't like the bedtime rule very much," Luke explained.

"Just because you don't like a rule doesn't mean that you shouldn't follow them," Julie tsked, giving Reggie a look of disapproval. When Reggie glanced up and met her eyes, he looked so guilty and apologetic.

"But..but- Wanna keep playing!" he pouted.

"If you go to bed now, we can wake up super early and play tomorrow!" Luke suggested, jumping back in.

"But Alex will be home...can't play around him," Reggie argued. He was conflicted. He didn't want to go to sleep, but he also didn't want to upset his friends.

Luke went silent, not really knowing what to say. Reggie only willingly regressed when Alex wasn't there. Reggie didn't want to go to bed because he didn't know for sure the next time he'd be able to go into littlespace. It was an understandable reason.

But it was still getting late, and he wanted his baby to get a good amount of sleep.

Julie sighed, grabbing Reggie's attention back. "We will find time for you to be little tomorrow, I promise. But right now, it's bedtime, okay?"

Reggie seemed to falter, considering the option of listening to her before ultimately deciding not to. "No!" he huffed, kicking his foot out and hitting Julie's lower stomach.

"Reggie!" Luke shouted, reacting without thinking. Reggie already seemed like he felt bad, his eyes glossed over. He flinched upon hearing Luke's shouting.

Luke was shouting at him. He did something wrong.

Reggie hurt Julie.

He didn't mean to! He just got upset and needed to do something....

He didn't realize how close Julie was to him. He didn't mean to hit her when he threw his little tantrum.

"Mama! 'm sorry!" Reggie's words were hard to understand due to his baby voice and sobbing, and neither of his friends got the chance to process what he had said because they were busy worrying about him.

Reggie jumped off the piano, attacking Julie in a hug. Julie let her arms fall around him, hugging him back. "Didn't mean to hurt you!" he whimpered, squeezing her around the waist. "M' sorry..."

He continued to babble out apologetic nonsense. Julie swayed in place, holding him close. "I'm okay, darling. You don't kick hard," she chuckled, planting a kiss on his forehead. "You didn't hurt me, I promise."

"You sure?" Reggie had dissolved into a babbling, sobbing mess from a bratty toddler in just a few seconds, looking up at her with guilty eyes.

She nodded softly. Luke seemed to appear magically behind Reggie, wrapping his arms around the two of them and forcing them into a group hug. "You're okay baby. No need to cry," Luke spoke quietly, knowing that he was close enough to Reggie for him to hear his low voice.

"M' sorry for not listening! And for getting mad!" he apologized again, wiggling his way from between them once he stopped crying. He still looked upset, and like he felt terrible, but at least tears weren't running down his face. Luke and Julie separated as well, before speaking to Reggie.

"We're not upset. Some kids don't like bedtime, and some kids misbehave. It's not shocking or anything," Julie shrugged a bit, ruffling his hair. "We're just gonna have to talk about that 'misbehaving' part, so we don't have any more incidents like this."

"Not in trouble?" Reggie tilted his head. Luke shook his head quickly.

"No! You're obviously just having a little bit of an emotional moment, you got upset about having to do to bed, and I know you didn't mean to hurt anyone!" Luke exclaimed. "But..." he trailed off, sighing. Luke didn't like the idea of possibly having to punish Reggie in the future, but he had to know that he couldn't just get away with things like this all the time.

"That doesn't mean you'll get away with misbehaving all the time, okay?" he gave Reggie a stern look. Reggie nodded quickly.

"Mkay! Won't mis-...won't misbe-" he stumbled over his words, pouting and looking to Julie for help.

"Misbehave?" Julie suggested.

"Yeah! Won't to dat again, pwomise!"

The other two smiled at him fondly. Neither of them knew the likelihood of him keeping that promise and never breaking a rule, but they figured that him wanting to behave was a good thing.

After a few moments, Julie spoke again. "Will you go to bed if I let you come cuddle with me for tonight?"

"Sleep wif you?" Reggie mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. The crying must've worn him out.

"Mhm. You can cuddle one of my old stuffies," she sounded convincing enough for the little, who quickly nodded, making grabby hands towards Julie. "Give Luke a hug before we go, sweetheart."

Reggie's eyes widened, and he turned to Luke. "Almost forgot about me, huh?" Luke teased.

"No!" Reggie's voice sounded as offended and shocked as a toddler's voice possibly could, and he pouted. "Never forget chu', ever." his voice was muffled as Luke pulled him into a hug. Reggie giggled.

"Nini, Luke!" he said once pulling away.

"Goodnight, baby. Be a good boy for Julie, okay?"

Reggie gave a quick nod, assuring he'd do as such. He took Julie's outstretched hand, and let her lead the way back to the house.

--

"Mama," Reggie sleepily whined, pulling away from her hand as they entered Julie's bedroom.

Julie smiled lightly at the name, not questioning it for the time being. "What is it, Reg?" Julie shut the door behind her, watching Reggie as he shuffled through the things on her dresser. Julir didn't know what he was looking for, but he definitely seemed determined to find it.

"Make you all better!" he cheered, holding up a box of band-aids. Julie didn't know why it was there, assuming that Luke pulled them out sometime when Reggie fell or something.

Julie chuckled, "I told you, I'm not hurt!" She sat down on her bed, watching Reggie as he went on to insist that he did this.

"No, no, no. Make it better," Reggie wasn't making much sense at all, but Julie definitely thought his sleepy mumbling was amusing.

"I don't need band-aids, sweetie-" Julie cut herself off when she saw his pouty face. She stopped there. If giving her a band-aid was going to assure his toddler-like mind that she was okay, and make him feel better about the situation, then she wasn't going to stop him. One or two wasted band-aids didn't hurt anyone.

"Gotta make it better." Reggie came over to the bed, opening the box with little trouble and tipping it over on the bed.

"Wait, no-...to late." Julie watched as the entirety of the box was poured on her bed. She didn't scold him, though. It'd be a quick mess to clean up. Reggie looked confused.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked, in his little innocent voice.

"No, Reggie. You're okay." she assured.

Reggie didn't reply to that, picking up two band-aids. They were the children's ones, with cute little designs on them. He picked out a Hello Kitty one, and a disney princess one.

"Pwetty!" He giggled, pointing to Rapunzel on the princess band-aid. Julie nodded.

"Mhm, she is pretty. But hurry up, darling. It is still bedtime." She reminded.

Reggie was quick to fumble with the band-aids, lifting up Julie's shirt a little bit so that the area he had kicked was exposed. Julie held the shirt out of the way, allowing him to stick the band-aid down.

He took the other one, sticking it right on top and creating a little 'X' on her stomach. Julie was about to pull her shirt back down when Reggie leaned down and lightly kissed the 'X'.

"All better." He said.

Julie pulled him into a hug. "You're so sweet. I love you, baby." She moved to kiss his forehead softly.

"Love you too, mama. Nini time?" He questioned, lifting his head when they pulled away from each other. Julie nodded.

"Lay down, I'm gonna look for something."

Reggie followed her instructions, climbing into bed and settling himself into pillows and pulling a blanket over him. He let his eyes drift shut, bringing his thumb to his lip.

He was awaken by movement next to him, Julie climbing into the bed and laying down. Reggie noticed that the band-aids were gone, so he was able to assume that Julie cleaned them up at some point.

"Reg," Julie whispered.

"Hmm?" Reggie questioned, humming around his thumb. His eyes were barely open, and he was definitely ready to fall back asleep.

"I have a surprise for you."

"B-but.." Reggie seemed confused. "I was bad."

In Reggie's mind, surprises and gifts were for good babies, and he had broken a rule and hit Julie. Therefore, he hadn't been good.

"No," Julie shook her head. "You made a mistake and apologized for it. You're okay." She assured.

She pulled something from behind her back, pushing it into Reggie's chest. He immediately hugged it, cuddling the item close.

"It's one of my old bears, I never named it. You can name it, if you want to." She offered.

"Dis mine?" Reggie seemed a lot more awake now, holding the stuffed animal close. It was a red-furred bear, closer to a pinkish color.

"If you want it." Julie confirmed, smiling at his excitement. "But, we can name it-"

"Her!" Reggie corrected in protest.

"You can name her tomorrow. Its bedtime."

Reggie hummed, hugging the bear and settling his head into the pillow. Julie reached over to turn off the lamp, making it go dark in the room. She laid on her back, holding open her arm and letting him cuddle closer.

Reggie shuffled over to cuddle into her side, laying his head on her chest. She wrapped her arm around him.

Reggie drifted off to sleep, feeling protected by Julie's affection and her gift to him.

There were bad parts to every day, and good ones too.

Cuddling with his friends when bedtime came around was definitely one of the good parts.

[beyond-the-mirror]

Red Riding Hood and the Red Devil - Dante x Reader (200 Followers Special)

Just recently I was navigating tumblr when I realized that my current follower account was already above 200 and I was like “… whaaat?”

I want to take this chance to thank you all for your support and the positive reception of my beloved works Nocturnal Encounters and Music of the Night. Your feedback DOES MEAN A LOT to me and I want to encourage you to leave as many comments as you want so I know how to keep improving myself and my writing skills. And also thank you for reading my random, spontaneous headcanons that I know you didn’t ask for but I still provided just ‘cause.

Anyways, I dedicate this story to all of you. It will be divided in three parts and let me warn you now that part two and three will be quite spicy. 👀

WIthout further ado, let’s head into this story! 

Part Two - Part Three

……….

Part One

When your neighbors entered your bistro that morning, you definitely weren’t expecting the news they were about to deliver you.

Your grandmother was shopping at the market, going on her daily routine as always, when she suddenly collapsed in the middle of the crowd. Luckily the doctors managed to give a proper diagnosis, nothing than couldn’t be cured  normally with the proper treatment and a lot of rest. The problem laid on the advanced age of your dear grandma, her weak complexion being a potential catalyst for the illness to worsen shall she not receive extensive care and attention.

She was the only family you had left, your parents died during your teenage years and she had no other children beside your mother. Hiring a personal nurse was out of question, with the medicines already taking much of your modest income. With no other option available, if someone had to step up to this task, it had to be you.

As soon as the apple pie you had baked cooled down a bit, you packed it in your basket along several other home-cooked meals and the elixir bottles the doctors prescribed. With everything properly packed, the only thing left was waiting for the carriage to arrive.

A knock on the door signaled the coachman’s arrival. Before heading out, you quickly put on your favorite cape to protect you from the chilly air outside. You had acquired it years ago as a present from your grandma, a handmade cape colored in the most vibrant and dazzling crimson you had ever seen, only the richest roses gardened with the utmost care could compare to the beautiful garment in any way. You would always wear it during fall and winter, always making sure it never got damaged or torn. Because of it, everyone you knew in the little city you lived lovingly nicknamed you ‘Red Riding Hood’.

Thanking sincerely the short staff that worked by your side, you hugged each one of them before departing, may heaven bless them for their unconditional support during this hard time of yours. As soon as they heard the news, they immediately stepped up without question, offering their total help to keep the bistro running in your place so you could focus completely in your grandmother’s treatment. They were amazing and trustworthy people, your business was indeed in rather good hands.

With one last goodbye, you climbed onto the carriage. The plan was very simple: you would stay at your grandma’s as much as she required, only returning to the city for supplies and her prescribed elixir when needed. She lived not too far away by foot, her house being at the outskirts of the neighboring village, but considering you were carrying a basket full of food and a suitcase, going by carriage was definitely the better choice.

“Everything will be fine.” You assured yourself, grasping the front of your cape as if holding on to that sense of security.

……….

“I’m sorry Miss but we can’t keep going. The road is blocked.”

“Blocked? What happened?”

You were wondering why the carriage stopped so suddenly. As you got out, the answer laid clearly right in front of you.

A rockslide was blocking the ample road ahead and stopping all travelers from going any further. It was such an odd sight, there had been no storms or earthquakes recently for the steep to be weakened to such length. Everyone present was utterly baffled, just what exactly happened here?

“I’m afraid it will take a few weeks to fix the road.” Added the coachman, his tone full of sorrow since this incident was definitely going to affect his job. “There’s nothing we can do to keep going. We must go back.”

No. You were not going back. Your grandma needed you and there’s no way you were going back. “What about the forest? If this passage surrounds it, then by walking straight from here we should eventually make it to the road again, am I correct?”

A worried expression took over the coachman. “You are indeed correct Miss, but please don’t go there. The forest is too dangerous, many people have gone missing and the locals always warn not to enter under any circumstance.”

“You are very kind sir, but my family needs me. You don’t need to come with me.” You handed him the accorded payment for his service. “Thank you for your service, you may go back to your family now.”

The old man gulped “In that case Miss, there’s something you must know if you insist on continuing.” Reaching into his leather bag, he fished out a small compass as well as a map, which he proceeded to unroll. “According to this map, the portion of the forest you need to cross is actually quite short, which means you should be able to get out in no time as long as you walk in a straight line. Please, I beg you to take this compass with you, it has a small charm embedded on the back for protection.”

The look the man was giving made it impossible for you to refuse, not to mention that the compass would definitely come in handy. After he unloaded your stuff and climbed unto his seat, you thanked the kind man once again. “Please take care Miss. I will pray for your safe return.” With those words, he bid you farewell and returned home.

……….

Red Grave Woods was quite an enigmatic and feared forest to everyone who knew about it. It may appear silent and peaceful to those who didn’t know any better, and that misjudgment almost always lead to rather tragic consequences.

You walked in a hurry across the woods, hood over your head and never once looking back. One of your hands tightly clutched the front of your cape, once in a while letting go to briefly check the compass encapsulated within its grasp. You did your best to keep a cool mind, just like the coachman mentioned ‘the portion you need to cross is actually quite short’.

‘Just a little more. Just a little more.’ You repeated mentally over and over. It would be over soon. Sooner than you thought. However, you couldn’t help but feel as if something could happen to you at any time, you knew just how vulnerable you were by going all alone into the woods.

And the pair of glowing red eyes watching over you knew it too.

In just an instant, the temperature drastically dropped, making you stop dead in your tracks. Your heart pounded in your chest so loudly that you thought it was going to explode.

Clutching your cape and the minute compass, you whispered a short prayer to try and calm yourself down. You reminded yourself ‘Don’t turn back. Whatever you do, don’t turn back.’

“You know it’s quite rude to turn your back on someone, don’t you?”

A deep distorted masculine voice had just called you from right behind, leaving a deadly silence taking over the ominous woods. Not even the wind dared howl any longer.

You stood frozen in place, refusing to look back or even acknowledge the mysterious presence behind.

“Not to mention it is straight up an offense to trespass into another’s home without an invitation. Aren’t you quite the naughty girl?”

‘Don’t look back, (Y/N). Under any circumstance, do not look back.’

“Come on little red lady. Let me see your pretty face.” His warm breath tickled the back of your neck, sending chills down your spine. Well, whoever this creature was, you might as well face him. Whatever fate you were about to meet, at least you would do it upfront.

Very slowly did you turn. “Ahhh there she is!”

You kept your eyes closed as you faced him, until you finished gathering enough courage to finally flutter them open. Before you stood a tall anthropomorphic creature, a man covered head to toe in a dark scaly armor with a burst of red energy on the center of his chest, magma rivers traveling along the cracks between the many scales and ridges of his body. He had a set of thick red wings curled down and bellow his arms, resembling a coat of sorts. Four red horns protruded from his head backwards, accompanied by a set of short white spikes on top of his head and another bellow his chin. His blood red eyes were fixated on you, and his lips formed a smirk that revealed two rows of sharp fangs.

This demon towered over you, he could easily toy with you and crush you like an ant whenever and however he wanted, yet he simply stood there staring at your form.

“What do you want?” you inquired the beast, trying your best not to show any weakness or hint of fear.

The demon chuckled at your false bravado. “I should be the one making that question. Didn’t your parents teach you not to play in the scary woods? A big bad wolf could attack and gobble you up in one single bite, or should I say a big bad devil?”

Was he being playful? By his mocking tone you concluded that he was merely toying with you like a cat would a mouse, and oh how that infuriated you so.

“I’m afraid I do not have time to humor a stranger. I have an urgent matter to attend to, so whatever it is that you want with me you will tell me right now.”

“Oooh a feisty one.” Truth be told, he was impressed with your attitude. No wonder you had caught his eye, you were definitely entertaining him. “But sadly that won’t do you much help, oh no.”

The demon circled you, scrutinizing you with his glaring eyes. “And what is that supposed to mean?” You followed him with yours, not trusting him enough with your back towards him.

The creature hummed “This forest consumes, my little red lady. Many, many horrors have made this place their home; shadows who love preying on the innocent, especially on little innocent girls playing in the woods. Oh, how they love those in particular.”

“And let me guess. You are one of those horrors.”

His chest rumbled with laughter “Actually, this is your lucky day little one. For it turns out, I may just be the kindest demon you will ever encounter in this cruel world.” The devil gave a dramatic bow to you, his ruby eyes staring at you before giving you a charming wink.

You huffed at the devil’s strange demeanor. There was nothing trustworthy about him, but it’s not like you could run away easily. The best course of action would be indulging him in this game of his, only then perhaps you’ll find a small chance to survive.

The red devil took notice on the way you kept your basket close to you, and he wondered the reason why. A short breeze blew, and the red devil was no longer in front of you.

“Now I’m curious to know what do you keep in this thing of yours. Whatever it is, it smells delicious!” His voice was now behind you, and in his hands he held… your basket! But how? When did he-?

The demon sniffed as he held your basket to his face. He could make out the rich aroma of fruits, herbs and spices; his mouth watering at the positively delicious food inside.

“Hey! Give that back right now!” You immediately tried snatching it back, only for him to lift it beyond your arms reach thanks to his incredible height. He simply ignored your struggling form and opened the lid, and sure there were several kinds of prepared meals that looked utterly delightful. Herb-crusted pork loin, sweet apple pie, homemade pizza (his favorite human food, and with no olives! ) and… suspicious-looking purple bottles? He picked one of those with a clawed hand to examine it up close.

“Huh. What do you keep in this weird bottles eh? They smell kinda funny.”

Before he could possibly break them, you managed to snag the one he was holding. “Those are elixirs! Now unhand that basket this exact moment!”

“An elixir… What do you need this medicine for?”

He watched the way you frowned, eyes now with a hint of worry. “My grandmother… she’s terribly ill. She’s the only family I have left. I need to take care of her, otherwise she…” No. Now was not the time for tears. Show no weakness in the presence of a demon.

To your surprise, the red devil actually returned your basket, with him now knowing the reason why you were walking so hurriedly before.

“Why are you holding your tears, little one?”

By the time you realized, the mysterious creature was now kneeling before you, one of his claws gently catching a stray tear that managed to escape your eye. Despite being an entity of fire, brimstone and flames, the warmth he emitted wasn’t scorching, on the contrary, it was inviting and comforting.

“Because sitting and crying won’t make a difference, it won’t save my grandma. I must stay strong and keep moving forward.” It was hard, but you managed to keep your composure.

The red devil hummed, his chest rumbling and purring. “Let me offer you a deal then.” He got back on his feet before continuing. “I shall be your guide and guardian in this forest so you can make it to your grandma’s house unscathed and with no unsolicited attacks from the local demons. How’s that?”

You quirked an eyebrow towards him. He was willing to what now? “What? You’re giving me your protection just like that? Surely there’s something you want in return considering how cunning and deceiving your kind is.” He may seem nice, but there was no way he would offer something without expecting an exchange for another, it’s how demons were and always will be.

“And you are absolutely correct about that, little red lady, very insightful indeed. Now now, what could I possibly ask from you? Mmm…” with a finger on his lips, the creature made a show of pondering his request. A snap of his fingers signaled that he had made up his mind. “Got it! Actually it’s something really simple, but very fun.”

He came closer to you, hooking a clawed finger under your chin and tilting your head upwards so you could meet his gaze. “How about…” he leaned down, his breath fanning over your lips. “… a kiss?”

You immediately pulled away, a crimson blush bright on your cheeks and nose tip. How dare he make advances on you? And during the dire situation you were going through?

The demon simply laughed at your reaction, amused by the indignant scowl you were giving him. “C’mon little one, it’s only a tiny peck I’ll be giving you. It could be on your cheek, if you are feeling unsure about it.” Another wink from him. Was this creature for real?

“Ugh! You sly devil.” Such insolence! It seemed that this little game of his would not stop… yet you remembered what you told yourself before, the best course of action is to indulge this demon for better chances at survival. “… Fine. Just go ahead.”

His smirk evolved into a full wolfish grin and once again, he towered over you while you did your best to avoid his eyes. First he leaned down, taking his time to smell your scent. It was sweet, intoxicatingly so, with floral hints then and there. After a few seconds of silence, you felt his lips press against the flushed skin of your cheek. They were surprisingly soft and plump, staying there for what felt like an eternity. When he pulled away, you almost missed his warmth and proximity.

“There. It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Your blush deepened. No, it definitely wasn’t so bad after all.

“So. If we are about to continue together, I think it’s only fair you give me your name. I want to know who is my traveling companion this nice morning.”

This time it was you who smirked. “Only if you tell me yours first. Since I’m obviously at a disadvantage, if I give you my name now, it would only grant you even more power over me. You go first.”

“Not bad, little red lady. Not bad at all.” Oh you were incredibly smart, the oldest tricks in the demon book would definitely not work with you. He had just met you and he already liked you, his intuition was right when he witnessed you entering the forest with determination in your steps.

“You may call me Dante.” He took one of your hands, lifting it to his lips and placing a soft kiss at your knuckles. “How should I call you, little red riding hood?”

You smiled at him, this time it was a sincere genuine smile “You may call me (Y/N).”

[pipsqueakparker]

first line meme

i saw @annabellelux and a couple others tag me on this, so i’ll try to do this as well (if tumblr doesn’t destroy everything 😂) 

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line.

I’ll go ahead and put these under a cut, there’s gonna be a weird mix of smut and non-smut, so be warned (i don’t think any of the opening lines are too graphic, but fics are)

And I’ll tag @caitybuglove23, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @krisrix, @sharkmartini, @scone-lover & anyone else that wants to do this!

breaking routine 

I don’t know what’s gotten into Baz lately, but whatever it is, it’s a blessing in disguise. Or whatever the saying is.

thank you steve jobs 

“I’ve got an idea.”

Those words frequently scare me when they come out of Snow’s mouth, but somehow even more so when we’re on separate sides of the city, connected only by the small screens of our phones. My screen is mostly dark, with a flash of light or color here and there as Snow walks through his flat. He’s living with Bunce and I’m still staying at Fiona’s—it’s just easier right now, to be this way.

the one with the frogs 

We’re meant to be putting up the Christmas decorations tonight, but Baz won’t let me off the sofa. Our Christmas tree is still boxed up somewhere in the flat, mixed up with some other boxes of decorations we’ve brought in recently. And Baz is nestled into my side, both arms wrapped tightly around my middle, his nose pressed into my cheek. We were going to watch a film while we decorated, but I think he’s gotten a bit distracted.

“Enjoying yourself?” I ask, my voice soft and low. I want to turn to look at him, but I feel the tip of his nose press deeper into my cheek and find myself laughing. He gets especially soft and silly around the holidays.

twinkle 

It’s dark, nothing lighting up the night except for the sliver of moon peeking out over us. Stars twinkle among the wisps of clouds, in and out of my field of vision.

The only thing clear about tonight is the swell in my chest when I watch Simon swoop down over the treetops, wings beating powerfully as he makes a sharp turn. Thank Crowley for my heightened sight; I can make out the individual bones in those mighty wings, the way his curls get tousled by the wind, and the grin split across his face.

Simon Snow is a vision.

love’s not a competition (but we’re winning) 

Baz is on top of me, pressing me into the mattress with his entire body.

reconnecting for christmas 

I’m not a grinch, or a scrooge.

I don’t hate Christmas; I just hate all of the ridiculous expectations that come along with it. The ugly jumpers, the secret Santas, the grown adults trampling each other and trading blows over toys.

The annual holiday parties held at my university that I’m always forced to attend because my cousin is a fucking horror.

chore negotiation 

It started as a joke.

Well, mostly a joke. I hate doing the washing up after dinner; the only thing worse than the Humdrum is a sink full of dirty dishes. Every moment I spent in front of the sink felt like a special kind of torture. (Maybe that’s an exaggeration.) (But not much of one.)

scary movie 

“Let’s watch a scary movie,” Simon suggests. At seven in the morning.

His face is just inches away from mine, eyes bright like it isn’t seven in the fucking morning.

I glare at him.

And then I turn my back to him and go back to sleep.

Because it’s seven in the fucking morning.

poorly timed christmas decorations 

Someone has taken it upon themselves to decorate Mummers for the holidays.

I’m actually fairly certain it was a group of someones, and I wouldn’t be surprised to discover that my ridiculous cousin and his roommate were at the helm of the poor decisions. Niall genuinely wants to start celebrating Christmas as early as possible, but Dev just wants to create chaos.

There are lights wrapped around the railings and hung over the walls, wreaths on every door, and poinsettias on each landing. If it weren’t the middle of October it might be nice. However, it is the middle of October.

carving pumpkins 

Baz is good at a lot of things. He’s smart, fit, athletic, flexible, charming, etc. He’s an expert at nearly everything, at least that’s what he’d have you believe. It’s what he’s had me believe for the longest time. It’s part of what made me hate him so much. (Suppose that wasn’t as much hate as I thought initially, though, was it?)

Anyway, Baz is good at shit, and it’s annoying.

spooky ghosts 

I don’t know what prompted me to open my mouth as I was leaving Watford.

I don’t know what possessed him to accept such an offer.

But somehow, by the grace of either Merlin or Crowley (potentially a little of both), Simon Snow is at my family home for the winter holidays.

black cats 

Sometimes Snow can be a mad genius.

And sometimes he’s just mad.

witch hats 

It’s our next to last day — well, my last day, I suppose — at Watford.

We’ve a whole ceremony to deal with, us eighth years. It’s strange to be preparing for this without Snow or Bunce.

new candles 

Coping mechanisms are something we’ve been talking about a lot in therapy. Healthy ones and unhealthy ones.

Apparently I had a lot of unhealthy ones for a long time. I didn’t even realize until my therapist pointed them out to me, but we’re trying to replace them with healthier ones.

cinnamon spice 

Simon’s working late tonight.

He got a new job at this little bakery on the other side of town. He positively loves it, I swear he came home after his first day already best friends with the entire staff. I don’t blame them, Simon’s a delight.

warm apple cider 

“We should get lunch,” Simon says, swinging our joined hands between us as we follow a dirt path toward a picnic area.

Bunce asked us if we could find our way out of the flat today, she and the Normal wanted some alone time. I was just going to take Simon back to my flat, but Fiona decided she would be coming back early from her trip, knocking that option out. (Not that I don’t love my aunt, but sometimes it’s just easier to keep her away from Simon. For my sanity’s sake.)

We were just going to drive around for a bit, maybe find somewhere to spend some time, try to have our own day to ourselves. Simon ended up looking up events happening around and found this little autumnal festival, which is where we ended up.

fuzzy socks & a book 

Snow always teases me when I wear these socks, but they’re soft, and warm, and nice. They run up well past my ankle, about mid-calf, and they’re sherpa-lined so they’re especially insulated and soft. They also have two little vampire teeth at the top, and two little leathery black wings that stick out from the ankles.

Mordelia picked them out when she was around six or seven, Daphne was just properly tickled by them and put them into my stocking that Christmas. Several years later I’m still wearing them.

They’re nice.

take two 

We’ve not talked about the clone incident since that day.

In fact, we’ve not talked much since that day. Full stop.

We kissed until our lips were sore, until we were both gasping for breath, until the sun went down and the shadows lay over us and we fell asleep.

The next morning I woke up in his bed. He was nowhere to be found. He didn’t show up to breakfast, or lunch, or dinner. He was absent from all of our classes. I didn’t see him again for nearly two full days.

baby animals 

Baz is letting me hunt with him.

Well, not hunt with him, really. But he’s letting me go out with him. Into the woods behind his family house.

I know how hard it is for him to let me in on this part of him, the whole vampire thing. He’s trying.

(basil the) scarecrow  

Simon Snow was well into middle age now, as he carried his two youngest to bed.

[yastaghr]

Nightmare’s Gang of Wranglers 1: Setup

Brand new story here! I’m not too sure of the summary yet, so that might change. Here it is!

Summary: The Star Sanses and the Bad Sanses become closer. Set in a Wranglers (Cowboy) AU. Please help me summary.

Relationships: KillerCreamMare, Dustberry, Horrorcest, Errorink

Characters: Killer Sans, Cross Sans, Dream Sans, Nightmare Sans, Dust Sans, Underswap Sans, Horror Sans, Horror Papyrus, Farmer Sans, Error Sans, Ink Sans

Warnings by Chapter: None

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24341953/chapters/58695778

Not many outfitters can be described as ruthless, but that was the perfect word for Nightmare’s boys. His gang of wranglers had driven other companies out of business and seen farms go under in a blaze of light. They owned this mountain range. In most cases, quite literally. More than 100,000 acres in this range belonged to one or another of the gang. The rest was national park or national forest land, and therefore free range, at least with the proper permits. They had them. Whether or not they had earned them was up for debate.

With such a huge land tract available you would think there would be dozens or even hundreds of groups that roamed them. Nightmare’s gang was the only one. Occasionally a private group would venture into their territory. Never more than once. They simply didn’t allow that. Since there was only one you might reasonably assume there were a gaggle of horses. That would be wrong. This group ran less than 20 in a single train, and that included the pack mules. There were a further dozen on reserve, resting and growing strong on a rich, vast pasture. The skeleton simply known as Farmer made sure of it.

Today they were loading up the trailers for another pack trip. This one would be gone for two weeks. The gang rarely took trips this long, but the client had money and right now they were a bit… cash strapped. Nightmare had promised the Horror brothers that they would never go hungry again, and he kept his word.

That meant sometimes taking on clients that weren’t his usual handpicked bunch. Nightmare could be one of the most selective outfitters in the region. He couldn’t stand dealing with city folks who had never seen, let alone been on, a horse. No, his requirements were stringent. Unfortunately even that had earned him enough of a reputation to attract his worst fear. This client couldn’t have come at a worse time. Nightmare needed the cash to feed his boys. He couldn’t afford to be selective right now. But why did it have to be him?

Nightmare surveyed the parking lot. It was 5 am and his boys were loading up the trailers for the long haul to the trailhead. Old Classic, the trailer Nightmare had been running for ages, was being loaded up with the first five horses. Nightmare had already personally loaded up his bay pony, Razz. The gelding wasn’t his first choice, but Grape and Wine had finally grown too old for these trips. They were enjoying a well-earned retirement on the ranch, so Razz it was, despite his tendency to rush headlong into areas of uneven footing. He always seemed to come out alright, but Nightmare was an old horseman. He knew that every horse was an accident waiting to happen. He just hoped it wouldn’t be this time.

Killer’s little hellbeast was already loaded up, too. Nightmare couldn’t see what his right hand skeleton saw in the 1/2 thoroughbred bay gelding. Slim was an absolute nightmare to ride, heh heh. He required constant attention or else he would try to run a race. Nevermind that he wasn’t on the racetrack anymore. He always wanted to race. But Killer managed him effortlessly, so all Nightmare could do about him was complain.

Cross was just tying off the next two geldings. Honey, a dun gelding, was his personal horse. He was the tallest horse in the bunch at 17.3 hands. Conversely, Berry, an appaloosa, was the shortest pony at 12.3 hands. He was a guest pony, the one they usually saddled child or elderly monsters on. He was steady as a rock.

The final horse waiting to load up on Old Classic was Ghost, Dust’s grey mare. She was a sweetheart who Nightmare really should have retired already. But he’d yet to find another horse that could put up with Dust’s constant talking to his… brother… so for now Ghost had to stay.

Error, Nightmare’s newest hire, was loading up the last three true horses onto Big Red. His own black mare, Shadow, was nearly matched in colour by Classy, the second guest horse. Shadow spooked at everything. Gates, leaves, other horses, her own footsteps; everything, that is, except Error’s constant glitches, which was why she was still around. Classy was a real lady, dainty in her footing and wily as a fox. She’d sneak treats off of any bleeding heart she could. Nightmare liked to use her as a test. If the guest could manage her then they could come back. Rustle was the final horse on the trip, a pretty paint horse that was easy going and gentle as could be.

Blood and Sugar, the Horror brothers, were loading up their two mules. Pumpkin was a chestnut mare, bulky and imposing until you got to know her. Yes she could weather a hurricane and come out the other side fine, but she loved to snuggle and be groomed. Shanks, on the other hand, was a blood bay gelding that only a monster like Sugar could love. He bit, he kicked, and he was an absolute bear to the other horses. Except for Pumpkin, that is. Those two were just as much in love as their owners, Nightmare was sure. It was a little sickening how sweet that set could be, but that wasn’t exactly a problem, now, was it?

The final trailer held the pack mules and all their gear. Crown and Regal were a matched set of palominos who Nightmare had… inherited… from another outfitter. He didn’t know the stories behind their names. They certainly didn’t seem to fit the playful attitude of those two mules.

Much like Boss, when Nightmare wanted everyone’s attention, he had it. His boys paused in what they were doing and looked at him. He sighed and pulled out his lucky bandanna, a teal paisley print that he’d found after the apple incident, and wiped his neck with it.

“Well, boys, here we are again. You know the mission as well as I do. Keep the whole pack trip from going to shit. Whether or not the client enjoys it is the name of the game. We’ve done this a million times, but this time’s gonna be different. This isn’t a set of our usual clients. These are city slickers. I know you hate it as much as I do, but we didn’t really have a choice. I’m not about to let my boys go hungry. So I had to take them on,” Nightmare huffed, “Now for the part you didn’t already know. There’s just three of them coming with us. I don’t know about two of them, and the third… heh. You’ve heard about the third from me enough times. It’s my twin, Dream.”

That little bombshell had about the reaction he was expecting. Cross looked grim, like he had found out about his brother’s death all over again. Killer’s smile grew and his hand reached for his knife. Dust snarled, his eyes flicking to where he thought his “brother” probably was. Blood and Sugar stepped closer together, and Blood reached for his pack (which Nightmare knew held his butcher knife). Error just seemed confused. He hadn’t had the pleasure of hearing about Nightmare’s past yet.

“wasn’t there anyone else you could have gotten? even reaper’s family would have been better than this, and he makes us bring so much coffee!” Blood complained.

Nightmare shut him up with a look. “Do you really think I would have made this choice if there were any other options? It was this or sell off land, and that would have taken way too long. It had to be this,” He looked around at everyone, meeting their eye sockets with his singular one. “Now, I’m going to ask you to do your best job to not scare him. We need to put up with his group for two weeks. It’d be better for us if he didn’t want to turn back around halfway through. Besides, then he’d want a refund, and I already spent the money, so you’d better earn it. Is that understood?”

Everyone saluted with varying styles and degrees of formality. Nightmare grins. He loves it when they do that. It makes him feel like a prince rather than just a wrangler.

“Okay then. Carry on.”

And just like that, everyone went back to working like the smooth operation they were.

Dream’s hands gripped the steering wheel of his trusty old Jeep so tight that, if he’d been a human, his knuckles would have been white. As it was, the joints protested. They were used to typing away at a computer all day, not commanding a car through miles and miles of unpaved roads. They really wanted to just go home, but Dream wasn’t about to do that. No, he had committed to this and he was going to see it through. Besides, his friends were so looking forward to this trip. It would hurt to disappoint them.

Speaking of his friends, Dream quickly checked up on them. Ink was sitting in the passenger seat, chattering away about something or other. The artist was such a chatterbox. It was ridiculous. Frequently Dream found himself wanting to gag Ink with his own scarf. He never did, though. Maybe it was because Ink was his oldest friend, the first person who had taken a chance on him when he moved to the city. Maybe it was the fear that even that wouldn’t shut Ink up. Instead, Dream periodically had to just… take a break from his talkative friend. Ink was very forgiving. Or, more accurately, he was very forgetful. Dream was pretty sure that was why they were still friends. Dream was willing to put up with all his faults.

He had his good points, too. Ink was the definition of creative. He was always seeing the world in a unique light, and hanging around him made Dream constantly have to stretch and grow his mind and comfort zone. You never knew what Ink would come up with next, and it was always fun to follow him into trouble. Also, Ink always knew all the gossip, and didn’t mind sharing it with Dream at length.

His other best friend, Blue, was sitting in the back seat next to all their gear. Blue was small, maybe 4’ tall at the most. He was always full of energy, although sometimes it could only be described as nervous energy. His cheerful attitude permeated everything around him and reminded Dream of his own little goal: to spread positive energy wherever he went. With Blue around to help, that was easy. Dream just wished he could bring his friend more happiness of his own. Given the state of Blue’s home life, it was no surprise that he was always wanting to hang out with the two other “Star Sanses”. Dream tried to think of every excuse he could to take him out and about with them.

Dream wasn’t quite sure what had prompted him to schedule this little trip. Yes, Blue was getting close to his breaking point. Yes, Ink was getting restless in between commissions. And, yes, Dream was yearning to see something other than the city for once. But all those things happened on a regular basis, and this was not how he usually dealt with them.

Maybe it was those dreams (heh) he’d been having. Every night for weeks now Dream had dreamt of being on a horse, riding through the woods like he had when he was a child. His friends had been around him, and Dream was filled with this sense of peace and rightness. He couldn’t help but want to fulfill it.

And then Reaper had mentioned to Dream about the wrangler group he and his family went out with. Every word had had Dream more and more intrigued. He honestly couldn’t think of a single thing they were doing that he wouldn’t have done… at least when it came to their horses. He had no idea that the world of wrangling was so cutthroat. And then Reaper had dropped the bombshell like it was nothing. Nightmare was… okay? He had friends?  More than that, he had horses and his own business? That was an absolute shock, so much so that Reaper had needed to splash Dream with a cup of cold water in order to break him out of it. Maybe he took a little too much pride in doing so, but Dream could hardly blame him. Every little bit of happiness he could spread made Dream feel that much better. Even if it was at his own expense.

Now Dream was driving through the countryside on his way to find out if what Reaper had said was true. Maybe it was a different skeleton named Nightmare and covered in living goop? That seemed unlikely, but you never knew what would happen in a world like this.

[intelligentdumbass]

No I Cannot Get a Break(Part2)

(The first part’s over here)

“Athena? Have you seen Apollo?”

The grey-eyed goddess raised an eyebrow.

“Wasn’t he with you?”                                                                              

“Yes, but that was an hour ago.” Calliope frowned. “Hermes ran off to look for him but he hasn’t come back yet-”

Just then, two immortals came running out of the trees; it was the two gods that the muse was looking for. She immediately rushed towards them and inquired as to what had happened; Athena was about to do the same when her father’s voice thundered across the garden.

“AH-” “What’s this??” On his hand, he held out a fruit made out of pure gold. It had stuck him right on the face while he was chatting with his siblings, just like the messenger before him.

“Father.” Apollo suddenly spoke up and stared; one of his eyes twitching. “Father please, for the love of Troy, throw that into Tartarus!”

Before Zeus could respond, the apple was already gone; snatched out of his hands by the god of love. His wings instantly threw him up into air as he curiously stared at the fruit of gold.

“Pft, what’s wrong sunshine? Why so stressed?” Eros grinned mockingly at the sun deity. “Tis’ just a yellow apple with a few words craved onto it.” He cleared his throat in preparation to read the inscription. “To the fairest goddess of them all!”

Athena could’ve sworn Apollo’s fingers were twitching like he wanted to break Eros’ neck. Calliope and Hermes seemed to be holding him back; trying to calm him down. She gazed back at her father, who was just a tiny bit drunk, and he looked both confused and slightly concerned. This surprising turn of events had gotten a lot of the other immortals’ attention; even Artemis had took notice and quickly sped towards her twin.

Meanwhile Eros had flown over to his mother and exclaimed, “Well, well, well… I guess we all know who this trophy belongs to then now, don’t we?”

Aphrodite smiled, flattered by her son’s compliment. Just before she was handed the prize, however, a spear came hurling out of nowhere; piercing the fruit and pinning it against one of the trees.

“Wait.” Athena’s voice was commanding; briefly glancing back at her distraught younger brother. “This all feels a little off. Where did that apple even come from?”

Eros rolled his eyes. “Don’t know; don’t care Misses killjoy.” He flew over to retrieve the fruit; tossing the spear aside.

“I can assure you that I sense nothing of the like, no malicious auras or weird obscure magic, at least, not on the apple itself. If anything, this is probably just some secret admirer trying to praise their idol.” He smiled, but it was the kind of smile that proves he had a suspicion that wasn’t the case at all. “Besides, why do you care? Don’t tell me that this trophy was meant for you instead?”

“What-” “No!” The goddess seemed appalled that he would even consider that to be a possibility.

Then there was a loud sigh. It was from Hera.

“If that truly is why the apple exists,” She said. “Then for all you know it might’ve been intended for me instead. It landed very close to me after all; specifically onto my husband’s face. Maybe they just had bad aim?” It was hard to tell whether or not she was joking (‘She’s most likely joking’ Athena thought), but even Poseidon muttered against his breath that she did have a point.

Aphrodite just smiled. “Then why don’t we let the king of the gods decide?” She nodded at her son, who gave the fruit back to the lightning-bearer. “Tell us my lord, who do you think deserves to be awarded with the title of the fairest goddess of them all?”

Zeus blinked. “I…” “You want me to choose between you, Athena and Hera? With all of my possible biases I think I would be the least fitting judge for that matter.” He was still uneasy about his eldest son’s reaction; even quickly glancing back to make sure he wasn’t having a panic attack amidst all of this.

‘If only he hadn’t blocked my voice from his head.’ He thought. ‘Then I would know what’s bothering him so much.’

On the other hand, now that he was holding it again, Eros seemed to be right. It looked and felt like a normal and harmless shiny apple; a very pretty one at that.

“Let a mortal who is not part of any of your cults decide, and swear not to endanger their life over some trivial matter such as this.”

Aphrodite peered off the edge; her gaze landing on a young prince of Troy. “I think I already know who.”

Eros took the golden apple and flew down onto the earth. She motioned to the two goddesses to follow as well before morphing into a dove; flying just behind her son.

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

Paris stared at the three deities standing before him. At this rate, it looked like he was too shocked to be able to choose anyone at all. Athena internally sighed, wondering how she got herself involved into this mess.

“Okay well, how about this.” Aphrodite pondered for a moment. “If you choose me, I’ll give you the most beautiful mortal princess the world has ever laid their eyes on.”

Eros gave his mom a look, but she whispered to assure him that she was in fact not finding a way to get rid of Psyche.

Athena raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s just cheating-”

“Zeus never said anything against bribery~”

“In that case,” Hera said. “Choose me and you’ll get to rule the whole of Asia Minor.”

The war goddess thought that was an extremely irresponsible opportunity to give to someone as young as Paris, but then again maybe that was the point. She suddenly felt a little bad for the young prince.

“If you choose me, I can give you unlimited wisdom and glory in war.”

She could’ve sworn she heard Aphrodite curse. However, defying most of their expectations, Paris uttered the words, “I choose Aphrodite” and awarded the golden apple to the goddess of love.

‘Oh. Well, I tried to give him the least risky option.’

When she got back to the main event, it was almost like nothing had ever happened. Despite the incident that had killed the mood a few minutes ago, the party seemed to be back in full swing. She noticed one key difference though. Athena walked over to some of the muses; giving Clio a gentle tap on the shoulder.

“Where’s Phoebus?"

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

Apparently Apollo disappeared when they weren’t looking, so Hermes, Artemis and Dionysus had gone off to go look for him in the depths of the garden.

“I tried to approach him, but he wouldn’t even look at me.” Zeus sighed. “And I am still not able to hear his thoughts.”

“Don’t worry, if I see him I’ll try to talk to him.”

“…please do.”

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

There were already three gods searching for him among the trees, so she figured she might as well try looking inside the palace itself. Besides, if he really wanted to be left alone, he might’ve tried hiding somewhere else, far from where Hermes last found him. Plus, she had a few spots in mind that she could try checking out.

The silence was eerie, but also oddly comforting. There was nothing but the soft hollow thumps of her steps as she walked through the empty halls. As luck would have it, it didn’t take long for her to finally spot the god sitting on the railing of a certain balcony, the one that even their father himself often stood on.  

The blonde was tense, but when he turned around and saw Athena, he started to relax.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your steps scared kind of scared me. I thought I was having another vision for a second there… I mean, you are the real Athena right?” He laughed, but his breath was more than a little shaky.

“Of course I am the real Pallas Athena. Who else would I be?”

She allowed a full minute to pass by to let him fully process her statement to be true before moving to stand right next to him.

“What’re you doing here?” Apollo asked.

“I wanted a break from the party.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” He paused. “You sure it’s not because you’re salty about the golden apple?”

Athena scoffed. “Don’t even think about trying to tease me. Why on earth would I care that much about some accursed fruit?”

“Aw, don't worry Athe. If I were him, I would've definitely chosen your deal instead."

"Well, of course, no surprise there. You choose what you don’t have after all."

“Wha-” “I was trying to cheer you up and this is what you do to me?!"

"So, you admit that what I just said is true?"

He had his hand over his chest as if he were offended; that forced smile on his face feeling just a little bit more genuine, until it slowly dropped entirely.

“Paris fucked up, Athena. Paris really fucked up.” He sighs. “Do you still remember their oaths?”

“Helen’s suitors?” She thought for a moment. “Apollo, I doubt Paris would still want to keep her after seeing the army that comes after-”

“But he will.” His voice suddenly hardened. “And he’ll keep her for over 10 fucking years and will become the torch that burns his city down to a crisp.”

Her tone softened. “How much did you see?”

“I don’t know, but I do know that Thetis is about to give birth to one of the greatest warriors in recorded history and-” “and-” He suddenly stopped, stuttering.

Athena placed a steady hand on his shoulder, as if he might fall.

Apollo’s grip on the railing tightened. “I-” “I don’t want to lose another one, Athena. Not now, it’s too fucking soon I literally just watched Asclepius-” The tears started trailing down his cheeks until they dissipated into thin air as a whiff of steam. “I just want a fucking break!”

There was a long pause before he continued.

“Why do I care so much?”

“I’d be more concerned if you didn’t. After all, I’m barely any better.”

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

“Athena?”

“Yes Phoebus?”

“What do you think dad’s going to do about this?”

“…I don’t know.” ------------------

“Apollo?”

“Hm?”

“Do you hate him?”

“…sometimes I wish I did”

“…”

“I-” “I’m sorry-”

“No, don’t be. I occasionally wished I did too, but it’ll never be that simple, no? Who would even replace him?”

“You?”

Athena laughed. “Weren’t you the one always asking to be his heir?”

“I was a very stupid toddler back then, hell, probably still am now. I mean, don’t tell me you actually trust me to run this thing?”

“True. I don’t blame you for not believing in yourself. Honestly, I don’t either.”

“I-” “Wow, you couldn’t have at least sugar-coated it a little?”

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

“Hey Pal, maybe we could share the throne?”

Athena immediately made a face of disgust. “But then if we kept our titles as King and Queen, someone might assume we married each other.”

“Wow!” Apollo tried his best not to laugh. “I mean, I don’t want to marry you either but still, you make it look like being with me is a bad thing!”

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

“I-” “I don’t want to get rid of him Apollo...”

“…I know.”

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

For a few minutes, all they did was stare and enjoy the view; looking down at the earth like they owned everything that the light could touch. Then with a flick of her hand the goddess summoned her spear and slung her shield over her back.

“Apollo, get your bow.”

“Wait-” “What? Why?” It took a few moments for him to realize what she was suggesting. "Athe, no matter how much I try, you know I’ll never stand a chance against you in close combat-"

“I did say get your bow, not your sword, didn’t I? I mean, you’re welcome to try if you want.” Her eyes were taunting him. “Father invited almost every single deity to Thetis and Peleus' wedding in Olympus. Excluding the mortals, the rest of Greece should be fairly empty right now."

"...I guess a duel does sound fun.”

"It certainly does. Besides, you really look like you could use one right now."

"Did-” “Did you just insult me by calling me out of shape or am I just over thinking this and you're genuinely trying to cheer me up?"

"Maybe both."

“…Fine. Only a few conditions: no one uses the aegis or the masterbolt, and that you better be a hundred percent sure father isn’t watching us right now.”

“Of course, wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of him now, would we? I’m not that mean.”

After a few moments of consideration, Apollo summoned his signature bow and wore his golden quiver. Taking one last glance behind them to assure themselves that they were, in fact, alone; they went over the railing. It was faint and easy to miss, but when Athena saw the eager and determined look on his face, she couldn’t help but smile.

‘Now there's the arrogant bastard that I know.’

"Mt. Othrys?" She asked.

"Sure, the closer the more convenient.” He grinned. “Mt. Othrys it is.”

And so, they jumped off, straight into the abandoned ruins of a golden age long forgotten; landing in the middle of all of those towering columns and mighty slabs of black, the remains of their father’s decade long war.

[hedwigstalons]

FabFiveFeb - Scott

Part 4 of the prompt challenge for @gumnut-logic. Ok Scott doesn’t come into this much but here is where the prompts took me.  The uses the prompts ‘crease’ and ‘apple’.

xoxoxox

There was a mountain of paperwork to be done.  It seemed like there was always paperwork of some sort demanding his attention.  Mission reports.  Stock lists. Maintenance schedules. Rotas.  Sometime he felt that the rotas were a waste of time; it’s not like emergencies kept to a schedule and down time was generally dictated by who had had the least sleep rather than following any pattern or design.  He liked to at least hope he could give each brother a fairly regular day off rescues but sometimes even keeping birthdays sacred was impossible.

As a man of action the paperwork was a particular bugbear of Scott’s.  Delegation wasn’t an option though.  John and Virgil were responsible for producing at least three quarters of the documents he had to analyse so he couldn’t really push more paper their way, Alan had school work and Gordon was….Gordon.  The last time the irrepressible aquanaut had been tasked with writing the supplies list it had mostly consisted of ice cream and canned cheese.  Scott was surprised they hadn’t all got scurvy that month.

 Speaking of the aquatic sibling Scott was horribly aware of his brother’s presence on the far side of the lounge.  It was disrupting his concentration and causing the stress lines on his forehead to crease even deeper.  He looked up to send the irritation packing but faltered.

 “Gordon…why do you have an apple on your head?”

 He received a cheerful shrug in return.  “Science.”  As if it was obvious.

 “Just how is you balancing an apple science?

 Gordon adopted his ‘I’m talking to an idiot’ tone and pointed to the normally space-resident sibling who was quietly reclining on a sofa in the sunken seating area, reading a book.

 “Johnny boy and I have a little experiment going.  About gravity.”  

 “It’s John, thank you very much.”  The use of the nickname earned a scowl.

 “And just what have apples got to do with this?” Scott didn’t really want to ask but if he stood any chance of getting Gordon to go away he knew he needed to understand.

 “Everything.  Apples and gravity; it’s a classic.”

 “John, can you translate please.  I’m still failing to see exactly why our brother has an apple on his head.”

 John carefully marked the page then put his book to one side. He hadn’t been back on Earth for long and was still in the mandatory rest phase while his blood pressure readjusted.

 “Gordon seems to think I’m disproportionately affected by gravity.  He has decided to test what falls down first, me or the apple.”

 It was well known that John struggled with the effects of gravity.  Prolonged periods of time in the microgravity of Thunderbird Five meant that while John was gracefulness personified in space he was a bit of a walking disaster zone when Earthside.  The first day or two after returning home were characterised by John’s fragile skin being bumped, grazed and gaining all manner of new bruises.

 “If I fall first I have to wear one of Gordon’s shirts for a day.”  Scott could almost see John stiffen at the though of being subjected to Gordon’s fashion choices.  “But if Gordon drops the apple then he has to eat whatever it is Grandma is currently baking for me.  She is making one of her special ‘welcome home’ treats.”

 This time there was no mistaking the shudder. Gordon physically recoiled at the thought.  Grandma’s normal baking was bad enough but the pressure of making something special tended to result in an even more catastrophic failure.  The apple wobbled precariously and Gordon straightened himself just in time.

 “What Gordon seems to have forgotten is that I’m going to be spending the next few hours lying down.  I can’t trip over while I’m reading.  Now if you don’t mind I’d quite like to carry on with my book.”

 He made to pick up the discarded volume when Gordon chipped in.

 “And what Johnny seems to have forgotten is that as well as resting he is also being a good boy and rehydrating.  I know he has drunk at least 40 oz since his last bathroom break. Gotta move sooner or later, space case”

 John became uncomfortably aware of the pressing feeling in his bladder.  It hadn’t been an issue until Gordon pointed it out but now the feeling filled his focus. Navigating his way out of the sunken seating was bad enough during those first few hours back on Earth but doing so while distracted was a whole other level of difficulty.  He wished he had just kept to his room with its nice, convenient en-suite but the prospect of avoiding Grandma’s burnt offerings had been too tempting.  There was no way he was letting Gordon into the hallowed sanctuary of his bedroom and so the experiment was being conducted in the communal areas of the villa.

 Scott rubbed his temples.  The creases threatened to turn into full-blown furrows.  All chances of him completing the paperwork were well and truly shattered.  He evidently wasn’t going to get any peace until the experiment had run it’s course. He had no problems with John sharing the lounge but there was something about having Gordon hovering that put him on edge.  Gordon didn’t even have to make a noise to be distracting, sometimes just his existence was enough.

 He watched as John carefully manoeuvred himself into an upright position and walked with exaggerated care towards the steps.  Gordon was positively vibrating with the tension, wondering whether their rarely-resident space monitor would be able to navigate the obstacle.  None of them noticed Virgil enter the lounge behind Gordon, they were all so engrossed in the spectacle.

 “Oh yum, snack table.”  Virgil grabbed the apple off of Gordon’s head, polished it on his jeans to remove the smear of hair gel, then bit into it with a loud crunch just moments John caught his foot on the bottom step and fell sprawling to the floor.

 “Aww Virg! What did you have to go and do that for? I was just about to win.”  Gordon rounded on the oblivious engineer.

 “What?  What did I do?” Virgil mumbled round a mouthful of apple.

 Scott sighed.  “Apparently Gordon bet John that he would fall down before the apple did.”

 Virgil just shrugged.  “Draw?”  he suggested, reaching down to help John back to his feet.

 “Oh no, I win outright”  John smirked.  “I believe the exact terms of the challenge were that I couldn’t fall over but Gordon had to keep the apple on his head without touching it.  Seeing as the apple left Gordon’s head before I reached the steps, I win.”

 He collected his book, climbed the steps without further incident, and headed towards his room complete with its convenient bathroom.

 In the doorway he paused and turned.

 “Enjoy the cookies Gordon.  I believe Grandma was attempting something with cranberries so try not to break a tooth.”

[sweetness47]

The Bodyguard

Pairing Alpha!Dean x Omega!reader

This is for the following:

@spndeanbingo – fake dating

@spnabobingo – Alpha for hire

@spnkinkbingo – clothes sharing

@spngenrebingo – playing pretend

FINAL WORD COUNT: 5708

Warnings: MATURE 18+ READERS ONLY!!! Smut, knotting, heat, rut, ABO, mentions of arranged marriage, mob themes, dark themes etc… POSSIBLE TRIGGERS!!!

Summary: You have become a bargaining chip, and your Uncle expects you to arrive at the intended destination ASAP on your own, ‘intact’.

YN swallowed hard as she stood at the entrance of the tall building, wondering if she was doing the right thing. People travel alone all the time, right? Except most of them probably weren’t allergic to suppressants like she was. Without the safety of her home, she was pretty much doomed. And even though her heat was due soon, she wasn’t being given a choice in this trip, she had to travel across the continent just to marry some stranger, and saying no wasn’t an option. If she backed out or didn’t arrive on time, or if she wasn’t still a virgin when she arrived, then her younger sister would be sold to whoever she was supposed to wed, and YN would never let that happen.

She entered the building and walked to the elevator, pushed the button marked with 16, and waited. She’d heard of people hiring Alphas for lots of things, but not as a travel companion. Rumors were this one was the best, strong and more than qualified to handle any situation. She hoped he would accept the money she’d saved up, because it was all she had.

The office was easy to find, and the door said, “Come in”, so she did. YN gave a whistle of appreciation as she was greeted with bright yellow walls contrasted with rich mahogany flooring. Tasteful art pieces placed subtly here and there accented the cream colored sofa and the equally stunning mahogany desk. No one currently seemed to occupy said desk, or the office for that matter, which left YN wondering if she had gotten the office hours wrong, until she heard the whoosh of water behind the closed door on her right. She turned to see a tall man with sandy blonde hair exit the washroom, and heat crept up her face, staining her cheeks bright crimson. He stopped when he saw her blush and look downward to the floor.

“I’m sorry for just walking in,” she said.

“Don’t be. The sign does say ‘come in’. My name’s Dean,” he said, extending his hand to hers.

“YN.” She took the hand he offered. His grip was warm and strong, and his smile made her heart flip. She pushed the thought away, mentally scolding herself for the images that popped up in her mind.

Dean motioned for her to sit, then he joined her. “So, what brings a young, beautiful Omega such as yourself to my office?”

YN felt her cheeks grow warm once more. “I need an escort, well, more specifically, I need an alpha to protect me while I travel across the country. It’s a long, dangerous trip by train, and I don’t have suppressants.”

Dean raised a brow. “No suppressants?”

“I’m allergic to them. I’ve tried all different kinds, but never found one that didn’t give me hives or worse. My mother finally had to arrange with my school to keep me locked in a room for my heats. I need you to stay near me at all times, lend me your clothes, your scent, and your strength.”

Dean nodded in understanding. “Your heat is going to come on the trip.” She confirmed and he frowned. “Why can’t you do the trip after your heat is done?”

He swore he saw a tear blur her E/C eyes, so he stood and cut off whatever she was about to say. “Never mind, it’s none of my business. I’ll do it.”

She looked incredulously at him. “But we haven’t discussed your fee.”

He waved her off. “We can discuss fees after. I don’t have a set rate or anything.”

She furrowed her brow at the lie. She had struggled to come up with what she had to offer, and it wasn’t even close to his usual rate. Her sources had said he always took payment in advance. Here though, he was doing the exact opposite.

His voice cut into her thoughts. “When do we leave?”

“Is four hours enough time?” she asked.

Dean nodded. “We have to stop by my place to grab some stuff, then call my brother to come pick up my car and watch my office. Let’s get going.”

The drive to his flat was brief. He talked to his brother while he packed, then returned ten minutes later ready to go. They drove to the train station and were met by an equally handsome tall brunette, who YN assumed was Dean’s brother, since it appeared he knew the man. After some brief conversation, Sam took the car, and both Dean and YN headed to the train for boarding. YN had booked a private compartment, completely furnished with a large bed, sofa, and private washroom. Dean stored their luggage and took out some scent blockers, ones he could hang on the wall. They themselves were odorless, but absorbed other scents exceptionally well.

He watched her settle in as best as she could, her scent gracing the air, though faded, and it began to play with his mind as his nostrils took in the smell of apple pie. He fought to regain the control that threatened to slip from his grasp, even as his eyes flashed red. Fuck, if this was a sample of things to come, it was going to be a long, long trip.

“I’m going to get us some food and water. Wait here. Don’t answer the door for anyone. I will knock twice, then use the key. Do you understand? Don’t talk to anyone.”

YN nodded, and Dean left, making sure the door was locked tight before heading to the food car. He left her his jacket and shirt so she could have his scent, taking a fresh tee out of his bag to wear. He eyed the food choices before grabbing two bottles of water and two sandwiches. The cashier shot him a weird glance. “I’m really hungry.” He said to the girl at the till.

“Actually he bought that for me,” a voice interrupted from behind Dean.

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” Dean greeted the other man warmly. “I didn’t know they let riff-raff on these things.”

His friend looked amused. “They must, how else would you be here?”

Both men laughed and made small talk as Dean paid for the food and walked with the other man to a smaller compartment. Once inside, they sealed the door shut, and the real conversation began.

“So, I got your message from Sam, now you need to tell me what the hell is going on Dean.”

Dean’s face grew serious. “I need your help with a case Benny.”

Benny chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, as was his nature. “Bit off more than you can chew eh? You know I don’t ‘knot’ around. My wife would kill me.”

Dean shook his head. “It’s not that kind of job. This more protection detail. But she’s not telling me the whole story, so I need extra eyes and ears out there.”

Benny nodded. “That I can do ‘mon ami’. What do we know?”

Dean shrugged. “Not much. She walked into my office 5 hours ago, said she needed to hire me for my scent, wear my clothes, like I was her Alpha.”

Benny’s eyebrows shot up as Dean relayed what he knew, and what he’d picked up from her reactions thus far. “Sounds like she’s being forced or sold to pay a debt.” Dean nodded.

“I need you to find out everything you can Benny, quietly. YN is scared and worried, considering she’s risking her life to travel during her heat. We need to help.”

His friend nodded. “I’ll start right away Dean. Be careful my friend. This reeks of mobster or Mafia business.”

Dean patted his friend on the shoulder. “You too Benny.”

They opened the door and kissed as lovers would. It was a common cover they used when working a case together. It allowed them to go around unnoticed. The two never did anything beyond kissing, but no one else knew that. Dean made his way back to the private compartment, knocked twice, then used his key to get in.

The overwhelming scent of apple pie assaulted his nostrils, fresh baked a la mode to be exact. Dean’s eyes went red, and he turned away so YN couldn’t see them.

“Need. Alpha. Please.” Her mind couldn’t form coherent thought as she struggled to relay her need.

Dean took a deep breath and took his jacket off the chair. He walked over to the young Omega, drenched in sweat, and placed it near her. He moved to leave when she grabbed his arm, her eyes glassy and filled with an unspoken request. He knew what she wanted, but he wouldn’t do that without her consent, consent given when she wasn’t struggling with fever and half dazed. Instead, he lay down beside her, and allowed YN to scent him, breathe him in.

She calmed down somewhat, falling asleep both from exhaustion and from the relief she got. The scent bond they’d just formed calmed her down for now, but Dean wondered if it would be enough, considering this was still day 1, and if today was any indication, this was going to be hell for him. They slept, mostly without incident, only disturbed by the occasional moan. The dawn brought a higher fever, and that was a concern. That usually meant one of two things: either her body was going into shock, or her body realized he was her soulmate. He closed his eyes and breathed her scent again, and sure enough, the fresh apple pie a la mode was still there.

Fuck!

Never, in a million years, had he imagined having another chance at love after Lisa passed. The never had any pups, and their life together had been taken far too quickly. She was the reason he never tried dating, never did anything even remotely related to finding another mate. He put himself out as an Alpha for hire so he could help people without the emotional attachment.

Until now.

Until this young Omega entered his life.

Dean left the bed and changed into fresh clothes, placing his used underwear on the pillow beside her. Yeah, it was weird and unsanitary, but she needed his scent, and his shorts provided the strongest source. He checked her fever once more before quietly leaving the room and seeking out food, and of course, Benny, who was a workaholic when not at home. He found his friend and bent to kiss him before taking the seat across from him.

“Morning sunshine, sleep well?”

Benny grunted. “Funny. Fucking hilarious actually.”

Dean chuckled. “Well, next time get a bigger room and I’d be able to stay longer.” He winked at Benny, smirking at his friend’s amused expression.

“Bite me, Alpha.” Came Benny’s reply.

They laughed and ate together, then headed to Benny’s compartment for some alone time. Once they were certain they were alone, and away from prying eyes, the real questions began.

Benny spoke first. “It’s worse than our original assumptions. YN is being sold to Castiel, yes that Castiel, to pay off her uncle’s debts. Her parents died some years ago, leaving her and her younger sister in the Uncle’s care. The bastards are using the younger sister as bait, saying if YN doesn’t hold up the deal, then the 12-year-old sister will be used to settle the debt.”

Dean wanted to throw up. His eyes went dark. “I knew they were scum, that’s low, even for Castiel. I assume the sister is being kept somewhere safe?”

Benny nodded. “She’s at Castiel’s mansion, so far unharmed, and will remain so as long as YN keeps her promise.”

Dean couldn’t hold back the low growl that escaped his lips. Benny shot his friend an amused look. “Thought you’d sworn off feelings Dean.”

“This is different man. YN is my soulmate.” Benny’s jaw dropped to the ground. “Yeah, I know. How often do you get a second chance at true love?”

“So you and she…?”

Dean shook his head. “No, she’s been ok with my scent so far, but she’s getting worse. Send word to Sam. I want him and Bobby to meet us there. Bring the cavalry. Plan B-12.”

Benny near choked on his drink. “Holy Shit Dean! You’re seriously risking war with Castiel?”

Dean all but glared at his friend, and Benny held up his hands in surrender. “Fine, you’re the boss. I’ll make the necessary arrangements.”

Dean opened the compartment door as the two exchanged a deep passionate kiss. The four passengers in the hall at that moment seemed uninterested in the couple, which was exactly how they wanted it.

He returned to YN’s compartment to find the entrance blocked by two young bucks, and the scent of YN’s heat, the scent that had lured the two Alphas.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” Dean asked, firm but politely.

“Buzz off!”

Dean grabbed the collar of the first man and knocked him flat on his ass, out like a light. The second charged at Dean, but met the same fate as his friend. He sent Benny a quick text, then went in to check on YN. The moment he entered and shut the door, her eyes flashed gold, and she looked at him.

“Alpha!” she pleaded.

Dean’s eyes went scarlet as the scent of her heat broke through his defenses. In mere seconds he had crossed the room, removing his shirt and shoes along the way. He lay beside her and captured her lips with his, tongues dancing and mating. He made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, the one covering her small frame, and captured a nipple with his teeth. YN moaned, grinding her hips against his thigh, desperate for more. Dean had his jeans and shorts off in a blink of an eye, and her panties as well. Then he was there, seeking entrance, his hard cock sliding into her tight hole. He broke her barrier and bottomed out as the tip hit her cervix. Then he moved, pulling out, then thrusting back in, and she cried his name as her first climax slammed through her body. He wasn’t gentle, but he wasn’t a monster. His pace was relentless, drawing out three more orgasms from YN before he felt his knot swell, filling her with ropes of white hot cum. Her fever broke instantly as the knot stretched and filled YN, and for the first time since the train left the station, she visibly relaxed and slept.

Dean kept himself propped on his elbows so as not to squash her while he waited for his knot to deflate. Then he carefully got up and went to clean off. Once that was finished, he brought over a cloth for YN, who was beginning to stir, so she could clean off as well. She looked from him, to the cloth, then to her current state of undress, realization dawning as her hand shot to her apex, finding the evidence she feared most. Then her hand shot to her neck, but she frowned upon finding nothing there.

“No mark? You didn’t want me?” she asked, tears welling in her eyes.

Dean was immediately at her side, gathering her into his arms, both forgetting their lack of clothing for the moment. “Sweetheart, I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. But you passed out when your fever broke, and I’m too much of a gentleman to mark you while you’re unconscious.”

She blushed, then she let out a string of curses. “Oh no, my…” she started, but her eyes shot to Dean, then down at her body. “What have I done?”

She buried her face in his shoulder, Dean stroking her hair as she sobbed. “I know everything YN, who you are, why you’re going across the country, and I know about your sister.” She looked up at him. “I’m working to free her, thus freeing you.”

“But how? If anyone tries to interfere, he will hurt her or worse! I can’t let that happen!” she panicked.

“I won’t let anything happen to her. I promise. Trust me, ok? I’m very good at what I do, and this ain’t my first rodeo.”

She nodded and reached up to kiss his cheek. “I do trust you.” She said. “By the way, thank you for helping with my heat.”

“Your welcome YN. It was my pleasure.”

They laughed at that, but the moment quickly became heated as their lips found each other once more. Her tongue found its way inside his mouth, seeking its mate, and Dean was more than happy to comply. He felt his rut hit then, and knew he was done for. He growled as he shed his clean boxers, needing to be inside her once more. He slid in easily, filling her, and this time he drove hard, and she met him pound for pound. It was quick, and both Alpha & Omega came together, YN crying out as Dean’s knot filled her, swelling as it deposited ropes of cum into her belly. He lowered his head then and sank his incisors into her scent gland, claiming her as his, He dragged his tongue over the mark after, kissing it then kissing her.

She was his now. There was no way she would ever belong to Castiel. YN was a mixed bag of emotions, but happy and sated as she exchanged nibbles and small kisses with her Alpha. They rolled over, so Dean was laying with his back on the mattress, and YN was straddling him, and blanketing him with her body. They napped, waking a few hours later to beeping from Dean’s phone. His knot deflated, he gently moved her off him and went to check his message while YN cleaned up.

When YN exited the washroom, she came across Dean frowning. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

Dean sighed. “My brother managed to get the layout of Castiel’s home, and it’s quite extensive. I also got a text from my associate, he’s on the train in a different compartment. He managed to get my team together to get your sister out, but they were detained while trying to leave for the rendezvous. I’m not sure how, but I’d swear that bastard found out my plans somehow.”

“But my sister…!”

Dean calmed her down. “I promised you and your sister safety, and I meant it. One of my team is an ex cop with lots of connections. She’ll get them to the meeting point. We just have to give her some time. Trust me.”

She did. She trusted him completely. She finished getting dressed while Dean sent a few messages back and then cleaned himself up and got dressed. About 20 minutes later, there was two knocks, a pause, then two more knocks on the door. YN looked worried, but Dean motioned for her to be quiet while he checked the peek hole. He put the safety on his gun and opened the door, then locking it once Benny was inside. He brought hot meals and coffee for the three of them, and the couple sat together on the small sofa, while Benny took residence in a small chair.

“Benny, this is YN. YN, this is Benny.” The two exchanged handshakes.

“Nice to finally meet you YN.” He turned to Dean. “I assume you got the same texts I did? Did you hear back from Donna yet?”

Dean shook his head. “No, but Jody’s also on it. Between those two, I’d be surprised if they didn’t beat us there.”

Benny chuckled. “True enough mon ami. I got confirmations from Charlie, Garth, Ellen, Jo, Jack, your mom, and Bobby.”

“Sweet. Plus, there’s you, me, Sam, Jody and Donna.”

YN looked between the two men. “Um, don’t take this the wrong way, but from what I’ve heard, Castiel is Mafia, and his is one of the most dangerous organizations in the world. And you’re going to get my sister out with 12 people? You guys are seriously insane, and possibly suicidal.”

Benny and Dean exchanged glances. “Insane, definitely insane.” They said in unison.

YN shook her head as she continued to eat, silently praying that Dean would stay true to his word.

~~~

The team met up in a small café, about 10 miles from their intended target. The café was run by Ellen’s family, and was a safe house location for his team when needed. Everyone that worked there was either related to Ellen by blood, or thoroughly researched and sworn to secrecy upon hiring. It came as no surprise to either man to find the team already sitting there waiting.

They all greeted each other like family, exchanging warm hugs and chaste kisses. YN just stood there in awe, her heart swelling with admiration as she watched her Alpha with his family. When he called her over to introduce her to them, they all greeted her with the same warmth, welcoming her into their clan, as Donna put it.

“Thank all of you for agreeing to do this for me. I just hope we can get to her before Castiel finds out what happened.” YN addressed everyone.

It was Jody who answered. “Honey, it’s what we do. Besides, your part of the family now. And we always take care of our own. Always.”

They spent the rest of the night talking and making their plans, eating the most amazing food YN had ever tasted in her entire life, and then resting for the night, so as to be fresh for the morning. When the sun was barely over the horizon, YN helped get them ready to go, cooking food for them and preparing light, easy-to-carry snacks for later. She wasn’t going with them, but had written a note for Dean to give to her sister, proof that Dean was going to get her back to YN.

Mary was staying behind to protect YN, just in case, and the rest set off. Her chest ached as her Alpha went with them, and Mary couldn’t help but notice her concern. It was written all over her face.

“YN, there’s no need to worry. This team is more than capable of getting in and out safely, with your sister alive and in one piece,” she said gently.

“How? I saw those specs. I know how locked down that compound is. I saw the thermal imaging Mary. That group of 11 is vastly outnumbered.”

Mary smiled. “I’d be more concerned for Castiel’s men. Trust me.”

YN grabbed some tea and sat down at the dining table, and motioned for Mary to sit with her. “Dean seemed to know Castiel, but he wouldn’t tell me anything about how he knew him.” She sighed. “I have only known your son for a couple of days, but I love him. He’s strong and so confident.”

“He’s always been like that, except one time, before you came into his life.” YN watched Mary with piqued interest. “Dean will probably tell you eventually, once he knows your safe, but you should be aware of this part of his past. Especially since it concerns Dean’s first wife, and it also concerns Castiel.”

YN frowned. Mary continued. “Dean fell in love with an Omega named Lisa. They were classmates in high school, and dated off and on for the next 5 years after, before finally getting married. Dean was beyond happy, they were good together. She was kind and sweet, a lot like you actually, but it didn’t stay happy.”

“What happened?” YN asked.

“Lisa followed her heart when she married Dean, and went against her family’s wishes for her. She was to marry Castiel, and unite their families. Cas didn’t take well to Dean’s interference, and arranged for a car accident, one that killed Lisa instantly while she was driving home from a doctor’s appointment. The autopsy found her to be 12 weeks pregnant. She and Dean were going to be parents.”

YN’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god. That’s horrible. How does he know Castiel did it?”

“Dean is ex-military, and an ex-cop, as are his brother and his team, in some form or another. They met throughout the years, teaming up on various assignments, and eventually became a regular team. The team officially formed while Lisa and Dean were still dating.”

YN was officially wowed, at a loss for words, and could only stare as Mary continued. “Dean had done some ‘investigating’ and eventually tied everything together. Of course there was no official proof, so he couldn’t go to the police with what he’d discovered. I wouldn’t be surprised if Dean sought out and killed Castiel.”

YN nodded as she took another sip of her coffee, staring out the window and praying that her alpha returned with her sister, both in one piece.

~~~

The team arrived at the compound, gaining the high ground quickly, so they could scout the terrain. Garth, nicknamed the Ninja by the team for his stealth, went ahead to scout the area around the fortress. Jody, took count of all the visible guards, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that more could be hiding in the shadows, and made approximate calculations for hidden ones, based on the layout. Donna, or ‘sharpshooter’, set up her post, making sure her tripod was stable and her gun and ammo ready for anything. Gun wasn’t really an accurate description for ‘Junior’, Donna’s Mk 21 was a modern ‘bolt action’ sniper rifle, military grade, and completely badass. Her cartridges carried .338 Norma Magnum rounds, and she never missed a shot, ever.

Sam and Dean took in the view, each mentally pairing it with the schematics they’d seen, and mapping a route in and out based on that information. Everyone else locked and loaded their weapons, made sure they had lots of ammo, Jo having brought along her own special handmade ‘Molotov cocktails’, which were in a class all their own. They were better than any grenade on the planet, and had saved the team’s asses more times than anyone could count. Dean never asked what was in them, and Jo never volunteered the info. It was better that way.

Garth returned an hour later, reporting there were 8 guards outside the walls. He drew a small diagram pinpointing each one, and their routes. As dusk approached, the team began to make their way down to the west wall, where a storm drain awaited them, their way into the grounds. They made quick work of the two guards on that side, then slipped into the sewer system and proceeded toward the mansion. It was impressive in size, comparable to Windsor castle in England, but that wasn’t a deterrent, if anything, it was like an invitation to the team, daring them to break in, and they loved a challenge.

The waste tunnel brought them to the servant kitchen, which was thankfully empty at that hour, and the 10 team members regrouped there. They split into groups of two: Jo and Ellen, Garth and Bobby, Benny and Jody, Jack and Charlie, then Sam and Dean. The plan was to scout the interior for the girl and meet back at that spot in one hour, the meeting time was set in stone, even if they hadn’t found the girl. Should that be the case, they would set out a second time, widening the search parameters, and would continue to meet back at the same spot every hour until the objective had been completed.

Radio silence was a must, everything that needed to be communicated was done through sign language. The first hour went without any sign of the girl. All parties had been sent a picture of YN’s sister, so there would be no mistaking what she looked like. It was half way into the second hour that Dean spotted a young lady peeking out of her bedroom door, looking scared, but desperate. He motioned to Sam, and the two of them waited for signs of guards. Once they saw none, they approached the girl, who was now coming back from the washroom. She looked frightened at first, as if she thought she was in trouble, but Dean quickly motioned for her to stay quiet as he showed her the note her sister had written.

Hey sis,

These men are here to rescue you. They are good people, and you can trust them. They will bring you back to me, and we will be safe from the bad men. Go with them now. Love you lots. See you soon.

PS. My bear is bigger than your bear.

Neither Sam or Dean had any clue what the last statement meant, but one look at the young girl’s face told the guys she knew. YN and her sister had a code phrase that would let the other know they were safe. And it worked. YN’s sister nodded her trust to Dean, then took both their hands and pulled toward her room. They walked silently and quickly, and helped grab some shoes and clothes, then the girl’s favorite stuffed animal. After they had grabbed what they could, they made their way back to the servant kitchen. Dean motioned for Sam to go ahead and he’d catch up, which made Sam give Dean the glare of disapproval. He knew what Dean was up to, and silently voiced his displeasure.

But he was stubborn if nothing else, and the girl’s safety was of the utmost importance, so Sam obeyed his older brother, and took the sister to meet the others. Dean went in a different direction, running through the layout of the house in his head once more, searching for one specific wing. The one that had the master suite.

The one that had Castiel safely tucked away.

Dean was going to kill him.

It took less than five minutes to reach the targeted wing, and another two to dispatch the guards that roamed that hallway. Another minute found Dean inside the bedroom of his mortal enemy. He watched Castiel’s sleeping form, contemplating whether he should just shoot him now, or wake him first and make him watch as he put the gun to his temple. If he woke Cas, there would almost certainly be a struggle, and possibly more guards, which would severely decrease Dean’s chances of making it out of here alive. He knew his team would ensure the girl’s safety, and get her out quickly, so that was one less thing to worry about. But if he didn’t dispatch Cas now, then the bastard would find someone else’s life to ruin, or exploit, or just torment for fun.

He raised the gun, aiming for the temple. He would give him a quick death, hell, he wouldn’t even know it happened. Then Cas opened his eyes, sitting up as he realized what had happened, and what he now faced. His eyes met Dean’s, glistening with unspoken tears, of a time and place neither had ever spoken about since it happened.

“Hello Dean.” He whispered.

“Cas.”

“So this is it? The feud finally ends?”

“Guess so.” Dean replied.

“And the girl? You already got her out I assume?”

“Yeah, she’s safe. And so is YN.”

“Good.” Was all Cas said as his tears began to fall. “I’m sorry for everything Dean. I really wish things had turned out differently.”

Dean’s resolve waivered. “I do too Cas. If I could go back to not knowing who you were, and go back to that weekend, I would in a heartbeat.”

Cas gave a weak smile. “So would I.” He paused. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Do me a favor, and kill that bastard YN calls an Uncle. He was going to sell me an innocent 12-year-old girl as payment if YN failed to uphold the arrangement.” He cast his gaze downward to the bedcovers. “I wouldn’t have done that, you know, hurt a young girl like that. Just the idea makes me sick.”

Dean nodded. “I know. I promise to make sure that asshole never sees daylight again.”

“Thank you Dean.”

Drops of salty tears blurred Dean’s vision as he raised the gun once more and pulled the trigger.

~~~

The hour was almost up when Dean ran into the kitchen, meeting a group of relieved faces, and together they all high tailed it out. Running through the sewers, making sure YN’s sister was in tow, the group made their way back to the wall drain, then up and out to the fresh air. Benny offered the young traveller a piggy back, while Jody carried her things. Donna was all packed up and ready to go by the time the group reached the hilltop, and then they all made their way back to the café.

YN saw her sister from the window, and ran out to greet her. Anna ran to YN, tears of joy streaming down her face as they hugged furiously.  Everyone watched happily as the two sisters embraced. Then YN moved to embrace her Alpha, meeting Dean’s lips halfway as he sought a kiss from her. He chuckled at the plaid shirt she wore, one of his, thinking he would let her wear all his clothes. They looked much sexier on her than they did on him. The entire group went inside the restaurant and shared a hearty meal together, relaxing and collectively congratulating themselves on a job well done.

~~~

Castiel hadn’t move much since Dean had left the room. He stared at the bullet hole in his pillow, then at his phone, waiting for news, any news at this point. It had been well over three hours, something must have happened. His panic mode was just surfacing when his phone dinged, and a text came through. Relief washed over Cas as he read the words.

“Made it back. Everyone’s safe. See you soon husband.   xoxo Sam.”

@legion1993 @akshi8278 @alwaysdreamingforthebest

[hoodie-lover]

My Multiverse Ask Event! #4

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Error managed to get into the Creator Realm, he brought the gang with him and they were looking for Maxie and her friends. Though that implied the creators wouldn’t find them first, which they did. 

“Hello, hello, hello!” Maxie said, wrapping her arms around Error as he glitched and screamed. 

“LET ME GO!” He screamed, and Maxie let him go with a pout. 

“So, as Kiki said, we will be inhibiting your quest! Trials and tribulations to test how much you have actually grown to see if you actually deserve to know. Also we’re bored and want to mess with you.” Maxie said, and Error facepalmed. 

“So, what do you want us to do?” Nightmare said, growling. 

“Please Nightmare, nowadays your bark is worse than your bite. Anyway, we have a few obstacle courses, some logic puzzles, some PTSD triggers.” Maxie said, smiling evilly. 

“What…?” Cross said, and Maxie raised an eyebrow. 

“What?” Maxie said, and Cross facepalmed. 

“Oh, no no no, I have only written a story about forest rangers. I would never torture Error. I am usually the one hissing in the comments to punish anyone who does hurt Error, I wish the hissing thing was a joke. Nightmare would kill me if I hurt Error, right? Getting killed by my second favorite Sans for hurting my first favorite Sans is not on my list pal.”

“Well, it seems we have a good noodle. Truly a rare find.” Error said, and Cross snickered. 

“One, I’m flattered that you like me. Second, I’m glad you fear me.” Nightmare said, looking around for the voice.

“You won’t see them, from here on out, you’re in a little playground my friends and I made. Good luck.” Maxie said, snicking. 

“Oh dear, guys, watch out the voices are planning to get the askers to mess with your search. They wanna draw this out so take any hints we give with a grain of salt. I'd start by looking at what Error is ẁ̵̡̼e̷̪̿à̸̩r̴̜͗i̸̛̦̗n̶͕̄ǵ̶̲, not many Sans with both a j̷͕͕̈́͂a̸̹̓ċ̵̲k̵̳͈̓̆ȇ̵̟̎ṭ̶̯̈́ ̵̨̺͋a̵̜͝n̵̠͋d̸͙͝ ̷͖̇͊s̵̢̟̑c̷̦̜̐͠a̸̦̘͗̎r̶̪̣͛f̵̰̄̾.”

“I think you guys are being censored. And I think we know who.” Error said, glaring at Maxie as she whistled. 

“So any other possible relationships in the making? come on my gloomy boys feed me gossip!”

“None over on our end. Though Swap!fell has a crush on Blue, and Red is territorial. We’re waiting for the brawl.” Killer said, chuckling at the thought. 

“sanses and the one or two AU papyruses when you try to stop the human at the judgment hall why not stop at the soul room to get near god power”

“Doesn’t matter. They would still beat us. We would have six, and the human has beat the photoshop abomination.” Sans said, and the others nodded. They had come over for a quick hang out.

“Ok my little Horror, aka my third fav, how good a cook are you? Like we talkin Gordon Ramsey of skeletons or what? Also are you aware you are a cute little bean?”

“I love Gordan Ramsey! He’s awesome! He has no qualms about yelling at people for their awful crimes against food. And I am aware, trust me, I know how to use it.” Horror said, winking. 

“May I hug all the dark sanses or would that cross a line? You all deserve all the love the megaverse can give you. I know what it feels like to be trapped, alone, and hurt in so many ways, I know what it is like to feel out of option and angry. You don't deserve that, despite everything you are all wonderful.”

“I’d love a hug!” Cross said and felt the hug, though no presence was seen. 

“Can I have a hug?” Horror asked and was given a hug.

“I’m good.” Killer said, and everyone else nodded. 

“Oh guys there are so many people who have written lyrics for your song megalovania. They can be quite good. I have only ever played the pacifist route myself and can't bring myself to watch an actual playthrough cause I can't watch my beloved monster friends get killed, but it is a catchy song. Have you guys seen any of them yet? Also I think you will like this fan song a lot https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TtCBLvAw4ZY&t=71s”

“What the fuck?” Killer said, nearly everyone had the same reaction.

“I liked it.” Cross said, humming the tune.

“papyrus how does your special attack work like if the annoying dog didn't take it”

“It’s just a blaster. Though it would be much friendlier than Sans’.” Papyrus said with a shrug.

“Can I also hug Blueberry? He is my fourth favorite.”

“Absolutely! I love hugs!” Blue said and felt the hug as he smiled. 

“You voices are weird.” Stretch said, lighting another cigarette.

“No more. That’s your third, I’ll burn the pack if you smoke another.” Blue said and Stretch groaned. 

“flowey if you really think its fun watching human kill everyone why do you beg for mercy if you act like you dont care ps if u wanna murder human kill toriel first.”

“I don’t beg! I was just scared at first and knew I couldn’t break the script! And in case you didn’t hear, I have literally done everything.” Flowey said, rolling his eyes. 

“to annoying dog sorry to papyrus in advance please follow papyrus all day while playing dogsong and steal all his bones  ps im glad ink didn't murder you”

The annoying dog yipped, he was glad he wasn’t murdered too. He kicked his stumpy legs and wagged his tail as he flew off to Papyrus, who had a feeling of foreboding and anxiety.

“YOU STUPID CANINE!” Papyrus declared as he tried to run while missing his femur. The dog smiled as the song echoed through the Underground and the dog smiled an innocent smile. 

“So here is a question to the Sans personality types, why do you lie to your brother about their food? You're not helping them, it would be far kinder to be honest and help them learn to be better. Someday they are likely to meet someone who will not let them down gently and will hurt them.”

“Implying we can. They either run out the door before we can talk or we have to try talking over them.” Sans said.

“Impossible in many AUs, plus, it’s actually good half the time.” Outer said, and Red nodded, glaring at Swapfell as he was ogling Blue from a distance. 

“Dream, what is it like being with your brother again? How is your guys brotherly bond affected by well everything that happened?”

“It’s awesome. We have fun and prank some unsuspecting Sanses every now and then. As people seem to forget for the longest time, we were mistaken for fey. And we didn’t help those accusations.” Dream said, “Though we never hurt anyone. Just harmless things like a pie going missing or flowers vanishing into thin air.” Dream snickered, he was back in the Doodlesphere by this point and reviewing paperwork. 

“Boys how do you feel about Uncle Dreamy?”

“Don’t.” Killer said. 

“No.” Cross said, eyes blank as he shook his head, everyone else was silent as they shook their heads and cringed. 

“frisk how is murdering everyone one fun after all i dont think you enjoy getting repeatedly killed plus since you reset so many times you know everything that happens underground besides there are more things to murder in surface ps you didnt answer if you got to the surface on genocide”

“I like to see the dust fall, them scream in pain, and beg for mercy. It’s cute. And yes, I can murder more things on the surface, but they don’t turn to dust or give the, for lack of a better term, high I need. And I don’t get to the surface, only if I spare everyone do I get there. And before you ask, in neutral runs I’m in a limbo state, have to RESET to leave.” Frisk said, smiling as their eyes glowed red.

“frisk what about napstablook or mad dummy you can't kill either”

“I can kill Glad Dummy, and Napstablook is worthless. I don’t wanna waste my time on them.” Frisk spat, growling as they left the ruins, stepping over Toirel’s dust. 

“You know what is cute? all the baby bones art of you guys. Awww why is every baby sans just so huggable? Ok ok but really baby Error! just picture a tiny baby Error and tell me that shit is not cute.”

“They’re very cute.” Nightmare said.

“But they didn’t show us any.” Killer said and Nightmare froze. 

“Oh.” Error said, and Nightmare turned into a puddle out of shame.

“And payback time, Nightmare, any stories about Dream?”

Springing back to life Nightmare donned a wicked and demonic grin. “Dream didn’t know what a bed was until he was 100. And it took three people to pry him off of it.” Nightmare said. 

“That’s actually sad. How long did you sleep in a tree?” Cross asked and Nightmare whistled. 

“Our whole lives before the apple incident. Up until then we only slept in a bed seven times each.” Nightmare said, and Cross gave him a teary hug.  

“dust how come your a bad guy you were forced to kill everyone your not a bad person if someones a bad person its the human and chara”

“First of all, Chara is only a problem because of Frisk, so they aren’t as guilty as you think. Though they are not innocent. And no one wanted to befriend a killer, sure they like Red, but it’s the culture. And Ink played his cards right so I couldn’t make things worse for him, there’s a reason he didn’t stop Nightmare from helping me.” Dust said, “Same goes for everyone else.” He finished and everyone nodded. 

“Hold on a sec, contacts? How do contacts work with eyelights? I don't understand...”

“Magic.” Error said, and Maxie snickered. 

“So, let’s begin the challenges!” She said and they were separated and thrown into a version of Snowdin.

“Where are we?!” they cried out, looking around but Maxie laughed. 

“Welcome to your first challenge! Can you handle the Star Sanses all by yourself? Only one of you has to win for all of you to proceed, and the battles will be scaled so you are evenly matched.” Maxie’s voice echoed through the area, but she was not seen. 

“Maxie. What are you doing?” Jana asked, accompanied by Beatrice. 

“Having a bit of fun. What are you doing?” Maxie said, smiling innocently. 

“Are you seriously messing with them?” Jana said, shaking her head in disapproval. 

“You didn’t raise any concern when Jack, Zack, and I were talking about our plan. So why are you looking at me like that?” Maxie said, and the two sighed. 

“Because we want to help. But only to an extent.” Jana said, and Maxie was intrigued.

“To what extent I may ask?” Maxie wondered, smiling. 

“If you trigger their PTSD or do anything relating to Ink, we’re out and we will tell them who Error was.” Beatrice said, and Maxie shrugged. 

“Sure. It’s a deal.” She said, holding out her hand as Beatrice shook it. 

“We’re still going to Jack’s for pizza right?” Maxie asked, changing the subject.

“Hell ya. I’m bringing garlic knots.” Beatrice said and Maxie's eyes lit up. 

“Garlic knots!” She held her hands up in joy. 

“Blue most of us saw that Christmas party webcomic already. We know you spiked the eggnog. Why do you always pretend to be so innocent? not that I have much room to talk on that front...”

“I have long admitted to spiking the eggnog at that party. And I haven’t spiked anything since. No one seems to believe me!” Blue said, grumbling as his eyes turned to small broken hearts as tears filled his eyes. 

“Sure.” Stretch said, and Blue glared, some glitches popping up. 

“to sci and alphys is it possible to turn flowey back into asriel.”

“Without 7 human souls, I don’t think we can. We’ve looked into it, just to see if it was possible. He may be ok with staying as Flowey, with the exception of the pacifist run, but others in his situation aren’t. So we looked at his code to see if it was hypothetically possible, and it isn’t.” Sci said, sipping coffee. 

“Yeah, h-honestly, I was h-hoping that we could. I-I regret i-it so much. I-I wanted to see i-if I could help others. B-but this is i-irreversible.” Alphys said, ringing her hands. 

“It broke Toriel and Asgore’s hearts. Though, they would respect Flowey’s wishes if he didn’t want to, he is still a person whose opinions should be listened to. Even if he is a jackass.” Sci said and Alphys nodded. 

“sanses how do you guys stop genocide routes from starting since you said there were very few”

“We don’t. They just stop, and then they start up again. Like wet and dry seasons, only more sporadic.” Classic said.

“Some worlds, like mine, don’t have as many, the way the world works kinda discourages it.” Red said, and Swapfell nodded. 

“frisk what was the strangest interaction you have had with someone in the underground”

“Gaster. He is so mysterious and strange. I wonder what his deal was, but I never can find out. I’ve met his followers and such, but I’ve never heard him speak, and I’m assuming the person I saw was Gaster!” Frisk said, they were somewhere in Snowdin forest, marking down words on their arm. 

☝☜❄ 💧✌☠💧 ❄⚐ ❄✌☹😐 ✌👌⚐🕆❄ 💣🕆☹❄✋✞☜☼💧☜. 

 ❄☟☼☜✌❄☜☠ 🏱✌🏱✡☼🕆💧. 

“so what has been the most dangerous mission the dark sanses have been sent on”

“There was HorrorLustFell.” Nightmare said, “Unaware of what was going to happen, I had Cross deal with it.” 

He was waiting for Maxie to start up her game, and he hoped his boys were doing well.  

“HorrorLustFell.” Cross said, “I took a month-and-a-half break after that to recover.” Cross said, raiding Grillby’s and the shops for armor, supplies, and food.

Everyone gave similar responses.

“Who all is helping with the search? everyone or just the gang?”

“Just us. Everyone knows what we’re doing and they’re willing to help if we need it.” Error said, shrugging as he made himself a swing and began to swing.

“Okay here is one for the classic undertale gang, since they know about the resets and multiverse now. thoughts on this video? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H8hGMFQPBDw”

“Sans, do you want to talk?” Papyrus asked, and Sans was gone.

“I knew he had problems, but if someone can deduce that? Wow.” Toriel said, holding her hand over her mouth. 

“We have several therapists available.” Outer said, “The hard part is getting him to see one. And I know I’m a hypocrite.” Outer said, shrugging. 

“You are correct, space Sans.” Papyrus said, “I just wish he could talk about it.” Papyrus said. 

“I mostly wanna see what paps has to say about his brother hiding his mental health problems.”

“I knew he had issues, but I want him to talk to me, I know it’s hard to talk about your mental health problems, but it’s been five years. Though he has suffered far worse than any of us, if the Dark Sanses are anything.” Papyrus said.

“I’m going to stall Frisk, Toriel, you need to get out of here. Frisk will be getting here soon.” Papyrus said and everyone dashed out of the house.

“Have the sans ever had to have an intervention for any of the other sans, like Blueberries alcohol problem?”

“I have no problem first of all. And secondly, we have had to have interventions.” Blue said, “Black had a drug addiction a while back, and we are trying to get Papy to stop or reduce his smoking habits.” Blue said and Stretch sighed. 

“At least I’m working on it.” Stretch said, and Blue nodded. 

“oh i'm just teasing him, cause I love him.”

“Thank you!” Blue said, smiling. 

“frisk has there ever been a timeline in which the annoying dog didn't take the legendary artifact and if it wasn't taken what does the artifact do”

“I have never gotten the artifact.” Frisk said, Papyrus and Sans coming into view.

“to error how much exp did ink get you?”

“Quite a bit. The number escapes me, but it was in the hundreds.” Error said, swinging. 

“flowey at the end of the pacifist timeline you decide to give up the souls and break barrier once the barrier was broken you could have easily murdered more humans and get to be a goat again so why kill a few for their souls?”

“Timelines never last that long, and when I turn back, it leaves an impact on me that makes it hard to be a jerk for a while. Residual effects of being that whiny crybaby.” Flowey said, “And it wouldn’t change anything.” Flowey said, wilting a bit.

“Fresh, tell me about your furby collection? I miss mine. I had 3, they always said they were hungry last at night when I was falling asleep... it was kinda creepy.”

“I have a version of every Furby ever made. 3 is pathetic yo. Though they are demanding and creepy sometimes, I’ll give ya that brah.” Fresh said, looking around as snow fell around him.

“What are you guys doing to find Error's origin anyway?”

“We were going to ask the creators what they knew, since none of Killer, Dust, or Horror’s code could help us and Error’s code is a mess on account of him being a glitch, then we’d go from there, asking questions and making guesses based on what we knew.” Nightmare said, “For all we know Error could be from one of the many neutral timelines, and that wouldn’t pin anything down at all.” Nightmare said. 

“Blue, how do you hide your glitches? That seems like a very hard thing to explain to people you don't want knowing about the multiverse.”

“Dream made a small illusion charm with Sci and Alt’s help that makes me look normal. It’s also pretty!” Blue said as he held up a golden charm in the shape of a blueberry, it was attached to a gold chain that was hidden by his battle body.

“Have the rest of the Sans seen Error in his glasses? I need to see them all squirm at how cute he is!”

“Only Blue and Classic have seen him in his glasses. Other than us of course.” Killer said, “I helped make the frames, and the way his eyes lit up when he could clearly see for the first time, it was the best feeling in the world. I remember taking care of Pap, it felt like that.” Killer said, and he smiled at the memory. 

“How does Dream feel about being an uncle now? Is he a FUN Uncle?”

“I’m not really considered an uncle per say, but I do try to be fun. And it is fun to say that I am technically the Dark Sanses’ uncle, they have the funniest reactions.” Dream said, laughing.

“Error am I embarrassing you too much?”

“Yes.” Error said, still swinging.

(Tumblr, I need asks from you guys too.)

Next

Previous

[thebarefootking]

Food

As with many autistic people, my childhood was rife with battles at the dinner table over what I would and would not eat. (Or, in my case, the bar. Our trailer didn't have a dinner table, per se, and I ate on a tall chair in the kitchen, facing across the bar toward the living room TV, while my parents sat on the couch.) Some foods were fan favorites, some I wouldn't touch with a ten-foot fork. Tomatoes, I hated (and still hate!) One of my earliest memories is of a preschool teacher, so much bigger than me, coming up behind while I picked at my food.

"Don't you like tomatoes?"

"No. They're gross."

"Have you ever tried a tomato?"

"No. They smell bad and they're mushy."

"Well how do you know you don't like it, if you haven't tasted it?" she asked, ignoring the fact I'd just told her. "Try it. For me?"

"I don't wanna."

"Just one bite?"

"I don't. wanna."

"You need to try the tomato."

Of course, when I finally gave in to her badgering, I 'learned' what had already been apparent to me: tomatoes were gross.

Some foods, more interestingly, were one-day delights, preferred a couple times and then hated thereafter. Eggs, for example, were always a trial. A nice scramble was always accepted, at least for my youngest years, until I learned more about where eggs came from. After that, I swore I could taste the chicken embryos, and I didn't eat eggs for a good, long while. When I repented of my folly, fried eggs were the dish of the day, but only one way: cooked hard, with the yolk unbroken. That way, I could peel the egg white away and eat it, and leave the whole yolk on my plate to be disposed of or, more frequently, eaten by one of my parents.

For those of you who cook, you may know that this is a particularly difficult way to prepare eggs. Either the yolks stay runny and burst on the plate (bad), or they burst in the pan from heat and overhandling, and mingle inextricably with the white (worse). Dad claims it took him months of practice to figure out how to do it, and years to get really good… by which time I'd gone off eggs again, preferring a sweeter breakfast (probably for the energy boost it gave me. By the time 4th-6th grades rolled around, school was causing me to work up an intense appetite.)

Although I didn't have a very broad spectrum of preferred tastes, that didn't stop me wanting to experiment in the kitchen. Indeed, it was one of my favorite things to do! Unfortunately, I could rarely get an adult to allow it (partly because we, in our poverty, could not afford to waste ingredients. Partly because, again, due to poverty, everyone was just too damn exhausted to supervise something that potentially dangerous.) Instead, I usually ended up sneaking and doing it on my own, which invariably led to trauma of one kind or another.

One incident occurred one of the very first times my parents dubbed me old enough to stay home on my own while they went out to run errands. Having recently seen a news spot on dyed salt for those seeking to reduce their salt intake, I sought to replicate the stuff in my own kitchen. How hard could it be? I thought. Just add food coloring to salt.

Only, food coloring has water in it.

All the salt (and I do mean all the salt in the house) was now a dark blue-green color, and the texture of wet sand. I needed to dry it out! But I wasn't allowed to use the oven or stove unsupervised. What could I do?

I decided the best option was to microwave the salt. I spread it out on a large plate, and nuked it in batches until all the salt was dry. Unfortunately, for the first batch, I failed to realise how VERY FUCKING HOT the plate would be after several minutes spinning away in the microwave. I pulled it out barehanded, screeched in pain, and tossed the Perry-the-Platypus-colored salt all over the kitchen floor and microwave cabinet.

Not good. I was already beginning to worry about what my parents would think about all this business with the salt. Now I had a mess on my hands to boot. I tended to my (thankfully minor) burns, and then began swabbing the floor and cabinet with damp paper towels...

… which spread the food dye EVERYWHERE. Now the salt was teal, the floor was teal, the cabinet was teal, and I was teal.

And I had no idea when my parents would return!

I cleaned frantically, microwaving salt on the side the entire time. And somehow (perhaps Lot's wife was smiling upon me?) I got it all managed. My parents came home to a nice, clean kitchen (if you didn't see the small blue spots in the crevices at the very edge of one cabinet), and a calm, collected child (also slightly spotted, but only on the palms, easily hidden). Nothing of note occurred until dinner time.

"LAUREN!!"

Apparently, Dad did not like that all of his salt was turned 'blue'. My reasoning appeased his anger, but he was still pretty displeased. I was temporarily banned from using the microwave without permission. And they were far more cautious about leaving me alone, after that.

(These days, Dad frequently apologises for this. He says it was a creative and thoughtful act, and he shouldn't have gotten mad. I agree, but I'm also not mad anymore. The whole thing is rather funny in retrospect.)

A much more traumatic food event, much later, but still involving the microwave, was the first time I tried making microwave mac 'n cheese. It was around the inception of Easy Mac, so the idea was quite novel; it wasn't as if I had a backlog of knowledge on what not to do…

I followed the instructions exactly, with the single differing point of adding some dried parsley before cooking.

AND LET ME TELL YOU.

If you are going to add parsley to your Easy Mac, do it after cooking! Cooking amplifies and alters the flavor so that it tastes like you added some sort of cooked leafy vegetable, like spinach, except somewhat more like an inedible plant. The flavor permeates every nook and noodle, and even the cheese sauce can't mask it.

It was inedible. Beyond inedible; it was sensory overload of the worst kind.

And my parents, who had watched the whole thing, and warned me of putting anything in my food that I didn't 100% know would taste good, made me eat it.

At first, there was a screaming match, until I wore myself out with tears and begging. Then, I just sat there, defeated, thinking of ways I could get out of eating it. Maybe if I intentionally get choked on the food? Maybe if I shatter the glass of the coffee table, and then hurt myself with it? Something to make them care about something other than me eating this food. Anything to make them see how much eating the food was bad and wrong and how much it hurt me.

I was never, in my entire childhood, a willfully disobedient child. Well, small things, here or there, a child's innocent inability to self-regulate their impulses or understand the rules. Never did I knowingly and intentionally go against my parents' commands when I now feel like I had another real choice. But there were times, like these, when I didn't have a choice.

I ate three bites before my body rebelled and I threw up. Mom didn't follow through on her threat to make me eat the vomit and finish the food.

Instead, I got grounded for two weeks.

Incidentally, I've never gotten an apology for this little incident, despite it being the one I'm still angry over.

None of this is to say I was too picky to be fed, or that I ever went without (excepting that one night with the poison mac). If anything, I ate more than plenty in an attempt to offset the lacks in nutrition my pickiness inevitably led to. I'm sure that I was malnourished at times, despite eating more than my necessary share of calories.

And boy, was I aware of what that share was! My parents were and are avid yo-yo dieters, always on one plan or another to lose the weight they gained off a diet of poverty foods. All the while, frustrated by my pickiness, they fed me on breakfasts of whole packages of off-brand cinnamon rolls or apple turnovers. My lunch was usually whatever snack-foods I could convince the lunch ladies to sell me for the same price as a school lunch I wouldn't eat. With both parents either busy or exhausted, dinner was Taco Bell nearly every damn weekday.

It was inevitable that I would gain weight, with the genes, environment, and diet all inclined toward it. I was ten or eleven the first time my parents mentioned including me in one of their diet plans.

Not likely, I thought. I had long since decided that healthy food was gross, like school lunches and boiled vegetables and limp salads. And I wouldn't, couldn't cut my portions; not when I had to stay alert and concentrating while hauling all my books all around the school without a bookbag (which, after the Columbine shooting, had been banned at my school, lest we ten-year-olds have a place to conceal a weapon). I was already battling undiagnosed ADHD. I didn't need low blood sugar on top of it.

Still, if it gave them an incentive to buy more fresh fruit, I wasn't going to complain.

(And I didn't complain at all about any of their diets, until the one that consisted almost exclusively of boiled cabbage soup that stank the house to high heaven. I didn't even entertain joining them on that one.)

What it all added up to, though, was someone who, by the age of eleven, already had enormous issues with food and body image. And diet, for that matter, for we still hadn't found a healthy variety of foods that I would eat. By the time I was in high school, I was eating Cheetos and Little Debbies with Mountain Dew for lunch every weekday except Wednesday (chicken nuggets and mashed potatoes day in the cafeteria! Hell yeah!) I was also being (mildly) bullied for my weight.

Adulthood came after, with blessings and curses. When I moved out on my own, I had more opportunity (and income!) to explore what I liked culinarily. I got to employ the whole backlog of tips and tricks from cooking shows that I had watched for years. (At one point, during high school, I had wanted to become a chef. I gave up the idea when I realised how ill-suited I was to the job, but the education of the time stuck with me.)

I got to learn my favorite ways to cook food (pan fried, not baked. Baking unseasoned meat is not 'cooking', Dad.) I got to play with spices and flavors.

Or, I did for a while.

Very soon, my work at McDonald's caught up with me, and I found myself too tired to do much cooking. (Sorry, Dad! I understand, now!) More and more, my meals were eaten at work, from work. Over the next year, my stress increased, and my eating habits faltered along. And then, I began passing out at work.

Now, I needn't tell you this is a very dangerous situation, what with all the hot oil and ovens and lamps and such in a kitchen. I was sent home more than once, and it was becoming a danger not only to me, but to the state of my employment. I got in with a doctor as soon as I possibly could, and they determined that I had iron deficiency anemia.

No one was particularly surprised. I have a family history of the affliction, and I had basically been living off yogurt cups, Sausage Egg McMuffins, and chicken biscuits with cheese for months. My doctor suggested diet changes and high-dose iron supplements.

(One of these two turned my poop to black sin slime from a hell portal in my bowels. It was not the diet.)

Immediately, I switched over to a high-iron, high-protein, low-carb diet. And you know what? I felt fucking fantastic. I had energy for days, my mental acuity was improved, and my mood was better. I fell asleep faster and slept more soundly.

For three months, I kept it up. But then the financial burden became too much. Turns out, it's damn expensive to eat home-cooked meat every day when you're picky as hell. I was easily spending at least two to three times as much as I was when I was eating only fast food (on employee discount, admittedly). And soon, between the stress, the financial concerns, and my health problems, I had to move back in with my parents.

Honestly, I still haven't found peace with food and its place in my life. Coming to accept what my sensory needs mean for me has been difficult, and working around those needs in a productive way has been nearly impossible, especially with my other disabilities in tow. I feel that I'm learning to be kinder to my body emotionally speaking, but I could still be much kinder to it physically. 

If only I could figure out how.

I wish I could be that little kid who loved experimenting in the kitchen, again. But I'm not, and I can't. So I'll have to find another way to take care of me.

[timelordthirteen]

In All Things 14/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: A Rumbelle arranged marriage AU.

Chapter Summary: Belle tries to get some answers from her father, but not is all as it seems, and in the middle of the night she makes a terrible discovery.

Notes: Once again this chapter didn't end up where I wanted it to. I'm going to end up drawing all this out just because I'm terrible at estimating how long these chapters will be. Sorry I'm like this. For the 31 Days prompt #16: fire.

[AO3]

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Belle marched down the corridor.

The sound of her heels was loud and sharp, matching the cadence of her heart as she stalked towards her father’s study. Her fingers curled into fists as she came to the door, ready to kick and scream if necessary until Milton let her see her father. She pounded on the door three times and stepped back with her hands on her hips.

It creaked open and Milton’s thin, boney face appeared in the gap, his oddly pale eyes narrowing at her.

“I want to see my father,” she said firmly.

He moved back and began to close the door, but she caught the edge of it with her hand and pushed into the space, using her hip and shoulder to force it back open.

“Now.”

Milton drew back, his mouth opening to say something, but a voice from inside the room stopped him.

“Milton? Who’s there?”

“Papa?” she called out. “It’s me!”

“Belle!” came Maurices voice from inside. “Petal, come in, let me see you.”

She shot a glare at the steward, and stepped passed him into the room.

Maurice got up from his desk, a large mahogany thing with carvings on the sides, and came around to greet his daughter. He held out his hands to take hers and lifted them to his lips where he pressed a kiss to the back of each one.

“Belle, my dear, I thought you were to arrive yesterday?”

She squeezed his fingers with hers. “We did, we arrived just before supper.” She glanced over at Milton and met his stern gaze with one of her own.

Maurice frowned. “No one told me.” Then he looked to Milton, who had the decency to look sheepish when fixed with the questioning eyes of his master.

“My Lord,” the steward said, bowing at the waist, “I apologize, you were resting and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Maurice shook his head. “I always want to be disturbed for my favorite daughter.”

Belle rolled her eyes, smiling in spite of her annoyance at Milton’s clear defiance of her father’s wishes. “I’m your only daughter.”

Maurice leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Yes, precisely.” She laughed, and let him lay her arm over his. “Come, let’s talk in the library where it’s not so cluttered. Milton, put the ledgers away, we’ll finish this later.”

They passed by Milton as he mumbled a quick “yes my Lord,” and made the short trip from the study to the double doors of the library.

“Is everything alright, Papa?” she asked as he eased the doors closed.

“Of course,” he replied, motioning towards the velvet covered lounge with the sloped, curving back. “Didn’t you read my letter, my girl?”

“Well, yes, but - it was just a bit strange.”

Maurice let out a soft grunt as he sat, and Belle noted that he seemed to be favoring his left knee again. He’d injured it last summer dismounting a horse he had no business riding in the first place, when he landed in the mud and twisted his leg. It had bothered him off and on ever since, and it occurred to Belle that perhaps Gold’s issue was as simple and embarrassing as that. Of course he wouldn’t want to tell her everything about it when it was such an innocuous and silly thing.

“What was strange about it?” Maurice asked.

Belle sighed. “You talked of the winter preparations, the repairs to the mill, but nothing about how you were, or whether things have improved now that the debt was paid down. It - it made me worry, Papa.”

“Oh, my dear,” he said, lifting her hand with his and letting it drop on his knee. “Everything is well. I am well, see?”

He leaned back and puffed out his chest, and she laughed softly, shaking her head. “Yes, yes I see. Your knee is bothering you though, isn’t it?”

He sighed and nodded. “Yes, but it’s nothing. I’m an old man and I’m allowed to succumb to some aches and pains, am I not?”

“Yes, Papa,” she replied, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “And you are not old.”

The look he gave her made her giggled again, and she could feel some of her anxiety lessening. The incident with Milton was still sticking in her mind as suspicious. She knew she should trust her father, and trust in his confidence in Milton, but she wondered if it might be possible to get a peek at the ledgers, just to be sure.

“You’re sure everything is alright?”

Maurice huffed and straightened. “Yes, I’m quite sure. Where is all this coming from? Do you not trust me to run my own estate?”

She wanted to point out that trusting him to run his estate was how they’d gotten to the state they were in, well, that and the war in the south that King George had insisted on fighting. Now that it was over, the kingdom was rebuilding and recovering, but Avonlea still seemed to lag behind for some reason, and while she understood her father’s reluctance to discuss all his private matters with her, she felt that the status of the house of her mother’s family, which might still someday be her inheritance, was something she had a right to understand.

“No, no, it’s not that,” she insisted. Then she sighed. “It’s just different now that I’m not here. I wonder and I worry, and I won’t apologize for that.”

He exhaled and nodded, and reached for her hand again, holding in one hand while he patted the back of it with the other. “No, no, I don’t suppose you will.”

He hadn’t exactly agreed to tell her more, but she supposed for now she’d have to settle for him at least trying to understand. There was another matter she was hesitant to broach, but this was likely to be her only opportunity to speak with him alone for the near future. “Why didn’t Milton tell you I was here last night?”

Maurice let go of her hand and bristled at the question. ‘Why are you so suspicious, my girl? You marry that - that snake Gold - and now you come back and question everything? I thought you were here to visit because it’s been weeks since we’ve seen each other, and yet you sit here interrogating me?”

Belle sprang to her feet, her brow knit in consternation. “What do you mean by that? It’s not as if I had a choice in who I married, or did you forget the sad state of affairs of those ledgers just a month ago?”

“Belle, please, I didn’t mean that. Only that if Gaston hadn’t - ” He sighed. “If not for that, then Gold wouldn’t have been an option. This is not how it was supposed to be.”

“No,” she said, quickly stepping back when her father tried to take her hand again. “It’s not how it was supposed to be at all, nor how I wanted it to be, but that didn’t matter did it?”

“My dear -”

The doors opened just then, and they both stopped, toe to toe between the sofa and the fireplace. Milton stood in the doorway, a slight smirk on his face that Belle wanted to slap right off his long face.

“Pardon me, my Lord, there is a letter from Meryton that needs your attention.”

Maurice sighed. “We’ll talk after dinner, alright?”

She nodded, and gave Milton another hard stare, which he returned with a sneer behind her father’s back. As soon as the doors closed, she flopped down on the sofa and squeezed one of the pillows in anger as she stared into the fire. Her father was keeping something from her, and she didn’t know why, but it was obvious that Milton was part of it. They’d never had an adversarial relationship before, always being quite courteous but distant.

The former steward, Edward, died at the very old age of eighty-one. By then Avonlea was already in debt and approaching dire straits. After a few months of her father struggling on his own to maintain everything, with Belle trying to help where she could, King George had recommended Milton. In hindsight, Belle knew she should have seen that as strange, and she made a mental note to mention it to Gold.

Dinner had been one of Belle’s favorite dishes, crispy duck with a sauce made from plums and red wine, with the last of the season’s squash and apples roasted alongside it. Gold remarked that he could see why she preferred it, and the grin he gave her made her hopeful that he would mention it to Ms. Potts when they returned and she might get to enjoy it more often than when she visited Avonlea. Even Bae, who was normally a very picky eater, was pleased, and she counted it as a significant victory that they all made it through with light, pleasant conversation and full bellies. It was one of those hearty meals that signaled the end of autumn and the coming winter, and it always left her with a warm, contented feeling.

Except she was not so content this evening. Her father had begged off speaking with her after they ate, giving her a flimsy excuse about his knee aching and wishing to rest it in a hot bath. Her father never did what was best for him in that way, and he had never liked very hot baths before, usually preferring them more lukewarm so it didn’t make his skin itch. She supposed things could change, but not in just a few weeks.

Here she was again, restless, unable to sleep, and taken to worrying about everything to the point where she was considering sneaking into her father’s study to get a look at the ledgers. She glanced at the door of her room again and bit her lip. It was late and everyone else was probably asleep, but there was one person that she considered it was possible was not. Milton had always claimed a tendency towards insomnia, which was why he often worked late during the evenings, but even he shouldn’t be in the study at this hour.

Belle paced the space between the bed and the sofa several times, mulling over her plan, before sighing and giving in to temptation. She took the tall candle from her bedside table and wiggled her feet into her slippers before easing the bedroom door open. The hall was dark save for the two candles that were left lit through the night, but she stared down it for some time all the same until her eyes adjusted to the dimness and she could make out enough shadowy shapes to navigate her way safely.

It took her only a few minutes to make her way down the back stairway the servants used and cross through the drawing room to the main hallway. At the end of it was the study, and she waited at the door for a full minute before she opened it. The door was thankfully dark save for the remains of a fire, and she shivered as she stepped into the chilly room.

She pulled her robe tighter and came around the desk, setting the candlelight to the left of the ledger. Her fingers traced the cover, hesitating before she opened it, and she blew out a breath and closed her eyes before lifting it.

The first page was nothing more than rows of numbers copied over from the previous ledger, which seemed to have ended just after her marriage. She could see that everything appeared to be in order, the debts had been cancelled out, and the expenses and taxes didn’t outweigh the income from the harvest. She smiled and turned the page, only to have her face fall. The next set of numbers were less comforting, and there was one entry for a not insignificant sum that had no notation as to what it was for, nor a name for the payment. It was possible that her father had simply forgotten to write it down, but she didn’t think Milton would be that sloppy.

The next page had another of the same entry for almost the same amount, and again there was no notation or name. The total at the bottom was surprisingly low for an end of season harvest, particularly one that they had expected to be the best in several years. She bit her lip and looked at the next page, letting it fall from her fingers as she gasped.

Several rows of torn paper stuck up and she trailed her fingertips over them, counting at least four pages that had been ripped from the book. Her breathing increased as she felt the telltale twist in her gut that told her she was correct in a way she hoped never to be. The glow from the candle and the fire gave the whole scene an ominous feeling, and she turned the next page slowly, swallowing hard as she revealed the inevitable.

Row after row of figures went down the page, including one of the empty entries, now infamous in her mind. At the bottom, she could see the sad truth, that Avonlea was in debt again, to at least three different creditors this time, instead of just to the royal treasury. Her heart sunk all the way to her feet and she pressed a hand to her mouth as a sick feeling rose up in her throat. In spite of Gold’s payments to the King, her father was well on his way to ruin all over again.

She staggered back from the desk, knocking against the chair and making it scrap against the wood floor. The sound was startlingly loud, and she held very still, waiting for another sound that would tell her if anyone overheard. After a minute or two of nothing, she sat down in the chair with her head in her hands.

Her marriage, leaving home, Gold’s money.

It had all been for nothing.

She lifted her head and stared at the ledger for a long moment before reaching out to flip back to the torn pages. What had been on them that needed to be torn out? And who had done it? Was it her father in a fit of anger, or Milton trying to hide what was happening until it was too late?

The fire snapped, and she jumped in her seat. Her eyes fixed on the fireplace, and she pushed to her feet, crossing quickly to the hearth. She knelt down on the warm stone in front of it and peered into the flames and ashes. Even the heat from the low fire was searing this close, and she winced as she leaned closer. Near the front she made a discovery that raised her eyebrows to her hairline, the remains of at least two sheets of paper, the same color and weight as the pages of the ledger.

[dearlazerbunny]

Lie to Me (Ch. 5 of ?)

Pairings: Loki x Reader

Genre/Ratings: M eventually (aiming for a slow burn here); warnings for kidnapping and subsequent anxiety/PTSD (will be marked before every chapter)

Words: 1500

Summary: If you had to guess what the captured, traitor, trickster god Loki Laufeyson wanted or needed at this moment, a babysitter would be far, far down on the list. (Set after the events of Avengers 1.)

SHOUTOUT TO @molmcb and @jessiejunebug and their continued quest to inflate my ego as I beg them to tell me my writing is halfway decent  

Requested Tags: @deraniel @iamverity @yasnooshka24@themusingsofmany@dark-night-sky-99 @wegingerangelica

“You said you have questions.”

Your pencil scratches to a halt on your notebook. “What?”

The man in his cell heaves a long suffering sigh. “Must you make me repeat myself constantly? You said you have questions. Ask them.”

Um… what? You raise an eyebrow at him and peer closely, trying to distinguish and sort of schmoozing like the last time he spoke to you. “Are you… are we, like, talking now? Is this a thing?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well you seemed pretty insistent on keeping up the whole silent treatment, sooooo… why talk now? Did my ever-present charm finally seduce the Trickster?”

He gives you a look that could feasibly translate to ‘you’d be more attractive dipped in a swamp and covered in grass clippings’. “I am bored. You are here and seem somewhat capable of producing coherent thoughts. Therefore, you happen to be my only option for entertainment.”

“Hoo boy, lucky me.” You snort. “Don’t lie to me, you probably just want to figure out how to sway me into unlocking your handcuffs again.”

He seems amused by this. “I am the god of lies, Witling. I very much doubt you could tell when I lie to you.”

“Bet.” You pause. “I- sorry. What did you call me?”

The Trickster has an incredibly self-satisfied smirk on his lips, one that instantly makes you want to slap it off of him. “You seem to think yourself incredibly pithy for a mortal. Not many would speak so smartly to the God with a sliver tongue. And, you apparently refuse to call me by name, thus I shall not call you by yours, Witling.”

Considering everything he just said to you were well-places insults, they’re incredibly pretty insults. You suppose it’s that whole silver tongue thing. The man could read a phone book and it’d be X-rated. “I’m assuming you’re not actually calling me witty, Trickster?”

“Ah, the little one understands sarcasm. Quite a boon.”

At this point the jabs just fly right over your head. You put your chin in your hand and rest it on the table, musing. “Hm. The Witling and the Trickster. Sounds like a bad buddy-cop movie. I’m sure Neil Gaiman would make a killing off of it though.”

“You are very quickly trying my patience.”

“Well hey, you said you wanted entertainment, right?” The ferocity of his glare doesn’t scare you this time, surprisingly- you just scrunch your nose up at him, your equivalent of a toddler sticking out her tongue in a na-na-you-can’t-get-me kind of way. “So, can I really ask anything?”

“Provided it is not something so asinine as ‘do apples taste as they do on Earth’.”

“Hey, it’s a good question! Seven year old me was a smart cookie.” Externally, you’re trying to keep calm, but your heart is thumping so wildly in your chest you’re surprised the god doesn’t comment on it. You can ask him anything. Possibilities are whirling around in your head so quickly you can barely think of one to snatch up and voice. So you blurt the first thing you can think of- “did you really give birth to a horse?”

There’s a moment of silence, and you almost think he hasn’t heard you, but then his face twists into the most haughty, appalled, scandalized look that’s ever come out of god or mortal in any of the nine realms; you’re willing to bet your entire life’s savings on it. “Did I what.”

You try to subtly clamp a hand over your mouth in effort to keep from bursting out laughing right to his face. “I’m assuming that’s a no, then?”

“Mortals are the most inane, idiotic, moronic creatures-” He steadies himself, seemingly controlling his outburst with a well-controlled breath. “No. I absolutely did not. Where in Hel did you manage to come up with such a ludicrous statement?”

“So once upon a time, you turned into a mare to seduce a horse called Svadilfari and the resulting, um, incident, created an eight-legged horse named Sleipnir. I mean, if the story is true, you were kind of in a bad spot and had to think on the fly, but uh… yeah. Kind of a creative way of doing things.” The Trickster looks even paler than usual. “You sure that didn’t happen? ‘Cause uh, its kind of a well documented story-”

“I can assure you in my one thousand and fifty odd years of life I have not ever seduced a horse.” You have to give a little giggle at that, because such an odd statement coming out of someone so furious is absolutely hilarious.

“Well, damn. Mythomaniacs everywhere just had a sharp pain in their chests and don’t know why.”

The Trickster leans his head back against his cell wall with a solid thunk and lets his eyes close. “And Thor wonders why I loathe Midgard so much.”

“I guess centuries of rumors working their way down the grapevine could mess up your reputation a bit, huh?” You’re half teasing, and half trying to cheer him up, but he doesn’t seem all that convinced. You’re also terrified you’ve just insulted the crap out of him and he’s going to go back to the silent treatment, and you really do not want that to happen- this is the most fun you’ve had in ages. “So you’re a thousand and fifty? Roughly?”

“Yes.”

“How long is that in, like, regular years?” He cracks open one eyelid to give you the stink eye, and you roll your eyes back at him. “You know what I mean. Midgardian years, whatever.”

“How should I know that?”

“Well, how long do Asgardians live?”

He seems to think for a moment. “Five thousand or so, give or take.”

“Okay, sooooo…” you scratch some quick math onto the paper in front of you. Five thousand years divided by one thousand and fifty, Loki’s age- 4.76ish. If the normal human lifespan is ninety years, being generous, then ninety divided by 4.76 is… “Huh.”

“Have you made a revolutionary discovery? Shall I call your pathetic press?”

“Just out of curiosity, how do you think the prefrontal cortex matures in Asgardians as compared to humans?”

“Considering Asgardians are vastly superior to mortals, I should say at a greater capacity.”

“I sure hope so,” you murmur to yourself. Because this is… wow. Kind of terrifying, and kind of hilarious.

“What has your tongue in knots?”

“Do you really want to know?”

He cocks and eyebrow and glances around at his cell. “I’m not sure how the information could make my situation any worse.”

“Fair. Well, by human standards, you’re just shy of nineteen years old.”

“I have no context for your lifespans.”

“Um, eighteen is when you’re legally considered an adult in most countries. Here in the States you can’t legally consume alcohol until you’re twenty one. And I’m twenty four, so technically, by Earth’s standards, I’m older than you.”

Oh, the look on his face is just priceless. You wish you had a camera. “That is preposterous.”

“Math doesn’t lie, man. Oh my god, if you were normal, you’d be some rich frat boy right now…!”

“I have no comprehension for this term… frat boy… but from your tone of voice I can sure you I most decidedly would not be one.”

You shake your head, a huge grin on your face. “This is hilarious. I’m older than you. I feel like I should give you a lecture on safe driving skills or why you should stay in school.”

Trickster is practically nose to nose with the glass wall of his cell, looking ridiculously frustrated. “I have harnessed the power of an infinity stone to my own whims and you dare insinuate that you outrank me!”

A what now? “What’s an infinity stone? I haven’t heard of that term.”

It’s almost like a light switch flipping off- everything in him visibly shuts down and withdrawals into himself, swallowing everything up as a snake might a rat. “It is nothing. Unimportant.”

The way he stops on a dime is almost scary. Someone who can control their emotions at the drop of a hat like that… well. They usually don’t learn that skill by pleasant means. So you drop it for now, but you do write yourself a little note with a question mark, right next to his ‘human age’ that’s circled in big black marks. “Hey, I was just kidding Trickster. I doubt I outrank you in anything other than, like, random Midgardian trivia. Trust me, even with the handcuffs, you’re still the heavyweight here.”

To your relief, something like life filters back into his face, just a bit. “It would be best you do not forget that, Witling. There will come a day where I could make your life a living nightmare.”

But his voice is so light you just crinkle your nose at him. “Nah, I bet you’d be harmless. I’m the one who kept you entertained all these dark lonely nights after all.”

“I believe I would rather have Mjolnir set on my head.”