#like that? ��� cringe. you kiss your mother with that mouth? wow. everybody point and laugh at this idiot. the power of public shaming

[cuubism]

inspired by this Hope!Hob piece by @mashumaru, have a little reverse-verse fic, Hob as Hope of the Endless and human Morpheus

(reverse-verse Hope and Morpheus are my special special little guys, I wrote an extremely long fic about them before. I think about them all the time and at this point they're basically distinct from Dreamling in my mind 😂)

cw hate speech, homophobia, slurs, violence. it's pretty brief though.

--

At this point, Morpheus is no longer shocked to come home and find Hope sat at his kitchen table, knuckles and brow bone bloody, drinking tea as if none of that matters. It still rankles him, though. Bloody. Injured. Always.

Morpheus sets down his messenger bag in the hall with a thump and bypasses Hope entirely to go right for the first aid kit on the top shelf in the bathroom. Hope turns to watch him pass, a forlorn little look on his face. No, Morpheus tells himself, he does not get some sweet little welcome home kiss if he’s going to come back like that.

“Must you insist,” he says, as he drags the kit—packed full, always—off the bathroom shelf and trudges back into the kitchen, “on always starting fights?”

Hope pushes his half-drunk tea away, pouting. “I don’t start them!”

Morpheus sits in the chair next to him and just looks at him.

“…Okay,” Hope concedes. His lip and brow line are bruised. There’s dried blood under his nose. Morpheus wishes this wasn’t his natural state. “Sometimes I throw the first punch.”

Morpheus sighs, tearing open an alcohol swab and starting to wipe at the cut on his brow.

“…Most of the time,” Hope admits.

“Hope,” Morpheus says, exasperated, and Hope cringes.

“You know I can’t really be hurt,” he tries to explain. “I’m not human. Besides. You think I’m just beating the crap out of people for no reason?”

“No,” says Morpheus, and wipes at his split lip with perhaps more force than necessary. “I do not.”

“Besides, I don’t kill people and I don’t like when people do it around me either. It’s not about fighting, I don’t enjoy fighting. It’s about taking a stand.”

“You do enjoy fighting,” Morpheus accuses. “I have seen you.”

Hope ducks his head. “It’s not about that, though,” he insists. “Listen. You know I never really finish these things, but it’s my role to start it. To show that these battles can be fought. And that it’s worth standing up.”

“Bar fights, such a noble cause,” says Morpheus dryly, and Hope tucks his forehead into his shoulder. Morpheus can’t help himself, his hand automatically goes to the nape of Hope’s neck, fingers combing through his hair.

“You attract violence to you,” he says quietly. “I have seen it.”

Hope sighs. “Did you really think that people would like Hope? Sometimes they want to give me a hug but more often they just want to punch me in the face.”

“I thought you were meant to inspire,” Morpheus says, and it’s a little bit mocking of things Hope himself has declared in the past but Morpheus is listening.

“More like get in the way,” says Hope, his face still pressed to Morpheus’s shoulder. He sounds despondent now. Morpheus supposes people instigating fights with you simply because of your nature wouldn’t be pleasant. At least when people instigate fights with Morpheus, he’s usually done something to deserve it.

“You are not ‘in the way,’” he says. “If you are, then you are meant to be there. Like when you stepped into my path.”

“‘Least you didn’t punch me,” Hope mumbles.

“I considered it.”

Hope huffs. He pushes himself upright again, shaking his messy hair out of his eyes. He is so beautiful, even still speckled with blood and grime from the fight. Especially like that, if Morpheus is being honest with himself.

“So long as you never hated me,” Hope says. His voice is fragile now, and it hurts Morpheus’s heart. Hope is like a radiant sunbeam, and still more often than not people are only trying to throw shadows over him.

“I could never hate you,” he says, and Hope’s expression softens. Morpheus kisses him lightly on the lips. “I do not think they hate you either. You are… challenging. Just being around you… it is a confrontation in its own way. Especially for those who may have pushed you aside.”

“Even for you?” Hope says.

“Especially for me,” Morpheus tells him. He leans his cheek against Hope’s, overcome with fondness. Fondness that is greater for how frustrating Hope has been to him over the years, during those times of darkness. “It is how you saved me.”

“You saved you,” Hope says firmly. “But if I helped, then I’m glad.”

“Always.” Morpheus kisses the hinge of his jaw. “What would I do without you?”

“Now you’re just coming on to me.”

Morpheus hums, not disagreeing.

“Admit it,” Hope says, tangling fingers in Morpheus’s hair. “You’re into it. When I come home all bloody.”

“Mm. I am not.”

“Oh, you are. I can tell.”

Morpheus skates a hand up along his thigh. “Hm. Perhaps it makes you seem very fierce.” He kisses Hope’s mouth this time, swipes his tongue soothingly over his split lip, tasting just the tantalizing hint of blood. Leans in and—

“Ow!”

Morpheus pulls back, raising an eyebrow. Hope looks sheepish, pressing his hand to his nose, which Morpheus had bumped. Hope’s non-human body will heal quickly, but for now his nose remains at least partially broken.

Morpheus keeps giving him an unimpressed look. “I see you are gravely wounded.” Hope catches him by the hair before he can truly pull away, and he smiles. “I suppose… I will have to ply my mouth elsewhere. If you promise to be more careful.”

“For such a reward I’d promise anything,” Hope swears, and Morpheus obligingly sinks down, hands on Hope’s thighs. It is hardly a hardship.

“You do like this,” Hope swears. “Don’t try to pretend. You’re so transparent.”

“Perhaps you once punched a man in the face on my behalf, and perhaps I found it titillating,” Morpheus says, and Hope laughs. “Is it terrible if I wanted you to break his nose? Perhaps I am terrible. You do look appealing with blood on your hands. If it is not your own.”

Even Hope’s own torn, bruised knuckles do stir something in Morpheus, a fierce pride and terrible heat. But he worries for him also.

“Liar,” Hope crows, gleeful, “hypocrite. Terrible lecturer. You love it. You know you do.”

“Do not get yourself horribly maimed in a bar fight,” Morpheus orders. “However…” he takes one of Hope’s hands, kisses his knuckles, lets his lips linger there for a moment. “If you must be righteous and full of passion, then I will soothe your injuries later, oh knight of promise.”

“Terrible incentive, now I’m going to get worse,” Hope says. He caresses Morpheus’s cheek, thumbs at the corner of his mouth. His look on Morpheus is so fond, always. Then he says, “Alright, darling, for you, I’ll be careful.”

“Thank you.” Morpheus leans his face against Hope’s thigh, lets Hope play with his hair. In a moment he will indeed ply his mouth upon Hope’s body as promised, in a moment he will indulge the spark that Hope’s fierceness lights within him. But for this moment, he just stays close to him, a gentle valley in the topography of Hope’s violence. Morpheus has never been gentle for anyone before. He finds he likes it.

Hope leans down, smiling, and kisses the top of his head.

~

Morpheus does not like to be “out and about.” In fact, he generally detests it. But Hope likes to be out among people and Morpheus likes to be with Hope, so sometimes he goes. Besides, he likes to see Hope happy.

The White Horse is a safe space for them, anyway. Morpheus does not feel so uncomfortable there as he does at other crowded, loud establishments. He sits in his usual corner seat at the bar, nursing a drink and working on his writing, leaning lightly against Hope’s shoulder as Hope chats with whomever has come up to him now. He tends to attract people wherever he goes. Fortunately, no one has tried to start a fight, this time.

Hope leans in close to his ear. “Get some air with me?”

Morpheus smirks. Inevitably, getting some air will turn into Hope pushing him up against a wall and kissing him senseless. He is hardly opposed to that series of events.

Cold air washes over him as Hope leads him out to the back garden, around the corner to a private spot in the alley by the inn. It makes his hands feel even warmer as he takes Morpheus by the hips, leans him up against the wall as expected, thumbs stroking over his hip bones under his shirt. Morpheus smiles to himself.

“Did you get bored?” he teases.

Hope kisses his cheek, then his jaw, leans in close to his ear. “Hardly. You know my mind is always on you no matter what. But you were being so patient.” He tugs on Morpheus’s ear, then goes to his throat, kissing along his pulse. “How could I not reward my darling?”

“Knowing that I am the one you will go home with is its own reward,” Morpheus murmurs. He trails a hand up Hope’s back, pulls him close so their bellies are pressed together. “So many of those people in there want you. I see it. But they do not know that you are already taken.” It makes him feel privileged. And hungry.

Hope laughs. “Possessive little bastard.”

“Yes.” Hope is so radiant. To be the one chosen by him… it makes Morpheus’s soul sing. “You are mine. I am yours.”

“Yours,” Hope agrees. With that he moves to Morpheus’s lips and kisses him deep. Morpheus hums in pleasure, opens his mouth to him. Tastes the beer lingering on his tongue. Sinks into the press of Hope’s fingers on his hips, and—

“In public? Disgusting.”

Hope pulls away from him, and Morpheus grumbles in displeasure. Hope turns to the mouth of the alley, where a strange man is standing, expression of, indeed, disgust on his face.

When they don’t respond, the man steps closer until he's almost in their space. Hope’s jaw clenches but, perhaps remembering how Morpheus had chastised him for always getting into fights, he doesn’t yet react.

“Can we help you?” Morpheus asks. Not politely.

“By taking that somewhere else,” says the strange man. His tone is aggressive. And most of his attention seems to be on Hope, rather than Morpheus, which Morpheus doesn’t like. Morpheus has noticed before that Hope’s presence inspires ire to jump to action as often as it inspires positivity and good works. But this is the first time he has seen such outright aggression.

Maybe some people really do hate Hope.

“Mind your own business,” says Hope, stiffly.

“You fags shouldn’t be allowed out in public, it’s an insult to respectable people.” He’s still primarily looking at Hope, and it's hard to say if it's because he is the one who looks more traditionally masculine between the two of them, or if it is because of the inherent draw of Hope as an Endless. “Should fuck a real woman instead of that.”

Hope takes a quick step forward at the man’s words, expression hard.

“Hope—” Morpheus starts. Do not get yourself hurt again, he means to say. As much as I enjoy you defending our honor I also like you well. For Hope may have supernatural qualities that prevent him from dying but he is not invulnerable. His powers lie in his empathy, his charisma. Emotion and community. But he takes a punch like any other man. Comes home to Morpheus with a black eye like anyone else would.

Hope stops sharply as if caught on a leash. And Morpheus immediately regrets speaking, for the other man crows in victory.

“What are you, his little bitch? You a man or not?”

Hope flinches despite himself. Not, Morpheus thinks, because he cares so much about a stranger’s sense of masculinity, but because he prides himself on being able to handle himself. On being able to defend his lover. On being able to stand on his own feet after being broken down into shards by his imprisonment.

Morpheus often feels anger, is too quick to it even, but he does not often act on it with violence. It is not so much that he disapproves of violence as that he dislikes the attention associated with causing a scene, and, being rather slight, is usually at a disadvantage in any physical confrontation besides. Cutting words are his weapons instead.

But watching Hope shrink back, the hurt that flashes over him—a terrible spark jumps inside Morpheus. Hope is stronger, is better, than any person he knows. Has been through hell and come out of it still with more empathy than Morpheus has ever possessed in his life. Morpheus will not watch him made small.

He steps forward and punches the man square in the nose.

He hears a crunch. He’s not sure if it’s the nose, or his own knuckles. The man wheels back with a shriek, clutching his bleeding nose, and Morpheus stumbles back, too, shaking out his hand.

Hope has his hands over his mouth in shock, eyes wide. “Holy shit.” When he drops his hands, he’s grinning. “Holy shit.”

Holy shit indeed. Morpheus watches the man scamper off down the alley, casting one last dark look back at them. His hand hurts, he might have broken it—but the adrenaline pumping through his veins is much louder. He can’t quite believe he did that.

“How’d that feel?” Hope asks. He is a terrible influence sometimes. Always roping Morpheus into doing terrible things, like wanting to live.

A smile tugs at Morpheus’s lips. “It felt… good.”

“Yeah?” He’s still grinning madly. “Let me see your hand.”

Morpheus shows him. Hope prods gently at his knuckles, and winces.

“That’s gonna hurt for a while,” he says. “Your punching technique is terrible.” He kisses Morpheus’s hand anyway.

“Now you understand how I feel when you come home bloodied,” Morpheus says.

Hope’s eyes are sparkling. He does not seem like he’s learned a lesson from that at all. “Oh, I do.” He leans in close, presses his lips to the corner of Morpheus’s mouth. “You were…” his voice is a low hum, “incredible.”

“Do I get a reward?” Morpheus asks dryly, though his breath quickens at Hope’s proximity, the heat in his voice.

“For defending my honor? Anything.” He takes Morpheus’s uninjured hand. He smiles. He’s altogether too excited about Morpheus punching someone. Which only makes Morpheus want to do it again. Terrible influence, Hope. “Come home, and I’ll show you.”

But Morpheus catches him when Hope starts to tug him away. “Here.”

Hope raises an eyebrow at him, but he does look… interested. “Something to prove?”

Morpheus draws him close again, leans back against the wall so Hope is caging him in. “Perhaps I simply want you, and I do not care who knows about it.”

He touches low on Hope’s belly, his hand hidden between their bodies. He is not willing to truly expose them—though they are somewhat sequestered in the alley at the moment—but to play with the idea is… arousing. He wants Hope to touch him. Here, in their place. After Morpheus has hurt someone for him.

He cannot blame Hope for this. Morpheus is just a terrible influence upon himself.

“Menace,” Hope chuckles. “You’ve no high ground left, you know that, right? You’ve obliterated it.”

“I never did,” Morpheus says, as Hope lets him draw him in and kisses along his neck. “Always you have been the better of us.”

“In terms of exhibitionism, maybe,” Hope says. Even now, he won’t let Morpheus truly criticize himself. “I could be persuaded, though.”

With that, he slots their lips together. Sucks on Morpheus’s lower lip as he pushes him harder against the wall, Morpheus’s back scraping the brick. Morpheus groans, pulls him close by his hips so Hope’s swiftly-hardening erection is pressed against his, and Hope’s breath hitches against his mouth.

“Should I give you a proper reward?” Hope murmurs.

“Yes,” Morpheus breathes. “Hope—”

He loves Hope so much. He wants Hope so much.

“Vicious little thing, I love you so,” Hope says. And then, in the darkened alley by their favorite place, with his hands and mouth and the weight of his body and his devotion, he goes about showing Morpheus just how much.

[hiddendreamer67]

Sorcerers of Sanderly Place (pt. 2)

Summary: Patton is the youngest in a long line of cafe-owning vampires. When one of their rival owners comes over to scope out the place, a handsome young wizard no less, Patton doesn’t think twice before inviting Logan into his home. 

Check out more of my writing at @hiddendreamerwriting!

(Check my reblog for links to the previous parts and the taglist)

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If Patton had a heartbeat, he was certain it would be one so fast that his heart would surely leap right from his chest. The young vampire felt incredibly nervous, guiding Logan down to his bedroom. He knew his family was watching him, likely thinking he had finally decided to partake in some mortal prey. They had been bugging him for centuries to settle down and properly suck a human’s blood. Thankfully, all the coffee scents in the shop above had masked Logan’s magical aura, or else Patton would have never even made it down the stairs.

Wizards were a vampire’s greatest enemy. They liked to hunt down vampires and would love to send a stake through Patton’s heart or send him to prison for eternity. As it turns out, eternity is quite a long time when you actually live that long.

Was Logan armed? Patton realized he should have checked before leading the wizard down into his home. Then again, Patton had a habit of acting with his heart rather than his brain. Besides, Patton couldn’t blame Logan for coming prepared- after all, not many vampires had souls like himself. Most were bloodthirsty killers just like the wizarding world feared.

“Well, here we are.” Patton announced, opening the door. It was the first time he had shown anyone his room in several hundred years, and Patton was now nervous for a multitude of reasons.

“…oh.” Logan said, staring around in surprise.

Patton gave an awkward chuckle. “I take it’s not what you expected?”

“Well, I did not have time to adequately prepare a hypothesis, but upon second evaluation, it suits you.” Logan gave a slow turn in the middle of the room. The walls were a bright blue, and the room could almost be taken for that of a human child if not for the Birch-wood coffin pressed against the back wall. Logan approached it, softly running his fingers along the white velvet lining.

“Thanks.” Patton gave a proud sort of smile, closing the door to keep Logan’s scent from wafting up. He absolutely reeked of alchemy.

“Is it not claustrophobic to rest in a coffin?” Logan asked, and as he turned back to Patton the vampire could see more questions brimming behind his eyes. Patton knew he wouldn’t be able to help but answer every single one, in the hopes of seeing Logan smile again. Wow, Patton had really fallen fast this time, huh? Usually it took Patton at least a year to build up a crush this strong. But then again, the men of the past didn’t have Logan’s eyes.

“Not really, no.” Patton shrugged, sitting cross-legged on one of his high-rise stools. They were quite nice for perching on when Patton felt like reverting to bat form. “I’m a deep sleeper. Dead as a door-nail.”

“Is that a fact or another pun?” Logan squinted.

“A bit of both.” Patton laughed. “So, I take it wizards don’t have any fancy bedding of their own?”

“No particular magic traditions, no.” Logan confirmed. “Although in our youth my brother and I shared a bunk bed.”

“Oh, I’ve always wanted to do that.” Patton sighed wistfully. “Ever since humans invented them I always thought it was such a fun idea.”

“Were you around for their invention?” Logan seemed surprised, and Patton could see him trying to recall when bunk beds were invented.

“Yup!” Patton gave a playful grin. This was always one of his favorite parts, when boys tried to figure out his age. “I think that was back in the 60’s or so.”

“The 1960’s?”

“The 1460’s.” Patton corrected, watching Logan’s eyes turn into wide saucers. Patton outright laughed, amused by the adorable bewildered expression on the wizard’s face.

“You’re…” Logan paused, clearly doing rapid calculations in his mind. “…five hundred and sixty years old?”

“Older, actually.” Patton teased, never once having given away his actual age. Logan observed him again, and for a moment Patton worried that his age might drive the cute mortal away.

“…you’re quite attractive for your age.” Logan said finally, causing Patton to laugh again. The young vamp hoped his cheeks didn’t appear as pink as they felt from Logan’s compliment.

“Vampires mature more slowly than humans.” Patton was quick to explain. “I’m not full grown yet, that’s why my fangs haven’t grown in.” Patton opened his mouth, his tongue running along the human-esque teeth.

“I was wondering about that.” Logan admitted, sitting on a stool next to Patton as he inspected his teeth to confirm.

“They’re due to grow in soon.” Patton explained, closing his mouth again. He watched Logan subconsciously rub at his neck, and Patton couldn’t help but feel a bit hurt. “I still won’t bite, though.”

Logan quickly returned his hand to his side, unable to hide the tremor in his voice. “Ah, how does b-blood, ahem, blood transfer work for you creatures?”

Patton winced, not fond of being called a creature. “Well, most vampires just take directly from the source. My parents included, sometimes, but we don’t suck anyone dry. That can be lethal, or turn someone as well. I am against that  and drink blood substitutes, like animal blood. Recently I’ve also taken to blood bags donated from different facilities who want to help our kind. There’s a bit of pressure from my family, however, because while my methods are fine for a baby bat, everybody wants me to find ‘real’ prey once my fangs come in. I’ve been very firm about that though, and the topic has been dropped for the past several years.”

“Is your resistance to direct human blood perhaps a consequence of your humanity being retained after you were turned?” Logan suggested.

“Oh, I wasn’t turned.” Patton corrected. “I was born a vampire. We’re rare, but I’m not the only one.”

“Intriguing.” Logan leaned forward. “Do all vampires communicate with each other?”

“No, not everybody, although we’re mostly aware of each other.” Patton shrugged. “I’ve traveled around a lot with my family, and met vampires of… all kinds. Other supernatural beings as well. Not many wizards though, and I’ve certainly never had one come so close.”

“What makes me special then?” Logan asked, and suddenly Patton was hyper aware of how close they were. When had he leaned in to meet Logan? The two of them were practically nose to nose, but Patton saw no fear behind Logan’s glasses, only unbridled curiosity.

“Well…” Patton found his words drifting off, unable to vocalize the way Logan made him feel. The way that little twitch of his eyebrow indicating Logan was waiting for an answer only sent a thrill up Patton’s spine. He wanted to run his fingers through Logan’s hair, which would be so inappropriate for having just met and yet already Patton felt his hand lifting of its own accord. What would Logan’s lips feel like against his own? Patton found his mind wandering as he imagined pulling Logan closer-

“PATTON!”

Patton jumped, separating quickly from the wizard and turning on his stool to face the pounding on his bedroom door. His face was beet red, both embarrassed about what he had almost done and terrified that he had forgot to lock the door. “Y-yeah?”

“Hurry up darling, we need you for the lunch rush.” That was his mother. She was not a patient woman.

“Coming!” Patton dashed over to his desk, pulling out a quill and cursing quietly when the ink would not flow as quickly as Patton’s superhuman limbs could twitch.

“Perhaps that is my queue to leave.” Logan stood up, only for Patton to suddenly be putting a hand on his chest.

“Wait.” Patton insisted, flapping the card so it would dry faster. He felt bad, having clearly startled Logan with his speed. “Sorry. Um, here.”

Logan took the card, glancing down at the numbers scrawled. “…you have a telephone number?”

Patton laughed, once again amused by Logan’s queries. “Just because I lived through the middle ages doesn’t mean I’m stuck in them, you know.”

“I apologize for my ignorance.” Logan corrected, fanning the card once more before placing it in his pocket.

“Don’t; you’re cute.” Patton booped Logan’s nose, a jolt of happiness running through him when he got that adorable bewildered expression again and wasn’t driven away. “I was thinking maybe you’ll give me a call at a later hour, and we can go somewhere besides my bat-chelor pad.”

Logan took a moment to digest Patton’s pun. “That was atrocious.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” Patton teased, slipping his hand once again into Logan’s own. “Here, you can go out the back exit. I doubt my parents will take too kindly to you.”

“There’s a back exit?” Logan said, seeming unfazed by the implication that Patton’s parents were still bloodthirsty killers.

“We’re vampires living on the same street as wizards, of course there’s a back exit.” Patton realized a moment too late that meant perhaps he shouldn’t be showing Logan this passageway, but as he moved the bookcase Patton found he didn’t care. He trusted Logan. More importantly, he liked Logan. A lot. Patton hadn’t felt butterflies this strong in centuries.

“Just around this corner.” Patton pointed, not wanting to risk getting caught in the sunlight on the street.

“Thank you.” Logan took a step forwards, but Patton continued to hold him still by the wrist.

“Sorry, I just…” Patton paused, not sure what he wanted to say but knowing he didn’t want Logan to go. “I’m being silly, but I feel like I miss you already.” And now you’re being desperate. Patton cringed, scolding himself. You’re just going to fall for another mortal and get your heart broken all over again.

Logan was quiet. Then, he took a step forward, leaning forwards to plant a kiss on Patton’s cheek. The vampire gasped, immediately releasing Logan’s wrist to cradle his cheek as if to confirm that happened.

“I understand how you feel.” Logan said softly, before disappearing around the corner.

[crazy-little-cool-cat]

Hand in Glove - Chapter 23 | Ben Hardy x OFC

A/N: SURPRISE, BETCHES! Nope, you’re not dreaming. This is real life. It’s not just fantasy. You’re definitely going to be caught in a landslide, though. After four months of silence, my writing juices are a-flowing and the shitstorms and clusterfucks are abundant. Hey, mystery anon. This one’s for you.

Warnings: clusterfucks. Also some mild smut. Mostly implied, nothing too graphic. Just how I like it. 

Word Count: You really don’t wanna know.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2,  Chapter 3,  Chapter 4,  Chapter 5,  Chapter 6,  Chapter 7,  Chapter 8,  Chapter 9,  Chapter 10,  Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14 , Chapter 15 , Chapter 16 , Chapter 17 , Chapter 18 , Chapter 19 , Chapter 20 , Chapter 21 , Chapter 22

Ben sighed as he placed his phone on the nightstand after looking at the time for what felt like the fifth time since Annie had dozed off. He sighed and blamed his inability to sleep on jetlag, excitement and not wanting to miss a millisecond of being home.

He turned on his other side, propping his head on his hand. Sprawled on her back, Annie’s half-covered figure seemed to glow as the sun dawned. As gently as he could, he brushed a few stray locks of hair from her face, running his fingers through the silky strands. Annie stirred with a smile.

“Good morning.” She purred lazily, her eyes still closed.

“Morning.”

“Did you get any sleep?” Annie’s eyes fluttered open. Turquoise staring into emerald-green.

“Not really.” Ben cupped Annie’s cheek in his hand and pressed a lingering kiss to her lips. “Christ, I’ve even missed your morning breath.”

“Wow.” Annie scoffed. “And they say romance is dead.”

“Shut up.” Ben kissed Annie again, deeper this time. “You’re not one for romance, anyways.”

“True.” Annie smirked. Ben started to roll away, out of bed, but stopped when Annie grabbed his wrist. “Where’re you going?”

“I have to take a piss, Annie.” Ben leaned down for one more kiss. “Am I allowed?” Annie pretended to mull it over in her head, tapping her lips as she pondered. “Right, then!”

“No!” Annie whined at Ben’s receding back. “Come back.”

She watched him walk away. Every muscle in his body even more defined than it was when he left. His back, his shoulders, his bum. She got out of bed and walked over to the bathroom’s closed door, waiting to hear the flush. When she did, she dropped on her knees and waited, sitting back on her heels.

Ben opened the door after washing his hands and almost stepped on her.

“What are you doing?” He raised a curious eyebrow.

“My personal trainer said I need more protein in my diet.” Annie smiled up at him, doe-eyed.

“Oh?” Ben’s jetlagged and fucked-out brain had trouble picking up on the implication. “Oh!”

“Mhm.” Annie said, getting up from her heels and wrapping her arm around Ben’s hardening cock. “It is time for breakfast, and all…”

Ben braced himself against the door-frame, arms and legs locking him into place. He looked down at Annie and bit his bottom lip. As if on cue, Annie wrapped her lips around him, making him moan.

###

“What?” Annie barked tiredly into the phone. “What?”

“First of all, it’s great to know you’ve successfully separated yourself from Ben’s dick.” Clara sassed. “Second of all, we’re having brunch. Then, and only then, we’ll release Rory back into the wilderness.”

“Do you know what time it is?!” Annie hissed, careful not to wake up Ben after he finally fell asleep.

“Yes. Do you know what your baby thinks of the time?” Clara retorted.

“Hm.”

“Exactly. So, brunch. Us, Rami and Lucy, Joe.”

“Why can’t it be lunch?” Annie grumbled. “Like normal, unpretentious people.”

“Because we’re starving.”

“So eat something!”

“Annie, Rory woke us up at the crack of dawn! And during the night!”

“We woke up at the crack of dawn and during the night too! You don’t hear us moaning about it!”

“I’m sure the screams coming from you and the screams coming from Rory were very, very different, Annabelle.”

“You were the ones who wanted to take her so desperately!”

“Because she’s too young to be exposed to whatever crazy monkey sex you and Ben are into.”

“Oh, sit on a stick.”

“That the best you could come up with?” Clara chuckled. “He really fucked you silly, eh?”

“Can you please just -” Annie paused when she felt Ben stir and press up against her back.

“Banana?”

“I’m going to have to call you back.”

“What?”

“Something just came up.”

“Tell Ben about brunch!”

“Tell him yourself!” Annie giggled and put Clara on speaker phone. “You’re on speaker.”

“Benjamin?”

“Yes?”

“Can you extract your penis from my best friend for a hot minute?”

“No.”

“Fine. This is nasty, you know. You two should be ashamed of yourselves.”

“You’re the one listening in on this.” Annie lilted. “Shame’s exclusively on you, you plum.”

“Fine.” Clara groaned. “Listen up, hornies!” Her voice shifted from the sugary sweet tone it usually carried to surprisingly assertive. “Gwilym’s flat. One o’clock. Your husband is very excited to see you, Ben. Don’t let him down.”

Clara ended the call muttering profanities as Ben and Annie started off another round.

###

“Where is my baby?” Ben basically kicked the door to Gwilym’s flat down. “Give me my Aurora or die!” 

“Jesus, Ben!” Clara panted, clutching on to her chest, “can you not do that?” 

“Give. Me. My. Baby.” 

“She’s right here!” Lucy popped up from the floor, where she, Rory and Rami played. “Oh wow, look at you! Dashing!” 

“Rami, remember, no Peek-a-boo!” Annie called, squeezing her way in around Ben. “Not everyone can handle the eyes!” 

“Lovely to see you again, Annabelle.” Rami replied sweetly, then looked down at Rory. “Your mother is such a bitch sometimes, isn’t she?” he cooed. 

“Just protecting my child from any future trauma, Mr. Roboto.” Annie said walking over to him. “I happen to love the eyes, anyways.” 

“Aw.” Rami smiled as Annie crouched down next to him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Hi lovie!” 

Rory squealed at the sight of her mum. 

“Where’s Gwil?” Ben asked. Rory tried to follow his voice with her eyes, but she couldn’t see him from where she was sitting. Ben tiptoed towards the sofa and lunged forward. “Boo!” 

“Well, she speaks dolphin.” Rami mused after Rory’s excited screeching subsided. “How does she even do that?” 

“I suspect Roger Taylor.” Ben walked around the sofa and knelt down next to his daughter. “Wanna come to me?” 

Rory waved her hands and babbled. Ben smiled warmly as he picked his daughter up from the floor.

The front door flew open, revealing Joe standing with his hands on his hips, pretending to be superman. 

“I have arrived!” 

“Yes. The entire building can tell.” Rami rolled his eyes.

###

“This is awkward.”

Lucy, Annie, Rami and Clara exchanged nervous glances.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, you know.” Clara put her hand on top of Joe’s. “I was just making a joke.”

“The hell you were!” Gwilym snapped. “Ben and I are basically a married couple.”

“Uh, the duck you are!” Joe dropped his fork. “I’m Ben’s husband. Everybody knows. An entire production team knows!”

“You bellends are fighting over my boyfriend.” Annie chimed in. “That’s really weird.”

“Better fight over him than over you than have him fight me over you…” Joe muttered.

“What was that?” Annie challenged.

“I said that’s it’s better if Gwil and I fight over him than having to fight Ben over you.”

“What… the fuck?” Rami looked as if he was watching a tennis match before Gwilym smacked him gently on the back of his head for using foul language. “Sorry! Sorry! What the duck?”

“What, you don’t know?” Joe smiled devilishly. “Since we’ve turned this into an Italian let’s-air-out-our-dirty-laundry-over-food thing…”

“Joseph, no.” Gwilym, Ben and Annie said simultaneously.

“Joseph, please continue.” Lucy said and wiped her fingers on her napkin. “We’re all ears.”

“You’re keeping secrets from me?” Rami was baffled. “Wow. Just… wow.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, it’s not that deep, alright?” Clara groaned. “Joe and Annie got drunk and almost kissed, as Joe and Annie usually do. End of story.”

“Again?!” Rami and Lucy choired.

“Seriously, dude, what the fu-” Rami stopped himself when Annie glared at him, “-duck?!”

“I don’t know, okay? She’s all over me!” Joe raised his hands in defeat. “I can’t really blame her, can’t I?”

“What?” Annie scoffed and took a sip of her water.

“Did I stutter?”

“No, I just couldn’t hear you while you dumped garbage out of your mouth there, for a second.” Annie replied calmly.

“Really, though, you two need to stop.” Rami pointed at the two. “This is not normal.”

“He burped right in my face.”

“That’s disgusting, Joey!” Lucy cringed.

“I could practically taste it.” Annie carried on.

“Ben? Would you like to comment?”

“No, I’m good.” Ben said and took another mouthful of food into his mouth with one hand, while feeding Rory with the other. “When did you guys get a high-chair?”

“Don’t change the subject, Benny.” Lucy quipped.

“We got one second-hand because we figured Annie and Rory will be spending some time here once we’re gone on tour.”

“Oh.”

“You know what needs to happen?” Lucy wondered aloud, swirling her wine in her glass. “You two need to just kiss and get it over and done with.”

“What?!” Annie and Joe’s voices climbed in pitch.

“How much wine did you have?” Clara’s eyebrows were so high, they merged with her hairline. “What is happening?”

“Wait, hold on.” Ben froze. “That’s actually not the worst idea.”

“What?!” Annie and Joe’s voices climbed even higher.

“Look, Rory, they speak dolphin too!” Rami joked.

“Seriously,” Lucy continued, “just kiss.”

“She lost her mind.” Annie looked at Ben, wide-eyed.

“But did she really?” Ben tilted his head. “It will take the mystery out of the equation, in a way.”

“Bloody hell.” Gwilym breathed. “They’re right.”

“Huh!?”

“Look, you two clearly want to know what kissing the other will be like.” Ben stated. “So, if you two will just go ahead and bloody do it, the tension will break.”

“I’m not kissing your husband, Ben!” Annie hissed.

“Hey!” Gwilym snapped while Joe sat with a shit-eating grin on his face for being referred to as ‘Ben’s husband’ in front of his competitor.

“Why not?” Ben shrugged.

“Wait, you’re serious?” Joe leaned forward, wide-eyed. “Ben, buddy, you’ve clearly fucked yourself insane.”

“No, I mean it.” Ben leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. “Do it. Kiss.”

“What, now?!”

“Yeah. Go on.” Ben nodded. “Do it.”

“Ben…” Annie started.

“Shut up and kiss my best mate, damn it.” Ben slammed his fist on the table. “It’s not like I’m asking you to kiss your cousin.”

“Gross.” Gwilym shuddered.

“Exactly.” Ben shrugged. “Come on. You wanted to do it a few days ago.”

“I was drunk!” Annie said, horrified. “Ben, you can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am.”

“Guys? Anyone? A little help here?” Annie pleaded. The table was silent. “Wow. Thanks.”

“Wait, so you only want to kiss me when you’re drunk?” Joe seemed to snap out of a daydream. “That’s just mean!”

“Are you saying you want to kiss me when you’re sober?” Annie challenged him. Ben bounced his knee as he waiting for an answer.

“About as much as I’d like to French Frankie after she licked her butthole.” Joe bit the inside of his cheek. “I mean, Annie’s great, but -”

“Say no more.” Ben said and got up.

“Where’s he going?”

“Oh God, did we upset him?”

“You blithering idiots!”

“Fucking hell.” Gwilym pinched the bridge of his nose. “Annie, if you say one word about using profanities around Rory, so help me God -”

“There you go!” Ben returned with two shot glasses and a bottle of vodka. “Drink up.”

###

“How are you two feeling?” Ben’s voice was exceptionally low as he lulled Annie and Joe into submission, “wanna kiss yet?”

With one arm wrapped around Joe and the other around Annie, Ben was all but a puppet master. Rory sat on Clara’s lap, nodding off, completely oblivious to the shitstorm around her.

“You’re pimping us out.” Joe slurred.

“You’re absolutely right, I am.” Ben started to close his arms, bringing the two together. “Dance, monkeys.”

“When did he become so evil?” Gwilym asked.

“Hollywood will do that to you.” Rami shrugged. “Shit happens.”

“Language!” Annie’s head snapped to look at Rami.

“She’s not drunk enough.” Lucy groaned. “And he’s getting too drunk.”

“Right, we need a plan, here.” Ben released the two. “Right, Annie, love, let’s have another drink?”

“Why just her?!” Joe whined.

“Oh, stop bleating!” Annie sighed. 

“Because Rory wants to play with her favourite uncle, is why.” Lucy intervened.

“Oh, my Josephine.”

“That’s not her name.” Annie snapped.

“She’s not yours.” Ben added.

“Eh, shut your pie holes.” Joe stumbled over to where Clara sat and plopped down on the floor. “Hey, Josie.”

“Ben, he keeps doing that!” Annie pouted while Ben poured her another drink. “What, you’re not getting one?”

“I need to drive us home, my love.”

“I can drive you.” Gwil quipped.

“And then how will you get home?” Annie looked at her cousin as if he spoke in tongues.

“Clara will pick me up.”

“I will?” Clara asked as she stood up to put Rory down for a nap.

“Look, we’re doing this, alright?” Ben looked around the room. “Team effort.”

“They’ll end up having a three-way.” Clara warned, walking away.

###

Annie sat on Ben’s lap, staring at him with a goofy smile. Her cheeks had a drunken, rosy tint to them, her eyes glazed and shiny. While she had seven shots of vodka and Joe had five, Ben had two. He had something to prove here, and he wasn’t going to let Annie get him drunk enough to forget about it. His fears were uncalled for, however. Annie was clearly blitzed at that point and would do anything he asked her to.

The group played a long, tiresome game of truth or dare to distract Joe and Annie from what the endgame was. During said game, almost everybody chose a dare, and they had to get creative. Rami had to change a poopy diaper, Gwilym tasted baby food, Lucy taught Ben how to pout like her, making Annie take more shots or glasses of wine, and this was just the tip of the iceberg.

“Banana, your turn.” Clara smiled deviously. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Hm. Not what I expected she’d say.” Clara looked like a deer in the headlights as she tried to come up with something. Anything. “Okay. Do you want more babies?”

“I want to have all the babies!” Annie declared, spreading her arms like wings. “All the cute little Ben babies.”

“We are the champions, my friends!” Ben started wailing, seemingly out of nowhere. “She is officially wasted!”

“Finally!” Lucy’s fist shot up in the air. “My God, she’s like a sailor!”

“Who’s turn is it?” Joe mumbled drunkenly.

“Yours.” Ben zeroed in on him. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare, duh.”

“I dare you to kiss Annie.” Ben said coolly. “A proper snog, please.”

Joe looked Ben in the eyes, waiting for him to say he’s just joking.

“You want me to make out with your wife?”

“Yes, please.”

“We’re not married.” Annie huffed.

“Irrelevant and even better.” Ben grinned. “Nothing to feel guilty about.”

“Hm.”

“You really want us to do this?” Joe asked.

“Yup.”

“And you won’t punch me in the face or get a divorce or -”

“We’re not married!”

“Your face is safe.” Ben reassured.

“Right. Okay.” Joe nodded to himself. He stood up and stretched his neck. “C’mere, Annie.”

“Ben?” Annie looked at him pleadingly. “Are you sure?”

“Go ahead.” He leaned in to kiss Annie. “I trust you.”

“So, how do we do this?” Annie turned to Joe.

“Well, come here.” Joe said. With a small push from Ben, Annie was on her wobbly feet and walking towards Joe. “Come on.”

Annie looked like Bambi first learning how to walk. She apprehensively approached Joe. He took her hand and pulled her to him.

The rest felt like they were watching a movie. The room fell silent. Rory was fast asleep in Gwilym’s bedroom. The only sound was the slow humdrum of the music Gwilym had playing in the background.

Annie slammed right into Joe’s chest, giggling. They started swaying to the music. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer.

“Are they dancing?” Clara sneered. “They’re bloody dancing!”

“Shhh!” Gwilym silenced her. “This is how he does it.”

“What?”

“Just be quiet and watch.”

With his finger hooked under her chin, Joe tilted her face up. They bumped noses and chuckled. Brushing his lips over hers, he cupped her face in both his hands and kissed her.

“Proper snog.” Ben muttered after he cleared his throat, watching his best friend cowardly kiss his girlfriend.

Joe rolled his eyes and went for it. He poked his tongue out and licked Annie’s lips, parting them. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him closer. As they kissed, Annie nibbled on his bottom lip gently. After a few minutes, Joe pulled away, frowning.

“For the love of all that is holy in this world, Annie, stop trying to bite my lip off will you!?”

“Well if you used a little bit more tongue, I wouldn’t have to do that!” Annie snapped back. “Honestly, this is not what I -”

Annie’s rant was cut short by Joe’s lips, kissing her with more fervour. They pulled away slowly, both frowning this time. They took a step back and stared at each other, disgusted confusion flashing in their eyes. Joe covered his mouth with his hand, turning his face away. Annie almost gagged.

“Well?”

“That was, by far, the worst kiss I’ve ever had.” Annie said, pointing at Joe.

“Christ, I felt like I’m either kissing a crocodile or an eel.”

“And there you have it, folks!” Lucy bowed victoriously.

###

“Why the fuck would you do that to me?!” Annie slammed the cupboard angrily after Ben had put Rory to sleep for the night.

Since they got home, they haven’t said a single word about Joe and Annie’s kiss. Meanwhile, Annie sobered up enough to let the reality of what happened sink in. She kissed Joe and hated it.

“Do what?” Ben feigned innocence.

“You know what you did.” Annie downed her glass of water.

“Because I love you, that’s why.” Ben sighed. “So you didn’t like the kiss, then?”

“No, I didn’t bloody like it!” She slammed the glass on the countertop. “Ben, why? Why would you do this?”

“It needed to happen.”

“I could never look him in the eye again, knowing what a horrid kisser he is!”

“Funny, he texted the same thing about you just a few minutes ago.”

“You’re an arse.”

“No, I’m a bloody genius, is what I am.” Ben puffed his chest. “Should’ve had you do that ages ago.”

“Are you joking?” Annie laughed in disbelief.

“Oh, not at all.” Ben gloated.

Annie turned around to wash the dishes and give Ben the silent treatment. Her attempts were futile. He came up behind her and engulfed her in his arms, nibbling on the shell of her ear. He could feel Annie’s breathing pick up and bent his knees, moving down to her neck. His hands slid down her sides, working their way to the waistband of her jeans.

“What are you doing?”

“Celebrating.”

“What, exactly?”

“Well, you see,” his warm breath washed over her ear, raising goosebumps all over her, “the thing is, I love the fact that you don’t want Joe.”

“I told you a million times…”

“Yes, but now I know for sure. You don’t want anyone else…” He reached over to shut the water off, “… but me.”

#########

TAGLIST:  @ramibaby @xgoingdownx @qweenly @violetpond @sweeterthancheese @drummerqueenrmt @westansstuff @justgivemethekeys  @blondecarfucker @cheeseedreams47 @rogerspoison @deacy-dearest @pinkmarvel @onceuponadetectivedemigod

[incorrect-ego-quotes]

It's December 1st. Whose screaming Christmas carols, whose baking Christmas treats, whose decorating, who doesn't care, whose putting up mistletoe everywhere, whose shopping for presents every second, who forgot presents, who purposely didn't get presents and whose constantly asking for a puppy? (Sorry this so long, I just kept getting ideas!)

IM SORRY THIS IS DAYS LATE BUT I L O V E CHRISTMAS I HAVE TO DO THIS ONE. ALSO FORGIVE ME THIS IS /LONG AS FUCK/--the ipliersthe jim twins are as excited as, well, a kid on christmas morning. wearing santa hats, candy canes in their mouths, they even decorated their mic in red and green ribbon. the two practically shrieking out christmas songs -- much to everyone's annoyance "CHESTNUTS ROASTING ON AN OPEN FIRE--""jesus christ," dark snaps, "can you two knock it off?! it's only the first--""WOULD YOU LIKE A MORE MODERN SONG OF JOY." jim twin #1 asks, holding up a worn book of christmas carols -- the same one they've had since they were 4. passed on from dear old Mother Jim."no! this season is so grossly happy and joyful -- leave me to work--""I, DONT WANT A LOT FOR CHRISTMAS." jim twin #2 starts off as dark covers his ears. why did they have to be the loudest egos? why cant they see how shitty of a holiday christmas is?!"THERE IS JUST ONE THING I NEED, DONT CARE ABOUT--"dark gets an idea and smirks. knowing one way he can get them to leave him alone. "santa isn't real."the two twins share an offended and angry look, mouths open, did he just?!"christmas was a pagan festival of gifts before being appropriated by romans based on the Odin myth."the jim twins cringe, holding their dear caroling book closer -- he...he has to be lying!"who is the god of war and death."the jim twins turn away offended as all hell. jim twin #1 throwing a candy cane in dark's face and hissing. "SHUN THE NONBELIEVER, JIM.""SHUN."they then run off to go do whatever christmas activity next -- dark hoping they won't take this caroling /publicly/.******ed edgar and silver shepherd are cooking in the kitchen. ed is a surprisingly good cook -- especially around the holidays. just ask anyone who's been to his thanksgiving or christmas dinners. silver only tagged along because he was tired of dark being a joy sucker out of the season."now," ed chuckles, "we're gon' need about a store's worth of flour.""...what?! wh--ed, why do we need a store's worth.""uh, /excuse you, youngin'/," ed points at his pink and white apron. almost annoyed, "this apron calls me chef in charge 'round here. you follow, don't question.""ed. first of all, that's wilford's apron. second of all, we probably only need one bag at most for gingerbread cookies. why would we need a--""listen. i'm only making one gingerbread man fo' everybody 'round here -- i take home the rest.""how...much exactly is the rest?""350."silver shepherd sighs, taking off his mask and gloves. ed still smiling away as if his idea was normal. well, no arguing with a stubborn man like ed. he grabs his car keys from the table as ed follows him, "your limit is 50 dollars for the ingredients." he mumbles. "i knew you'd come 'round!" ed wraps an arm around silver, "we're gon' have so much fun with these lil old cookies! i even have a homemade sugar icing recipe! i'll even make a lil cape fo' yours!" he silently doubted it but hey, its a hell of a lot better than spending his free time with an angry and annoyed dark. ******bim tugged the host along, holding onto the sleeve of his trenchcoat gently as he lead him into the meeting room. the tall green christmas tree standing proudly in the corner. decorations of red and green and gold littered the meeting room's table. the smell of pine hits the host before anything -- taking him back to his own cabin in the woods long ago. the trees covering him away from the world as he...the host shook his head. he hated those memories. he hated those dark times. he hated it all."wilford put us in charge of the tree this year," bim smiled to himself, "i know its a challenge with erm...""i'm blind?""yeah, that." bim sighs, grabbing the box of lights and unrolling them gently, handing the ball to the host, who held it with a strange look on his face."w-what's poking me?""lights, silly!" bim giggles. the sound making the host blush and laugh along. any time bim was happy, he was happy. "now, i'm gonna loop around the tree. you just follow along, yeah? tell me if ya get dizzy and we can slow down.""the host nods, holding the bundle of lights close to his chest. ready for the decorations -- reminding him of his most favorite time of year."bim shakes his head and laughs, "you can't ever turn that off, can you?""the host cannot."the two start off steady and slow. the host following bim's footsteps. he could hear the jim twins playing 'i'll be home for christmas' in the next room over -- their office space. "those two can never get tired of christmas, i swear.""the host reminds bim that it's worse for him since his own office is right next door to the twins."bim giggles, "well, hope ya like christmas as much as them." it's when bim giggles does the host wish he had his sight back. what'd he give to see his smile (although, according to dark, it looks like his -- he doubt it. bim was handsome, charming, while his smile held back pain he swallowed down.)in those small moments of thinking and wishing, the host stays in place. the lights tangling as bim gets wrapped up with the host, groaning as the tree falls gently against them. the two tied chest to chest, bim's hands resting on the host's hips. "um..." bim laughs nervously, blushing away, "hostie, bud, we're tangled.""i...is that you against me?""yeah...i'll -- i'll get us out!!"the music drowns out bim's struggles as he pulls at the lights. the host's thoughts screaming at him -- tell him!! now's your chance!! confess!!"i love...i love--""hmm?" bim perks up, "sorry, wasn't listening, what do you love?""t...this song!! i, i love it, it's my favorite christmas song."he stops and hears bim laugh again, humming along, "its a good song."the host goes along with the lie, singing along as bim rests his head on the host's shoulder to get around to the lights behind him. "if only in my dreams."yeah, only in his dreams -- bim had matthias, what did he have? nothing but his dreams of what could be with the two of them. at least, for a moment, he had the courage to change that. maybe that's what he'll ask for this year; courage. ******dark crossed his arms and continued to work in his office. he could smell cookies baking, he could hear christmas songs being sung, and he could see holly being hung in the halls. how stupid -- the other egos should be /working!/ do they think they can take over mark's channel with all this fooling around?! he slams the laptop he'd been using shut and stares out his window. even the fuckin' /city/ was covered in red and green, fake reindeer and sleighs all around, snowmen (who bought fake snow to LA?!) waving in the cold breeze. he face palms himself. a headache coming on. he hated winter, he hated christmas, he hated everything about the holidays.it...brought back memories he didn't want to dwell on. memories of christmas morning...in a mansion of some sort. fuzzy memories of a woman, a man, and that damned mark -- all enjoying...hot chocolate with marshmallows. opening gifts like.../a family/."heeeeey darkidoo," wilford bursts into his office. the jim twins still throwing (sharpened to a point) candy canes at dark's door. "what do you want, wil?""geez," he shuts the door, dark's back turned towards him, "what's up with the jims? ya do something?""other than not engaging them in their childish behavior -- not, i did nothing." he sighs, "did you finish the weekly schedule for this month's programming on Markiplier TV?""gimmie another day--""damnit, wil! stop -- just stop! stop with this foolish nonsense, this holly jolly bullshit! i hate this season and i hate the way it makes everyone--" he stops as he hears wilford set down something on his desk and wrap an arm behind him. hugging him. "dark," he sighs, "just...take it easy, okay? it's december -- at least be happy the year's almost over, and be happy you still got us. hell, be happy some egos are working like doc and google." he smiles, "just...be happy we're all still here to celebrate the season. and nobody's gone."there's silence as dark hangs his head low. "i'll leave you alone for a while. i gotta confiscate the candy canes from the jims. i'll see you at home, dark."he squeezes around dark once more and moves to leave, stopping before he opens the door, "oh! i...i found that while looking for the christmas tree in the storage back home. i...i have a feeling it's yours. broke it in for ya!" he laughs as he leaves. dark turns around to see a black mug with a cursive 'D' on it. an intense emotion of...nostalgia rushing over him despite not remembering the mug. he stares out the window again as he holds the hot mug to him. he looks down to see hot chocolate and marshmallows. he smiles and sips the hot drink. this season isn't so bad after all with people like wilford in his life.--the septiceyesthis...was going to be the best surprise, marvin thought to himself. thanks to a new trick he'd learned -- he successfully figured out how to move the mistletoe to wherever he wanted, as if he had hung them everywhere. he was sure it'd be a laugh to see everyone's reactions. making anti kiss the pizza delivery guy, making dr. schneeplestein kiss whatever old patient he was seeing, maybe making robbie kiss his reflection. it'd be hilarious nonetheless. marvin, the marvelous magician, shall wow and dazzle his fellow egos!!he hid behind the couch in the lobby of their headquarters, where they hold their meetings, and waited.and waitedand waited/and waited/.growing tired as nobody walked by, had they found out about his plan? did nobody just need to come this way?he saw jackieboy man walk by and perked up, using his wand to move the mistletoe closer under him, rushing out the door to call him back as he left."j-jackie!! hey...oh shit," he looked up as he noticed he was directly under the mistletoe.jackieboy raised an eyebrow before looking up. "aha, you want to meet me here?" he smirks, catching marvin's chin in his fingers, flipping down his mask and red hoodie, soft green hair cascading down his face. a blush crossing marvin's cheek."just us two? alone here, the christmas decorations and lights lighting up your face so softly...""um, i mean--""here? under..." jackieboy looks up. suggestive. marvin not knowing if it was humanly possible to blush anymore."jackie...""THE MISTLEFOE?!""wha--" he ducked as jackieboy tackled him, wrestling him to the floor as chase and anti walked by. anti shouting as chase winced."get the magic nerd!! get the magic nerd!!" anti shouts"THE HELL IS A MISTLEFOE?!" marvin yells as he taps out with his wand from jackieboy man's headlock. ripping away his cat mask."pssh, the mistlefoe!! put two people under that," jackieboy points to the mistletoe, "and have 'em duke it out, fight and stuff. you dont know about the best winter tradition?""erm...its actually meant for the two to--" chase is cut off as marvin uses his wand to seal his lips shut, chase giving him the middle finger and pointing to his lips.marvin used his magic to burn the magic mistletoe attached to the doorframe. cringing as jackieboy man helped him up. helping him walk to dr. schneep's office"better luck next year, magic boy!!""....i hate working here," marvin coughs as he waits for the doctor. this, was going to be a very long winter. ******the doctor clocks out early, waving goodbye to the other egos....at 10 am, after working for 45 minutes."dude, ya can't just up and leave!! we need help with decorating!! and baking the cookies!!" jackieman boy yells as chase nearly stumbles carrying in the tree. "i must!!" the doctor yells, "chase, you are in charge until i get back at...well, just know you're all working late tonight!"chase gives a thumbs up, pointing at anti as he walks by, already directing them all.the drive to the mall isn't too long, he runs towards the opening, still in his doctor uniform. this time of year was perfect for his giving heart. already having a mile long list of gift ideas for every one of the egos in his pocket, his credit card with his savings from all his paychecks since last year loaded onto it -- no price limit for anyone!! and he finally healed from his injuries after black friday and cyber monday!! (hey, those internet shoppers are no joke)he practically skips into the mall with glee at the decorations. giant christmas gift boxes, fake snow, even a 'winter wonderland' with a fake santa -- wait...was that his patient bobby dressed up? bobby with the bad smoking habit?"i hope he cleaned up for the kiddies," schneep says to himself as he rushes into the first store -- a new camera for chase on the top of his list!!he gets everyone everything -- new knife collection for anti!! a new tux for marvin!! every single marvel movie for jackieboy man!! stuffed animals and candy for robbie!! a top hat for dapper jack!!and that's just for the first day of december, he plans to do this all until christmas eve, already having different wrapping for each ego's gift. until he sees it. his own personal wish. the 35 book set of medical mysteries -- all in order, and all for him.until another hand touches the set too. dr. iplier staring at him from the other side of the shelf. downright glaring. "henrik.""edward."the two stare back in spite -- no, schneep /needed this/. he worked too damn long this year to be bested by some quack doctor ego."aha," schneep laughs, obviously fake, "what are you doing here?""shopping for christmas. i was just looking at this book set i wanted for myself."fuck. schneep tugs on the set. dr. iplier's hand not going away. "oh, really?" he smiles coldly, "so. was. i."dr. iplier tugs, schneep tugs, the two turning into a tug of war before schneep pulls him against the wooden shelf in the bookstore, yelling as they fight it out. the early morning shoppers crowding around them, recording as schneep hold dr. iplier in a headlock. "THOSE BOOKS ARE MINE, YOU PRICK.""OVER MY DEAD BODY, QUACK.""OH THAT CAN BE ARRANGED, BITCH.""TRY ME, YOU ASSHOLE."schneep pulls out the scalpel he keeps in his pocket. the two fighting more, knocking displays over and taking it outside to the winter wonderland exhibit. children running and screaming as they crash into santa's sleigh. finally -- they're broken apart by santa (bobby). schneep grabbing his items from the bookstore and rushing out the mall. not wanting to deal with police or security. wiping away tears as he drives back. thankfully -- good old smoking santa (bobby), his faithful patient, was head of security at the mall. "its christmas," he later told schneep on the phone (and dr. iplier), "just...stay outta the mall for a good two days and i'll pretend not a single thing happened"schneep wiped away tears as he layer learned -- hey, the bookstore had tons of copies of the book set they were fighting over, that was just a display!he, however blushes as chase, anti, and robbie crowd around chase's phone. the video from his fight going viral online. "doc!! you're trending under #ThoseBooksAreMine!! that's awesome as hell, you'll be a meme!!" chase praises. schneep shakes his head. nursing the black eye he has. he knows it'll be worth it when he sees their laughing and happy faces on christmas day.because he knows damn well, marvin would forget presents and anti would die before he got presents for anyone else.******"a puppy!!" chase smiles as he walks into their ego headquarters with anti. heavy coats and scarves on. a smaller dog being walked by a young boy trotting on. "ew." anti drinks the starbucks chase bought him, "dogs are gross--"chase gasps, "i...am offended on behalf of all dogs, dude!!" "what? its a dirty animal that tracks mud and barely listens.""sure you're not describing yourself, dude?" chase jokes as anti rolls his eyes. "how could you want a little disgusting creature like that?""they're cute, they're playful, they cuddle up to ya when its cold, they bark!!" chase goes on and on, sitting down in the meeting room as they wait for the others, "they keep ya company, they nip at ya when they're hungry, they...they love you unconditionally...they...won't be taken away from ya," he stops, sniffling. tears forming in his eyes, memories of christmases long gone hitting him. seeing his son and daughter excitedly wake up him and stacey to open gifts. going ice skating. baking cookies.shit."...chase?"chase shakes his head and wipes a tear, "sorry, bro. i...i'm just caught up in my feelings. this time of year and, missing my kids."anti looks down into his coffee cup. damn, chase has been through a lot. he's the only ego who keeps it together -- not like him who just...glitches out at emotions. "...it's fine." anti grumbles under his scarf, "i'm sure this christmas will be...okay.""really?" "...yeah, really. even with that stacey keeping the kids, this christmas will be worthwhile. i mean, we got...decorating and shit to do today. that'll take your mind off it, right?""y-yeah, and the kids are suppose to call after school...and, and stacey's letting me come to their christmas play!! you're right, for once, anti!!" chase smiles and hugs him, anti awkwardly patting back. "okay...hug's been too long, don't push it chase.""sorry."...everyone had called chase a dumbass to give a copy of his apartment keys to anti. everyone had doubted anti would show any spirit in the season. everyone had doubted chase would get anything he really wanted for christmas, even schneeplestein.anti snuck into chase's apartment that christmas eve. chase down for the night in his bedroom. a small 4 foot christmas tree decorated in lights and ordainments in the corner of his living room. a letter from his kids (that anti skimmed through) on the table. "let's prove all those dicks back at hq wrong," he whispers to the bundle in his arms. setting it under the tree. it'd been absolute hell to get anyone to allow him to take home chase's gift. grunting as he sat on the couch and nodded off into sleep. the dalmatian puppy slept too, a red collar around it's neck, tail wagging in its sleep as it was thankful for anti for getting him out of the cold shelter. excited to meet his new master in the cold christmas morning.

[seenashwrite]

3 words. Dean's daughter MacRyeleighaynnabeau

Nash Note: Well-played. I will see your Winchester-child-naming-nightmare, and raise you an SPN fanfic triple-cringe trifecta in return: Domestic. Baby. Fluff. 

Call my fluff-bluff, have ye? [clears throat] Reader. Insert. Mommy.

Ooh, and - Sam. Gets. Dogs. I’m just sayin’, if we’re gonna get down, let’s get dooown, Mariana Trench this mother.

In summation: Nash. Does. Fluff.  Y’all enjoy it. It ain’t likely to happen again.

Status: CompleteWord Count: 1.8KCategory: One-shot, Domestic Family Fluff, Husband Dean, Reader Insert Mommy, Sam Has DogsRating: Teen & UpCharacter(s): Dean, Sam, You, Newborn with a stupid name, Rando nursePairing(s): Dean + You, and there’s Sam Feels bonusWarnings: so sweet you’ll need a dentistAuthor’s Note: Post-storyOverall Summary: See above; See Nash Twitch

.A Fluff By Any Other Name.

Dean was waiting for Sam in the hallway.

“No flowers?”

“Uh, she hates flowers. Figured I’d ask what she wants for dinner, run get it.”

“Maybe I would’ve appreciated the flowers.”

“You know, I’m going to let this go, because you’ve had a long day, but not as long as hers, so—”

“Ask me.”

“Ask… what?”

“You know.”

“Dean, did you sneak some morphine, or whatever they’ve been—”

“Ask me what your niece’s name is. Actually, no - ask me what it’s not.”

His voice hadn’t ratcheted down to the deep-deep levels of pissed off - and, to be sure, there were several subtle variations Sam knew well, having been on the receiving end of all of them - but Dean was definitely serious, and had crossed his arms for good measure.

“I legit don’t know where you’re going with—-”

“The dogs. All your foster dogs. You took the good names.”

“Okay, now, that’s— I started volunteering way before she ever got pregnant, before you two even got serious, come to think of it. And I just chose a bunch of names that I thought of off the top of my—-”

“I picked up on that, yeah - around the time you used Jessie. And on that real jumpy, kinda twitchy one, which was extra weird. And was a boy.”

“Wait, wait - that was such a sweet dog, and besides - you really would’ve wanted to name your daughter after my dead fiancée?!”

“Oh, everybody’s dead, Sam!” Dean whisper-hissed. “And, no, not necessarily, but I do wonder what Jessica’d think about that…. about that…. what damn breed was that thing?”

“A mix.”

“Of?”

“A pooset and a corgat.”

“Sam. The hell.”

“A poodle-basset hound mix and a rat terrier-corgi mix shared a special hug—”

“So it’s a poocorgaset.”

Sam stared.

“Corsetpoogat.”

Sam brought a hand up, slowly rubbed his temples.

“Can I pull from the rest of the real names? I mean, ratbassgipoo is turning my crank.”

“But always the poo.”

“Of course always the poo, what the hell good does -dle do anybody?”

The nurse cleared her throat - she was leaning into the hallway, a leg and foot still in the room.

“We’re done. Everything’s looking good. She said for you guys to come on in, but if you’re in the middle of…..”

“No! No, not at all. Hey, and this is my little brother, Sam. Sammy, this is our nurse, she’s been here the whole time, basically delivered Macka… Mmmuh… my kid.”

She raised her eyebrows at that, but smiled, extending her hand and shaking the one offered, introducing herself as Dean slipped past them.

“Uncle Sam, huh?”

“Uh-huh…. oh god, I just now realized that!”

“Eh… could be worse.”

“Yeah?”

“You could have a name that your nurse had to re-write on the birth certificate five times - twice for misspells, then again because she ran out of room. Me. I’m that person. We’re talking about me, here.”

“What was the fourth? Since there was a fifth?”

“Oh, well, that one? Can’t take credit for - under ‘father’s name’, the proud papa got a case of the jitters and wrote your father’s name.”

“Jeez, I’m so… I’m so sorry…” 

Sam would’ve sounded sincere if he hadn’t burst out laughing, but she immediately joined in. And though he didn’t know it at the time, he would be sincere with her many more times than not, and he’d be getting plenty of it in return. Starting that night, when he’d ask if she’d be interested in getting coffee sometime. She would be tips-to-toes sincere when saying she hoped to hear from him soon.

They’d still keep bursting into laughter, amongst and in between the sincere times, over a million different things through the years. There’d be the breath-stealing kind, prompted by the action of more amusing-than-scary hunts; the gasp-induced kind, stemming out of nervous relief over the hunts that weren’t; and her favorite, the bent-over, knotted-into-cramps kind, resulting from drunken Dean tales of hunts long past. And then his favorite, when the Winchester kids were raising hell, and there was nothing to do but laugh.

This time, this first time, after the birth of their niece, in the moment they’d met, would ultimately get ranked as the best, though it was followed closely by the tear-tinged round that erupted after another first, when they heard the justice of the peace say the words “husband and wife”.

But that’s another story.

For now, Sam closed the door quietly before tip-toeing to the bed, bending and giving you a kiss on the forehead. He glanced over to the bassinet and back.

“Nice work.”

“Work is right.”

Dean was seated in an armchair next to your bed, unlacing his boots, but paused and looked up at this, tacking on a clarification.

“Work is damn right.”

You winked in acknowledgment before speaking again.

“So listen, while I’ve got you both—-”

“We in trouble already?” Dean asked, changing his seat from the chair to the opposite side of the bed, perching near the end. 

“—-I wanted to make sure you knew that I haven’t totally lost my marbles with the name, and I know that’s what you’re both thinking.”

Sam opened his mouth, ready to protest, but Dean just held up his hands in a sort-of surrender.

“Babe, I know I said I’d be fine with whatever you chose, but we ain’t lied to each other yet, and wow - it’s horrible.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t worry. It’s an old family name, and, I mean… we could squeak a nickname out of it… probably… you know how some of these Gaelic names are, it’s hard to tell how to pronounce them on sight.”

“So how’s it pronounced?” Sam asked.

“Get ready,” Dean muttered.

And Sam’s jaw dropped briefly as something largely incomprehensible - possibly worse than the name was on paper - came out of your mouth.

“Sis?” 

“Bro?”

“That’s beyond horrible.”

“Yeah, it is. It is a vicious eyesore that she won’t be able to spell for who-knows-how-long, it makes ears bleed, and I’m a garbage parent for it, though I will point out her father was zero help.”

Now Dean’s jaw dropped, but clearly in faux offense.

“I resent that - ‘cause every name I said I liked….”

“….every name we agreed on, that we loved for her….”

“….was already a dog’s name.”

You and Dean turned your heads in unison, leveling looks at Sam.

“I can’t have taken up all of them—-”

“Mary.”

“Jane.”

“Which also took out Mary Jane.”

“Erica.”

“Charlotte.”

“Bobby, which took away ‘Bobbie’.”

“Sandra.”

Dean wrinkled his nose, prompting you to roll your eyes.

“Right, right - Sandy, and we even would’ve been fine with Anne.”

“I haven’t named any of them Sandra or Anne,” Sam pointed out.

“No, but you did name that fire-engine-red cocker spaniel, the one that wouldn’t stop crawling into my lap, Anna - which was a real cute move, by the way,” Dean shot back.

“We’d already 86′d Anna, on your request, and I still haven’t heard that whole story,” you said, jabbing a finger into Dean’s chest before jabbing it in the air at Sam.

“The one that really pissed me off? And I get to be pissed off because of the disaster that currently ismy—”

“Whoa!” Dean interjected.

You gave him brief but pointed side-eye before getting back to fussing at Sam.

“Millie. You took Millie. And she was an adorable dachshund, an absolute doll, but, I mean, come on.”

The tone of your voice had changed, leaving the realm of good-natured teasing and stepping into something akin to disappointment. It wasn’t lost on Sam, who looked to his shoes, swallowing. Then he let his gaze drift to the bassinet, keeping it there even as you went on, though now with gentle care.

“But I get it. We get it.”

“Get what?”

“That menagerie of furry fluff. Thinking they’re it. Only kids you’ll ever have.”

Sam was completely focused, spellbound by the rise-and-fall of the tiny, striped-blanket-bundle’s easy breaths.

Dean’s voice now, definitely deep, definitely serious, definitely one of the subtle variations Sam valued above all the rest, the slightly scolding one that hid a bottomless well of love.

“Can’t know the future, Sammy. I know sometimes we have, but…. nothing’s in stone. I sure as hell didn’t picture this for me. Ever.”  

He nodded - it was true, just didn’t feel like it.

“And even if it was? Written in stone? Find another big-ass hammer, grenade launcher, whatever - lay waste, kiddo,” you added. 

The baby suddenly jolted herself with a sneeze, causing a reciprocal jolt across her audience. She shifted a little, smacked her lips a few times, didn’t show the first indication of waking up, that anything in her brand new world was even slightly out-of-sorts. Her uncle briefly thought on the realization of how hard he’d fight to keep her in such a place as he brought his eyes back to her parents.

And was surprised to find them grinning.

“What?”

“Check out her bracelet,” Dean said.

Sam looked to you, received a nod.

“Go ahead. She won’t notice.”

She didn’t, but did get a hell of a grip on a finger of the hand that moved her arm, so he slid the bracelet around with a few fingers of his free hand. Sam fought his own grin as he tucked her arm back under the blanket. Well, mostly - he opted to leave her hand out, let the grip remain for as long as she was willing to hold on to him, then raised an eyebrow at his shoulder-shaking, snickering brother.

Dean kept it up as he edged to the head of the bed, scooting in next to you best he could in the cramped space, quieting only when he let his eyes close, no need to see as he tilted on his side, laced his fingers through yours like he’d done a million times before, the metal of matching angel-blessed bands briefly clinking.

“So your nurse… she was in on this?”

You shrugged.

“The father’s name - that part was 100% true.”

Eyes still closed, Dean briefly gave a thumbs-up, took your hand again, went back to his dozing.

You shook your head at him a little, though a smile was on your face as you went on.

“She’s the whole package, my man.” 

Sam smiled, too.

“Yeah. I noticed that.”

“Thought you might.”

“Speaking of thoughts, what made you think of it? Not the prank, I mean—”

“Turns out, my great-grandmother had a nice, simple, easily pronounceable, no-brainer spelling, peach of a maiden name.”

“And the story on this middle name?”

“She’ll prove herself worthy.”

“Hardy-har-har.”

“It was the first name on both our lists…”

Even in the dim light, you saw his eyes go shiny.

“…and, we hedged our bets - figured even if you ran out of ideas, you’d never name one of your fluffs after yourself. Thought we’d do it for you.”

Author’s Note: If you genuinely liked this & kinda wanna re-blog it, but you don’t care for my snark as related to my deep-seated loathing of domesticated Winchesters, I made this into a legit, polished, proper, puppy gif included post that lives right HERE. 

* ~ * The hell is this about? * ~ * See Nash REALLY Write * ~ * 

ASKS FOR THIS ARE CLOSED…. I mean, unless it’s super-killer.

(And IF SO, no more “sweetheart”, as pleased as I am at that apparent Pavlovian response at the sight of my name.)