#am I having my baby reindeer moment question mark

[gatoburr0]

Having someone obsessed over you is fun until they start making you their whole personality, writes you letters 4 times a day and starts to draw cats and your favorite Splatoon characters just because you like them.

[cosmiceverafter]

My @malexsanta Secret Santa gift for @gra-sonas 🎁🎄 I was thrilled to give you a Malex gift this year. You're one of my absolute favorites and such a dear friend. You wanted all the holiday cheer: Christmas ornaments, cookie recipe, market, and FLUFF! I hope this domestic fic truly delivers, brings joy to your holiday season, and fills your heart with warmth during the hiatus. I love you, hun! Xoxo.  ❤️️💚

(PS: there's a little surprise in this fic, just for you, inspired by you)

***

Christmas Cookies & Holiday Hearts 

"You know, this will be our first Christmas together. Officially." 

As Michael says the words, Alex glances over at him, and his heart skips a beat. How is it that his alien still manages to take his breath away after so much time? 

Alex smiles and gradually runs his fingertips up and down Michael's strong arm, feeling the smooth skin there. "You're right, even though I know you've tried to get me under a mistletoe for years." 

"I mean, yeah...." Michael beams. His tan shoulders shrug as he kisses Alex's chest softly, "You aren't wrong, babe. Who could deny those luscious lips?" 

Michael's fingers slowly trail up Alex's chest, which currently has imprints of his lover's glowing handprints left lovingly due to their intimacy with each other.

When he sees them, Alex knows with certainty that their love can move mountains and is capable of expanding through galaxies. 

As Alex feels the calluses of Michael's hands on his body and now his lips, he closes his eyes to embrace the effect it manages to bring. It's as if a spark of electricity courses through his veins and ignites his soul. That's the only way he can explain it. 

Nothing ever compares to this—what they have together in these silent moments. Alex will always cherish this peace with his loved one. 

After a moment of soft loving caresses, Michael's smile disappears. Alex knows he's traveling deeper into that intelligent mind of his, the way he always seems to do these days. "But here's the thing, I want it to be special, meaningful. Christmases were never something to be excited about for me, you know? Just another shitty day."

Alex holds his breath but nods. Unfortunately, he knows precisely what Michael means. Though different, the events of their past, parallel each other in many forms worth forgetting. Alex's upbringing was painful in its way. Still, Alex wishes Michael, his sweet, brilliant alien, could have been spared the misery. 

All Michael Guerin has ever wanted was a home, to feel like he belongs on this planet, and Alex wants to spend the rest of his life giving him precisely that. 

"So, you've never done anything memorable during the holiday season? Not once?"

Michael raises an eyebrow as if to announce come on, but then he suddenly laughs as a memory resurfaces, "Well...there was that one time Sanders and I attempted to bake Christmas cookies for his customers." 

Alex smirks as he imagines how that scene played out. A younger Michael Guerin, who was in-and-out of the foster system, and the older man with one good eye, baking in a small trailer. "And uh, how did that turn out?" Even though he can take a wild guess.

Michael shakes his head as his golden curls bounce and sway. He holds up his arm, "Badly, I have a battle scar from the process."

There is a slight white mark on the inside of Michael's arm, which looks a bit like a four-leaf clover. Alex has always wondered about it. "Damn, and here I thought that was a lucky birthmark."

"Darlin', the only good luck charm in my life is you. Never forget that." Alex feels his heart flutter in his chest at Michael's words, and Michael gently kisses Alex's forehead. But before Alex can return the sentiment, his love continues, "But yeah, Sanders' oven was old as hell at the time, and I guess no one taught me not to stick my whole damn arm right on the rack. Sanders felt awful about it. Poor guy." 

"Were the cookies at least good?"

There's a sparkle in Michael's eyes as he says, "You know what? They were. I need to find that damn recipe—it has to be somewhere. Then maybe I can take the old man one, even though you are the better baker." His fingers lace together with Alex's, and Alex gives him a loving squeeze. 

"You're right, I am," Alex smirks as he wiggles his eyebrows. "But I would be happy to help you. Sanders would seriously love that!" 

Alex looks down at their hands still together. He is so happy that Michael now spends so much time with Walt. It is not a boss-employee type of relationship, but more of a familial one. After everything they had both been through, this progression felt natural. And if he's honest, Alex loves seeing Michael finally opening up to others, the way he does with Alex. 

Michael nods and grins, "Done." His caramel eyes gaze at Alex, and he turns over to his side. "But I want new memories, too. Truthfully, besides the cookie disaster, I've never had anyone to share the holidays with."

Again, Alex knows all too deeply what he means, "I know the feeling, my love. I've always admired Christmas from a distance, and it seemed...well, always on the outside looking in." He squeezes Michael's hand tightly through the sheets once more, "I'm thankful to have you by my side. We're both on this journey together." 

"Baby, I can't think of anyone else I'd rather share the memories with." Michael brings the back of Alex's hand to his lips, "Always and forever." 

****

The next day, Alex and Michael decide to go Christmas shopping for their friends, who were more like their found family at this point. 

Roswell had turned festive overnight, and it warms Alex's heart as if he were sitting by the crackling embers. 

Truthfully, he loves the magic that comes with Christmas: The twinkling lights aglow; the cheerful, upbeat, and often, repetitive music; the smiling faces of those who don't wait till the last minute to shop; the smell of cinnamon sugar baked goods; and the falling snow—when they were lucky enough to get some. 

For the first time, Roswell has even set up a Christmas Market like the ones you'd see in Europe. Alex's desert town has turned into a quaint storybook village.

Somebody has strung up multicolored lights between the small buildings, with brightly colored booths, side-by-side. There are reindeer attached to strings high up in the air, and a magnificent tall Christmas tree is sparkling within the town square. Above the tree is a halo of orange lights, symbolizing their golden desert sun. 

It brightens both their spirits to witness the magic created. As Alex and Michael walk around, they hear the soft holiday music surrounding them, which only rekindles their melody passion. 

They travel to each booth as they look for treasures to buy for their loved ones. Alex also keeps his eyes open for something unique he can get his Michael, but nothing quite captures his glance. 

"Look at this!" Michael calls in the distance. He's standing in front of a lovely booth with peppermint designs on the awning and dangling glimmering white lights.

Alex sees what Michael is holding—it's a beautiful guitar ornament. Painted on the guitar are swirls of green, blue, and black, sparkled with stars symbolizing the night sky. 

"Wow..." he says in response. "It's breathtaking."

Michael winks and bumps his shoulder lightly into Alex's, "Pretty cosmic, eh?"

"I'll say," Alex agrees as his grin widens. 

"It was clearly made for us," Michael acknowledges as he wraps a strong arm around Alex's waist, "I think it would be the perfect ornament for our first tree together." 

Alex kisses Michael softly on the lips, "I couldn't agree more, my love." 

****

"So, you have no idea what you're getting him?" 

Michael looks over at Isobel feeling exhausted, not at all how he felt when shopping with Alex, "Obviously not, that's why we're here, Iz." 

"Michael, Christmas is less than one week away, and we're sitting in some random store, shopping for the love of your life, and you don't have a clue about a special gift for him?" 

"Yup, that sounds about right."

Isobel shakes her lengthy blond hair back-and-forth. "Have I taught you nothing over the years?"

Michael groans, "Remind me again why I asked you to come with me?" 

His alien sis just shrugs, "Because I'm brilliant, and it's obvious you need me. I would even add the word 'desperately.'"  

"No...I don't recall that being the reason," Michael teases as he slings his arm lovingly over her shoulders. "You just love this stuff." 

"You're right, I do. It's the best holiday these humans celebrate!" They both laugh, but Isobel kisses his cheek, "Listen, deep down somewhere underneath that dirty white tee of yours, you've gotta have an inkling of what you want to get him." 

Well, if he had a clue, he would know it, wouldn't he? 

But then Michael freezes as he sees something across the store, "Um, wow...that was fast, but you're right, I do."

 Isobel pops a hip out, "Told you so." 

"Yeah, the only problem is I'm not sure how he'll react to it." 

Isobel smiles genuinely, "You know your man; you always have. Go with your instinct, Michael. I mean, word around this town is that they call you a genius or something." She gives him a look as she ruffles up his curls. "But pull away from that mind for once and go with that heart of yours. I, for one, know it's a pretty damn good one." 

Michael snickers but truthfully feels loved, "You could write a self-help book, you know that?"

She winks and bites her red-stained lip, "Who says I haven't already?"

"Give your brother a signed copy. He'll appreciate it." 

"As if," Isobel rolls her eyes, "You know Max wouldn't read it. That poor miserable fool who I love dearly." She pauses but adds, "So, Mr. Guerin, what'll it be? You going to listen to your heart?"

Michael narrows his eyes at the prize. Already knowing the answer to her question, he decides to let his heart follow the lead.  

****

"A little to the left, babe!" Michael calls out to Alex as they attempt to fit the oversized tree through the cabin door. "Darlin', my left." 

They spent the evening looking for the perfect tree, as it was their official first Christmas together. However, they ended up going with a taller sparse, and lopsided pine because, truthfully, life wasn't perfect, and neither were they. 

Life is what you make it, and Michael is confident they can make this tree as bright as his heart feels when he's around Alex.   

"There, perfect spot by the window," Alex smiles beautifully, pulling Michael back into the present moment as he nods in agreement. 

"I should've tried harder not to get it through the door, though. Those muscles of yours are worth staring at a bit longer." 

"Well, hold that thought, Guerin, because I'm hungry for food at the moment," Alex replies as he wraps his arms around Michael. "I'm thinking of soup; it's chilly tonight. Maybe it'll even snow." 

Michael runs his fingers on Alex's thick biceps, feeling hungry for something else, "I doubt it. The forecast didn't show it. And knowing our little city, we'll probably end up having a heatwave tomorrow." 

"Hey now," Alex remarks, looking deeply into Michael's eyes, "you never can know future outcomes." 

Michael smiles mischievously, "I dunno...I think your future looks pretty damn bright tonight, babe." 

"Is that a promise?" Alex asks, clearly flirting back. 

"Always, darlin'.'" 

They lean in to share a long lingering kiss, but before it turns too heated, Michael's belly moans in betrayal. Alex pulls back as he chuckles, "Raincheck for later, okay? I'm going to start dinner. Can you set up the tree so we can decorate afterward?"

Michael glares down at his stomach for the interruption but nods, "Absolutely." He moves his fingers, "I do know how to use these hands."

Alex grins in that sexy way of his as he walks into the kitchen, "Don't I know it." 

Michael loves this. He loves that he decided to take the leap of faith and move in with Alex. This cabin has become their oasis, his true home. And here with Alex, he feels like he finally has a place here on earth. 

Everything they had been through, even the pain, was worth it to get to this moment. Michael can't help but feel tears form in his eyes as he feels overwhelmed in gratitude. 

While Alex moves around in the kitchen, Michael cheats a bit to get the tree set up. His powers hover the pine in the air as Michael uses his hands to set up the tree stand. As he moves the small box of ornaments and lights over from the closet, Michael smiles as he hears Alex humming a new song as he cooks. 

Michael wants to live here in this domestic bliss forever.

Alex brings out his home-cooked meal, and damn, Michael thinks as he eats, his man knows how to cook. After they eat the delicious soup, Michael scrubs the plates as Alex makes them each a cup of hot cocoa with marshmallows, just the way Michael likes it. When the kitchen is clean, they sip on the chocolatey warmth as they string lights and decorate their tree. 

"Here's our new one," Alex says as he holds their new cosmic ornament in his hand. 

"That's a special one that needs to go right in front," Michael replies, as he hangs it up, hand-in-hand with Alex. "There." 

Alex leans over and kisses his cheek, which warms Michael's heart. "It's perfect." 

"You're perfect," Michael states as he leans his head onto Alex's shoulder. Alex slides his arm around his waist. Their movements are continuously in sync, and they are always somehow touching. 

As Alex's fingers softly graze over the skin on his hip, Michael knows what kind of touch he desires right this moment, "Now, how about we curl up by the fire, and I show you just how talented my hands can be?" 

"Yes, I could use the reminder," Alex responds with a slow grin.

They quickly light the fire, then Alex gives Michael the look as he pulls him towards the couch. 

Being so helplessly caught up in each other, they miss the first few snowflakes that fall in Roswell. 

****

It's cold out, but worth the trip. Alex gives the nod towards Michael, who taps gently on Sanders' trailer door. 

Michael shifts uncomfortably, but Alex is proud of him for facing the emotions he knows his love feels inside. 

After Sanders admitted to trying to adopt Michael, it indeed did something to Michael's heart. He opened up more, and Alex knew that Michael slowly realized he was always wanted and truly loved where it counted. It did something to Sanders too. Alex could almost see the young boy Walt coming through when they spoke now. There was a twinkle in his eye, and he would share memories with a smile instead of sadness. 

They felt like a family. 

That's why they had talked before coming to the old man's house with the cookies. There is something big that Michael wants to do, but Alex knows he's scared. 

Alex is by his side the entire time. 

Sanders opens the door with a smile, "Oh, Michael! Alex! Welcome! I wasn't expecting you." He shakes his shirt with a look of embarrassment. 

"We wanted to surprise you!" Alex says with a grin. He shakes the old man's hand. 

Sanders pats the back of his hand lightly, "I'm glad you did. Please, come in, you two. It's actually cold out." 

Michael takes a big breath and follows Sanders inside. 

When inside, Michael hands him the cookies, "Merry early Christmas." 

"Oh! These look delicious," Sanders says admiringly. 

"I'm not sure if you remember, but these are the exact cookies we made that one Christmas together." 

Sanders looks up at Michael with surprise, "Truly? The... 'burn on the arm' year?"

Michael nods with a jokingly wince, "The very one."

Sanders blows out hard, "Well, it always pained me that you got burned on that damn old oven of mine, but I must say, those cookies were superb, weren't they?" 

"They were, burned and all." 

"And you baked these all by yourself? Uh, should I be scared?" Sanders teases with a nudge. 

"Nah, I had some guidance," Michael mentions as he casually puts his arm around Alex. 

Alex shrugs, "I barely helped at all. Michael here did an excellent job. I tried one, so I can promise you that you'll survive." He winks at Michael. 

"Oh, phew! That's a relief," Sanders chuckles. "Michael, where did you find the recipe?" 

"In the garage, it was in a wooden box on one of your shelves. The one that's slightly tilting. I remembered you putting it in there." Michael taps his head, "I'm pretty observant if you haven't already noticed."

Sanders sighs with a lopsided grin, "You get it from me, I think." He pops one in his mouth. "Wow, absolutely delicious." After he chews, he looks towards Michael with an expression of gratitude. "Well, thank you, son, this means a lot to me."

Alex knows what the word son does to Michael, its effect on him, and Michael shifts awkwardly. He looks over to Alex for reassurance, and Alex holds his hand, comforting him the best way he knows how.  

His strength, after all, is linked to Michael's. They go together in every way that matters. 

"That's not the only thing I brought for you," Michael whispers. He reaches into his back pocket and hands Sanders the envelope. 

"Oh, a Christmas card?"

"Um, well, not exactly," Michael replies as he squeezes Alex's hand tighter. 

Sanders puts on his reading glasses and switches the lights on brighter in the trailer. He opens the envelope and starts to read. The small smile on his face begins to fall, and he becomes nonplussed.

Alex acknowledges that Michael gets uncomfortable, maybe even nervous, but Alex knows that Sanders is touched. 

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Sanders looks up, and his eyes are full of tears. His voice comes out raspy and hoarse as he asks, "You sure? You want that?"

"More than anything," Michael responds, his voice also full of emotion. "If you'll have me, of course." 

"It would be an honor, son." Sanders sets the adoption papers onto his small wooden table and pulls Michael tightly in his arms. "You've always felt like mine, anyway." 

"I think my mom would be happy about this," Michael cries, letting the tears fall down his face. It's the most beautiful sight to witness, and Alex can't help but let go, too. 

Sanders nods and closes his eye as he holds his son, "You know, my boy, I think she would." 

****

A few days before Christmas, Alex and Michael decide to throw a little festive party at the cabin. They spent the morning stringing up lights outside, getting the drink station ready, and preparing their friend's gifts around the tree. 

It was perfect. 

Isobel is the first to arrive, of course, and she brings so many gifts, she can hardly get through the door, "Hello? A little help here, Michael?" 

"I'm coming. I'm coming!" 

Alex finishes up in the kitchen, and even though the feast smells delicious, Michael's man looks good enough to eat. 

Soon after Isobel has her martini in hand, the others follow suit. 

Liz and Kyle come together, hand-in-hand, and Michael prays it won't be awkward with Max. Gregory shows up, and Isobel immediately wraps her arms around him. Michael and Alex share a knowing smile, especially when she holds a mistletoe above his head. Then Maria and Mimi head inside with a few bottles of wine. With holes in the top, Rosa brings a large box inside, making Michael wonder what it is, but Arturo follows with a banana cream pie from the diner, and the rest is history. Sanders joins, of course, and Michael can't help but hug him longer than the rest. And finally, his boy Max. 

Luckily everyone gets along perfectly. The group has been through so much together that they make a toast for a fresh new beginning. 

Everyone at the party finally knows about the aliens being, well, aliens, and swore to protect them. The secret has bonded and united them in ways Michael never expected.

The group mingles as they sip their drinks, and Michael looks around the room at his friends and family, feeling lucky. He made a life for himself in Roswell, and as he looks towards the love of his existence, Michael knows it's time. 

He takes a moment to just stare at Alex, and suddenly he's beyond grateful he listened to his heart. 

Alex is the one for him. Michael now understands that this human was his reason for coming to this planet—they were written in the stars long ago, destined to be together. 

This is why Michael stands up bravely, walks towards Alex, and gets down on one knee. 

Michael opens the little black box he got in the store with Isobel and reveals a silvery gray tantalum band, one he knows will fit Alex perfectly. 

Isobel hushes everyone down and clasps her hands together as she sends Michael a wink from across the room. Max also gives Michael an encouraging nod, which provides him with the strength he needs at that moment. 

Michael stares up at the man he adores, and Alex's perfect mouth falls open. Taking his love's hand, Michael finally finds his voice, "Alex Manes, you are my whole world. When we were teens, you looked at me in music class and sparked something deep inside me; something I didn't quite understand, but it was there with me all along. And when we kissed for the first time, you woke me up to the life I had always dreamed of having. You are that dream, Alex. You are my family, and you've given me a place to call home. I have loved you from the beginning, and I'll love you to the very end." Michael takes a deep breath, "I would be the happiest alien on earth if you would yes. So please, darlin', will you marry me?" 

Alex gleams as tears fill those beautiful eyes, "We truly are linked...." 

"What...what do you mean?" Michael whispers, but Alex immediately joins him on the floor, kneeling in front of him. 

Alex pulls out an emerald velvet box and opens it. Inside is an engraved bronze band that matches the color of Michael's eyes. He holds his breath as the rest of the world fades away. "I mean, you beat me to it even though I've had this ring since we officially got together." Alex places his hand to Michael's face and strokes his cheek gently. "I was waiting for our first Christmas together because I wanted to give us both a happy memory to erase all the bad ones. The plan was going to ask Walt for his approval, which he wholeheartedly gave." They both look at Sanders, who nods with a loving grin. "And then I'd get down on one knee in front of all our loved ones and ask if you'd continue to create this life together with me, a true home." Then Alex holds Michael's hand again, "All I can say is that I love you more than I could ever begin to put into words, and I'm asking you if you'd do me the honor in marrying me?"

Michael doesn't realize he's crying until he feels the drops land on his outstretched hand. "Oh my God, Alex...." 

"Is that a yes?"

Michael laughs softly as he strokes the back of Alex's hand gently, "I believe I asked you first, darlin'." 

Alex nods with a breathtaking smile, tears flickering those beautiful dark eyes, "Of course I will. A hundred times, yes!" He leans in closer to Michael, "And you?"

"That would be a hell yes, baby!" He hears a whoop from one of his friends in the background, but then Michael gets serious. "It's always been a yes for me." Michael cups Alex's face, "You're my human, Alex Manes." 

"That's Alex Sanders if you don't mind."

Michael looks over at his adoptive father again, who's now wiping his eyes and positively glowing. Michael kisses Alex's lips, "I don't mind a bit." 

As they finish their first engaged kiss, their friends cheer, cry, and hug them both tightly, then Isobel giggles, "Is now a good time to give you two our gift?" 

"Go for it, Scooby Squad," Michael exclaims as he takes Alex's hand in his own, never wanting to let go. 

Isobel looks to the room they had closed, "Okay, Rosa, bring her out!" 

Michael and Alex exchange a look. Bring who out?

And before Michael can overthink it, Rosa comes out holding a beagle puppy. "It's a rescue. The shelter I volunteer at found her abandoned on the side of the road." 

"We thought it would be perfect for you two, plus, remember that dinner we had a couple of weeks ago?" Isobel says as she looks towards Alex. "You practically said you were going to start looking for one. I remember you saying, 'the cabin is much too quiet, I think we need to get a dog.'"

Alex laughs and takes the small puppy into his arms, "I don't recall those were my exact words, but it doesn't matter; she's perfect."

"Lost without a family," Michael says, petting the puppy's long ears, "sounds like the two of us all right."

"You mean a found family!" Liz calls out. "Just like all of us."

Alex looks at Michael and nods. Michael smiles back, "We love her. Thank you, everyone!"

"I knew this pup would be a part of your future," Mimi exclaims, and Michael watches Alex wink at her. "She's a gentle soul. I'm happy she'll have you two." 

"Best dog daddies ever," Maria smiles happily. Everyone in the room has what seems to be permanent heart-eyes. "We will miss her, though! She's been staying with us." 

"Well, you know you all are welcome here anytime!" Alex says. 

"What will you name her?" Gregory asks as Isobel leans back into his arms. 

"How about Kyletta?" Michael laughs as he looks towards Kyle. "Kyletta Barklenti." 

"Real funny, alien boy," Kyle responds, as he rolls his eyes looking reasonably amused. He looks over at the food, "How about Bagel? You seemed to be pretty obsessed with those today, Guerin. I mean, how many did you actually eat?" 

"I was hungry!" Michael retorts, "You didn't bring nearly enough to share." 

"Okay, okay," Alex intervenes as he shakes his head. Michael enjoys ruffling Kyle's feathers, but Michael doesn't mind the guy beneath his human annoyances. He's a good friend to Alex, making him a good man in Michael's book. 

"So, what are you going to name her then?" Max asks from across the room.

"Yeah, I mean, you don't actually have to name her after a food," Kyle teases. 

"No," Michael grins, "you know what, Doc? I like it. Bagel. It has that—" 

"Bagel! Yes, call her Bagel. I love it!" Isobel interrupts. 

"Not again..." Michael groans quietly. Isobel + anything bagel = interruptions, which is a no-go, especially when it comes to Alex. 

After they finalize the name, everyone gushes over the puppy and their rings. They eat, share stories, and finish opening gifts. 

The day is perfect in every way. Even on the Hallmark channel, they don't make them better than this.

Michael holds Bagel in his arm and takes a break from the crowd. He sits on the couch in the living room, and the puppy folds up into his lap, falling asleep as Michael rubs her ears. 

After a moment or two, someone strokes his shoulder lightly, and he looks up to see his fiancé's beautiful face. Michael feels immensely grateful, not for the first time this holiday season.

Alex scoots in close and whispers in Michael's ear, "So, my love, would you say this Christmas is worth remembering?" 

Michael pulls Alex in his arms, "Yes, darlin'. I've never been happier in my life." He takes Alex's hand with the ring and kisses it. "Our family is already growing."

"It sure is," Alex says, putting his forehead against Michael's as he strokes Bagel's soft fur. 

They sit there for a while, just the three of them, with the comforting hum of loved ones surrounding them. 

"Wow...Look, Michael." Michael looks out the window to see it snowing.  The snowflakes fall to the ground in a swirling dance. It reminds Michael of their life together, new and old memories, coming together in a story of love. 

Michael feels complete peace in his heart as Alex says, "Merry Christmas, my love."

It was merry, and their future, well, Michael knows it will be very bright as long as they always have each other. 

"I love you," Michael answers. 

Alex's reply is the kiss they share and would continue sharing for the rest of their days. 

[fanfic-corner]

Wrapped In Red

Merry Christmas, @masterofevilmonkeyness! I’ve really enjoyed writing your secret santa for @destielsecretsanta2020 this year, and it has actually ended up being the longest fic I have ever written!

First of all, here’s the playlist. My friend found some perfect songs for the different scenes, and we had a lot of fun trying to find songs with specific vibes!

Without further ado, here’s the fic. And, if you’d prefer, the link to it on AO3.

{o0o}

“So you’ll do it?” his brother’s voice crackles though Dean’s cracked phone, and he sighs. So yeah, maybe he hasn’t been on a case in a while and has been going slowly insane just hanging around the bunker, but he also doesn’t want to leave Cas alone. Since his grace had faded completely a few days ago, the former angel had hardly left his room, and Dean wasn’t sure what he could do to help.

He rubs his forehead, already feeling a headache coming on simply from this conversation, and replies, “I’ll ask Cas.”

“Okay, text me if you’re going,” Sam responds, the phone making the muffled noises that Dean has learnt means that he is holding his phone on his shoulder, freeing his hands to talk to Eileen.

“Stop worrying, anyway,” Dean tells him, cracking his back as he stands up. “You’re on holiday. Leave the cases for a while, and I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

“Alright, jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Dean slips his phone into his back pocket and wanders down the hallway, so engrossed in his plan to invest in some thick socks because the bunker floor is freezing that he nearly walks straight into Cas. His dark hair sticks up in every direction and he is wearing an old Zeppelin shirt of Dean’s and a pair of Sam’s sweatpants, which look like they are being held up by some kind of miracle. Paired with the bags under his eyes which are so dark that Dean mistakes them for bruises, he could be mistaken for a ghost. 

“Hey, uh,” Dean stutters, not sure what to say. “Sam has a case that I was thinking of going on, but we don’t have to, we can just pass it on to Garth or-”

“I’ll go with you,” Cas interrupts, his voice hoarse and croaky.

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You don’t look...great. No offense.”

“I’m fine, Dean.” Cas’ steely blue eyes had always been able to pull off a frighteningly good stare, and Dean just decides to go along with it. It would do them both good to get out of the bunker, in any case.

“Okay,” he agrees, “shall we go in about an hour? That’ll give me enough time to pack for both of us and you enough time to have a shower.”

Cas nods, and they part ways, Dean watching the angel hoist his borrowed pants up and disappear around the corner before shaking his head and fishing his phone out to text Sam.

We’ll take it. Send me the details, setting off in an hour.

{o0o}

Dean had tried his very best to hold a conversation when they set off on the fourteen hour drive, but he had long given up and they were only at the two hour mark. Every question he asked so far had either gone unanswered or had been graced with a monosyllabic response. It was like trying to hold a conversation with a brick wall. Well, no one could fault him for trying. 

Flicking his wrist out lazily, he turns on the radio without looking with the kind of graceful expertise that only comes from years of driving his baby at night. It takes a full ten seconds for him to realise that the sound of jingle bells is coming from the speakers before he groans. “Nope.”

A surprisingly warm hand shoots out to stop him before he can turn it off, and Dean looks up in surprise at Cas’ imploring face. “Please can we listen to it?”

Considering what the dude had lost recently - and the fact that apparently his puppy eyes are almost as effective as Sam’s - Dean was hardly going to deny him this one thing. He did, however, have one condition. “Okay, I’ll leave it on, but only if you fish out my Christmas mixtape from the box.”

Dean never took his eyes off the road, but he was acutely aware of the way Cas stared at him for a moment before excitedly rummaging through the old box of tapes. Eventually, he pulls it out, admiring the battered stickers and fading drawings that he and Sam had added when they made it all those years ago. Cas gently slides it in and the first few notes of Mariah Carey grace the air.

“Hell yeah,” Dean says, grinning wildly. “You, Castiel, are about to be educated in some proper Christmas music.”

By the time the mixtape finishes, they are both in a much better mood, so Dean decides it is probably a good idea to stop for a little bit to get some snacks and some gas. Frowning, Cas informs him that he needs the toilet, before disappearing towards the nasty looking bathroom. Dean can’t help but feel bad for him; as much as he loves being human, he knows it must be annoying to suddenly have the weird experience of a human body. They always seemed to hurt or need something, and he could tell that Cas found the whole thing incredibly repetitive and exasperating.

The gas station is like every other gas station Dean has ever seen; empty, with a layer of grime that seemed to cover everything and the bright lights that ensured that no matter what time of day it was, it always seemed to look the exact same. This one, however, is also covered in Christmas decorations. Glittery tinsel and rainbow paper chains swing from the ceiling, the air conditioning coaxing them into a gentle dance. Fake snow covers every surface, and flashing fairy lights force him to blink and look away. 

Dean moves on autopilot, picking up snacks that Cas hasn’t tried yet and a couple of bottles of water, before reaching the counter. He has to yell to the cashier - who is decked out in a festive jumper and Santa hat - in order to be heard over the deafening Christmas music.

“Here,” she practically sings, disappearing into the back room for a second before reappearing with a ridiculous pair of reindeer antlers. “These are for you, sweetie! No charge. Cheer up, it’s Christmas!”

Dean tries to refuse the antlers, but the lady - Lucy, her name tag reads - is not taking no for an answer, so eventually he gives in, telling himself that it is just so he can leave this Christmas Hell and get back to driving. Cas is waiting for him outside, leaning on the car and watching as the first few flakes of snow start to fall.

Dean hesitates for a moment before offering the antlers to him. Cas just stares at them, his head tilted to one side. Sighing, Dean just steps closer and puts them on Cas’ head, laughing when the bells jingle as he tries to look up at them without taking them off. He slips his phone out and sneaks a picture of the bewildered former angel, hastily putting it away and bundling Cas in the car so that they can set off before the snow gets too bad.

“Why did you give me a pair of fake antlers, Dean?” Cas asks as they set off, turning them over and inspecting them in his hands. Much to Dean’s dismay, they wouldn’t fit in the car. 

“Thought you liked Christmas stuff?” he replies, grinning.

“What do fabric antlers have to do with Christmas?” 

And so, Dean finds himself spending the last leg of the journey attempting to explain Christmas traditions to Cas, who can’t help interrupting and pointing out the real facts, rather than Dean’s Christmas cracker knowledge. They go over Santa and his reindeers (“reindeers can’t fly, Dean”), the birth of Jesus (“I remember Balthazar telling me about that”), and mince pies (“why are they sweet? Mince isn’t supposed to be sweet.”). By the time they arrive Dean is so eager to escape the onslaught of questions that he doesn’t know the answer to, he hits someone with the car door as he gets out.

The actual reason that they have driven into the middle of absolutely nowhere dangerously close to Christmas is because a couple had gone missing last week and hadn’t been seen since. Usually, they would assume that this case wasn’t their kind of thing, but Sam had been asked to check it out by another hunter who knew them (and who apparently had some beef with a ton of shapeshifters), and so here they are..

Dean suggests that FBI agents might be a bit too suspicious for a small town in the middle of nowhere, so instead he and Cas decide to pretend that they are just family visiting them for the weekend. They knock on next door under the pretense of asking for the spare key, and are greeted by possibly the grumpiest people Dean has ever met.

“Fine,” the lady snaps, the half of her face visible from behind the door frowning at them in disgust before turning back into the house. “Harold, get the spare key for next door!”

“Do you happen to know where they have gone?” Dean asks politely, the pleasant smile on his face starting to ache.

“No.”

Cas raises his eyebrows at Dean, before he tries. “When was the last time you saw them?”

The woman huffs impatiently. “Probably when they went to that stupid office Christmas party. We could hear the music from here. It was so inconsiderate.”

“Oh,” Dean replies, sharing a look with Cas. “Where was this party?”

The door opens fully, a man appearing behind the lady - Harold, Dean assumes - who hands the key over to them. “It was those blasted Mitchells.” He turns to his wife, his bushy eyebrows raised. “Did you hear that they are throwing another goddamn party tomorrow, Ann?”

“Thanks for all your help,” Dean interrupts before they can get too carried away. 

“Merry Christmas!” Cas adds, already backing away. 

They speedwalk back across the victims’ house, making sure that the neighbours’ door is shut before they completely break down laughing. Dean can barely open the door, but when he finally manages to correctly align the key in the lock, they both tumble into the front room, shaking uncontrollably.

Dean collapses next to the couch, sliding to the floor. He takes a couple of deep breaths before managing to speak. “Sounds like we’re going to your first Christmas party, Cas.”

{o0o}

After making their way through most of the people in the town, two things have been made very clear. First of all, the last anyone had seen of the victims - Adam and Amelia Knapp - was at their office Christmas party. Which nearly everyone in the town had been at, and yet no one knew anything remotely helpful. Secondly, there was another Christmas party being held tomorrow night by the somewhat popular Mitchell family, and the chances of their mystery monster striking were high, in Dean’s opinion.

The most logical course of action would be for Dean and Cas to pretend to be guests at the party, so they could stop their creature before anyone else went missing and then they could disappear back home in time for Christmas. However, Dean had found that nothing in his life could ever be that simple, so instead he found himself standing in front of a wide array of hats, trying to wrestle a fez away from a former angel of the Lord.

Because of course it had to be a costume party, and just as the icing on the cake, it had to be a couples only costume party.

“Dude,” Dean says, finally managing to wrench the fez from Cas’ iron grip, “if we’re wearing hats, at least try a good hat.”

Dean plops an example on Cas’ head, laughing as it slips over his eyes. “These aren’t Christmassy, Dean.”

“Sure they are,” Dean says, grabbing a hat more in Cas’ size and a matching one for him. He strolls over to the till, grabbing a couple more things on the way. “You’ll see.”

Since they have a few hours to kill before the actual party, Dean decides that they can waste some of the day doing some Christmas shopping, especially after he finds out that Cas hasn’t got any presents yet. He drives them to a nearby mall, throws Cas a handful of notes and his antlers, and gives him strict instructions to buy some presents and then meet Dean in the food court in an hour. 

“Why can’t we do it together?” Cas asks, and Dean could swear he was pouting.

“Because the presents are supposed to be a surprise,” he explains, shooing Cas away with his hands. “Look, I’ll see you in an hour, and if you need anything you can just call me, ‘kay?”

Cas nods and meanders off, disappearing into the crowd without further complaint.

It is nearly ten minutes later, while he is rummaging through some shirts in an attempt to find one in Sam’s size, when Dean realises that this is the first time that Cas has been alone since he lost his grace. A sudden jolt of panic rushes through him, and he has to force himself to take a deep breath.

Castiel was older than humanity. He had led armies of angels. He had fought against demons and archangels and every monster under the sun. He could handle buying a few Christmas presents.

But, at the same time, Dean can’t help but worry. The dude has questionable social skills at best, and he is still trying to get to grips with his brand new human body. He often has to be reminded to eat or drink water or sleep, and there were several embarrassing occasions in the beginning where he had forgotten entirely.

Dean’s hand itches, his fingers curling towards his back pocket, but he resists the urge to call and check up on Cas. He doesn’t need a babysitter. He tells himself that he should just get his presents for people and then he can meet back up with Cas as soon as possible.

The mall is packed, the usual last rush as people get the last few things they need for Christmas. Conversations and the sound of toddlers crying fight to be heard over the echoing music, festive music adding to the deafening noise. While dodging people, making his way to their meeting place, Dean tries to remember the last time he was in a mall. Certainly not recently - he thinks it may be some time before he met Cas - and he definitely doesn’t remember them making him feel this claustrophobic. The sea of people pushing against him makes him want to throw up, and he finds himself having to duck into the nearest shop to avoid the crowd, shutting his eyes and leaning heavily against a railing.

“Dean?” a deep, familiar voice asks him, concerned. “Are you alright?”

Dean cracks one eye open, laughing when he realises what shop he found Cas in. He knew he should never have introduced him to Hot Topic. “I’m fine, Cas. Just hungry.” he deflects, standing up straight and patting his friend on the shoulder.

Cas gives him a look that says ‘I know you’re lying but I’m going to let you get away with it just this once’ and instead says, “Let me pay for this, and then we can go and get some lunch.”

Not even twenty minutes later, Dean is watching Cas eat a taco for the first time and has completely forgotten that he ever felt bad, because he is laughing too hard to care. Cas looks highly bemused at the stain on his precious trench coat, but Dean thinks that, secretly, he doesn’t mind.

{o0o}

There is no question that they are in the right place when they pull up outside the address they were given a few hours later, if the ridiculous amount of fairy lights and assorted decorations are anything to go by. They can’t help but stare at the blinding display for a moment, before Dean turns to Cas to make sure he remembers the plan. “Okay, so we go in, find our mystery monster-”

“Sam thinks it is a shapeshifter.” Cas interrupts.

“Okay, so we grab this shifter, gank it, grab some food on the way out and then drive home in time for Christmas. You remember the cover story?”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Yes, Dean. We’re the Bassons, and we’re thinking about moving here. Do I need to repeat the rest?”

“Alright then, you ready?” Dean intertwines his fingers with Cas’ - in order to keep their cover, obviously - takes a deep breath, and then opens the door.

A wave of heat rolls out from the crowded house, contrasting with the painfully cold air outside. As they step inside, Dean picks up a delicious smell wafting in from the kitchen, a mixture of turkey and cranberry sauce and mulled wine and gravy. The third thing he notices is the music blaring in from the other room, loud enough that he can feel the vibrations thrum through his body. He laughs when he realises what song it is. Space Cowboy; he couldn’t have picked a more fitting song.

After they had come home from their spontaneous shopping spree, Dean had spent an hour making the perfect couple’s costume. Considering the only supplies he had were ones he had picked up from the dollar store, he was actually pretty impressed with his handiwork. Both him and Cas were wearing their normal fed suits, however, it was the hats that really sold it. Dean had affixed - using an alarming amount of superglue - a strand of purple and blue glittery tinsel to his cowboy hat, and a set of fully functional Christmas lights to Cas’. 

Cas had protested at first - “How are cowboys Christmas related, Dean?” - until he had been convinced by the hidden practicality of it: any weapons they brought with them could be written off as part of the costume. Also, cowboys are awesome. Dean has yet to find someone who can prove him wrong on that point.

Cas squeezes Dean’s hand to get his attention, nodding towards two people who appear to be the hosts of the party. The music shifts into some Christmas classic, and they make their way over so they can start ruling people off the list of suspects.

An hour later, Dean officially decides that he is never attending a Christmas party again. Luckily, they’ve only had to deal with one homophobe, who Dean ‘accidentally’ dropped a whole plate of food on, but that doesn’t mean that none of the other guests are driving him up the wall. It seems that everyone is slightly drunk apart from them, and the only reason Dean hasn’t joined in is because of the dirty looks Cas sends him every time he so much as glances towards the punch bowl. 

It’s the karaoke that does him in. Cas is somewhere (Dean couldn’t tell if he genuinely needed the bathroom, or if that was his attempt at saying he was going to scout the house) and there is a woman wearing a skimpy reindeer outfit and wailing along to Last Christmas. God only knows what caused her to get on top of the table and join in while crying, but Dean suspects the answer includes lots of alcohol and the fact that the man who she had arrived with had disappeared upstairs with an elf some time earlier. Her rendition certainly isn’t going to win any awards.

With Cas not there to see, Dean manages to finish two plastic cups worth of surprisingly nice punch before he can be stopped. Considering the dude has flashing lights on his head, Cas can be remarkably sneaky when he wants to be.

“Dean, I don’t think-”

“Oh, what wonderful costumes!” a woman interrupts, and Dean forces a smile back on his aching face before he turns around to face her, just in time to see wink at him. She is wearing a green dress and is covered in baubles and tinsel, and the man standing next to her is literally wearing a massive cardboard box, wrapped to look like a present. It takes all of Dean’s self control not to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it.

“Thank you,” Cas says, and Dean wraps an arm around his waist in order to confirm that they are, in fact, a couple. The few times he had touched Castiel, he had been cold; it had felt like touching a corpse. As a human, Cas was like a hot water bottle, and even though the house was boiling, Dean couldn’t help but latch onto him whenever the opportunity arose. 

“I’m Natasha,” the woman continued, staring at Dean in what he had to assume was her version of ‘seductive’ and completely ignoring Cas. “Oh, and this is Cole,” she adds as an afterthought.

Cole also winks at Dean. He has never felt so uncomfortable in his life, and he went to Hell. Although, he has also never had both members of a couple separately flirt with him while fake dating someone else.

“I’m Dean, and this is Cas,” he replies, pulling the former angel even closer into him. “My husband.”

“Oh,” Cole says, and Dean doesn’t think he is imagining the disappointed tone.

“Sorry,” Natasha adds, not sounding in any way apologetic. “I didn’t realise you were a couple!”

Dean didn’t think he could make it more obvious, but… if she didn’t believe them, then they might be at risk of blowing their cover. There were already at least seven people who had been avoiding them after the usual weird questions and some not quite realistic ploys to get them to touch a silver coin that they had brought with them. 

“Why’s that?” he asks, and regrets the question almost as soon as it comes out of his mouth.

“For starters,” Natasha proclaimed, way too eager for this to end well. “You’ve been standing under mistletoe this whole time and haven’t kissed!”

Dean’s whole body freezes as they both look up, and sure enough, the bastard plastic plant is hanging directly over their heads.

“I didn’t realise,” Cas says, somewhat dazedly.

Dean takes a deep breath - there’s nothing they can do now, not with these nosy, weirdass people watching and waiting and expecting a kiss - and pulls Cas closer, turning to face him so their bodies are pressed together. In the dim lights, the lights on Cas’ hat make his startling blue eyes twinkle like starlight, and Dean wonders how he never saw how gorgeous he was before now. Maybe he had, and it had just been buried along with everything else.

“Dean,” Cas’ low voice rumbles, but he doesn’t finish his sentence.

Kissing a man is not so different to kissing a woman, and Dean can’t help but notice how much he likes the feeling of Cas’ chapped lips on his own. Something lights up inside him like a firework, and he realises exactly how much he wanted - no, needed this. He feels better than he has in a long time, as if a missing puzzle piece had suddenly slotted into place.

Cas pulls away first, and Dean’s mind suddenly catches up with his body. Holy shit, he just kissed Cas. He barely registers Natasha and Cole walking away, still transfixed by the fact he finds a former angel of the Lord - who is a man - devastatingly handsome.

“Dean. Dean, are you okay?” It is only the feeling of Cas’ body heat leaving him that gets him to look down, absentmindedly fixing the shorter man’s hat.

“Yeah,” Dean replies, choking on the words. “Yeah, I just gotta - I’m just gonna…”

And, like a complete and utter cowardly dick, he walks away.

{o0o}

It has been twenty minutes, so Dean can be fairly certain that Cas isn’t gonna come looking for him. Which is fine. It’s not like he was expecting him to. They only kissed to keep up the pretense, and Dean’s weird behaviour has probably ruined that anyway. It meant nothing.

The problem is that Dean can’t stop thinking about how amazing it had felt to kiss Cas. He had tasted like mulled wine and honey and the promise of a thousand lazy mornings. It had felt like flying and drowning all at once. Dean had never understood when people had described kisses as things that had nothing to do with the act, like earthquakes or lightning or fireworks, but the only way he could explain the ecstasy he had felt when their lips had touch was an act of God.

And that thought only spiraled into another: Dean had kissed an angel of the Lord. An angel. Even though Cas was human now, he still remembered the birth of existence and every word that came out of his mouth was fueled by eons of knowledge and memories and experience. He held himself with a grace that only a true warrior can execute, and to him, Dean must seem so small. How insignificant was he compared to that brilliant man?

Finally, there it is. The real issue. Castiel is a man.

It had taken some time, but Dean had taught himself, eventually, that John Winchester was a terrible parent. In fact, it was generous to call him a parent at all. It was Dean who had raised Sam, raised himself. And, even now, he couldn’t help but fall back into his old mindset, into an old version of Dean who would have done anything for his father’s approval. But, if he is being honest with himself - and, let’s be frank, it’s about time - Castiel was not the first man he had liked. He probably wasn’t even the third. 

In that moment, Dean decides that he doesn’t want to be a coward any longer. If he never expected his life to be a long one, then it is all the more reason to go for what he wants now, rather than later.

Yeah, maybe he’ll lose Cas, but… the possibility of what could await him if Cas does reciprocate is far more frightening than the former angel laughing in his face.

{o0o}

Castiel considers himself very knowledgeable in Dean Winchester’s emotions. He knows exactly how long to avoid Dean after eating a slice of his pie, he knows that he can hold full conversations with just a look, and, as an example, he knows that after their kiss, Dean Winchester was panicking. Badly.

That was fine. Castiel was fine with that. It wasn’t like he had been secretly in love with a man who had repeatedly called him a brother for over ten years. Nothing like that.

Sighing, Cas gently puts his paper plate on the corner of the kitchen table, the food he had been so excited to try half an hour ago now making his stomach roll. He figured that Dean had just needed some air; he would cool down, shove all of his emotions down in true Winchester fashion, and then return and pretend that nothing ever happened. The problem wasn’t just with the fact that Cas would very much be remembering that kiss until the day he died, but that Dean had been a really long time. 

Time moves differently now that he was human. As an angel, everything seemed to move so much faster. There was always something to do, the faint crackling of angel radio like a comforting background noise or a million particles to study. A blink of his eye and a century could have passed, and yet here he is, thirty minutes feeling like an eternity.

It’s by the time Cas has checked every room downstairs that he really starts to worry.

Dean is not in the kitchen stuffing his face, and he is not in the dining room drinking punch, and he is not dancing to the rather annoying upbeat song that is playing in the living room. He is not in the hallway, or on the stairs, or in the bathroom. When Cas starts asking, people give conflicting answers. A bauble saw him go upstairs, a Christmas tree could swear he was in the kitchen, an elf insists that he went outside. 

Since it is the only place he hasn’t checked, Cas heads outside. There, on the floor, is Dean’s stupid hat, the tinsel loose on one side, dangling pathetically into a puddle of melted snow.

Cas immediately calls Sam, who picks up surprisingly quickly. “Cas? What’s up?”

“ImighthavekissedDeanandnowIdon’tknowwhereheis-”

“Cas, slow down,” Sam urges, forcing Cas to take a deep breath before continuing.

“We’re, uh, at a couples’ only party, and we had to kiss and then Dean freaked out but he’s been gone for ages and I think he is in trouble,” Cas says, only marginally slower than before.

“Shit. Okay, send me the address. We’re on our way.”

Sam, Cas thinks as he tries a door handle that he missed before, is excellent at coming up with plans. Maybe it’s the time spent in college, maybe it’s his years of hunting experience, but even over the phone he had pointed out things that Cas had failed to spot. Like, for example, the door to the basement.

Cas turns the phone flashlight on like Dean taught him, the beam still not strong enough to light up the impenetrable darkness. The music fades to a distant hum in the background, becoming distorted and frantic as Cas feels. His eyes have barely adjusted enough to see the familiar but unconscious form on the ground - “Dean?” - before something solid connects with the back of his head, and Cas tumbles forwards, crumpling at the bottom of the stairs.

{o0o}

“Cas?”

Cas groans. When he had finally fallen completely, he had been surprised by how much being human hurts. Something always aches, and everything is so easy to damage. Even the smallest of injuries - a stubbed toe or a papercut - hurts way more than it should.

Apparently, a combination of blunt force trauma to the back of the head and the general bruises one acquires from falling down a flight of stairs hurt a lot more than a stubbed toe.

“Hey, buddy, you okay?” A familiar voice asks, and Cas tries to turn his head so that he can see Dean, instead finding out that that particular head movement causes his vision to blur and swim. When he attempts to bring his hands up to survey the damage, he can’t understand why they don't move for a moment, before his brain finally manages to catch up and he remembers the night’s events. 

So, maybe he wasn’t expecting his first kiss with Dean to be followed by being kidnapped and tied up in a basement, but this is a Winchester they are talking about here. 

“Come on, talk to me here.” Dean says, sounding worried.

Cas swallows, aiming to say something to ease Dean’s concern and instead causing a coughing fit. “I’m fine,” he eventually manages to gasp.

Dean snorts. “Sure sound like it.”

They are silent for a moment, the only sounds in the room an echoing drip and Cas’ raspy breaths. Cas isn’t sure how long they have been down there, but since Dean isn’t wriggling about in an attempt to escape, it has probably been long enough that he has already checked whether or not he can untie himself. From what Cas’ fumbling fingers can tell, though, the knots keeping them bound to this stupid pole are very good.

He feels utterly pathetic. He used to be a soldier - he had led armies, fought battles that humans couldn’t even comprehend - and here he was now, entirely useless, taken out by a baseball bat and kept prisoner by a length of rope. If he was still an angel this would have never happened. He could have saved Dean, he would have killed whoever did this, and they would have been back in time to enjoy the end of the party.

“What do we do now?” Cas asks, finally breaking the silence.

Dean sighs, and Cas can feel him against his back as his whole body sags down. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do but wait.”

Cas didn’t think he had ever heard Dean give up so easily, and it scared him. “What?”

“I don’t exactly see a way out of this, Cas. I’ve been trying to get these ropes off for half an hour and I think they’re probably just tighter than they were when I started.”

Cas gave an experimental yank, and Dean hissed in pain. Suddenly, the wetness on Cas’ hands made sense. “You’re bleeding, Dean.”

The hunter didn’t reply.

Cas had always thought that his death would be noble. Previously, it had always at least been in battle or a sacrifice, but this was just… pitiful. He was going to die at the hands of some random shapeshifter in someone’s disgusting basement, while wearing a cowboy costume.

“I - uh, I just wanted to say,” Dean starts, sounding unsure, “that I’m sorry about earlier.”

“It’s fine, Dean,” he replies, shutting his eyes in an attempt to block out the conversation. If he was going to die, he would rather not be rejected first.

“It was a dick move,” Dean continues, as if he hadn’t heard Cas. “I was just - I mean - I want to say…”

“What, Dean?”

Dean’s voice is barely a whisper. “I think I’d like to kiss you again.”

Cas’ eyes snap back open, and he hits his head on the pole in his confusion. “You would?”

“You don’t… I thought… I mean, I’m just kid-”

“Shut up,” Cas interrupts, not wanting Dean to panic all over again. “I would like that.”

“Oh. Really? Okay,” Dean replies, and Cas shuffles around until he manages to hold his hand. It’s sticky and wet with blood where Dean’s wrists have been hurt by the ropes, and every aching muscle in Cas’ body screams at the awkward position, but he thinks it might still be the happiest he has ever been.

{o0o}

Dean isn’t sure how long it is until he hears the footsteps on the stairs, but it’s long enough for him to feel much too tired for a fight. Can’t the universe just let him be happy for once? Is it too much to ask to not have to fight tooth and claw for one scrap of peace?

“Well, hello there,” a man’s voice says, and Dean feels Cas stiffen. It sounds oddly familiar, but he can’t quite place his finger on where he would have heard it before.

That is, until a second voice speaks. “What have we got here, Harold?”

The next-door neighbours. The old couple who had been complaining about the parties. Of course the only two people in this godforsaken town who they hadn’t checked were the bad guys. He should have seen it. They should have asked them more questions when they weren’t tied to this stupid pole in this stupid fucking basement.

“A pair of cowboys, Ann,” Harold tuts, and Dean cannot believe he is about to be killed by a weird old couple, of all things. He had prevented the apocalypse at least twice, had defeated God, and yet he was going to be killed by the monster of the week. Who looked like they were about three hundred years old, owned fifty cats and knitted in their spare time.

Ann walks around them, her heels clacking on the stone floor, until she comes to a stop in front of Dean. “What a shame,” she says, looking down at him like he was a stain on her shoe. “I was hoping we’d get a crier. Men rarely cry. Apart from that last fellow, of course.”

Dean’s stomach rolls, and he suddenly regrets eating so many pigs in blankets at the party. 

“What are you?” Cas practically growls, his hand squeezing Dean’s to comfort him.

“Whatever do you mean, son?” Harold asks, and he sounds genuinely confused.

Oh shit, Dean thinks, letting out an amused huff of breath. Great. He isn’t even going to be killed by the monster of the week. He’s gonna be killed by an actual old person.

“Is something funny, sweetie?” Ann demands, frowning.

Dean smiles up at her, deciding that he may as well die how he lived: a snarky bastard. “Sorry, I just can’t believe that I got kidnapped by someone’s grandma.”

Ann steps closer to him, crouching down so she is his height. A sliver of silver reflects in the dim light like a shooting star, slicing downwards and cutting a thin line across Dean’s neck. “Don’t give me cheek, boy.”

“Let’s kill the other one first, sweetheart. Then that rude fella has to watch his boyfriend die.” Harold suggests, spitting out the word ‘boyfriend’ like it physically hurts him.

Dean clutches Cas’ hand tighter, trying not to let the panic that is welling up inside him, cold and merciless, show on his face. He tugs desperately at the ropes around his wrists one more time, hoping for a miracle that he knows isn’t coming.

“Say goodbye, now.” Ann says, and Dean shuts his eyes. He knows that he can’t deal with losing Cas again, even if he’ll be gone soon after. He spares a brief thought wondering where Cas will go when he dies; is he human enough to avoid the Empty? And even so, would he go to Heaven or Hell?

“I love you, Cas,” Dean whispered, because even though he is scared, he knows that Cas deserves to know.

If Cas says anything back, Dean doesn’t hear it over the gunshot.

{o0o}

Dying was not a new experience for Castiel, nor was dying as a human. What was a new experience was the pain he felt in his chest that no bullet or knife could replicate. It was the knowledge that he had the opportunity to be happy and it had been ripped from him. It was knowing that someone loved him and cared for him and was being taken away from him.

When Harold dropped dead instead of Cas, his heart fluttered. Maybe he did have a chance.

“Dean, are you alright?” Sam’s voice calls out, and Cas finally allows himself to relax slightly.

“Sam?” Dean asks, surprise and confusion and relief all mixed together.

Eileen appears from nowhere and stoops down, grinning at Cas and slicing through the ropes. She winks at him but doesn’t say anything, simply helping him to his feet when it becomes obvious he can’t do it by himself. Sam has backed Ann into the corner of the room, his gun pointed at her with an unwavering hand, but Dean whispers something in his ear and he lowers it slightly. He signs something over his shoulder, not even glancing away from the threat, and Eileen rushes off upstairs, essentially shoving the injured Castiel into Dean’s side.

“Hey, buddy, you okay?” Dean asks gently, wrapping his arm around Cas’ waist to hold him up. His wrists are still bleeding and they are both cold from sitting in a freezing basement for ages, but the simple action fills Cas with a warmness.

“I’ve been in love with you for twelve years, you assbutt,” he mumbles.

Dean smiles down at him, somehow looking charming even covered in dirt and blood, only looking up when Sam clears his throat.

“Look, we should get out of here,” Sam suggests, standing up. He’s tied Ann to the same post that they thought would be their deathbed only a few minutes ago, and he is shooing them towards the stairs back up to the party. “Eileen’s getting someone to call the cops and we don’t wanna be here when they arrive.”

Cas ducks down, for a moment, holding Dean’s hand so he doesn’t completely keel over, and grabs the two hats off the ground. Reaching up, he puts his on before gently placing Dean’s on his head. The tinsel is falling off on one side, the lights have run out of battery, and they are both caked in dirt, but it still makes Dean smile.

“Let’s go home,” Dean says, leaning down and softly kissing Cas.

{o0o}

Much to Dean’s surprise, Sam and Eileen said nothing about his new relationship with Cas. In fact, when he tried to bring it up - he knew Sam had seen them kissing for Christ’s sake - Sam just shook his head and rolled his eyes at Dean. “Jody owes me fifty dollars,” was all he said, and their discussion was over.

Cas didn’t seem too perturbed by the whole situation, and Dean found himself wondering whether it was just him who found their new relationship strange. Not that anything much had changed, for that matter. They both behaved the exact same way, with added kissing. So what if Sam thought Dean was weird for still calling Cas ‘buddy’? He wasn’t the one dating a former angel.

What Dean had decided, after their fun little kidnapping escapade, was that Cas deserved an awesome Christmas. It was his first one as a human, after all, and what kind of boyfriend would Dean be if he didn’t show Cas all the wonders of the holiday season?

And that is how they found themselves turning the drive home into a Christmas road trip.

Cas wore his reindeer antlers wherever possible, and Dean took a million photos of him. On the first day, they visited a Christmas market. Dean thought it was much too busy and annoying, but it was all worth it for the smile Cas had after drinking his first hot chocolate. On the second day, they went to a drive-in movie. Cas gave both the funniest and most irritating running commentary that Dean had ever heard, having to remind him every five minutes that “it’s a romcom, Cas. It’s not supposed to make sense.”

On Christmas Eve, they spent most of the day driving to make sure they got home in time for the dinner that Sam and Eileen had promised. They sang carols at full volume and blasted Christmas songs and Dean taught Cas how to play the air guitar. Dean couldn’t remember a time when he had felt such a sense of freedom and happiness. Maybe it was just a Christmas miracle.

Christmas day rolled around, and it was the nicest Christmas that Dean could remember having. Sam and Eileen had decorated the entire bunker with tinsel and streamers, and had even managed to bring in a huge tree from outside. So maybe not all the decorations on it were technically Christmas related, but the silver bullets were shiny and although no one was quite sure what the pentagram they were using a star on the top did, it looked pretty cool.

By the evening, they had eaten enough food to feed twenty people for a week and had exchanged presents. Sam was sitting at the table with his new fancy pens, Eileen had disappeared to take a shower with her new soaps, and Cas and Dean were firmly planted on the couch. Cas’ new fuzzy socks were warm and ticklish against Dean’s feet, and the angel was a surprisingly good cuddler. 

All of a sudden, Dean sat up, dragging Cas with him. “Come on, dude. We should dance.”

Cas snorted but agreed, wrapping his arms around Dean tightly. They swayed slowly to the music, his head on Cas’ shoulder, gently singing along to the slow music.

Now you hang from my lips

Like the Gardens of Babylon

With your boots beneath my bed

Forever is the sweetest con.

Dean’s mouth twists into a smile. “I could spend forever with you,” he whispers, and he leans down to kiss his angel again.

[hazzabeeforlou]

Thanks Jinny @haztobegood for the tag ily <3 

Fandoms: 1D (so far...)

Tropes: ???? Idk? I’ve written various ones but probably the overarching theme is pining-idiot-friends-to-lovers?? Maybe? IDK someone tell me 

Number of fics: 14

Fic I spent the most time on: Probably Promise in the Sky, but The Garden is coming on a close second :/

Fic I spent the least time on: Okay we’re going NOT drabbles here, so REINDEER GAMES! My Christmas fic baby! My poor under appreciated piece of GENIUS the only purely sugar sweet fluffy candy sweetness thing I’ve ever written HARRY IS RUDOLPH THE RED NOSED REINDEER (but also a shapeshifter don’t worry) LOUIS PINES FOR HIM THEY SAVE CHRISTMAS honestly this thing happened as an ‘I am bored in rehearsal’ idea and got cranked out in maybe? A week? Two?

Longest fic: Promise in the Sky 99k 

Shortest fic: We’re Having a Baby My Baby and Me

Most hits/kudos/comments/bookmarks: Nothing very remarkable, I’m not widely popular LOL, I will say the comments on PITS and Flawless have meant the most to me and I’ve read many and cried <3

Total word count: 251,235 (I published my first story in June of 2018)

Favorite fic I wrote: This is a terribly unfair question I love all my children. I cried the most writing PITS, but also maybe Flawless? (It’s my most popular fic still to date!) I fucking LOVE The Garden but I have a feeling like only 3 other people will rip...

Fic I want to rewrite/expand: Nope, unless you count going through PITS and fixing all the fucking spelling errors I’ve caught now that I’ve edited a changed name version!

Share a bit of a WIP or story I’m planning: From The Garden part 2:

For half a moment Louis is prepared to protest, but Harry is touching him, their palms flush, and he needs the contact like a drug now, though he’s just remembered its potency.

“Okay,” he says, making no move to follow through. They watch each other for a time, until Harry’s enthusiastic smile leaves his face, replaced by uncomfortable knowledge.

“Here, let me help you, Lou,” he blurts at last, seeming to shake off the horrors of observation. Louis lets him peel the shirt from his torso and undo his jeans, deriving just a little satisfaction from Harry’s obvious guilt upon seeing each new scar.

Naked at last, Louis takes in a deep breath, a challenge.

Harry touches the mangled mark of an exploded bullet beneath his left shoulder, fingertips in place of words. Tenderly he traces the outline of pink skin, pallor coming to his face.  

“It’s so close to your heart…”

Unable to look anymore at the proximity between their bare bodies, Louis closes his eyes. They have both seen each other before, of course, multiple times. Countless times. But in Louis’ mind the clay and blood seem caked to him still, and he half doubts that Harry can’t see it coating his skin, dried and tacky and smelling of rot and death, and now more than ever he wishes to be untainted, to have this boy see him how he used to be, undamaged and whole.

I’ll tag @metal-eye @halosboat @evilovesyou @phd-mama @reminiscingintherain @indiaalphawhiskey and anyone else who hasn’t done this yet (I know it’s been going around!!) 

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

COTW - Chapter 12 update

Leaving Eren sleeping, Levi was forced to drag himself to work, dropping a still sleepy Viren off at Hanji's on the way. Eren had to be at the function centre they were holding the wind up in at 10am, his mate springing on him that he was supposed to be helping with the set up, the previous night. Though he did insist that he'd told Levi, and it was written on the fridge calendar... not that'd he'd acknowledge it. Not until he realised he was upsetting Eren instead of his mate being able to take it as a joke. He didn't like the idea of his pregnant mate being on his feet all day, but there was nothing he could do about it. His shift started at 5am, and even showering at work would be cutting things fine. He was dressing up for Eren's sake, trying to make amends for his stupid spat of jealousy. Thankfully he was on a split shift. His morning in the field, with the last few hours working with students completing their Paramedic degree. Most of that involved role-play, much to his disgust, but with Erwin still being in a shitty arse mood, it was actually preferable. If he was upset with him, he'd wish the man would just spit it out, and if he was upset with Mike, he wished the two of them would just bone it out... It was tiring, and beginning to affect patient care. Erwin had dropped the ball at an accident, nearly costing the victim their life. He didn't want to write Erwin up, but he also didn't know how to ask him what the fuck was going on with him. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, and he definitely didn't want to fight with Erwin over Eren again. The last half an hour of his shift was the worse. He was so close to seeing Eren, yet his students were shitty idiots. He'd somehow managed to catch the eye of two young female betas, that insisted on bombarding him with pointless questions. What kind of moron didn't know that you didn't put butter on a burn because it seals the heat in. Even burn creams didn't compare to fresh cool running water. And then... just as he'd thought he was free, they'd been waiting for him outside the depot. Dressed in his suit, with his hair still dripping, the pair of them had bombarded him with even more pointless shitty questions. Where was he going? What was he doing? Was he seeing someone? Like the mark on his neck and the ring on his finger didn't scream that. Stupidly, he'd tried to deflect, saying he was on his way to see his omega and son. One of them, less than quietly, "whispering" to her friend he was a "total DILF". He was so fucking done. Climbing into his car, he fished his phone out his pocket. Eren had been providing him with photos since his arrival at the function centre. His fiancée running late to arrive, sending a selfie labeled "I over slept!". It didn't look like it. His love looked perfect. A healthy red glow in his cheeks as he smiled up at him. Sending his mate a quick text to tell him he was on the way, there were only a few moments before he replied, Eren promising to meet him out the front of the function centre. The function centre had the usual crappy parking. Levi having to partially block the alley running between the side of the centre, and the next building. He was lucky to even get space, and it wouldn't have been a problem if the arsehole with their tiny car hadn't parked half over the bay lines. With the day he'd had, he was sorely tempted to smash their windows in. Jogging up the front steps, he finally managed to crack as a smile. Eren looked brilliant. Dressed in a dark suit with an emerald green shirt, and white tie, his mate took his breath away "Levi?" "You look amazing" Blushing softly, Eren walked over to him, grazing his cheek with a soft kiss. His hair had been neatly combed back, forming a man bun. He normally hated them, but he looked amazing. There were probably a million different words to describe how good his omega looked, yet his brain had short circuited to "amazing" "Thank you. You look... hot. And tired" "Hot as in hot? Or hot as in hot?" "Sexy. Gorgeous. Perfect. Hot" "I wanted to look nice for you" "Oh, you look nice. More than nice... you have no idea the things, you in a suit does to me" "I seem to vaguely recall" "As much as I'd love to show you, we'd never get back inside" Looping his arm through Eren, he smiled a dopey smile. Clueless to the way his silver eyes sparkled with affection for his omega "Shall we?" "We shall. It's actually impossible to get lost in this place. The dance studio was just too small for everything" "Have you been busy?" "A little. I had to help sew up last minute costume tears, but no. No heavy lifting" "And you're ready?" "Yep. Sasha is the one having the meltdown. She wanted to change costumes again" "Again?" "This is costume number 6. She was going to go with pink to begin with" "I think you could have pulled it off" "Noooo. I'm just lucky I'm not in a dress. Honestly" Escorted by Eren, the whole inside of the function centre had been transformed... not that he knew what it usually looked like. Decked in Christmas colours, it bordered on tacky, but was saved by the fact it was December "Ignore the decor. Dance mums are fucking scary. They all thought they knew best and this is what happened. It's what I imaging reindeer vomit to be" "I don't know. There's a few things in here that look amazing... especially you" "You're killing me here..." "Not my intention I promise" It was nice to see all eyes on Eren, his fiancée walking through the tables with a sense of confidence that nearly had Levi tripping over his own feet. It stroked his and his alpha's egos to know he was the one going home with Eren at the end of the night. As they walked, a few people waving to Eren as they walked, Eren politely waving back "You haven't missed much. Just the boring speech part and the smaller children" "I'm sorry for being late" "I'm really not mad. Now, all the drinks are ID only. Hanji ordered you a drink already. She's going to take Viren tonight because I've been busy all day. And I'll probably need help stretching tonight" "I can stretch you" "Mmm, as much as I like the sound of that, I don't want to wake up with leg cramps tomorrow" "Then I'll have to stretch you thoroughly" "You need to stop talking, or we're going to be in some real trouble" Levi thought his mate was being flirtatious, until he noticed some very disapproving mum's glaring. Reaching their table, Eren pulled his chair out for him "Hanji, remember. Keep an eye on him for me" "Eren, we have tequila. What's going to go wrong" Eren put his hands on his hips, scolding her "You're only allowed one" "Two, I've arranged for Eld to take us home. I just have to call" "I have to go now. Here, take care of my phone. I don't really want to leave it in my bag" Passing it over, Eren kissed him softly. Ruffling Viren's hair as he stood "I'll see you later. And you, be good for daddy and Hanji" "Good luck" "Break a leg" "Don't tell him that. He's got enough pins in his ankle" "You two behave" "We will!" Almost as soon as Eren had Disappeared off to the side and out of view from the tables, the concert? soon started. Levi didn't know he needed a hip-hop dancing Jesus in his life until it happened. Nor did he know that the star of Bethlehem knew ballet, but his favourite was the tap dancing sheep. This shit was great. People didn't appreciate his laughter, Viren staring at him like he'd lost his marbles. Mary went to kiss Joseph, Joseph burst into tears and ran off the stage. The little girl dropped the baby Jesus doll, the head coming off and she kicked it off to the side, acting like nothing happened. The whole nativity scene acted out by dance and it was gold. The next set was more of the same, though it was older kids. If had to guess, he'd say from 10 years, or so, to 16. Santa doing some Latin dance with rudolf, and instead of dancing the Christmas tree sang. The chimney had a wardrobe malfunction, or the kid just didn't give two shits. They couldn't move properly, falling on their back and doing the best interpretive dance of a stuck turtle he'd even seen. While everyone whispered around them, he and Hanji were struggling not to laugh. Anna wanted to help them, trying to escape Hanji's lap. After the Santa set came to an end, the stage area was cleared. He and Hanji both needed the break. Then came the teenagers dance performances, which sadly went off without a hitch. After that was a small break before the ballroom dancing started. It was now most of the small children left with their parents. Returning with another drink, Hanji was grinning ear to ear as she returned. Anna had needed the bathroom, the little girl in love with everything going on around her "Enjoying yourself?" "That was great" "Good. I'm going to enrol Anna, what about Viren?" "I think he might be a bit too small right now" "You just don't want him stuck in a chimney" They really shouldn't be laughing... "He's enough of a handful as it is" "I wonder if they managed to get them out of there" "I have no idea" "I wonder if Eren got to watch?" "I hope he did. I didn't realise it would be so... Christmassy" "Neither did I. I wish we'd brought the others now" "I don't. Erwin's in a sulk" "Yeah. I have no idea why. I asked if he could pick me up tonight, and he lost it at me" "I needed this more than I thought" "Well hold onto that feeling, Eren will be up soon. If it's like the first two bits, they'll work their way from youngest to oldest" "Is it horrible to hope for another stuff up?" Hanji ducked her head, checking to make sure no one was listening "Nope. I am too. I hope they have DVD's of this. Or one of those crazy dance mums has been filming" "We'll have to ask Eren" "Yeah" The younger kids were kind of adorable as they danced the best they could. The girls were wearing way too much make up, looking more like mutant, oversized dolls than people, while the boys were dressed as gentlemen. One kid had the cockiest grin on his face, onto to end up with foot stomped on by his partner at the end, when nudged her out the way for more attention. "Hi, Guys! Fancy seeing you here" "Connie! Lovely to see you again! Here, come sit with us" Unlike Levi, Connie was wearing a causal shirt and jeans. The alpha all smiles as he sat down next to Hanji "What'd I miss?" "The funniest shi-shoe. You're not going to get into trouble are you?" "What? No. Sasha told me not to bother coming until late" "Seriously? You missed the best bits" "As long as I see her dance, that's the main thing" "Well, we seem to be in the teenagers now. It shouldn't be too much longer" Hanji was wrong. It seemed to take forever. There was a short break after the young dancers, until the M.C finally returned to the announce the senior dancers performing the Viennese Waltz to Alice's Waltz. Levi sitting forward in his chair, as Eren swept in with Sasha on his arm. His omega looked so cool and composed, that Levi ended up half squishing Viren as he completely forgot his son in his lap "Uncle Eren!" "Shhh, Anna. Uncle Eren knows you're here" "Mummy" "Shhh, baby. Let's just watch mummy" "Go Sasha!" Sasha shot Connie a glare as she and Eren took their places. Eren was breathtaking. Out of all the dancers, his omega... he seriously took his breath away. He expected Alice's Waltz to take longer than a minute or so that it did. Eren and Sasha looked like naturals as Sasha draped herself in Eren's arms. Eren spinning her around as if it was nothing, and as if he wasn't 4 months pregnant. Clapping politely, Hanji leaned across the table to smack his arm "You need to breathe" "Whoo! Sasha!" Connie was on his feet, not caring he was making a scene. Standing Sasha back up, Eren bowed as Sasha curtsied. Her dress looked stunning, but no where as nice as his fiancée "I am. I just... I didn't expect it to be that nice" "Of course you didn't. You don't exactly scream the type to dance" Walking off to the side of the dance floor, Viren wanted his mum. Their son trying to escape him to go running after Eren. One by one, each couple was called forward, their names, dance style and song announced, before an arrangement of 3ish minutes. Levi impressed by each style of dance, as he'd expected each couple to waltz or something to that effect. Anna was really into, clapping her hands slightly out of time with the music, as Connie encouraged her. Given how quiet everyone else was, it was a miracle they weren't told to shut up. Eren and Sasha were the last couple. Eren holding Sasha's hand as if Sasha was a princess. Both of them smiling as they took their places a few metres apart "Dancing the Foxtrot to Christina Aguilera's Say Something. It's our final couple. Mr Eren Yeager and his partner Mrs Sasha Springer" Connie kept his mouth shut this time. Perhaps knowing better than to upset Sasha when she was in character. Eren looked slightly more nervous, but relaxed as the music started. Acting flirty, then shocked and betrayed, Sasha danced around Eren, before Eren took hold of her hands. It seemed to him that the pair made better use of the space than the other pairs. Not that he was biased. He was in awe of Sasha's fancy footwork, until Eren started. The pair playing arguing and reconciling lovers perfectly. The dance ending wish Sasha "dying" in Eren's arms. There were a few very tiny moments Eren looked as if he was about to panic, but no one but him would have known the way his mate moved. Standing Sasha up, once again, Sasha span away from him, their hands catching at the last moment, Eren bowing and Sasha naturally curtsying again. Jumping to his feet, Connie was clapping as he yelled "That's my wife!" Sasha blew his a kiss, before letting Eren guide her off the dance floor. Only for then all to be called back on, bow and curtsy again. The M.C announcing another short break. Leading her over to them, Eren released Sasha's hand. The woman going to her husband as Eren came to him. Lifting Viren up, he nuzzled into the boy's face, careful not to upset his graze. Eren then staring at him, and Levi no longer remembering the English language "You broke him" "I can see that, Hanji" "Uncle Eren, you looked beautiful. But Sasha was prettier" Sasha giggled "Thank you, Anna" "Levi? You're not going to say anything?" "Wow..." Eren laughed softly. His sweaty omega sitting down in his lap carefully "Thank you" Rubbing Viren's back, their son kept his face hidden against Eren's chest "He's definitely broken" "Shoe up, Hanji" "No. He's coming too..." Struggling like an idiot, he really didn't know what to say. Eren was out of his league. Hanji however, had no problem with her mouth "Sasha, does that mean you're done?" "Yep. That's me for the night" "You were wonderful" "Thanks. Eren is such a great partner. I'm going to miss dancing with him" Readjusting himself to turn to Sasha, his mate rolled his eyes "You make it sound like I'll never dance again" Sasha huffed. Climbing out of Connie's lap to sit beside her husband "It's going to be a long wait to find another suitable partner. Most don't like the foot work of a foxtrot" "Eren's great at throwing himself into complicated things" "Oi. I'm sitting right here" "We know. You're supposed to be going and getting ready" "I know, but it can wait" "I thought you wanted to clean up" "That's why it can wait. Besides, someone is getting sleepy" Sasha yawned, then winked "How did you know?" "You haven't eaten in the last half an hour" "I don't eat that much... but do you guys want food? I've got food" Levi's stomach rumbled slightly, though he knew exactly what he wanted to eat "That would be great. We did eat before, but it's a long night for the kids" "I'll help you" Climbing out his lap, the kiss Eren bestowed upon his lips was hardly kid friendly. Breaking the kiss, Eren had a cheeky smile on his face "Damn, Shitty brat" "I love you my arsehole of an alpha. Viren's just about asleep, and I suppose I really do have to get ready" "Ok. Will you be alright?" "Yep. I've got something special planned, so don't take your eyes off me" "I would never"

[emberpendragon]

The Forbidden Stories

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven. 

Chapter 12: It Depends on my Mood. 

When your eyes opened, you found you were in the biggest master bedroom you have ever seen, with the softest silk for sheets. When you turned to your side, you saw Tony was already awake. His short was off, he hadn’t actually got out of bed yet, but he was tinkering with something.

“What is that?” you asked, tilting your head.

“A web shooter,” he answered.

“Fine then, don’t tell me,” you chuckled.

Getting up you heard Tony’s phone buzz. He growled when he saw the notification.

“Reindeer Games is here,” He shook his head.

“Don’t call him that!” you snapped at Tony, almost making him drop his machine.

Turning on your heals you walked to your closet in a huff and started to get ready for the day. You guessed this was again your anniversary so you picked out a gown to wear. Tony was behind you in a second. His arms around your bare waist.

“Look baby I am sorry, but why does he always watch the kids, he destroyed New York you know?” Tony whispered.

“You know he wasn’t in his own state of mind! Plus he is good with kids!” you shot back.

Tony huffed in defeat, “Fine, at least let me keep my nickname. I won't say it to his face.”

“Or around the kids!” you added.

“Fine” he huffed.

The scene shifted to you and tony walking down the stairs. Your single daughter sitting next to Loki as she showed him her new video game she had been playing. Loki looked up and smiled at your while your daughter ran into Tony’s arms.

“Be good for Uncle Loki okay,” you said to your daughter as you walked to loki, giving him a hug.

“Yes mommy, I promise.” Your daughter answered, giving you a hug.

“Thank you Loki, for everything.” you suddenly said.

“It’s my pleasure darling.” he laughed.

With another Scene change you were in the same field as the last dream. This time walking with Tony. Clint and Natasha ran up to you this time, pulling you away from Tony in excitement. The three of you sat at a table for a while, gossiping over what is happening with the new recruits for the Avengers.

Looking around, you find Thor again, who does the same thing he did last time. But you also find Steve, his arm around who you assumed to be his wife. But when he looked over at you, you saw nothing but sadness and longing in his eyes, it made you feel sad. He didn’t talk to you all day.

Yet again, you thought, So much for being there for me.

You woke up again in the same bed with Tony. This time he was old, and grey. He looked at you and sighed, pulling you close to him. You sat there together in the darkness, not speaking, it was like the two of you knew what was happening, and you were trying to figure out how to stop it. How to go back and do all the things you didn’t.

Your sight went black again, Fate standing in front of you.

“Tony was so mean to him, why did Loki stick around?” you asked.

“He wanted you to know that you always had somebody, even when Tony wasn’t there,” She explained.

“Steve wouldn’t talk to me?”

“His pain never faltered.” she sighed. “Are you ready for Thor?”

You nodded, as you held his goat to your chest.

This time you awoke to a golden room, with lighting marks all over it. The gold shattered in some places with a light blue gem. You felt Thor’s large arm around you, holding you to him and making you feel warm. You turned your head gently and kissed him awake. You kissed him gently until you felt his hand move behind your back and push your head closer, making the kiss grow passionate and deep.

It only stopped when your heard the pitter patter of little feat running across the gold floor. Soon Thor was tackled by two twin boys, both of them exactly like him. Thor smiled and wrestled with them for a second. Meanwhile a little girl crawled on top of you and hugged you.

“Momma,” She asked, “Why are boys so violent?” She asked.

You chuckled, “it’s only our boys sweetheart.” You kissed her on the head and smiled.

“Alright boys,” you heard Thor boom, “Go find Uncle Loki and ask him to find you guys a babysitter for a day.”

All three children groaned, making you giggle.

“I know I know, But your mother and I are leaving today and I can’t have you wreaking havoc across all nine realms.” he demanded.

The children groaned and left.

The Scene changed to You and Thor walking across the rainbow bridge. Soon accompanied by Loki himself.

“Loki! Your coming too?” you gasped, turning and giving him a hug.

“I couldn’t miss my own brother and sister’s tenth anniversary could I?” he smiled and winked at you.

Again you opened your eyes to the same green field as the other two dreams. The three of your mingled for a long while. Until of course, Clint came up and picked you up fireman style, making Thor laugh.

“Clint!” you screamed.

“You know the rules (Y/N), either you say hi to me and Natasha at the front door or we have to try again.” He laughed. Soon setting you down right outside of the party.

You Turned around slowly, smiling at the two of them, “Hi there Clint, hey there Natasha.”

“Hey (Y/N)” they said in unison. The three of you laughed together. Standing in the grass as if nothing else was happening.

When you looked at Steve, he seemed to be better, not seeing you all the time has allowed him to just about get over you. But Tony was cold. He wouldn’t even glance your way, much less give you a hello.

You opened your eyes again, you were laying in Thor’s bed. Thor sat next to you in a chair, sobbing. He looked like he has not aged, a day. You smiled at him and took his hand in your old fingers.

“You made my life worth it baby.” Was your last words.

Your eyes went black again and you were back next to fate.

“Why would Tony even look at me? Why throw the party if he hates me?” you asked Fate in a huff.

“He felt like you abandoned him. He didn’t want to get between you and Thor, so he kept his distance, hoping he could just about forget you. But Thor is still one of his best friends.” she said.

“Steve?” You asked.

“Steve and Tony were left brooding together on earth, feeding off of eachother hatred for you.” she explained.

Your heart get very heavy then, you sighed and shook your head at the entire situation.

“Are you ready for Loki?” She asked.

You Snuggled up against the wolf as it appeared in your arms, and nodded.

You woke up in the same cave, behind the waterfall you and Loki found on your date. When you turned to your side to look at him, you were pleasantly surprised to find Loki sleeping on his back with his spitting image of a son sleeping on his chest. Hrim Slept in between the two of you, he was about the size of a cat now, and you could tell he was getting up there in years.

Leaning over you gently kissed Loki awake, he silently stretched in a way not to wake his son.

“Good morning Kitten,” he smiled at you, putting his hand on his sons back.

“Good morning baby,” you replied, petting Hrim softly.

Suddenly you and Loki stood in the field right outside of the cave. Your son running around playfully with Hrim. Asgardian decorations of love were placed about on tables and such, as you watched a crowd of people start to walk from town. Thor came up behind the two of you and brought you in for a big strong hug.

“Aw, I love coming home to see my family, mostly me nephew though, no offence brother.” He laughed.

Before Loki could answer, Thor was already playing with your son. Throwing him around in a fashion that made the boy laugh wildly. Loki pulled you to him and chuckled.

Natasha and Clint ran up to you not long after that. They talked wildly about how awesome this place was. The four of you sat at a table and talked for a long time. You questioned about earth and the questioned about Asgard. Looking around, you couldn’t find Steve or Tony anywhere.

“Where is-” You were cut off by Clint.

“They are recovering, (Y/N).” He looked at Natasha.

“From what?” you asked.

They looked at each other and sighed. Then they told you the whole story of the civil war between Tony and Steve. Every detail, including the part where they had almost made up, but Tony found out the Bucky was the man who killed his parents. Then shit hit the fan, long story short, both men are brooding in their respective corners and did not want to be bothered at the moment.

Your chest started to condense. Loki pulled you into him and started to comfort you, telling you they would be okay. They were always okay.

You woke up again on your bed. You watched as Loki ran in as fast as he could, with something in his hands, tears streaming down his face. He nelt over you and gave you a kiss. You could feel your soul beginning to leave.

“I can’t live without you Dove,” Loki cried. He unwrapped his bumble and showed you the contents.

Three perfect golden apples, gorgeous and ready to be eaten. You shook your head.

“How?”

“I finally got the apple bearer to agree, I begged her to let me try, please try Love. Please, I can’t live without you.” He begged.

With a shaky hand, he pulled out a dagger and started to cut into one of the apples to make a bite small enough for you.

“But if it doesn’t work, then you will die too.” you frown.

“I would give anything for us to either grow old and die together, or stay young and live forever. This will give me one or the other, love, please?” he begged.

Lifting up a piece of the apple, you took it in your mouth and started to chew slowly. At first you felt you body to swell up, as if it was about to explode, then you felt like you were fifty again. By the time you finished the apple you were back to your twenty nothing body and you sprang out of bed.

“It worked!” you laughed, twirling around.

“I told you that you were not a midgardian.” Loki chuckled, pulling you in for a long passionate kiss.

When the two of you were finished, you looked around to see that you had an audience of every critter in the forest. Everyone from a bear, to an elk, to a fox came to watch the two of you.

“Who would have thought,” Loki laughed, “The goddess of animals and the god of mischief falling in love.”

You looked to Fate then, you mouth almost to the floor.

“He risked everything for me?”

She nodded, “And it almost failed. It took all of his strength to keep your body from exploding so that the apple could take effect. But it worked.” she smiled. “Have you made your decision.”

You node, looking down at the wolf. And the words rang in your ears. I thought you were a snake, you had said. His reply, it depends on my mood, suddenly made sense. He was only loyal to the people he felt deserved it.

You wake up back in your own bed, and smile over at Hrim. He wags his tail and barks at you. You smile and scoop him up running into the living room and plopping down in between Clint and Natasha . They are just as excited, Natasha putting her arms around you and Clint taking out his phone.

“Have you made a decision?” Natasha asks, biting her lip.

“Loki,” you say with determination.

“Damn it!” Clint growls.

You look at the both of them as they get sad for only a second. They explain their motions when you look confused.

“I bet fifty dollars you would choose Thor and Clint bet that you would choose Tony, so we both lost,” Natasha explains in a fake fit of disappointment.

“How do you spell that little fuckers name?” Clint motioned to your puppy.

“Why?”

“Because if I am going to order a cake, with both yours and Loki’s name on it, your child should be included.” Clint explained with a smile.

Epilogue 

@amryan8 @rin-rue

[fanfictrashdump]

Queening a Pawn, 21

If you’re new: this is my procrastination fic. It is what I drabble around with when I’m being my worst self, and ignoring all my other WIPs and responsibilities! Enjoy!

X

Summary: During the Time Heist, Loki stole the Tesseract and escaped. He did not expect, however, to be pulled through a Time Loop that delivered him to a Midgard more than a decade older, wiser, and bitterer. Having just lived through his unsuccessful attack in New York, Loki must learn to live in Midgard after the defeat of Thanos (post-Endgame). The question is, who is Loki without a quest for a throne or total domination?

Pairings: Loki x OC

Warnings: Language, suggestive themes, one (1) stuck shapeshifter, threat of stabbing, and flooooff

=

"Hey, Reindeer Games. How's the amplifier working?" Tony asked, his hologram joining Loki as he carried a covered bundle towards the trash shoot.

"I destroyed the toaster."

Tony scrunched up his nose, lowering his yellow-tinted glasses to stare at the bundle which turned out to be the defunct toaster. "What? How?"

"I gestured to press the lever, like I do every morning and it exploded," he explained, carefully. A large grin blossomed on his face. "It's bloody brilliant."

"Er… does Honeybun know you're blowing stuff up around the compound, or…?"

"She's scrubbing out the scorch marks from the granite, as we speak." Opening the shoot door, he tossed the hunk of metal into the metal recycling pile. "It's a lot more intuitive than I was expecting. I think I might have to work on subtlety of intent."

"You do that. Just… try not to burn down the place and maybe don't accidentally kill your girl." Tony called after Loki who turned around, walking backwards with a mischievous smirk until disappearing from view.

He turned the corner and waltzed into Delilah's apartment, stopping to rest against the wall to observe her. She had gotten up onto the countertop on her hands and knees and was scrubbing the surface within an inch of its life to lift the dark grey singed streaks. Loki's grin only grew wider as he watched her body cant back and forth with the scrubbing of her brush.

"Stop looking at my ass and help, Mischief." Delilah had yet to turn around to gaze at him.

"Stop distracting me, then," he complained, pouting just the slightest, considering the possibility of using his magic to erase away–

"What did you do?" The scrubbing had stopped and Lilah sat up on her heels.

Loki's face pinched in a frown, cutting the space between them in two long strides. "Pardon?"

"It's gone. What did you do?" She watched Loki flounder for about a minute for an explanation before she sighed. "Maybe you should take the amplifier off whenever you aren't specifically using it."

The Asgardian snorted, rolling his eyes. "My wedding band? Sure, you can pry it out of my cold, dead hands when I'm done with it."

"And here I thought you wouldn't take the suggestion seriously," she retorted, deadpan.

His thumb and forefinger took hold of her chin, forcing her eyes on him. "I am deadly serious. You can take it off when I'm due for Valhalla and not a moment sooner." He eased away the frown on her lips with a kiss. It was a simple gesture, but he was fairly confident that she couldn't technically be angry with him if he was being cute. "Shall I make you breakfast now, darling?"

"Can you keep from burning down my apartment?"

Loki rolled his eyes, every bit a petulant child. "Even if I did, we both know there is no reason for us to have separate residences." His easy confidence shrunk significantly at her look. "Never mind," he mumbled with a pout, turning to dig through the refrigerator for eggs, butter and milk.

Delilah pulled out a large metal prep bowl and a griddle. Setting the bowl next to Loki, she put the griddle on the stove and set it to heat. Loki smiled to himself, a small shiver of delight running down his spine at their familiarity. They never had a problem operating around each other, to begin with. Still, Loki liked to think that as their relationship evolved, the way they danced around with one another also improved. He quietly whisked at the batter he was preparing, adding flour bit by bit while he distractedly watched her wash and cut a bunch of fruit with sharp, precise knifework.

Einherjar wandered into the kitchen, jumping into one of the stools at the kitchen island to watch his humans cook. He mewled delicately and Loki smirked. "No, Einherjar. How dare you suggest that your mother's angry?" Another mewl. Loki feigned a surprised gasp. "Are you saying that she is being difficult for the hell of it? Bad kitten!" The kitten pawed at Loki, as if he was protesting the use of his meows to wind his caretaker up. "I cannot believe you, Ein. This woman has given you a home, a warm bed, food–and this is how you treat her!"

"Leave him alone, Lo," she admonished, though there was a grin poised on her lips. She leaned her face close to the kitten's, giggling when the massively fluffy face rubbed against her own with a loud purr. "Good baby."

"I can purr, too, you know." He glanced over his shoulder at them as he ladled pancake batter onto the warmed griddle.

Only a delighted giggle came as response. Einherjar was licking a long stripe on her cheek, one of his paws balancing him against her shoulder. "Oh, I know, baby. Loki is just grumpy."

"I am not!" He muttered under his breath, flipping the first round of pancakes.

"Case and point," she whispered, running her fingers through the kitten's fur and smiling. "Go give your dad some love," she whispered and the kitten wasted no time in trailing over the countertop before taking a flying leap onto Loki's back, scaling his jumper and onto his shoulder.

The loud rumble tickled at Loki's ear, and he could not keep the feigned frown on his face for very long. He surrendered to a chuckle, reaching up with his free hand to scratch the kitten under the chin and say soft things to it under his breath. The duo remained in their positions, much to Delilah's delight, for as long as it took Loki to make several pancakes for the both of them.

It had surprised her the first time he had shown any sort of prowess in the kitchen, but cooking was as much of an art as it was a science. And Loki was nothing if not careful and precise. Nowadays, he commanded the kitchen with such an ease that she could have sworn that he had been a Midgardian in another life.

Taking hold of a platter stacked high with cakes, he turned back to the kitchen island. The pancakes were placed next to the fruit and warmed syrup at once. Loki clicked his tongue twice, and Einherjar leapt into his open arms without a hint of hesitation before the god set him down on the floor.

"Good boy, Einherjar," he muttered, a piece of bacon mysteriously making its way to the floor with a smirk.

"Then you dare say I'm the one spoiling him."

"You are the one spoiling him. I simply reward good behavior."

"Making him a special piece of bacon requires premeditation, Loki Odinson." Her tone was deadpan, though there was a tender edge to her voice and sparkling gaze.

He didn't respond, opting instead for dropping into one of the stools and dragging her into his lap. Lately, it had not been uncommon for them to choose to stay in during meal times, enjoying the quiet and as sitting close together as they wished. More often than not, that meant she ended up in his lap and they would share a plate of food between them and kiss lazily until either of them was needed at work.

"Pygmy puff?" Tony's voice over the PA system sounded apologetic.

"Yeah, Tony?"

"When you're done with breakfast, can you deal with the shambles that is Receiving's. They messed up their ledgers, again and even I can't figure out what the fuck they were trying to do." He sighed, resigned. "No need to rush, though. I know you and Bambi are doing the whole cutesy thing."

Delilah giggled through a mouthful of pancakes and strawberries. "I'll deal with it. I think I've got their system figured out by now." A bit of syrup dribbled from the fork she was offering Loki over her shoulder, and he promptly licked it off her neck with a satisfied hum, making her gasp.

"Thanks, babe!" There was an awkward stretch of silence. "Are you two…?"

"No, but I would like to, Stark," Loki interrupted with a wicked grin.

"Understood. Use protection!"

"Oh, shut up!" Delilah irrupted. "I'll be by Receivings in a bit if you want to warn them to get their shit together before I get there."

"I thought we were spending the day together."

She sighed, smoothing her hand down the sharp planes of his cheekbones and trying to lessen the valleys that formed with the dejected question. "We are. This will only take a few minutes, I promise." The sea glass of his eyes had lost a bit of lustre. "Ten minutes, babe. Twenty, tops."

"That's alright. You have a job to do. I understand." His accompanying smile looked more like a grimace. Delilah caught her breath several times, as if she was poising herself to speak, but opted for slanting her lips to his and hopping off his lap.

When she left the bathroom, free of syrup and pancake bits, her living room was eerily empty. On the floor, Einherjar hopped around a bundle, gently pawing at the dark material as he purred loudly. It wasn't until she was near enough the bundle that an angular head, a little smaller than her fist, twisted toward her and tasted the air with forked tongue.

With a gasp, she snatched the kitten away, stumbling backwards onto the carpet and scrambling back. Her widened eyes remained glued on the snake as she shuffled. It wasn't obscenely large–it was about the average size you would get from a pet store. Its scales were an opalescent charcoal, though it bore a ring of deep golden on its neck that looked vaguely familiar, as did its bright jade eyes.

Delilah felt insane when the question bubbled past her lips. "Loki?" The snake tilted its head in what she could only imagine was amusement. The beast slowly uncoiled, slithering steadily up to her leg and starting to climb onto her cherry red Doc Marten boots before twisting around her leg. When she whimpered, it stopped completely, resting its head down on her thigh and waiting patiently for her approval. "Loki!" She called a little louder, in case he was hiding somewhere else. There was no response, other than the snake brushing its muzzle against her thigh and Einherjar's struggle to get loose and rub against the reptile.

Heart in her throat, she shuffled onto her feet, smoothing down the old My Chemical Romance t-shirt over herself with shaking hands. The snake ventured upwards, winding up around her arm to pull itself to a more comfortable spot. Though still terrified, Delilah could not help but appreciate the delicate skill it took for the creature to wind up her body and rest itself around her shoulders.

"I suppose this means you want to come with me," she whispered, and the snake responded with a tickle of its forked tongue over her neck. "You better behave, Lo."

No one had really batted an eye at the fact that she was walking the halls with a rather large snake twined round her neck, but she could tell it made the men in Receivings uncomfortable. Still, she had not acknowledged the new addition when she greeted the four older gentlemen who dealt with the incoming packages and goods.

The head of the department, Frank, was the first to crack. "Cute. You got a problem with cats and dogs, Lilah?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "No. I like them just fine. I have a kitten. Why do you ask?"

"New pet?"

A smirk graced her lips and she shrugged. "Of sorts, I guess." Carl, one of the newer employees, reached out to stroke the snake's tail. Delilah caught Loki's head when she felt him twitch to strike and blindly rubbed her thumb under his chin. He settled down immediately, hiding his face in the crook of her neck. "Done soon," she whispered.

"When are you going to leave that Asgardian clown and let me treat you like a real lady?" It was Frank again. He had a bad habit of shamelessly flirting with her whenever she had to come fix their issues. She secretly thought that they mucked up their ledgers every other week just to get Delilah to come over. Thankfully, she had long learned the pattern of their disruption, and fixing the books was a piece of cake.

Loki had not dared attack the man for the comment, but his face had migrated to the shoulder nearest the old man. His green gaze had become fixed to his, to the point that it was making the other uncomfortable.

"That a gift from him? I hear he can talk to creatures. Maybe that's why that thing is so freaky."

"Lady Lilah! There you are!" Thor's friendly voice boomed down the corridor as he bounded over. "You look radiant as ever!" He patted her back and made her sway forward indelicately, but his infectious smile drew one of her own.

"Thank you, Thor. What can I help you with?"

"Can Barnes and I acquire permission to take the children to the outer grounds?"

Delilah nodded, putting down the StarkPad containing the Receivings ledger, after all its contents got uploaded into the cloud. "Anywhere you want, as long as they are on facility grounds. So, no forest, OK?"

"Many thanks," he offered, rustling her hair. The shift of her hair brought attention to the glistening black scales across her shoulders. "Oh, brother, I had not seen you there! It's been years since you've opted for a snake's form!"

Frank, whose eyes were still hostage to Loki's, blanched. "What!?"

"Oh, he's a snake now? I thought he was still a chameleon!" She fibbed, finally turning her neck to watch Loki dance slightly on her shoulder. Her hand ran up the shiny scales of his spine and rubbed his head until he lolled sideways in satisfaction. There was a little feeling of mischief that resonated within her that was not entirely her own. It felt good to throw the weight of their combined power around, and it felt even better to know that Frank would think twice in the future before making an inappropriate remark. Afterall, he had just been getting started, if experienced served her right.

"You know we was jokin', rig–" Loki's hiss cut whatever excuse Frank was cooking up, short.

"Behave, my love, or else," she admonished, though the threat was empty. She felt a little like a real snake charmer–nimble and good at her job, but knew full well it was the snake who was in charge. "Well, gentlemen, I'll write a code to make your ledger making a little more seamless. Should take a few days before I get it going, but I think I can make it automated. No more worrying about audits," she remarked. The group did not look as excited as she secretly felt. "I'll get out of your hair. See you later."

Delilah sauntered back into the corridors, enjoying the cool glide of Loki's scales across her shoulders and the gentle nudges of his head against her neck. "What would you like to do now, babe?" There was no response, other than the odd flicker of his tongue on her skin. He didn't seem terribly bothered by the world beyond his perch.

With half a shrug, she walked out the double doors to the outer training fields, enjoying the crisp spring sunshine bearing down on them. Everything was green and new, and the air smelled of freshly cut grass and wildflowers. One lungful of air made her feel considerably more calm. She assumed it did the same for Loki, who had not really attempted to venture out into the wilderness other than the occasional jog around the facility. In theory, there was currently nothing keeping Loki from taking to the streets and disappearing into the sunset. Well, apart from her presence…

The sun glittered high above their heads, instantly warming the air-conditioned chill away from their bones and replacing it with exquisite incandescence. The snake's muscles rippled and shuddered at the temperature change, something like a sigh leaving his angled mouth. When Delilah twisted her neck to press a kiss against the smooth skin, he offered no protest or skittish reaction, as a regular animal would. "Let me know if you get too hot, OK?" The murmur was received with a flick of the tongue on her cheek, causing her to giggle.

Picking out a spot near a great big oak tree, she settled onto a dense patch of grass overlooking an obstacle course. On any other day, current and new hopeful SHIELD recruits would be working on their physical skills. Skills that Delilah did not care for, but that were important to agents. She did not know how to carry twice her weight in supplies when she A) spent most of her day behind a computer, and B) had a life partner who seemed more than excited to do the heavy lifting for her. At the moment, though, the obstacle course was being used by tiny seven year old's, a demigod, and a super soldier. All of whom were more interested in Bucky's silly detachable arm antics than they were on climbing a rope ladder.

Sighing, she lay back on the ground, giving Loki enough time to slither out from beneath her head to twine over her arm, and ultimately curl on her chest. The angular head rested heavily on her sternum and when he tasted the air, his forked tongue would barely graze her warmed skin. He was very still, and a lot better behaved than she would have ever assumed him to be. At this point, she assumed he would have been trying to scare crowds or hissing at strangers going past. He looked so content to simply be, he hadn't even bothered turning to stare at the sky, as she was or at the children. Instead, his head angled slightly to keep a watchful eye on her.

"Wonderful day for training outside, yes?" Thor asked happily as he dropped beside her. Delilah swore the ground shook with his momentum. Loki remained undisturbed.

"Mmm. I'm not much for training, but it is a beautiful day," she responded dreamily. Her fingers skimmed black scales, feeling them just short of feverish. "I might have to take Loki to the shade in a bit, though."

Thor frowned. "His Aesir form is not as sensitive to heat. Why does he not simply transform back?"

Delilah snorted. "Oh, he is one hundred percent stuck and thinks I haven't noticed." The snake rose up sharply to look at her. After a minute or two of blankly staring and neither yielding, he huffed and settled back down. "He'll figure it out, eventually." She added, running her fingers down his back. "Or I'll put him out of his misery and help him."

Thor chuckled, giving them both an affectionate look. "I must admit, not being able to talk suits him." Loki bared his fangs at the god of thunder, only to be laughed at, once more.

Delilah shifted when the bed sunk beside her at half past midnight. She had spent the majority of the day taking Loki wherever she pleased, snake wrapped around her shoulders. It appeared, though, that he had finally figured out how to ease back out of his reptile form. He patted himself down before sighing in relief. Almost immediately, he pressed himself against Delilah's body.

"Welcome back."

"Good to be here," he rumbled against her neck. "When did you notice I was stuck?"

"When you didn't stab Frank. Or Thor."

"Right." Loki remained silent for a long while and she assumed he had drifted asleep. "Don't make me give it up, please." His voice was so soft she almost assumed it had been a rustle of sheets that had made the noise.

"I'm not going to make you give up your ring."

"I'll get it to work. I had a lot of time to think when I was a snake. I think... I think I have to rely more heavily on my instincts."

"Why's that?"

"Because you do. And you made it. And whenever something happens it's always because of something I did because of you." Delilah made a noise of curiosity. "I wanted to make you breakfast before you woke. Then I wanted a way to stay with you all day without getting in the way. And now I wanted to hold you," he whispered, tightly circling her waist with his hands.

"See? I knew you'd figure it out. Though I did love having snake you around. You were gorgeous."

"Thank you, darling. I'll make it a point to use the form more often."

"Good. I did miss you like this, though. I love you like this the second-most."

"What's the first?"

"As a frost giant. Just as you," she responded through a yawn.

The breath caught in his throat at the confession. Despite himself, his Asgardian form drifted away, leaving her to shudder in her arms. He went to make some distance between them only to lock her arms with his and hold him fast to her body. Loki could feel the goosebumps prickling up on her skin, but she was adamant about keeping him close.

"Back to slumber, doll," he murmured against her hair.

"Mm-hmm. I love you, Loki."

"And I love you, sweet."

[azvolrien]

A Long Walk in Winter - Part One

We established in Fifteen Years at Dun Ardech that Asta, despite very much not being a huntress herself, accompanies Roan on her hunting trips up into the hills, and saw a brief snippet of one of their expeditions.

This is the story of the first.

---

           “Hmph,” said Asta, frowning at her book – a historical adventure set during the Raiding Period, following a band of seafaring warriors sworn to the King of Bjarnafjord. “I do not care for that simile.”

           Roan gave a querying grunt without looking up from the map she was studying.

           “Well – one character has just told another one off for being naïve. Except that he’s said his – the other character’s – actions are ‘like going up to a berserker and asking for a hug’.”

           Roan looked up at that. “I give great hugs,” she said with feigned hurt.

           “You give wonderful hugs,” Asta assured her. “Are we all set for the hunting trip?”

           “More or less,” said Roan. “Everything we need is packed and ready to load onto Pardus – we can go soon.” She shuffled further along the couch and laid the map on the cushions between them. “This is us, out here on the headland,” she said, tapping the point she meant with a fingertip. Dun Ardech had not been marked when the map was printed, but Roan had added a little triangle to indicate the broch. “Where I’d usually go in winter is up here, just below the bealach-”

           “‘B’yallack’?” Asta approximated.

           “The, the… Not exactly a pass, because it flattens out at the top instead of going back down, but this… saddle, I suppose, in the mountains between Loch Gorm and Loch Dubh. It’s about two days’ walk from here, and it’s often a good spot to bag some ptarmigan, just above the treeline in Glen Coll. However, since we’ll have Pardus with us…” She paused and glanced at Asta, raising her eyebrows.

           Asta nodded, answering the unspoken question. “Yes, I still want to come with you.”

           Roan grinned and went on. “Since we’ll have Pardus, we’ll be able to move faster and carry more than I could by myself, so I thought we can still travel up through Glen Coll – it’s a beautiful glen, even in winter, and I want you to see it even if we don’t hunt there – but instead of stopping there for more than one night, we can carry on up over the bealach to the high plateau. It’ll be cold, cold and very windy – I’ll be wearing sleeves, which should give you some idea – but if you’re up for it, there’s a good spot for a camp above this lochan here. A sort of… cave? We – Granda and I – used to set up there when we went hunting in the highlands.”

           Asta nodded thoughtfully. “What would we be looking for up there?”

           “There’s a few possibilities. More ptarmigan, though they’ll be harder to spot in the open snowfields than they would be down in the glen – Glen Coll is quite sheltered, so even in the dead of winter it doesn’t get as much snow as you might think. Hares, foxes – red foxes and white foxes, they both live up there. Not elk or aurochs – they prefer to stick to the forests, and I wouldn’t risk tangling with them anyway. Sometimes pheasants. Reindeer; they graze on the plateau at this time of year. Thousands of them, so even if we don’t kill one we’ll almost definitely see them.”

           “I’ve never seen a reindeer,” mused Asta. “Not in person. Kiraan gets too hot in summer for them, so the menagerie there didn’t keep any.”

           “Well, this’ll be your chance, then.” Roan paused. “There is one thing I’d like to do before we head off.”

           “Oh?”

           Roan bit her lip, flexing her fingers. Such a clear nervous tic looked so odd on her that Asta stared. “Will you let me braid your hair?”

           Asta stared a little harder. “You want to braid my hair?”

           “Nothing too fancy! Just something to keep it under better control in the wind.”

           Asta smiled quietly. Roan had never exactly admitted it, but nor had she made any particular attempt to hide that Asta’s long, sleek black hair had a similar effect on her that Roan’s arms did on Asta. “You know, if you just want to touch my hair, I think we’re at a point in our relationship where you don’t have to come up with an excuse for it.”

           “I don’t just want to touch your hair,” said Roan. “But if you leave it loose or in a ponytail, it’ll get all tangled in the wind and take ages to brush out.” She caught the end of her own braid and waved it in Asta’s face. “Speaking from experience.”

           “Mm, I see your point. Well, all right, then. Right now?”

           Roan gestured towards the stairs. “No time like the present.”

           Asta followed her up to their bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed, untying the strip of cloth that bound her ponytail at the nape of her neck. Roan fished a comb carved from a single piece of polished antler out of the bedside cabinet before she knelt behind her on the mattress and set to work. It was rather soothing; Roan was painstakingly gentle as she combed out Asta’s hair, carefully teasing out any small knots without tugging, and Asta found her eyes fluttering half-closed in relaxation by the time Roan separated her hair into three tails, wove them into a single long braid, and tied off the end with the same cloth Asta had used for her ponytail.

           “There,” she said, wrapping both arms around Asta and hugging her back against her chest. “How does that feel? Not too tight on your scalp?”

           Asta shook her head, testing how the braid moved rather than in answer. “No, that feels good – thank you. How in the world do you manage to do this for yourself, behind your own back?”

           Roan grinned and kissed the back of Asta’s head. “Lots of practice.” She released her and stood up, then crossed the room to kneel beside the wooden kist against the wall. “One more thing before we set off,” she said, rummaging inside the kist. Asta came to stand beside her, leaning against the wall, and Roan straightened up with a bundle of cloth and fur in her arms. She held it up and gave it a shake; it was a long cloak made from dense, tightly-woven wool, patterned in a tartan of dark, muted blues and greens and with a heavy mantle of thick fur brindled white, grey and brown. Nodding to herself, she laid it around Asta’s shoulders and fastened it with a pewter brooch shaped like an otter. “It was Granda’s,” she explained as Asta, a little wide-eyed, freed one hand from inside the cloak to brush her fingers over the fur. “He was even taller than I am, so it’s a bit big on you,” indeed, parts of the hem brushed the floor, “but it’ll keep you warm.”

           “Thank you,” said Asta again, more quietly and less casually. She stood up on her toes to kiss the corner of Roan’s mouth; Roan turned her head to properly meet her lips instead. Asta drew back after a moment and gently took hold of Roan’s forearms. “Come on, then,” she said, smiling. “We’d better get on our way before the light goes.”

           Getting both their supplies and themselves onto Pardus’s back was quite the exercise in organisation, but they managed it eventually with Asta at the front, Roan behind her holding on around her waist, and the saddlebags and the rest of their kit securely tied across Pardus’s rump behind the cantle. So laden, the construct was a little slower than usual, but it could still move far faster than they could have without it and they made it more than halfway up the sheltered valley of Glen Coll before the light faded and they had to pitch their tent.

           Unusually, Asta was the first to wake the next morning when a bizarre sound stirred her. She didn’t sit up – Roan had flung one arm and about half her torso over her in her sleep, pinning her on her back quite effectively – but lay still and silent, listening as the deep clicking, rasping noise moved slowly through the trees outside the tent.

           “Roan?” she whispered to no response. The sun hadn’t quite risen outside, and the light shining through the tent canvas was a pale, watery bluish-grey. “Roan.”

           “Hrmrrm?”

           “What’s that sound?”

           Roan yawned, arched her back, and sat up, freeing Asta to do the same. She cocked her head, listening, and grinned. “It’s a capercaillie. Funny, you don’t usually hear them making that sound at this time of year – it’s a sort of territorial courting song. They usually do it in spring.”

           Asta silently ran through all the animals she knew before admitting defeat. “And a capercaillie is…?”

           “A kind of big grouse. Anyway – breakfast, then we can head up onto the plateau.”

           Breakfast was a bowl each of porridge and dried fish, before they loaded everything onto Pardus’s back once again and carried on up the path through Glen Coll, itself not much more than a narrow deer-track of level ground with the hillside sloping steeply upwards on one side and down on the other. As Roan had said, there was little snow beneath the trees; the land itself kept away the worst of the weather, while the high, dark green canopy of the tall, straight pines held off most of the rest, leaving the glen calm and silent but for the occasional cry of a bird. The cold of the winter hills still seeped in, however, and the moss and bracken beneath Pardus’s paws crunched with a thick layer of frost. Once on a trail, Pardus could follow it without further direction, and Asta took the opportunity to relax a little and enjoy the scenery, settling comfortably against Roan at her back.

           “When was the first time your grandfather took you hunting?” she asked as Pardus stepped carefully over a spot where the track was falling away in a miniature landslip.

           “I think I must have been a baby,” said Roan. “Wee enough for him to carry in a sling on his back. The first time that I remember, I was seven – old enough to keep up with him on foot, mostly, and to understand when he needed me to do something.”

           “You don’t remember any trips from before then?”

           Roan shrugged. “There weren’t any to remember. There was no one he trusted enough to leave me with for more than an hour or two, so he stayed near the cottage in those years, relying on traps and fishing instead.”

           “It seems such a strange way to grow up to me,” said Asta. “You were out here in the wild – out on the edge of the world, you once said – with just you and your grandfather, never seeing another person except for when you went to the market. Learning to hunt and to fight. Meanwhile I was a thousand miles away in the Imperial City with millions of people around me, not even seeing a horizon without buildings on it until I was twelve and my parents took me out for a holiday in the country.”

           Roan shuddered at the thought. “Millions… Gods. Duncraig was bad enough, and I don’t think there are even a hundred thousand there.”

           “Oh, less than eighty thousand at the last census,” said Asta. “I had to look it up once, back in Lady MacArra’s office. Can’t remember why,” she added, shaking her head. “Knowing how much you hate crowds, I’m just impressed you stayed long enough to finish university. Which tattoo did you get to commemorate that?”

           “The adder on my left forearm.”

           “Symbolic of your patience?” teased Asta.

           Roan chuckled. “Might as well have been!”

           They both ducked as Pardus passed beneath a fallen tree, its trunk wedged against another to leave it lying at an angle. Off to the right, its roots reached up towards the sky where they had torn from the ground. Something had clawed at the bark recently, leaving deep scratches that still oozed sticky reddish-gold sap.

           Asta reined in Pardus for a moment and held up one hand to gauge the size of the claw-marks. “There aren’t… bears out here, are there?”

           “Not often,” said Roan as Asta nudged Pardus back into a walk. “They usually stay up in the Dragon’s Teeth, or in the really huge, deep forests up north past Selwick.” Asta made a small, worried humming sound. “What’s this?” said Roan, smiling. “And here I thought the Kiraani loved bears.”

           “Just because they’re our national symbol doesn’t mean I want to meet one!”

           Roan gave her a reassuring little squeeze around her waist. “Once we’re out on the plateau, it’s open enough to see any bears coming from a long way off,” she promised. “So long as you don’t surprise them, they’re more likely to run than attack. Same goes for wolves, really – and there are a few of them up here. They usually stay away from humans, but we might hear them now and then.”

           “I’m starting to think I wasn’t making an informed decision when I asked to come up here with you…”

           “Do you want to turn back?” asked Roan, no longer teasing.

           Asta squared her shoulders and sat up straight, looking determinedly ahead. “No,” she said firmly. “Whatever happens… We’ll deal with it.”

           Roan leant forwards in the saddle to hug Asta more closely against her. “Aye, we will.” Asta lifted one hand to brush against her cheek, and she sat up again to gaze along the trail. The light grew steadily brighter as the trees became sparser. “We’re almost out of the glen.”

           Pardus finally emerged from the shadow of the last ancient pine and reached the top of the trail. Asta shaded her eyes, squinting into the sudden light, until they adjusted enough for her to look out over the open, treeless plateau. It was not the flat plain that the word usually suggested to her; level only in comparison to the hill they had just climbed, it was instead a rolling landscape of rounded summits and shallower valleys incised by narrow, rushing streams from tiny springs among the rock and stronger rivers of cloudy meltwater from the high mountains far to the northeast. Here and there the occasional rocky crag jutted up towards the sky, having somehow stood against the vanished glaciers that had scoured the hills smooth. The snow that had spared Glen Coll had fallen freely out on the plateau, coating everything in a blanket of white that only the odd boulder or tough little shrub broke through beneath the biggest, clearest, coldest blue sky Asta had ever seen.

           “Great Siraki,” she whispered.

           “I don’t think she had much to do with it,” said Roan with a hint of a laugh in her voice.

           Asta gave herself a shake and took a steadying breath, unbuttoning the earflaps of her fox-fur hat. “Where to next, pathfinder?” she asked, re-securing them beneath her chin.

           “We’ll get everything set up at the camp before we go out looking for prey,” said Roan. “The path’s not all that clear with this snow, but we won’t go far wrong if we follow the cairns.”

           “Cairns? I don’t see any.”

           Roan leant in again so her chin was touching Asta’s shoulder and her cheekbone brushed against her hat. “How about now?” she asked, pointing.

           Asta followed the line of her finger with her eyes. “Oh! Yes, I see it now.” What she had taken for a natural outcrop of rock was, once Roan had pointed it out, recognisable as a carefully-stacked column of flat stones, about Roan’s height and covered with moss, lichen and snow. Asta nodded to herself and tugged on the reins, guiding Pardus over to the cairn and then along a shallow furrow in the snow to the next. From cairn to cairn they made their way across the plateau tundra, huddling close together against the wind until, a couple of hours later, the ground suddenly dropped away in front of them, first in a cliff twice Roan’s height and then in a gentler slope down towards a large pond fed by a little waterfall tumbling over the cliff away to their right.

           The pond had not yet frozen completely solid, but a skin of ice forming on the surface hinted that it would before long. The ground on the other side of the pond rose back up in another sheer cliff, this one coated thickly with more moss. The hollow around the pond provided some shelter from the biting wind once Pardus had carefully picked its way down a steep path at one end of the cliff. Although water and ice may have first carved the hollow from the plateau, it was clear from below that they had not done so completely without help. What had looked like a smooth slope from above had, long ago, been deliberately shaped into rough terraces, and a row of standing stones – some fallen, some broken, and all very worn – formed a semi-circle near its base, just above the pond.

           “Here we are,” said Roan. She climbed down from the saddle and crunched through the snow to a barely-visible dip in the slope between the central pair of standing stones. They were taller than the rest, dwarfing Roan while the others barely reached her shoulders, and despite years of weathering there was still a hint of carved decoration beneath their coating of lichen.

           “Are you sure?” said Asta, dismounting to join her.

           “Och, aye.” Roan gestured for Asta to stand back before she jabbed the head of her spear deep into the snow and wrenched it backwards. “Remind me to bring a shovel the next time we’re up here in winter, eh?” Even without one, it didn’t take her long to clear away enough snow to reveal an opening in the hillside: a stone-framed doorway with a heavy, solid lintel, tall enough that Roan only had to stoop a little to get in and that Asta could stand up straight.

           “This is where you and your grandfather camped?” asked Asta as she followed Roan down the stone passage beyond the doorway. Roan had conjured a witchlight to see where she was putting her feet, but the gently-rising passage was narrow enough that she blocked most of the light from it and Asta could see little but Roan’s back. “The ‘cave’ you spoke about?”

           “Aye, this is it.”

           Asta ran one hand over the wall. The stone beneath her fingers was mostly smooth, but had been decorated here and there with incised carvings like Roan’s tattoos and simpler patterns of spirals and concentric circles.

           “I don’t think this is a cave, Roan,” she said as they emerged into a larger chamber, tall enough that Roan couldn’t even touch the ceiling and with plenty of floor space for all their supplies and a campfire. Roughly half of the interior walls – behind them and to either side – were made of drystone masonry like the cairns, but the other half and the floor had been carved into the solid bedrock of the hill. Smaller chambers led off the main one to either side, little more than cubbyholes. It wasn’t exactly warm, but it kept the wind off and the stone underfoot was completely dry. “I think it’s a tomb.”

           “Granda thought it might have been, once,” admitted Roan as she checked that nothing had made a nest in the side-chambers. “But whoever was buried here, there’s nothing left of them – not a single bone. Could be their people took their remains with them when they abandoned this place. Or could be there was never anyone here to begin with.” She waved the hovering witchlight over to float by the wall instead of above her shoulder and fed a little more power into it, casting a warm gold light into every corner of the chamber. “Does it bother you?” she asked quietly.

           Asta studied the far wall in silence. With the illumination of the witchlight, it was far easier to see that the living rock was almost completely covered in carvings, from more concentric circles and tightly-wound spirals, through symbols like the crescents, discs and broken arrows that Roan had inked into her skin, to clear outlines of animals decorated with strange flowing markings as if they had tattoos of their own. At one corner, a pack of wolves pursued a red stag; at the other, a bear reared on its hind legs above a river full of salmon. A dragon soared above it all, its wings outstretched and its tail forming an elegant curve behind it.

           “No,” she finally said when Roan started forwards to check if she had heard her. “Maybe it should, when it seems almost everything else in the world scares me, I don’t know, but – no. For whatever reason, it doesn’t.”

           Roan smiled, a softer, gentler expression than her usual grin, and brushed one hand across the fur mantle of Asta’s cloak and down over her back. “Let’s bring our stuff in and get a fire going. Probably best if we warm up a bit before we head back out and get cold again.”

---

The tomb takes inspiration from a couple of different real archaeological sites, primarily the Neolithic chambered cairns of Orkney, though as Asta notices it’s partly rock-cut rather than completely constructed. In the real world these cairns predate the Picts and their symbol stones by thousands of years, so the carvings may not be the handiwork of the same people who actually built it (Maeshowe in Orkney is full of Viking graffiti), but on the other hand it’s a fantasy world and doesn’t need to be historically accurate.

[dramallamadingdang]

Lotsa replies

Figured I’d better do ‘em before I get absorbed in writing up this tutorial thing...

These go back a ways because I’ve been, as usual, lazy/preoccupied. :) They’re for @esotheria-sims, @maybesomethingdunno, @nerianasims, @penig, @holleyberry, @plumbobsquareface (who has an awesome username), @immerso-sims, @eulaliasims, @lisac-h, @mustluvcatz-reloaded, @sim-boo, @acquiresimoleons, @pensblr, @didilysims, annnnnnnnd @mrningbrd...

Geez, I need to not put off doing these like this... And I should probably split this up, but...meh.

esotheria-sims replied to your post “So, um....”

Well, with an introduction like this, even if I *weren't* interested in the stuff you have to offer (spoiler alert: I am), I'd still be curious to see what it is at the very least. :) Some of those old Pandorasims sets (if those are what you were referring to here) could definitely use better textures.

Yup, some of the stuff is from Pandorasims, indeed. And from xxxsims. Slig did some nice recolors of some of the latter’s stuff, at least, but I want to high-res ‘em a bit and do some different colors for my own uses. The Pandora stuff, though? Needs serious help. I mean, I get that the textures for these items were probably not the main attraction and all, but...well, such things are important to me. :) I want my game to look nice even if no one sees this particular aspect of it but me. And I imagine storytellers would want better-looking textures, too, for pics/videos.

maybesomethingdunno replied to your post “So, um....”

Generally speaking, I feel like if you want to create something (whether it's Sims content, a story, or a goofy sketch), then create it. When it comes to Sims content, there's always someone who'll download and appreciate the content. Simmers are a diverse breed with a wild assortment of stories, hoods, and gameplay needs/desires. So on the heels of "If you want to make it, make it" is "If you want to share what you've made, share it." Kinky Sims for all! :D

*high five* Yeah, I know what you mean and that’s generally my attitude, too. This stuff, however, was going to be just for me, but then I got to thinking about how there’s a dearth of nice-looking stuff of this type and...Well, I can do something about that. I think, anyway. We’ll see, with some of the stuff. But, due to the more sensitive nature of this kind of stuff...Well, I second-guess. :)

nerianasims replied to your post “So, um....”

I'm interested and have no need to be anon about it. (Also grr 50 Shades times a million, such a horrible example and SO badly written to boot.)

OMG, don’t even get me started. I mean, OK, yeah, the whole thing sort of normalized mine and my husband’s lifestyle a little bit which on the one hand might be a good thing....but on the other hand, it didn’t do it right. Even if it was well-written (which it totally isn’t; it was a bad Twilight fanfic that was obviously written by someone who’d never had even remotely kinky sex, much less any contact with real people who practice BDSM), it portrayed an abusive relationship, not the sort of thing real people who are into this sort of thing practice. Just...ugh. Awful, awful thing. >:(

penig replied to your photo “Owen has…interesting…jammies.  And, like Aaron when he was a kid, Owen...”

What pervert even made those in a kid's size?

Skell, I think. I think it’s part of her repository project. I don’t think it’s necessarily perverted, though, especially not in game context. I mean, if you go by the speech bubbles, kids regularly talk about sex with their parents/siblings at the dinner table in the game. :) But even if that wasn’t the case...Well, kids will wear or have or do inappropriate things that they don’t know are inappropriate. They just think it’s pretty or something. Like, in this case, I imagine Owen likes those jammie pants just because they have purple hearts on them. He’s purple, so he likes purple things. :) He has no idea what they mean, and his parents probably think it’s funny. Because they’re that way.

holleyberry replied to your photo “Do you think she adores him? I think she adores him. He, of course, is...”

What's a Gilsbruty to do?

Not much, apparently. *grumble* CERTAINLY NOT PROCREATE! *glares at Simon and wills him to pass on his genes, dammit!*

plumbobsquareface replied to your post “Were-Klingons! Actually, wouldn't that be a nice idea for a default...”

i'm so glad to see other simers that are also into star trek :')

Ohhhhh, I’m a big huge honking dorky Trek nerd. Even published a fanzine, back in the day, was heavily involved in Usenet newsgroups in the early days of the internet and was staff on one of the big-at-the-time forums when such things came to be. I’m not in the fandom per se anymore at all for various reasons, but I’ll always watch the shows and read fanfic and that sort of thing. (DS9 is my fave. TOS will always have a special place in my heart, of course, but most of my Trekker heart belongs to DS9. :) )

immerso-sims replied to your photo “Aaron GilsCarbo, dancing like the nerd he is.”

Dem pink sandals tho ;)

Aren’t they precious? He actually aged into the outfit all by his little self and the pink sandals just sort of define him. That and the surfer hair. :)

maybesomethingdunno replied to your photo “This is Josephine. Young, pregnant with an unknown number of babies,...”

Next she will become addicted to Sim cat nip :P

...And then she’ll be in and out of rehab for the rest of her life. Such a sad, sad tale of woe. :)

lisac-h replied to your photo “Aaron rolled up a want for that “I was abducted by aliens”...”

Mark Twain saw Worf and said, "Werewolf!"

He did, didn’t he? HAH! :D God, it’s been forever since I’ve watched TNG. It’s not my favorite of the shows, but I should give it a rewatch one of these days...

eulaliasims replied to your post “Oh, God, it’s the 10 questions meme again!”

I would add an evil laughter gif here, but Tumblr won't let me, so you'll have to imagine it. :P Yeah, it can be surprisingly hard to find historical fiction that isn't focused on romance sometimes. I don't mind some, but when it seems to take over the rest of the story... meh. That's what I read fanfic for. And now I have the Ride of the Valkyries in my head too, but at least it's not Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer again.

It’s not that I can’t deal with ANY romance in historical fiction. I can if it makes sense within the story and the real history because, hey, these were real people and they fell in love and had relationships and all that. One of my favorite books (The Sunne in Splendour, by Sharon Kay Penman) is about Richard III, and a chunk of the 1000-page plot is about the relationship between him and his eventual wife and what impact that had on him as a person which in turn affected what kind of king he was, and that’s all good. But then there are those that are set in, say, Henry VIII’s court and it’s all thinly-veiled trashy romance novel tripe. (Yes, Philippa Gregory, I’m looking at you.) If I want that, I’ll sit and watch The Tudors, for God’s sake because ooh! Really hot men, gayness, AND boobies, yay! :) I’d rather read about about how that court really was. I mean, it was intriguing enough without having to pruriently sex it up. :p 

Geez, this is my “ragging on popular books” post, apparently. :) And you’re welcome for Ride of the Valkyries. *evil* It is now, thankfully out of my head.

mustluvcatz-reloaded replied to your post “Oh, God, it’s the 10 questions meme again!”

I'm half tempted to answer your questions just because they're so NOT about the sims, but I may be too lazy to right now, lol.

You should do it! I want to know what brand of TP you use! :)

acquiresimoleons replied to your photo “Aaron got his wish to grow up, ‘cuz, y’know, it’s not like it’s...”

I never could work out how to make a restaurant run properly either.

The “secret” is to run them with as few employees as possible. Especially at first. Because they will suck out all the money you make and more. So, you either have to have the owner do all the functions (Host(ess), cook, waitstaff) -- which you can do at first because you won’t have a lot of customers until the place levels up to at least Level 3 -- OR you have to use slave labor family members to fill the roles. 

Also, having a limited menu of items that don’t require a lot of cooking skill is necessary, unless/until your cook levels up. Otherwise customers will end up with a lot of burnt meals, which lowers loyalty and makes it harder to get stars and level-ups and all that.

acquiresimoleons replied to your photo “And Owen, Arcadia’s other alien sprog, grew up, too. He looks like a...”

His face kinda scares me ��

It’s the eyes. They’re creepy. But it’s what the PT who spawned him has, so...

sim-boo replied to your photo “Simon being macho… …and, afterwards, not so macho. :) And that’s it...”

R u saying bubble baths arent macho?

Well, anything that a macho man does becomes macho, right? :) But, traditionally? Not so much, no. :)

didilysims replied to your photoset “Simon taught Suzy to roll over….and then cleaned up an ocean of dog...”

Wow, that's more pee than I'd think would fit inside that little dog!

*laugh* Well, it is two dogs’ worth of pee. :) And one of them is a big dog. They just both chose the same pee spot. Right by the front door, of course. *eye roll*

pensblr replied to your photo “Nekkid treadmilling. Saves on laundry.”

*laughs* Just imagine how unfortunate it would be if sims experienced the real life pain of falling on a treadmill...while naked.

I know! I have visions of dangly bits caught in the mechanism, and OW! :) That’s totally a bad kind of ow, too.

mrningbrd replied to your photo “Oh, Benny. Benny, Benny, Benny… Of course, it happened right after...”

tell simon i can relate. this happened the other night at 4 am. my condolences

Oh, God, you poor thing. My dogs at home in Colorado are constantly having skunk encounters lately, apparently. (I’m not there, at the moment, but the ranch hands report in regularly. :) ) It didn’t used to be so bad, but apparently there’s a skunk population explosion in the nearby area...

[artificialqueens]

Ugly Christmas Sweater (One shot)- Ty5000

AN: Yep This is a Christmas fic in July I have nothing more to say on the matter. Inspired by Ugly Christmas Sweater by the AAA girls. I haven’t really read through this yet so sorry in advance for any mistakes. 

Alaska sighed at she checked the time on her phone for the fifth time in the last twenty minutes; just over four hours till Christmas. When she woke up this morning the last thing she had been expecting was to be spending the night alone in her dorm room of the now almost empty school. By now she should have been with her family in Canada enjoying a well needed holiday away from this place. The weather however had other plans and a thick layer of snow had grounded all planes flying into Toronto leaving Alaska no choice but to stay in the school for at least the first few days of the holiday period until the weather cleared up.

 It was eerily quiet, even at night it was never silent for too long, Sunny Manor has five hundred enrolled students of which more than three hundred girls took residence in its dorms. Of course, with everyone gone it was much different, even the few teachers who stayed behind to care for the remaining students hardly showed their face all day which is why when Alaska heard footsteps coming along the hall way for a second she was somewhat startled until the “Intruder” showed their face.

“ Yo Thunder get dressed and meet me in the senior common room in ten minutes.” Willam called from the door way.

“Why?” She asked sceptically the senior was known for being somewhat of a trouble maker, she didn’t really know much about her other than that she had been good friends with Alaska’s ex Sharon who has been expelled after a mysterious incident in her junior year.

“We’re having a Christmas party!” She replied mischief laced in her voice as she turned away. “Where something festive!” she added already half way down the hall.

Now Alaska new that whatever Willam had in mind was probably against at least one of the school rules, and while she wasn’t a complete goody goody she also wasn’t in the habit of getting into trouble often. Then again there was little else she could entertain herself with tonight…

With a final sigh, she pushed herself off of her bed and over to her still packed suitcase, thankful that her reindeer sweater was sitting at the top.

Well if you can’t beat them you may as well join them.

 When Alaska made it to the senior commons just over ten minutes later she was surpised to find Willam wasn’t alone. A small girl who she recgonised from her home economics class was sat beside her sporting a baby pink sweater decorated with little penguins which made her look incredibly soft in comparison to the other girl in “Santa’s Bitch” sweater.

“You’re late.” She says finally looking up from her phone.

“Hardly. Hi my names Alaska, what’s yours?” She asked the other girl who had been silent up until now.

“I’m Courtney.” The girl spoke up with a strong Australian accent.

“Oh yeah! We have home economics together; your cooking is amazing.” Alaska replied dragging her words slightly.

“Thank you.”

“All right losers let’s get this party started!” Willam yelled suddenly pulling a bottle of makers mark out from under a sofa cushion.

“Oh, um I don’t really drink.” Courtney mumbled while eyeing the bottle with wide eyes.

“You do tonight miss Sandy.” The older girl says passing her the bottle.

Courtney looked at the bottle worriedly for a second before bringing it to her lips and taking a small sip, immediately regretting it as the amber liquid burned on its way down making her face scrunch up in disgust. She passed the bottle on quickly to Alaska who despite not being much of a drinker herself took a mouthful with more confidence than the aussie girl had.

“You girls are pathetic, pass it here let the boss show you how it’s done.” Willam butts in grabbing the bottle for herself and taking three big gulps.

“Sorry we can’t all be alcoholics like you Will.”  Alaska laughs beginning to settle into the company. She simply shrugs in response before taking another mouthful of the drink.

“It’s not like there is anything else to do around here is there. Why are you still here anyway Alaska? Word on the street is you were off to Canada for the break.”

“I am… once the weather over there calms down.” She reaches for the bottle while she speaks, Willam is right there is nothing better to do.

“What about you Court, No Mommy and Daddy waiting for you down Under?” The senior questioned.

“Of course I do, it’s just too far to travel for just a week and they are really busy with work anyway, I wouldn’t want to get in their way.” She said hoping no one would detect the slight sadness in her usually happy demeaner.

“How precious.” Was Willam’s sarcasm laced response.

“What about you why are you spending the holidays here Willam?” Courtney asked expectantly.

Alaska looked at Willam across the room, in her whole four years at Sunny Manor she had never seen or heard of the other girl ever going home for any holiday, not even over summer. She just knew there was a story there.

“Oh, you know the usual story. Mom got remarried and her husband isn’t a fan of the “troubled” daughter so he pays a shit ton of money to keep her away. “No one in that moment would be able to detect any kind of negative feelings from her response if the sentence hadn’t been punctuated with a large swig of whiskey.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah that’s terrible Will.”

“Oh, hell no we aren’t doing this pitty party it’s all good. I’m cool, I couldn’t give a shit.” Her reply was met with silence. “Oh whatever Christmas sucks anyway, let’s change the subject.”

                                                .          .            .

Three hours and almost a full bottle of whiskey later the three girls had really warmed up to each other.

“…and that’s the story of how I blackmailed a guy for $225” Willam concluded grinning as the others laughed at her story. She really liked these girls.

“I’m so drunk this is the best Christmas ever!” Courtney yelled bursting into a fit of giggles. She was only just slightly worse than the others who were only really tipsy yet the others still cooed at her in awe. Within a few hours she had become like a baby sister to Alaska and Willam.

“Shit! Court that gave me an idea.” Willam called out suddenly. “‘Laska quick, what is your worst Christmas memory?”

Alaska looked up at the others in shock, all her Christmas memories had been lovely and spent with family. Up until now of course, but she was enjoying herself too much to use this as an example, but then something came to mind.

“So, there is this one year and it was Christmas, and my brother got karate patches and I really wanted to get karate patches, So I thought I was gonna get karate patches, and then I didn’t get karate patches.”

“ Jesus girl, no karate patches? That is so tragic.” Willam pipped in sounding bored.

“Oh yeah like you have anything better.”

“Don’t try me I have plenty of terrible Christmas stories. Like This one time my mom got so pissed she threw our tree into the pool or the next year I got super drunk, it was cool no one noticed anything they were all too busy cooking. It was great until I woke up under a tree miles from home.” She recounted her stories happily almost like she was gloating, grinning even wider when she saw her friends shocked reactions.

“C’mon court your turn.”

“Okay so a few years ago my entire family were supposed to be on the morning flight to Paris, but the night before they punished me and sent me to the attic. The next morning everyone woke up and rolled out. Mum forgot about me until she was  on the plane and freaked out. While they were gone two guys tried to break into my house but I was smarter so I set a bunch of traps, set a guy on fire.”

“Shit that’s wild” Willam said shocked that Courtney had actually done something interesting for once.

“Yeah, I nearly died.” She added nodding for sincerity.

“Wait a second that sounds really familiar …” Alaska spoke up “That’s the plot of home alone!.” She suddenly shrieked laughing aloud. 

“Do they even have Christmas in Australia?” She asked once her laughter had dulled down

“No…” She sighed defeated. It really did feel that way.

“aww it’s okay Court at least you got to experience Christmas with us and our ugly Christmas sweaters.” Alaska said gesturing around the room at the three teenagers dressed up in their various Christmas attire.

“I guess everything is better in my ugly Christmas sweater.” She replied smiling softly.

“Shit!” Willam screamed suddenly looking at her watch. “I’ll be right back.” She shouted before running upstairs leaving the other girls confused. She returned barely a minute later with a large bottle of champagne.

“How did you get that?” Alaska asked raising her eyebrow suspiciously?

“I have my ways… but who cares because guess what! It’s Christmas!!” She replied popping the cork and letting the champagne spill out onto the floor for a second before taking a big gulp and passing it on.

“Merry Christmas you guys” Alaska cheered before she and Willam were dragged into a group hug by Courtney.

“Thank you for making this a Christmas to remember.”